The Stop

What happens when the oppressed stop playing by the rules

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He saw him in passing. Just another car, another citizen driving, unremarkable in all aspects except one. He hit the wailer and took off down the road after him. His was heart beating fast and his adrenaline was coursing through his blood, amping his attitude and getting him ready to meet the enemy. He called it in over the radio keeping the specifics to a minimum as there was no real reason to approach as of yet. Thankfully he was given the latitude to stop and detain anyone he deemed suspicious. That dubious privilege came with the badge and he used it greedily to satisfy his beliefs and suspicions concerning certain people. He pulled the radio Police car behind the stopped car and flooded the car with his bright spot light that illuminated the scene and reinforced to all parties who was in charge and who should be afraid. Unfortunately the spot light did not help the officer with his own fear. His was a fear that he covered with bravado and force, machismo and the abuse of his power. He was smug in the belief that no one knew of his cowardice and they never would because he carried a gun and he knew that he was a cog in a well-established system that protected his pusillanimity as it had his brothers for centuries. It was a system built to coddle his fears and suckle his weak moral character with a power that had no oversight and no consequences for missteps or misdeeds. He was beholden to no one but the blue wall of silence and the system that enabled him. The way that he believed was systematic meaning that everyone he knew and worked with believed the way he did. They spoke as he did and they acted as he did. It was expected, endorsed and advanced in many different areas throughout the town, city, state and country and it was dangerous. It was dangerous for all concerned on this day.

He walked up to the car’s window which the occupant had judiciously rolled down and shined his flashlight into the black man’s face. “License and registration.” He said, his hand dancing on his holster waiting for the slightest provocation just like he was taught to do in the academy. It occurred to the officer that this “suspect” resembled the life sized dummy that they used at the shooting range to desensitize the prospective officers that they were indoctrinating into the system.

The black man made pains to exaggerate the carefulness and slowness of his movements so as not to elicit any undue misunderstandings as he could see the fear in the officer’s eyes, it radiated off of him as did his hate. The feeling was mutual but the young brother was experienced enough to know that he had to hide his hate and only show the fear as that was what was called for if he was going to make it out of the ordeal. The officer wanted to see fear in the man’s face. Every aspect of the stop was designed for just that ego trip. From the uniform to the lights as well as the loud siren and the visible fire arm. It was all effect to illicit ‘respect’ which is a code word for fear. 

The mans’ father had taught him the important lessons that he would need to know in order to survive in America, land of the “free” and home of the “brave”. The first lesson was how to deal with the police and it was taught to him at an insanely young age. Unfortunately the age for that lesson was appropriate as the childhood of a black child in America is uniquely different than that of his white counterpart when it comes to the police. What would be considered normal protocol in dealing with a white child, a black child could not count on. So many of the videos now circulating on Facebook and other social media could attest to that however this black man’s father and his father’s father and his father before him needed no such evidence and no such evidence had been available. They had experienced first hand from boyhood up to adulthood what it was like to be feared, disrespected and envied and therefore persecuted by the powers that be and their arm of enforcement, the Police. He was taught that the police are just the embodiment of the populace. As the populace believes so shall the police do. That was why all the not guilty verdicts for the murders of black men, women and children did not surprise him. He understood that his life was worthless in the eyes of the judges, the juries and the press and to him that meant he should always be in a state of readiness; he could not afford to be haphazard in his dealing with this officer as his very life was at stake.

The officer scanned the documents in his hand all the while keeping his attention on the black man. He believed that there had to be something amiss with this suspect, his instincts told him so and they were never wrong. In actuality the reason his instincts were never wrong was because even if nothing was amiss he would manufacture at least a violation and sometimes more. This harassment of his “suspects” created a hostile environment that would sometimes result in the black man or woman voicing concerns about the treatment they were receiving at which point the officer would detain them for resisting arrest or hindering investigations or whatever would provide him the opportunity to get them in custody, in cuffs and on the ground at his mercy. That was when he thought he was really doing his job. He wanted this one in front of him on the ground so bad he could taste it. He was just waiting for the encounter to play itself out. He didn’t like to rush it. He liked to relish his power and play with his prey letting the tension rise and their fear increase. “You want to step out of the car, sir” he said, raising the ante, suspecting that the man would object as would any man who knew their rights. The police can only ask you to get out of the car if they felt threatened. Of course in this officer’s case he always felt threatened in the presence of a black man, he was a coward. He did not know that though, he thought he was being clever, provoking the man into making a mistake. The man was too smart for him though and exited the car without speaking and looked the officer in his face asking ‘what next’ with his demeanor. He was a handsome black man, well dressed and in great shape. He stood 6 foot 2 inches and weighed a modest 200 pounds. His dreads hung to his shoulders and he was well dressed in slacks and a crisp white shirt opened at the neck. He was in his everyday life a man respected by his peers for his quick wit and his work ethic. He was loved by his family and friends for his compassion and the wisdom that he shared when asked to do so. He was feared by his enemies for his uncanny ability to out think them and out fight them. He would be the last man standing in many of his past scrimmages. He had the confidence of a man, no more or less, a quality hard to find in these times and he was confident that he could manage this situation that he did not ask for. He refused to let anything enter his mind but the phrase that he kept repeating to himself, “stay calm”. He knew that he was being baited. This was for sure not his first time dealing with this type of situation and he guessed it would not be the last. “Where you coming from sir?” The officer asked shinning the light in the man’s face. “Home” the man said still calm and controlled “where you going?”

“To the gym.” The black man replied still not asking why the officer had stopped him.

“Do you know why I pulled you over today?” The cop asked, again baiting the man as there was no right answer because there was no reason.

“Yes I do officer, yes I do.” The black man answered, standing tall and resigned to tell the truth and get at whatever the officer had planned for his festivities with him. The calm in him now making way for the storm that lives inside all oppressed men.

The officer was taken aback as he did not expect that answer. The Blackman had seemed so docile and compliant but now he sensed a tension that he had not felt before coming from the man and he involuntarily stepped back as if he had been pushed. His hand immediately touched his gun, the source of all his pseudo power and it comforted him.

“Tell me.” The officer said, narrowing his eyes and waiting with baited breath.

“Officer, you stopped me because you could. You stopped me because that bullshit badge gives you the balls to do the bidding of all the racist armchair soft bellied bitches that look with hate but are scared to speak it. You stopped me because you fear me and you hate my life. My very existence irritates you because it illuminates your weakness. My bass trumps your treble. You stopped me to harass me, to bait me, to anger me, to kill me if you can. You stopped me because your women love me, because Obamas president and Jesus is black. You stopped me because you have a gun and you’re betting I don’t. You were bored, you want a pound of flesh and it’s my turn to pay. Am I right Officer O’Doul?” The Blackman asked the visibly shaken officer with a knowing grin on his face.

“Put your fucking hands on the car, Nigger!” The officer yelled taking the situation back in hand. He had not been so angry in as long as he could remember and this fucking nigger was going to pay. He yanked his service revolver from his holster and aimed it at the man as he approached him. The Blackman complied and put both his hands on the top of his A-4 Audi and awaited the scared man’s approach.

“dispatch I’m 10-10 on highway 107 east bound at mile marker 367” the officer called in, begging for backup so he and his gang could beat the dog shit out of the man. He pushed his left hand into the brother’s back, pressing him against the car and at the same time he kicked the man’s left foot farther to the right spreading his legs to keep him off balance. When he thought the man’s balance was compromised he holstered his weapon and reached for the man’s right hand to put it in a cuff. That was when the brother made his move. He spun around and caught the officer with a vicious elbow to the jaw breaking it profoundly just as he had practiced in class. The officer screamed like a bitch and tried to mouth his customary racial epithet but found that the muscles in his mouth were useless. He backed away reaching for his weapon but he was not fast enough as the blood was already swinging his vengeful black fist toward the other side of the officers face. The contact was imminent and unavoidable. The officer took the hit badly and crumbed to the ground in a heap with a lump the size of an avocado on his temple and he blacked out.

He dreamed the in 30 seconds that he was passed out, of vast fields of cotton as far as the eye could see. Little Negro children along with their impossibly black mothers and fathers were bent over picking the cotton and then filling the baskets they had with them. The sun was radiant in the sky above him as he rode his horse back and forth and through the fields overseeing the shifty niggers. He rode high in his saddle and all was right with the world, and then he woke up.

The nigger had his gun. In the distance he could hear the sirens and it gave him hope, but only for a moment. They were so far away and the nigger looked rabid. Of course all Blacks looked rabid to the officer, especially ones with guns. The Black man pointed the gun at the officer and watched the man urinate immediately in his pants.

“How come, I wonder, I was riding down this lonely stretch of highway at this particular time?” The Black man asked walking over to the officer and grabbing his cuffs from his utility belt. He motioned for the officer to give him his wrist and the officer complied. The Blackman helped the officer to his feet just as two black Chevy Tahoe’s pulled up in front of the man’s Audi. Two brothers from each vehicle exited the vehicle with weapons drawn. The brothers were dressed similar to the original black man and their demeanor was deadly serious. “That him?” The oldest one of the bunch asked looking at the pitiful excuse of a public servant. This man was a black as America’s history and he was in charge. The officer could tell that right away by his regal bearing and the energy that he radiated.

“It’s him, Life. Just like you said, right where you said. Like clockwork.” The man with the gun pointed at the officer said putting the cuffs on the now standing cop. “Get him in the car and let’s bounce, they gettin close.” Life said and walked back to his car, he turned around when he got there “Truth, take care of this shit like we talked about, you and Elevation break this shit down and get in the wind. You got two minutes. See you back there.” he said and got in the car just as the pissy wet officer was sliding his shaking, used to be privileged ass into the back of the Tahoe with a gun to his head.

“Tell me how it went down, Black?” life asked as he started the vehicle and pulled out onto the highway. Black smiled as he recounted the short tail. “We were right on time, Life. It was just what the brothers was saying. Soon as I passed him he was on my ass. I made sure that I was doing under the speed limit, both hands on the wheel, no cell phone, nothing. No reason to stop a brother, just like they said. I complied with his bullshit request to exit the car and that was it.”

“Cool.” Life said and concentrated on the road. He was also looking at the officer in his rearview mirror. The officer no longer looked like he thought he was the master of the universe. In fact he looked like a scared sullen little boy who had been caught with his hand in the preverbal cookie jar. Life noted that the officer was smart enough to keep his mouth shut, he made no statements and asked no questions. Life respected that as he had expected the righteous indignation that accompanies white privilege. Either way was ok with him as it would not affect the plan in the least, but it was noted by the man.

Officer what, O’Doul? Is that your name cop? Black asked him keeping his weapon trained on the Officers head

“Yes.”

“First name?”

“Patrick.” The officer said with great difficulty as he was feeling the pain from the broken jaw. 

“Let me ask you a question Patrick, can I call you Patrick?” Black asked sarcastically as he tapped the gun on the officer’s jaw and watched the man decomp and piss again from the pain.

“Man the fuck up bitch. You like to hand out shit but you don’t like the taste of it in your mouth, huh? Let me tell you something” black whispered, as Life didn’t like loudness. “Shit’s fin to get real righteous in a hurry for you so man up, Patty.” Black advised. “Now the question I want to ask is… do you know why we don’t blind fold your faggot ass, can you guess?” Black asked, with raised eyebrows and a diabolical grin on his face. He was indeed having fun. He was happy to finally have found some brothers who would actually do something besides march or protest. The construct of marching and protesting to him was bullshit anyway. It was a box that the oppressors had given them permission to work out of, to Black’s way of thinking. It was like they said if you don’t like us killing you, violating your human rights…(never mind your constitutional rights as they were never meant for you anyway) beating and slamming your women and adolescents then you can march on up this block and then down this one at this time or you can protest from 6 pm till 730pm at this particular spot and nowhere else and when your time is up…Disperse Niggers!!, and I mean quick. That’s what they are used to and that’s what usually happens, but not today motherfuckers, not to day he thought waiting for his answer.

“Black be easy, this aint the time. We not on some personal satisfaction type of shit, right now. You got to see the big picture; we got bigger fish to fry. Don’t get lost my nigga.” Life said peeping that Black was about to try to freestyle a little with the plan and he couldn’t have that. The plan was too important and too much time had gone into it. Life was invested in the movement and so where at least 24 other brothers who had vowed to help make the people see that not every black man would accept the violations that these “servants” where serving upon his people. Someone had to stand up. The call to arms had been heard long ago but the task had seemed insurmountable so Life and his brothers and fallen back and planned meticulously. Today was the beginning and it was being replicated in three cities with what Life hoped was the same amount of care that his crew was using.

“You right Bro, my bad.” Black answered, he had the utmost respect for the older black man and he was proud to have been invited to take this very important step with his brothers. Life had dropped the science at an underground meeting that black had attended two years ago. There were many brothers from all walks of life there without exception. There were even Black police officers in attendance which had surprised black at first as the meetings were set up to figure out how to address the problem of police brutality. Brothers were invited based on other meetings that they had attended. They did not know that the other meetings that they had attended were just to their get names and numbers, as well as pictures so that they could be investigated and watched. Life was taking no chances. The meeting that he heard life finally speak at was the fifth meeting that he had attended and the third meeting where he had observed the brother but never spoken to him. He knew that the brother moved smooth from one brother to the next. He was always dapper with an Afrocentric flow to his stelo. His dreds hung down the center of his back and were a unique black and white mixture. He was 6 foot and thin but black assumed he was in good shape as his voice and resolve were undeniable and captivating. The brother was a light shade of coco and he seemed to have hazel /green eyes that seemed to penetrate whatever they beheld. He spoke eloquently with an educated yet street vernacular that appealed to both the street contingent and the brothers who were more established and ensconced in the dominant culture.

Black had been investigated by the time he had his first conversation with Life. He knew that because life told him. He told him quite a few things that evening and by the end of their talk Black was in awe and he was down for whatever as he trusted the man’s vision.

Life wheeled the conveyance to the back of a building deep in the heart of the city’s black section. He stopped and got out as Black excited and held the officer’s gun on the pathetic, pissy, broken jawed racist and instructed him to get out of the SUV. The three of them entered the building and were greeted by the waiting family of brothers who all knew their roles. Officer O’Doul’s fear was evident and welcomed by the brothers as they had all felt unnecessary fear at his or another officers hands. A brother filmed the entrance and continued to film as the three made their progress in to the recesses of the loft type room where the remainder of the plan was to be carried out. Good brothers stood around, all of them armed ready to watch the proceedings. Life had spoken of the plan but now was the time.

O’Doul was terrified. He did not think that he was going to make it through the day but that was not what sacred him the most. These blacks that surrounded him seemed so angry and yet they were so calculated and in control. They were not like the TV and the movies portrayed, all wild and bloodthirsty. O’Doul surveyed the room and saw well-dressed men who would now stand in judgment over him and his illegitimate bastardization of his duties. His guilt he knew was undeniable and that was what gave him his fear. He knew that if the shoe was on the other foot he and his compatriots would be drunk on liquor and power and the atrocities would be a pleasure that he and they would enjoy without guilt or self-consciousness. Although mostly his abuse of power was masturbatory it was often enjoyed more when others joined, hence the spontaneous lynchings and such throughout history. By stark contrast these men were somber and controlled and seemed to not be enjoying any part of his displeasure. This confused the conscious lacking white man and his confusion made him that much more fearful. He stood a broken man in a sea of hate, his uniform in disrepair as was his face. He could not meet the eyes of the men that he had abused and disrespected as they would see the guilt and be that much angrier. He smelled of urine and his face was hot with shame and loss of status.

“Sit him down and secure him and let’s get this started” life commanded and two brothers relieved Black of his responsibility and sat O’Doul in a wooded arm chair with wheels on it that hand been bought especially for the occasion. His elbows and wrists were secured to the arms of the chair and he sat facing the men one of whom worked an expensive looking video device that was on a tripod. Life approached and the camera was aimed at him. He stood in front of and just a little to the left of the secured O’Doul so that he could be seen in the background. The rest of the brothers could not be seen but could watch in complete anonymity. It was obvious to O’Doul that a statement or speech was eminent. He looked around to see if anyone had a sword or machete as this predicament reminded him of the terrorist videos that had been sent to the media the past couple of years. He was having a hard time keeping his bowls together and trying to appear calm.

“As you know we have been plagued by these officious looking terrorist taking advantage of their positions in our neighborhoods and on the roads. We have not been able expect to get the service that our tax dollars pay for, No... Instead we are essentially paying to be beaten, murdered, disrespected and terrorized.” Life started and then walked and pointed at O’Doul inches away from his face. “This sad sack piece of shit and so many others like him took an oath to protect and serve, not beat and abuse, not frame and maim, not stop and kill on sight for his sick pleasure or to fulfill some unwritten contract that society has with him. When the police themselves need policing and the government won’t do it then it is time for good men of conscious to stand up.” Life said his voice rising and his rich baritone inciting feeling in the brothers

“Word!”

“Preach!”

“Talk about it!”

Life continued “I have no compunction whatsoever in getting down when I have to. I have seen too much to not act. Myself and my brothers here in this room and across the country have gotten together and vowed to act in concert to meet the aggression that is unsolicited and undeserved but is rained down on us daily in every city, town and hamlet across the country. They have had a license to kill long enough.” Life concluded and took a look directly into the camera. Then he looked into each man’s eyes before he took out his black Glock and pulled back the slide. O’Doul’s heart was beating faster than it had ever beaten before and he thought he was having a heart attack. When he saw the weapon he literally shit himself. As Life placed the weapon to the officer’s temple the bitch in him made its grand entrance.

“Please, for God sakes please don’t do it. You don’t have to. I’ll do whatever you say, Just don’t kill me. “ 

“Anything I say, Officer?” Life said

“I swear, I swear.” O’Doul said feeling with all his intuition that his life hung in the balance.

“So you want to talk a deal. You want to strike a bargain? You think that I would give you the opportunity that you and your malicious brothers never gave Michael brown, Rodney king, Sean Bell shot fifty times, Oscar grant shot in the back, and Travon Martin. No sir sir sir!” Life said shaking his head “That wouldn’t be right at all. I’m supposed to be hard right now, heartless like you and yours. It breaks my heart because that not who I am. It’s not who we are but …..

The video arrived at news channels 23, 10 and 13. It was played throughout the day. Flags were lowered to half-mast and the country mourned. Those complicit with the ongoing system of oppression and aggression of black men, women and children as seen daily on social media in the U.S were angry and wanted payback. The oppressed had just begun getting theirs.

By Isa Pulley

From: United States

Website: http://Www.isapulley.com