Saturday, February 22, 2020

The Brutal Reality of Stop and Frisk

A very powerful first hand account of what Stop and Frisk meant in the real world. It was open season for the racist cops in NY City Richard Mellor

From Jeremy McLoyd

Back in 2013, I was a victim of the Bloomberg-supported Stop and Frisk policy. It was a Sunday afternoon, one of my first at my new apartment on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx. I went out to get something to eat. I'm walking down the stairs, and suddenly a random man points a large silver gun at me, and instructed me to lay face down next to my buddy, some other guy I'd never seen before.

I thought I was getting robbed. The young black boy that had been on the ground was openly weeping. Apparently he had a dime bag of weed on his person. He kept saying he was sorry, and that he didn't want to go to Rikers. That's when I realized that, I'm not being robbed, these are police officers.

At no point did the man identify himself as a undercover officer. He zip tied my wrists together and a female officer, who also failed to identify herself, appeared out of nowhere. She picks me up off of ground and rifled through my pockets, presumably for my wallet. He tells her to search me for drugs, and make sure to check under the balls and in my butt.

As she searched my private parts, the male officer started grilling me about why I was there. I said I live upstairs, and I was going out to get food. He stopped in his tracks, what apartment? 4C. He asked me if I knew the kid on the ground, I said no. The female officer had finished groping me, and she announced that I was clean. The male officer then told me to show him my key. He told me if this key didn't unlock 4C, I was going to Rikers.

Every one came upstairs with me, my wrists were still tied, so the officer got my key and stuck it in the lock. Of course, it opens. I had enough presence of mind to say that I am not inviting you to enter. He untied my wrists and said I was lucky. I told him that he just violated all of my human rights. All of the officers openly laughed at me. I went inside and cried.

A few hours later, I realized that I never got anything to eat. So I try my luck again, go downstairs. All of the officers were clustered around 1A, (a drug raid) the actual reason they'd been in my building in the first place. As I walked by, they snickered at me again.

That was easily the most dehumanizing thing that has ever happened to me.

1 comment:

Val said...

Bloomberg's Gestapo