Power Trip
I Was a Cop for 18 Years. I Witnessed and Participated in Abuses of Power.
The corruption, violence, and petty cruelty on display left me with PTSD
--
I am frequently asked why I became a cop, but I never seem to have a satisfactory answer. I was an only child in a single-parent home and was relatively quiet and introverted growing up. I wasn’t following in anyone’s footsteps — there were no other cops in my family. I wasn’t the best student in high school, and even if I had been, I didn’t have the money for college. Being a police officer seemed like a job that paid relatively well, and most departments didn’t require anything more than a GED. After learning that Baltimore was hiring officers and that their process moved fast, I applied in mid-March of 1999 and was hired on June 21, 1999. I resigned in July 2017, a little more than a year after being diagnosed with PTSD and spending 10 days in a mental health facility, the cumulative result of 18 years of experiences.
Making the transition from civilian to cop was overwhelming. I wasn’t accustomed to exerting any type of authority, and now, after six short months, I was given the power to take away someone’s freedom and the instruments to take someone’s life. At the police academy, we were taught the basics of the job: driving, firearms training, report writing, and self-defense tactics. The academy did not teach us the fundamental difference between power and authority or how to judiciously apply either.
I remember being intimidated when I first hit the street as a patrol officer and began responding to 911 calls. I found myself being expected to intervene in a variety of situations, from neighbors arguing over loud music to domestic assaults. I had to learn on the job to use my power as a police officer to take control, and then, if needed, issue lawful commands or effect an arrest. The challenge was realizing when I was crossing the line and abusing my power by ordering people to do things that weren’t lawful.
I began to feel less like a cop and more like a member of an occupying army.
One summer, I arrested a man on the Fourth of July. I don’t remember why I arrested him, but I…
