Traffic Stop

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I was pulled over a little while back.

I spotted the cop, a little late, I suppose, but it was during mid-day traffic and I was in the middle of a pack of cars.

When the cop pulled out with his lights on I thought:

“Some poor bastard.”

He got behind ME!

Lit me up!

I pulled over and waited. He scared the hell out of me by showing up on the passenger side.

“What’s up?” I asked.

I had zero fear. Didn’t even think of it much.

“Speeding,” he announced.

“Speeding? Are you kidding me? There were 25 cars packed together.”

He just looked at me.

“License and registration.”

It all went smoothly. He didn’t ask me if I had a weapon. I didn’t worry about where my hands were. I reached for my wallet and the registration without even considering anything at all other than I was pissed off.

I thought about that little interaction when I thought about Duante Wright who was shot to death on Sunday in Minneapolis.

They stopped him because he had an air freshener hanging from his mirror.

You shouldn’t die in that interaction. 

No matter what.

A properly trained pair of police officers should be able to handle making that stop.

No more excuses.

Mass shooters are brought in without incident. Some even get fast food on the way to the station.

Regardless, I dread all of this.

The Floyd trial is taking place a stones throw away from where this latest shooting took place.

It’s a powder keg.

This week will be absolute torture.

America has problems.

And I’m a white man.

I can’t even imagine what a black man is thinking tonight.

The reaction to this will only make it worse.

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