The Rise of Unwarranted Paramilitary Raids in America
It's the day after Christmas in 2001. You're 21 years old. After finally putting your 18-month-old daughter to sleep, you're relaxing in your favorite recliner, nodding off in the flickering light of the television show you're only half-watching and the string of Christmas lights around your front window. When you hear the sounds of someone trying to kick in your door, you run to your daughter's bedroom; when someone does break in and kick down her bedroom door, you shoot.
It turns out the man you shot is the (white) police chief's son, and as he dies of internal bleeding en route to the hospital you (a black man) are arrested, beaten so badly you bleed from your ear for a week, and are left on death row for five years following the bogus conviction (until a judge overturns what was obviously a wrongful sentence). The drugs the cops were looking for -- using a warrant that named no one in your household -- were never discovered. This is the case of Mississippian Corey Maye, who is still locked up.
Or: you are 57 years old, getting ready for work in mid-May 2003. It's shortly after six in the morning. A battering ram breaks down your door, and in gets tossed a flash grenade. You can't breathe, you're coughing, and the police don't believe you -- they're looking for a stash of drugs and guns they'll never find.
Taking no notice of your worsening condition, the overzealous pigs handcuff you, and in little more than an hour, though you're finally on the way to the hospital, the heart attack caused by this traumatic violation takes your life. This was Alberta Spruill, a church volunteer and city worker in Harlem.
Or it's November 2006. You're a fierce 92-year-old woman, frightened by the sounds of someone prying off the burglar bars that cover your front door. You remain determined to protect your home, and when your door is broken down you fire one shot at the intruders. The cops respond by dumping 39 shots into your entryway.
Handcuffed and left to die while the police ransack your home, it turns out the police broke down the wrong door and, realizing the err of their ways, decide to plant drugs in your basement in a surprisingly transparent attempt at covering up their poor judgment. This was Kathryn Johnston of northwest Atlanta. Two of the cops responsible for her death plead guilty to manslaughter last year, and a third was recently convicted of lying in the cover-up.
Imagine instead it's 2008. Arriving late one night in July, you find a large package which happens to contain marijuana on the grounds of your home. You are the white mayor of a wealthy DC suburb and as it turns out, the victim of a drug smuggling scheme that targets innocent addresses in the UPS system.
You bring the box inside, only to watch in terror as moments later SWAT officers break in and shoot your two beautiful Labradors. As the dogs lay dying, soaking your living room floor, you are held in the very same room, handcuffed for hours. The law enforcement officials don't -- at that time -- believe you are the mayor of this suburban town, and to date have not apologized for the killing of your family's pets.
No one is safe. Last month's case involving Berwyn Heights mayor Cheye Calvo is one of perhaps 40,000 (yes, forty thousand) such raids each year (see Cato Institute report, Overkill: The Rise of Paramilitary Police Raids in America). It has been so widely covered because of the white privilege, class privilege and power of the victims. Many, many lives are taken or ruined by these paramilitary operations, and we can all agree that you're in much more danger if you happen to be poor and/or a person of color. Another blog about these raids can be found here along with the Cato Institute's map of raid casualties.
This is not the world I want to live in. Take action now -- check out the Drug Policy Alliance's most recent report -- and encourage the U.S. Conference of Mayors to protect themselves and their cities from further unthinkable violence in what has become a police state.
This post was contributed by my dear friend Vera Leone of the Drug Policy Alliance. If you would like your article featured here, please contact me at nyates5179@gmail.com.
