by Samuel James

Good Cop/“Good” Cop

“Most cops are good cops.”

This statement is a problem. It’s an assumption. It’s a generalization. Not only does it minimize actual damage done by police, it’s also dismissive of the idea that we should be critical of them.

But the biggest problem I have with that statement is when we hear it. We hear it every single time an unarmed black person is killed by the police. And when a killer cop is put on paid leave. And when one is acquitted. And when one isn’t even charged.

We hear this over and over again, but we don’t hear “most cops” speaking out against the killing of black people by police or the pandemic racism within their own departments. We don’t hear “most cops” even admit there’s a problem.

I have never heard of a cop admitting they’ve done wrong — unless they got caught. And most of the time, not even then. No, instead we see a nearly constant stream of racist texts. And police threatening to stop working when an athlete kneels during the Anthem. And we see police actually stop working when a mayor justly criticizes them.

We’ve seen a police officer planting a weapon on his dead victim.

So, when I hear someone say, “Most cops are good cops,” it feels like that person and I must have very different standards.

When I was in third grade, the Officer Friendly who came to talk to my class picked me (the only black kid) to demonstrate the application of handcuffs. I didn’t have the choice not to participate.

When I was a little older I got attacked by three bigger kids. They beat me up pretty good and broke my bike. I was told I should tell the police about it, so I did. The police talked to the older kids. Then the police told me that the older kids said I had been mouthing off, so there was nothing they could do about it. I remember the officers grinning, barely able to hold back laughter as they said this. And they told me I shouldn’t tell on people.

When I was in my late teens I was driving to a Halloween party. A police car was parked on the side of the road with its lights off. As I drove past the car its driver suddenly pulled out, attempting a U-turn. Without lights, signal or warning, the cop’s car smashed right into mine. The officer got out of his vehicle, admitted fault and apologized. He called in to report the accident and five other officers showed up, lights blazing and sirens blaring. One by one, each officer took turns interviewing me. All of them tried to get me to admit that the accident had been my fault.

I have also been falsely charged with a crime, due to the color of my skin. I have been pulled over 38 times. Thankfully, I’ve never spent a night in jail and have only gotten one traffic ticket.

I can honestly tell you that after most of these run-ins I have genuinely felt lucky to be alive. It feels like I’ve beaten the odds over and over again, but it also feels like this lucky streak can’t go on forever. It leaves me with a feeling of dread every time I see a police car or a person wearing that uniform.

Some people learn to respect and depend on the police. I have learned to fear and avoid them.

I do not think of the police as “the good guys.” I have never felt protected by them. Many times it has seemed as though the police have tried to protect people from me. Many times I have felt the need to be protected from the police.

If you’re white, you may think my experience is unique, but among black people it isn’t. It is all too common. So when I hear someone say, “Most cops are good cops,” I not only hear an absolute disregard for the reports we all see in the news about people who look like me being killed by law enforcement, but also a disregard for nearly all of my personal experiences with police.

That disregard for black people’s shared experience may lead white readers to think I’m lumping all police officers into one insular, dysfunctional, bigoted group. Let’s be clear: it is the police themselves who do that. Every cop who abuses their authority does that. Every cop who doesn’t speak out against bad cops does that. Every cop who doesn’t stand up for the very people they are sworn to protect and serve does that. Inaction can be action and silence can be an endorsement.

Samuel James is an internationally renowned bluesman and storyteller, as well as a locally known filmmaker. He can be reached at racismsportland@gmail.com.