Betrayal in Black

by Mark M Bello

“I turned on my lights and siren and pulled the driver over.”

  “Did he promptly pull over as commanded?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Around 8:30 or 9:00 p.m.”

  “What happened next?”

  “I scanned the area to see if there was other traffic, pedestrians, joggers, residents on porches, things like that. Traffic was light, and no citizen activity could be seen, so I decided to exit my vehicle and approach the suspects, about half a mile north of Pennsylvania on Cedar.”

  “You did everything to make sure things would be safe except wait for Officer Mickler. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir. That is correct.”

  “Just so we’re clear, the only reason you called for backup was the Burger King thing, right? Without the robbery, this would have been a routine traffic stop, right?”

  “But this was not routine. I called because of the Burger King robbery. On a normal stop, I would notify squad partners I’m okay. In this case, since the robbery suspects were considered armed and dangerous. I wanted to make sure traffic was as light as possible and innocent bystanders were at a minimum. The driver pulled the vehicle over, and I issued a code four.”

  “What’s a code four?’

  “That I’m safe and don’t need assistance.”

  “Why would you do that before the stop?”

  “I don’t know. It seemed safe to me. I can’t explain it.” Jones grimaces and shifts his position.

  “But then, it wasn’t,” Kelly suggests.

  Jones stares at the floor. Silent.

  “Officer? Then it wasn’t?”

  “I turned off the siren but kept the flashers and emergency lights on. I had my eyes focused on the driver, which is my habit. I exited my vehicle and approached, looking inside, looking for any sudden movement.

  “As I got up to the car, I noticed a slight odor of marijuana. In this case, it hadn’t been smoked recently. I observed two car seats occupied by small children in the back seat and also noticed that the person in the passenger seat was not a man. She was a black woman with braids under her hat. The driver was a black male with an Afro under his hat.

  “Ages?”

  “Driver and passenger?”

  “All occupants.”

  “Driver was forty or so, maybe late thirties. The passenger was about mid-thirties. The kids were young, in car seats, both under ten. The driver had his seat belt on. His right arm rested on the steering wheel; his left was not in plain view. When I walked up to the window, he immediately demanded to know what he did wrong.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I requested his driver’s license and registration.”

  “Then what?”

  “He again inquired what he did wrong, and I again requested his the license and registration.”

  “What did he do or say at that point?”

  “He started reaching for something. Initially, I presumed it was his license and registration. That’s when he told me he had a gun and a license to carry. He offered to show both to me. He started to reach the left hand, the one I couldn’t see, down to his side around the left leg area. I told him to show me his hands, not to reach for anything. I believe I told him to put his hands on the dash.”

  “And did he?”

  “He kept saying he was, but he wasn’t. He was reaching down, and I couldn’t see his hand. He kind of turned his body toward the passenger seat as he reached down. This blocked my view of his right hand, so I couldn’t see either hand. I kept telling him to stop moving and to put his hands where I could see them. He did not comply.

  “He seemed to have no regard for what I was saying or for the danger he was putting himself and his family in. At that point, I was fearful for my life and the lives of all occupants in the vehicle. His left hand began to come up. As it did, it appeared to be holding something. I was trying to see his hand and what was in it as clearly as possible. I was not sure what I was seeing, and he was not following my directions. He continued to pull his curled left hand out of the darkness. I thought, at that moment, I might die.

  “Remember, after demanding to know what he did wrong a couple of times, the next thing he tells me is that he’s carrying. What does that mean? ‘Fuck with me and I’ll kill you.’ I didn’t know and sure as hell didn’t want to find out. If his hand comes up and there is a gun in it, I’m a dead cop. I felt that I had no option, sir. My gun was pointed at him. His hand was coming up. I shot him. I don’t remember how many times. I aimed center mass because I was focusing on the safety of the passenger and the children. I was worried about ricochets.”

  “You were at the driver’s side window?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Facing toward the back seat?”

  “Yes sir, up by the side-view mirror. I was trying to see the suspect’s left hand.”

  “And the kids were in car seats in the back seat?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You indicated you were worried about a ricochet, but you fired anyway?”

  “He gave me no choice, sir.” Jones is defiant.

  “Were the children boys or girls?”

  “They were both girls, I believe, sir.”

  “And one child was directly behind the driver, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “And it appeared to you that this man had his hand on the gun and that hand was coming up toward you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And it also appeared to you that this man was the Burger King robbery suspect?”

  “At what time, sir?”

  “When you pulled him over.”

  “Yes.”

  “At any time after that?”

  “I don’t understand what you mean, sir.”

  “You pulled them over because you thought they resembled the suspects, right?”

  “Right.”

  “You approach the car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Instead of two black males, you see a family man, woman, and two children?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “At that point, do you abandon suspicion that they are your suspects?”

  “The man fit the description, sir. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “But this man was in his late thirties with his wife and kids. Is it likely that he robbed a Burger King?”

  “No, sir. I guess not.”

  “When would you abandon suspicion that he might be the suspect?”

  “When I approach the car? I don’t know . . . he had a gun. He fit the description . . . I feared for my life!” Jones squints in pain. Tears run down his cheeks.

  Olson interrupts.

  “Don’t let him put words in your mouth, Randy,” he warns.

  He leans over and pats Jones on the hand.

  “For the record, that was attorney Olson again. Yes, Officer Jones, Mr. Olson is correct. Don’t let me put words in your mouth.”

  “Okay.”

  Jones takes a deep breath, trying to regain lost composure. He wipes his eyes with his sleeve.

  “You approach the car; you see a family, not two black suspects. Why not say ‘Sorry, my mistake. Have a nice day’ and let them go?”

  “Because of the marijuana smell and because he advised, almost immediately, that he had a gun and began reaching his left hand downward.”

  “A faint smell of marijuana is punishable by death these days?” Kelly snarls.

  “Of course not, sir,” Jones mutters. “But driving under the influence is dangerous and worth investigating. The slight odor of marijuana became insignificant after he told me he was carrying and began reaching his left hand down toward his body. At that point, all I could think about was the gun.”

  “Let’s move on. After you shot him, did he say anything?”

  “I don’t remember. I remember the woman started screaming. She was hysterical.”

  “Well, you had just shot her husband. Were you surprised that she rea
cted as she did?”

  “No.”

  “After you shot the man, did you ever see the weapon you thought he had?”

  “No, at that point, I was focused on whether the passenger might be a threat.”

  “Did you ever, at any point, see the weapon the man admitted he possessed?”

  “Not that I saw, no.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Officer Mickler arrived at that point and took over the scene.”

  “Do you remember what the woman was screaming?”

  “Yes, something like ‘why did you shoot him?’ She claimed to have the whole thing on video on her cell phone.” Jones stares at the ceiling and reflects on the events.

  “Did you engage her in conversation?”

  “I told her to keep her hands where I could see them. She complied.”

  “Did you call for EMS or an ambulance?”

  “I believe Officer Mickler called, sir.”

  “Did one come to the scene while you were there?”

  “An ambulance came to the scene.”

  “Did the attendant tell you anything?”

  “That the suspect was deceased, sir.”

  “What happened to the woman and the children?”

  “Officer Mickler ordered me to sit on the curb while he secured the woman and the children.”

  “How did he do that?”

  “He removed the woman from the front seat at gunpoint. He detained her, placed her in handcuffs, and escorted her back to the station.”

  “And the kids?”

  “I’m not sure, sir. Alex handled that.”

  “And what happened to you?”

  “I was escorted to an unmarked squad car by Officer Brian Jenkins.”

  “And then?”

  “I was taken to the station and told to go home. The captain put me on administrative leave.”

  “Did you interact with Officer Mickler afterward?”

  “No, sir. In fact, I haven’t discussed this matter with anyone before today except my union rep and my attorney.”

  “You are fully firearms qualified, correct?”

  “Correct, sir.”

  “Have you had any personal issues lately, officer?”

  “No, sir.”

  “No stress in your personal life?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Did you have any personal knowledge, Officer Jones, of the Burger King robbery?”

  “Yes, sir. I was one of the back-up officers following the robbery.”

  “I understand there was a security camera that captured video of the suspect.”

  “True.”

  “Did you see the video?”

  “Yes.”

  “Before or after this incident?”

  “Before.”

  “And you viewed the suspects?”

  “Yes.”

  “Upon reflection, does the driver of the car you pulled over look anything like either of those suspects?”

  “No, sir. I guess he doesn’t. But I thought so at the time.”

  “How is your dash cam video triggered, Officer Jones?”

  “It is triggered as soon as I activate my emergency lights.”

  “And you did that in this case?”

  “I did.”

  “And, to your knowledge, there is dash cam video of the incident?”

  “Yes.”

  “When you first observed the vehicle, where was it?”

  “On Cedar, one block south of Pennsylvania.”

  “How long did you follow before you pulled the vehicle over?”

  “About half a mile or so.”

  “And you called in the plate?”

  “Yes. It was clean.”

  “Did the driver do anything wrong while you followed him?”

  “No, sir.”

  “When did he become aware that you were following him?”

  “I’m not positive, but I believe he became aware when I first put on the flashers and siren.”

  “He took no evasive action? He didn’t try to get away?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And he pulled over immediately after the flashers and siren were engaged?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “I want to go back to his left hand. You thought the driver was holding something?”

  “Yes, as he was bringing it up.”

  “Did you actually see an object?”

  “No, but I couldn’t see any reason for his hand to be in that position unless he was holding something.”

  “Could he simply have been clenching a fist?”

  “Uh, well, I guess that was possible,” Jones concedes.

  “In fact, that is what has been determined.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How was the lighting out there?”

  “Not great, but I could see. However, from my position at the driver’s side door by the side-view mirror, and the position of his right hand reaching down and then up, I could not see his hand. That fact, coupled with his statement that he had a gun, placed me in fear.” Jones shifts. Beads of sweat are visible on his forehead.

  “Was there anything about the victim’s attitude that made you suspect he might be dangerous?”

  “He wouldn’t follow my instructions. He kept putting his hand down where I couldn’t see it despite my commands to show me his hands. He wouldn’t make eye contact, and his body language was defensive. He began to mumble things I couldn’t hear, and there was, as I indicated earlier, a slight odor of marijuana.“ Jones nods and folds his arms.

  “By the way, Officer Jones, what was this man’s name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you ever discover his identity?”

  “Briefly, when I checked the plates.”

  “What was the woman’s name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “When you discharged your weapon, what were you aiming at?”

  “Center mass, directed down, as low as the midsection and as high as the chest, to avoid the kids.” Jones locks eyes with Kelly.

  “One more question Officer Jones. In your professional life as a patrol officer, have you ever been involved in any other incidents where deadly force was used against a citizen?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What were the circumstances of those incidents?”

  “One incident.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “A traffic stop.”

  “Was the suspect guilty of any traffic offense on that occasion?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Why did you pull him or her over?”

  “There had been a B and E in the neighborhood. My partner and I thought they might be the perp.”

  “Was there a working description of the perpetrator on that occasion, Officer Jones?”

  “No.”

  “What made you suspicious of this person?”

  “He seemed out of place.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “He didn’t fit the profile of a resident.”

  “Was he white or black?”

  Jones breaks eye contact and stares at the floor.

  “He was black, sir,” Jones admits to the floor.

  “Thank you, Officer Jones. We’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter Three

  “It does not appear Officer Jones appreciates the gravity of the situation. I just listened to a man in total denial of the fact he gunned down an innocent man. In my judgment, ‘I think I smelled marijuana’ or ‘I couldn’t see his left hand’ are hardly justifications for lethal force. This seems pretty cut and dry to me, Chief.”

  Lieutenant Brian Bigalow is reporting findings to Cedar Ridge police chief Warren Brooks. Bigalow is Brooks’ first lieutenant. The two men are part of the task force charged with investigating the officer-involved shooting incident on Cedar and Pennsylvania.

  Brooks is angry. He doesn’t care for the transcript of Officer Randy Jones’s Internal Affairs statement.

 
“Jones believes it was a good shoot, Brian. He believes Hayes refused to comply with instructions, putting lives at risk. With all due respect, I believe this was a judgment call for the officer. I’m not sure there’s a right or wrong in this scenario,” offers Bill Lane, a task force investigator.

  “That’s ridiculous, Bill,” Chief Brooks grumbles. “The stop was not justified. These people were pulled over for no reason. Jones observes a late-model Escape, becomes suspicious, and decides to follow. Why?

  “If that isn’t bad enough, Jones stops the vehicle without cause and approaches. If you give Jones the benefit of all doubt, at that point, we can assume he suspects these people might be the Burger King guys.

  He approaches the suspects’ vehicle. What does he see? A family of thirty or forty-somethings with small children—that’s what he sees!

  “Why not acknowledge his mistake, right then and there? Apologize and walk away! The right solution here was that simple.”

  Brooks paces the room and continues to rant. He’s beyond angry.

  “Why did Jones suspect them in the first place? The Burger King robbery was committed by a couple of black kids, so that fact justifies pulling over every black guy? People who don’t know our city or our officers might conclude these people were targeted because they were black. That’s a problem we need to acknowledge and handle.

  “Jones compounds the problem when he gives the so-called suspect conflicting commands and leaps to unfounded conclusions,” Brooks fumes.

  “I understand Chief. So, what do you want to do?” Lane inquires.

  “I want to take a long vacation and hope to God this blows over before I get back. Jones is currently on leave. From my point of view, we need to make sure it becomes permanent. And that goddamned interview is toxic. Let’s hope Internal Affairs formally declares Jones unfit to serve and rules for a permanent suspension.

  “Send the case to the Wayne County prosecutor and let him decide what to do with it. This whole mess should go to the grand jury. We get political cover and our officers won’t think we don’t protect our own.”

  “You call your suggestion an example of ‘protecting our own?’” Bigalow chides.

  Brooks lets it go.

  “No, Brian. But is Jones’s behavior worthy of our protection? Jones executed that man. And for no damn reason!

  “Which leads me to the painful, yet simple conclusion that the shooting was the act of a racist cop. At the very least, granting the officer every benefit of the doubt, there are clear racial undertones at play in this case. We can assume some percentage of rank and file members won’t agree. That’s why we need a grand jury.”