I Don’t Want to Defund the Police

But we need to come up with sensible solutions

“I think I want the police defunded,” my partner grumbled as he fished through the glove compartment for his boater registration.

Our pontoon boat rocked fiercely back and forth, buffeted by the waves of passing boats. We were stopped at the worst possible place; the bridge separating the north and south sides of the lake. The bridge is a major thoroughfare, and nobody wants to be blocking that boat lane.

But you have to stop when the Lake Patrol tells you to, and two lake patrol officers had flagged us down as we were about to go under the bridge. They wanted to see our boater registration, life jackets, fire extinguisher, whistle, and anything else they could think of.

Our two teenagers bobbed on the Big Bertha raft we were towing, and I worried that one of the approaching boats would cut between them and the boat line. The girls were wearing life jackets, as was our youngest granddaughter, who eyed the lake police resentfully because they had interrupted her ride.

My daughter yanked 14 orange life jackets from compartments under the seats and my partner presented a current boater registration. When the Lake patrol officers saw we weren’t short of life jackets, they zeroed in on our Virginia sticker.

We were in a South Carolina lake and we had a South Carolina registration, but we also had a Virginia sticker. My partner inherited the boat from his father, who had lived in Virginia before he died, and the sticker was hard to peel off. It was affixed to the side of the boat next to the South Carolina sticker.

“You need to get that Virginia sticker scraped off,” one of the patrolmen said. “Sometimes drying it with a hairdryer helps loosen it up.”

You’ve got to be kidding, I thought as I envisioned stumbling into the lake with a hairdryer and getting electrocuted, but I didn’t say anything since I didn’t want to antagonize the lake patrol.

They finally issued a written warning because our 40-year-old passenger was sitting on the flat sundeck part of the pontoon boat. A perfectly safe spot, in my opinion.

My partner and I were both mad when they finally let us continue our ride; my partner, because they had interrupted a peaceful day, and me because now I wouldn’t be able to sit on my favorite part of the boat.

I realized they were just doing their job, and at least we got off with a warning instead of a fine. But this incident reminded me of a couple of times when real police, not lake patrol officers, have stopped members of my family.

Several years ago I was pulled over for speeding and the policeman confiscated my driver’s license. It was my first speeding ticket and even if I deserved a ticket, I was incensed that he kept my license. I ended up driving without one for several weeks.

My son’s traffic stop was a lot worse. He was pulled over for having a taillight out. Then the officer discovered he had an outstanding speeding ticket from another county. My son was made to step out of the car, put his hands on the hood, and was frisked, handcuffed, arrested, and taken to the Atlanta jail.

He spent the next eight hours in a holding cell with 15 men. The police had taken his cell phone and he was not allowed the one phone call we’re told people in prison are allowed to make.

My son was the only white person in the cell, and the other men wanted to know what he was doing there.

One man’s head had been grazed by a bullet, and a blood-soaked bandana covered the wound. Another man, passed out in a corner, might have been dead for all my son knew. He never moved.

The men were forced to use a single toilet in full view of everybody else, and my son, having a nervous stomach when he’s under stress, had to sit on that toilet for a long, embarrassing time.

But the men were polite and respectful concerning the toilet. They averted their eyes and never said a word.

They were curious about why a white guy in a necktie and polished dress shoes had landed in jail. My son shrugged and said, “It’s an injustice. I shouldn’t be here.” The others chimed in and agreed their incarceration was a mistake, too, which led to some camaraderie among them. They ended up passing long hours swapping stories over life’s injustices while they waited for something, anything, to happen.

When my son mentioned that he didn’t get his one phone call, the others laughed. “Don’t expect your rights. You got none,” the man with the bandana said.

Four hours after his arrest, my son’s boss phoned his pregnant wife to find out why he never showed up at work. She tried his cell phone and became frantic when he didn’t answer. The boss decided, as a last resort, to examine arrest records, and that’s how they discovered he was in jail.

My son’s boss got him out a few hours later, leaving behind his new jail buddies who didn’t have anybody to get them out. My son and his wife are now fully aligned with defunding the police, and I can understand why.

But I’m ambivalent, despite my encounter with lake patrol and my confiscated driver’s license. In my previous job, I worked with a lot of sensible, dedicated police officers. I came to like them and respect the job they do. I also believe we need law and order to function in a civilized society.

No society has ever been crime free. The best and worst of humanity exist side by side in an imperfect world, not an idealized utopia. But while I believe a police force is necessary, I also believe police should be allies rather than enemies of the public.

I understand why this is a challenge. Police officers are routinely exposed to danger, threats, and violence. Some of the crimes they witness are enough to harden the most compassionate and dedicated among them, leading to burnout.

They need the tools to deal effectively with law enforcement. Police should be able to do their jobs and citizens should be free and unafraid to go about their daily activities. Instead of defunding the police, maybe the conversation should be about transforming law enforcement. Those who claim that defunding doesn’t mean eliminating police departments should consider changing their terminology. To defund something is to stop paying for it, so the logical conclusion is that police departments that are defunded will cease to exist.

There are things we could do. Officers with numerous complaints and violations should not be allowed to remain on the force. Police should be adequately equipped with something besides lethal weapons to deal with suspects and we should find better ways of addressing police burnout.

I was talking with a policeman who is also a friend, and he said, “We are taught to shoot to kill.” Really? Why? Aren’t there other ways of stopping people suspected of breaking the law?

Life is valuable. When a life is taken, it can’t be given back. There has to be another way. But unless we move from extreme positions, we will never meet in the middle with effective solutions. Hostilities will grow, nothing will be accomplished, and the problems will continue.

Solutions start with listening, really listening, to the arguments others are making. Our country is divided, with intransigent people camped on opposite sides. Like my pontoon boat buffeted by relentless waves, we are buffeted by forces we can’t control. I hope we can come together.

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