A Cop and I

I told them I wasn't tagging and that my late uncle was an LAPD officer. They both looked at each other and asked me who my uncle was. I told them. They said that I better not tell my mother or anyone about how I got the black eye or they would fuck me up and plant dope on me.

They also threatened to drop me off in a gang area. They said that if any officers asked me how I got the black eye, I should say I fell off the bridge.

I said okay.

About half an hour later, the sergeant showed up at the scene and asked me how I got the black eye. I lied and told him what the officers told me to say.

He said, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I said.

The two officers agreed that is what happened.

The sergeant asked if I was sure.

I said yes.

The two officers who beat me up took me home and warned me again to keep my mouth shut. Once at home, the cops told my mom the same story. I agreed.

—"Youngster," 21

About a month ago I was sitting on the sidewalk on Argyle Street smoking a cigarette and reading a book when two officers pulled up. They told me to stand up and lean against a fence. They kept asking me where I kept my gun. They said that they had received a report about an African-American man fitting my description brandishing a handgun at the Tommy's on Hollywood Boulevard.

I told them I hadn't been in the area and that I was just trying to get some shade from the sun. They asked me to dump out my backpack so they could search for the gun. After they searched it thoroughly and found nothing, the male officer patted me down three or four times, paying particular attention to my nuts.

"Why don't we cut to the chase," I said. "We can drive over there so they can ID me."

"Oh, that will be all right," he said, then left.

A week after the incident, about a block up the road, the same male officer came up to me just as I was throwing away a cigarette butt on the sidewalk and gave me a ticket for littering on a public highway.

—Kevin, homeless