Tried uploading the full video but had issues. Sparknotes: traffic stop, foot pursuit, goes to the ground, suspect gets deputy’s Taser, deploys it, gets both of them, then goes after the deputy’s gun before good Samaritans and backup arrive. Talking points (and as usual, we are not here to Monday morning QB): I was a little concerned seeing both hands full when the situation went to the ground. A lapel mic and earpiece might be a good addition to the load-out. On the flip side, if your hands are full, you might have a good impact weapon in them (like a radio). Continuing on the same theme, I would be cautious about running with things in your hands (like a gun, there are numerous folks, including officers who have ND’d from falling while holding their firearms). I would also be cautious about having things in your hands when going hands-on. Lastly, it’s okay to handle your business before putting it out over the radio. Your safety comes first (of course, getting officers there to you is important but if you’ve already fallen through the ice into the water, crawl out before you tell people about it.) All in all, it’s a win. Nobody died, deputy went home. Like I said, not here to judge or criticize but objectively discuss and learn. What do you see? ———————————————————- 🇺🇸AF *for educational and training purposes*
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“And then (at some point) as you step more vigilantly into the middle of your life, you begin to realize that they are all dead. Or more honestly (it takes even more years), you begin to realize that—perhaps—they are not all supposed to be dead. Or. You still remember. You can still feel yourself there. Standing. Knee-deep. In cement. A particular square on the sidewalk. There were dandelions. That odd, eternal sun. When a dear friend, your sister’s best-best friend—drives by—stops her car in the middle of the street. And then tells you. Screams out of her car window. And says it: your first beloved—that boy for whom you were slowly unfolding yourself from inside outward—that boy, whom you had yet to kiss, but would one day soon kiss certainly—that monumental boy, who smiled at you differently—that boy—had just been shot and killed. By strangers. Just for fun.” :
Honored to publish a new poem, commissioned by U.S. Poet Laureate Tracy K. Smith, for The Academy of American Poets (@poetsorg )'s exceptional "Poem-a-Day" series. Thank you @poetsorg for all of the profound ways you support and celebrate poetry, one of our oldest and most enduring art forms.
Where do we start with this issue? 2016 where it was brought to the public eye? Do we start with Manuel Loggins Jr. Ronald Madison. Kendra James. Sean Bell. Eric Garner. Michael Brown. Alton Sterling (to name a few) or do we go back to the Civil Rights Movement? Do we pretend that we have progressed since the days of Martin Luther King Jr.? Do we go back less than 200 years to slavery? Do we start with the stripping away of one persons humanity because of another’s supreme mindset? Where do we begin? 1967 Sam Cooke “A Change is Gonna Come” sung by Aretha Franklin, to President Barack Obama’s “Change we can believe in.” If we cannot trust in our nations authority figures to protect us what can we believe in? This is not an anti-police ad, this is an anti-police brutality declaration. No more “this is only a clip, we don’t know the full story.” We have seen the full story played out through history, education systems glossing over slavery in textbook mandatory instruction, black history month conveniently the shortest month of the year, “How about all lives matter?” March 7, 1995 a open invitation for racial bloodlust issued by a county sheriff, deputizing all residence deemed competent to hold a gun and shoot anything colored, Bloody Sunday. No more trying to pacify our society’s current racist culture with “What about Black on Black crime” what about the Ku Klutz Klan boldly fueling the fires of still burning churches and crosses, carrying on undisturbed marches, while the Black Panther organization was exterminated for being too radical of a racial preservation organization. No more if I can’t say it no one should be allowed to, why do you want to continue the tradition? No more “it’s 2019 this is still happening?” it’s always been happening. Runaway slave catchers hired by Masters, disguised as officers in blue. “Why are you running boy?” No more unprovoked aggression, no more trigger happy fingers being the death of another innocent. Does a slap on the wrist sound like the crack of a whip? Does it ring like the closing of a casket? The blue of our nations flag has become a scapegoat for abuse of power, hide behind your shields and your badges. ...