Police Are Trained to Fear

As a former cop, I know why so many carry out their work with an “us versus them” mentality

Photo: Mandel Ngan/AFP/Getty

In 2000, I was a rookie patrol cop in the Baltimore Police Department. Everything I’d learned from six months in the police academy and another month of field training was still fresh in my head. I fancied myself as a squared-away, polished-looking crime fighter at the top of my game when I had my first real-life foot chase.

I remember the call very clearly. It was toward the end of my 4 p.m. to midnight shift on a warm summer night. I was dispatched as a backup unit to a report from a repair shop owner observing a man breaking into cars and rummaging through them. As I parked my car on York Road a few feet north of the shop, I could see the silhouette of a man in the driver’s seat of a Dodge Neon. He had no idea I was behind him. Another marked patrol car pulled up south of the shop, and he did notice that one. He jumped out of the Neon and ran straight at me. He was looking back at the other patrol car as he ran, and when he looked forward, I was almost on top of him.

My adrenaline was in control, and my training had me thinking that this would be where I would get shot.

Jogging toward the man, I shouted, “Stop!” I hadn’t anticipated that someone scared of being caught for breaking into cars would suddenly display the agility of a cheetah. He quickly changed direction and ran down an alley behind the shop. I gave chase, and we found ourselves cornered between a dumpster and a very tall privacy fence.

At that point, my adrenaline was in control, and my training had me thinking that this would be where I would get shot. The man bent slightly and was digging for something from his waistband. I immediately drew my gun and shouted for him to stop moving and show me his hands. When he turned to face me, I saw a flash of silver in his hands. I began to squeeze the trigger of my gun; at the same time, he dropped what he was holding and threw his hands in the air.

I didn’t shoot him, but I came really close. The other officer came chugging to where we were and helped me take the man into custody. I noticed the man had an open fanny pack on his waist, and when I checked the ground, I found the silver object he had been holding. It was a radar detector about the size of a cellphone. I’d almost shot a man for holding a radar detector. After the excitement of the chase passed and I’d calmed down, I told the man I almost shot him. He was older than me and had what I would come to learn was the wear and tear of drug addiction. He looked at me and said, “I’m sorry. I’m glad you didn’t shoot me.” I was dumbfounded: He was unarmed, I’d almost shot him, and he was apologizing to me.

I was dumbfounded: He was unarmed, I’d almost shot him, and he was apologizing to me.

That was the closest I ever came to shooting someone in my 18-year career, and I have thought back to that night over and over. It’s usually when there’s news of another police-involved shooting on the news and especially if the person was unarmed. I have wondered so many things: If I had shot him, would he have died? Would I have cared? Would I have been angry or remorseful? What would have happened to me? Probably I could have told the truth, that for a split second I was scared and thought I would be shot.

I also have wondered why was I scared. Was I scared of him? Of what he was holding? Of the dark corner we’d wound up in? Or had I been trained to be scared?