My traffic stop

Years ago I was stopped by a Phoenix policeman in the middle of the day.  I steered my 10-year-old Datsun to the curb.  The officer was young, possibly Hispanic.  He acted nervous.  His hand hovered too close to his holster for comfort.  I worried he might do something rash.

The officer explained why I was stopped.  He said I made a left turn too close to an oncoming car.  What a crock!  I thought.  But I did not complain.  I was courteous and tried to act calm.  I produced the documents required by Arizona law:  Driver’s license, proof of insurance and car title.  I wanted to make sure the situation did not escalate.  And it didn’t.  I got off with only a warning.  And I was alive and unwounded.

I wish more blacks would learn to obey police officers, even when it’s thought they have been racially profiled.  You never know what kind of cop you’re talking with until things get out of hand.  By then, it may be too late.

If I’m a leader of Black Lives Matter, I urge my followers to obey the police at all cost.  Your pride, your ego is not worth a casket.  I would educate them.  I would tell them the documents they need to have on their person or in the vehicle.  I would try to save their lives, not use their dead bodies to further my political aims.


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