Phoenix Police & Public Safety

Two years later, I felt the sting of betrayal as an officer during the 1967 rebellion. One night, after a grueling shift, two white DPD officers pulled me over. I was still in uniform, badge affixed to my chest and a #2 pin on my collar, indicating that I worked in the 2nd Precinct. I identified myself as a fellow officer, thinking they would see me as an equal. Instead, one pointed his gun at me and said, “Tonight you’re going to die, n—–,” before discharging his weapon. I dove back into my vehicle and miraculously managed to escape. I realized then that not even our shared uniform could save me from their racism. And I wondered that if they were willing to shoot and kill a black police officer, what were they willing to do to black civilians?

As a supervisor a few years later, I stopped a group of officers from beating three black teens. I was finally in a position to hold them accountable for their excessive use of force. But my precinct commander yelled at me for attempting to “ruin the lives of those good officers.” I witnessed this kind of complicity repeatedly. When other officers reported abuse, as they should, they were ostracized, transferred to lesser assignments and treated so poorly that many quit.

Enforcing the law while black: I understand the anger but don’t defund police. It could make things worse.

During these years, my mental salvation was education. I earned three degrees, including a master’s degree and Ph.D. When I became chief of police of Detroit in 1994, it was important for me to root out the bad officers — like those who beat me as a teenager and tried to kill me in 1967. I also worked to rebuild trust with the community, which for too long felt like it was at the mercy of a violent and indifferent police force. It was my mission as chief to make a difference in the lives of Detroiters.

It was incredibly difficult, however, to eradicate implicit biases and systemic racism in the department. When I was chief, a white DPD officer pulled me over one night. He approached my unmarked vehicle and without looking at me, asked for my license and registration. Wanting to see how far this would go, I said, “Yes officer.” At some point, he recognized who he had stopped and immediately apologized. My question to him was, “Why did you stop me?” He said, “I thought it was a stolen car.” The officer was reprimanded for his actions.

Later, as deputy mayor, I attended a Criminal Justice Forum in Washington, D.C., with police chiefs and other high-ranking officials from major cities in America. I told them my story and asked what suggestions they had to rid our departments of similar acts. No one said anything. Unfortunately, silence has been the norm in most departments for too long.