My father and I have been at war about police abuse for no less than thirty years. He and my mother fought over the subject of police abuse at least as far back as my early childhood. My father has always had a bury-your-head-in-the-sand view of American police misconduct toward the nation’s civilians.
Starting with the police riots of the 1960s and 1970s, my father has always given the PIGS far too much benefit of doubt. Rather than rely on a preponderance of the evidence, he relies on guilt beyond unreasonable doubt, let alone that which is reasonable. If pressed, my father could not differentiate between what is reasonable doubt and what is a preponderance of the evidence, anyway.
My father is not alone. Fearful of xenopolitics and insurrection, my father and a majority of his peers have willingly laid their freedoms in a cradle of cast iron, failing to recognize the fact that in doing so they embrace an American form of the police state. For no-less-than a half century, they have approved of beating down those who, alone, have no power but who have discovered choral strength.
Thank goodness for technology that makes it harder to completely hide abuse inflicted by those in appointed authority against the civilians they are paid to police. Over and over, mundane police reports stating that a “suspect” … “lunged” have given way to video recordings of just the opposite: police lunging and shooting and injuring and killing. Because of video phone universality, we now know what we always thought: Police inappropriately act as final arbiters of justice, committing what should be called “assault” and “murder.”
God bless America,
FUCK THE POLICE!