Re: Is there a police psychology problem??
Reply #184 –
Jimbro, there's always so much back-story… (Hey! tt92, you might get to meet Jaybro!)
I was in a situation once that involved violence and a cop. Before anything went down, the cop told me to leave, which I did quickly.
This is a story that I probably should "write"… But what the hell.
First, let me mention that a friend asked me to help push a car down the street… The cops came and asked me, Was I trying to steal it! I told them (detectives in the local constabulary) that I wasn't. (I was under-age; and I wasn't… I didn't know. My "friends" were, too; but were…)
Perhaps a story might help explain what I mean?
Hippies were everywhere! Nobody yet knew what to make of them.
They seemed innocuous: They grew their hair long, didn't bathe, and wouldn't work; yet they wanted to be "seated at the table." Why?
I'd gone "home" and stayed too long (You know: Talking to family.): My curfew was 11pm. (I was "privileged," to be enrolled in the Harvard Upward Bound program…)
I met a fellow whom I'd (thought) I'd known for many years, and asked if I could "crash" at his place… (He almost married the O'-Irish-surname sister that had always enticed me! And she had -sometimes- talked to me: The last thing she'd said to me about him was a reference to the newly popular pop-top soda cans: "Little spout!"
At any rate, he said "Sure. Come home with me." I did.
(Not unusual, he had a twin bed. —There's a whole 'nother story, or two, connected to people I knew back then; and the bizarre ways they viewed the world.)
We got into his bed. I thought I'd go to sleep; but he said, "I like to play with balls… You'll let me?" He said he learned it in the Marine Corps… (The last guy who wanted to look at my weiner also claimed to be a Marine…) I said "No."
He hesitated and then said "I can make you!"
(He was right: He could!)
I mentioned that I'd heard his mother come in; how, I asked him, would he explain to her, a cry of rape! from her son's bedroom?
So, I went back out into the street.
When I got close to my dorm… I was chased by the police (plain-clothes) into a hotel (they said, "You'd better run…!" I did.)
There was a phalanx of Cambridge cops (reserve, and wanna-be…), eight across Brattle Street.
I got me to my safe haven; and slept.
What really happened?
I perused Harvard Square the next morning: Tear gas canisters, stuff burned; store windows broken, stuff stolen — mostly, people took stuff; broke doors and windows, and -whatever they wanted that they could reach- they took.
That's what usually happens, when there's a "riot".
What was that "Marine" thing?
I don't know. (And -truth be told- I don't want to.) Two Marines from my neighborhood were "not exactly 'poofs' — but liked…"
Well, they liked abusing others.
Is there a way of educating children, that convinces them that they needn't…?