PART ONE

DRIVING WHILE BLACK

PROLOGUE

“Sixteen calling fifteen. Come in please. What is your current location?”

“Vinewood and Ninth, possible B & E. Currently waiting on key holder. What’s up, Sixteen?”

“Copy. Pulling vehicle over—Michigan plate number 272-BLM. That’s 272 BRAVO, LIMA, MIKE. Got that?”

“Copy that.”

“Going to check ID. Two male occupants matching description of Burger King robbery suspects . . . Occupants appear to resemble the suspects but did not get a good look.”

“Copy that. Wise to await backup. Where are you now?”

“Cedar, just south of Pennsylvania, heading north. The stop should be north of Pennsylvania, heading north toward Eureka.”

“Will come to your location ASAP. I see where you are.”

“Will await your arrival. Ten-four.”

“Ten-four. Will be there shortly.”

***

“The kids sure enjoyed the fair. I’m glad we came. The people were nice, considering. Want to get something to eat?” 

“Sure, I’m hungry if you’re hungry.”

“It’s all about me, right? It’s always about me. You are the sweetest man.” 

He really is. After all of these years together, he still always puts me first.

“Your happiness is my happiness, baby,” he says. “You know what they say?”

“No, but I know you’ll tell me,” she giggles.

“Happy wife, happy life.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she warns. 

“Marcus, please roll down the window for me?”

“Sure. Whoa, what the fuck?”

“What?”

“There’s a cop coming up on us, with lights and siren flashing. The whole nine yards.” He’s in a panic.

“Maybe there’s an emergency up ahead. There’s a hospital nearby.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What’s the speed limit?”

“Thirty-five. What are you doing?”

“Thirty-two, thirty-three.”

“Okay.  Stay calm. Let’s see what he does.”

“He’s right up my ass. I smoked a joint on my way home from work. Can you smell it?”

She sniffs at the air. “No, I don’t think so.” She is pissed off. 

How can he smoke weed, then get into a car and go for a drive with his family?

 She’d let it slide, at least for now. 

“Stay calm, baby. You weren’t speeding. We got the kids in the car, and even if he smells weed, we can tell him it was me, not you.”

“Like a cop will care. He’ll make me walk a straight line or something.”

“Please don’t give him attitude.”

“I won’t. What about the gun?”

“Make sure he knows you have it. Do you have the permit?”

“In the glove box.”

“Let him know you have the gun and a license to carry.”

“I will. Here we go . . . pulling over right now.”

“Aisha, sweetheart?” She turns to her six-year-old daughter strapped in her car seat. 

“Mommy and Daddy are going to talk with the nice policeman. Keep an eye on the baby, okay?”

“Yes, Mama. Are we going to get something to eat? I’m hungry.”

“After we talk with the nice policeman, baby. Please stay quiet back there. It’s quiet time now.” 

The woman pulls an iPhone from her purse and enables the video function.

***

“Good evening sir and . . .uh . . . ma’am. License and registration, please?”

“What’s the problem, officer?”

“License and registration, sir.”

“I heard you. Am I entitled to know what I did wrong? I wasn’t speeding. When I last checked, my rear lights were working okay.”

“License and registration . . . now!”

“Talkative fella’, aren’t you? All right. I’m getting them out. I want to make sure that you are aware that I have a gun and a permit to carry.”

“Don’t get them out! Don’t even move! Put your hands on the dash!”

“Okay, calm down now. My hands are on the dash.”

“License and registration, now!”

“Hands on the dash or license and registration? I can’t do both, officer.”

“Raise your hands in the air and slowly step out of the car.”

“Why? I haven’t done anything wrong,” Marcus pleads.

“Did I stutter? Raise your hands in the air and step out of the car. I need to see your license, registration and permit.”

“Stop pointing that damned gun at me! You are scaring my children. See, they’re crying. You’ve upset them. It’s okay babies. Daddy is talking to this nasty policeman. I’m sorry he is being such a mean man. We’ll get something to eat in a few minutes.” 

Marcus tries to stay calm, for the sake of his family.

“I’m not asking. Step out of the damned car!” The officer is becoming unglued.

“I’m getting out, damn you, but, here, let me just show you my—”

“Don’t reach. Stop!”

“I’m getting what you asked for, just going to show you my—”

“Put your hands where I can see them!” The officer snarls.

“Jesus H. Christ, officer. I’m not—”

Thunderous shots ring out and Marcus slumps away from the dash, back toward the driver’s seat.

“Oh my god! You just shot my husband,” screams the front seat passenger. 

“Marcus, hang in there, baby. Call an ambulance. NOW! Why did you do that? He was just doing what you asked . . .Oh my god! He’s unconscious!” 

The woman shakes the unconscious victim. She screams and turns to her children, hysterical in the back seat. She turns back to her husband. 

“Marcus, can you hear me? God, the children!”

“Mommy! Mommy!” Aisha cries.

“Mommy is right here, Aisha, baby.”

“Stay where you are, ma’am. Don’t move.”

“Is he dead? Noooo! He needs an ambulance. NOW!”

“Fuck, oh fuck! I can’t believe this shit! Why did he reach for—?”

 The woman is livid. 

“You asked for the license and registration! All he was trying to do was show you! What’s the matter with you? Are you crazy?”

“Fuck! Don’t move!” 

The officer is now pointing the gun at the female passenger.

“Nobody’s moving,” she cries, raising both hands in the air. “What about our children? Don’t move, Aisha.”

“Fuck!”

“Whatever you do, don’t hurt our children,” the woman pleads.

“I told him to put his hands on the dash. I told him not to move his hands. I told him to raise his hands and exit the vehicle. I told him to keep his hands where I could see them. Why didn’t he do what I ordered? Fuck!” 

The kids are still screaming in the back seat.

“My kids are terrified! I need to get them out of the back seat. You asked for his license and registration. He was trying to show you.” 

“Keep your hands where I can see them, ma’am.”

“Absolutely. I’m not moving a muscle. Is someone else coming? I need to tend to my babies. Did you call for an ambulance? You need to get an ambulance out here! Dear God!” she cries. “Tell me he isn’t dead! Blood’s everywhere! He didn’t do anything! Why? Why did you shoot him? For no damn reason, that’s why!”

“Shut up! Just shut-the-fuck-up!” 

The cop hovers over her in a shoot-to-kill stance.

The woman defies him. 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that! Where is that damn ambulance? Marcus, Honey? He’s dead. I think he’s dead!”

 A squad car pulls up. Officer Alex Mickler gets out of the driver’s seat.

“What’s the problem, here, Randy?” 

“Glad you’re here, Alex.” 

A second officer exits his vehicle and the two officers walk a few steps from the vehicle. They begin to whisper. When they finish the conversation, the second officer peers into the driver’s side window and recoils in shock. 

“This guy is dead, Randy. Did you call for a bus?”

“Not yet.”

“Fifteen to central. We have an officer-involved shooting.  One male adult with multiple gunshot wounds. We need a bus, stat, to Cedar, about a half-mile north of Pennsylvania.

“One female adult is being taken in to custody. There are two minor children in the back seat in need of attention. Call social services. 

“We need multiple squads to block off Cedar from Pennsylvania south to Eureka north. We need supervisors here STAT! Page everyone within earshot. Do you read?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Randy, take a seat on the curb. Ma’am, please exit the car and make sure I can see your hands,” Mickler commands.

“My children, what about my children?”

“They’re fine where they are, ma’am. Now, please exit the vehicle.”

“They are not fine! They’re scared, officer! I need to be with them.”

“Mommy!”

“They’ll be fine.”

“How can my kids be fine? That bastard shot my husband in cold blood-right in front of us!”

Mickler points to the trunk. “Hands on the trunk, ma’am.”

“Please get my kids out of the car and bring them to me­­­­, PLEASE!”

 “Follow my orders, please, ma’am. Help is on the way. Just keep your hands where—”

“My hands are right here! I’m not moving! I haven’t moved an inch! I’ve got the whole thing on video on my phone! That cop killed my Marcus in cold blood! He killed my husband! He killed their daddy!” 

She shakes and points her finger at the first officer.

“Stay calm and don’t move, ma’am. The ambulance is here.” 

An ambulance driver approaches the scene.

“What’s the situation?”

“Victim’s in the driver’s seat with multiple gunshot wounds. He’s not moving. Jones says there’s a gun in the car, so proceed with caution. I believe he is deceased.”

“Okay, I’ve got it from here.”

“The car is a crime scene. Make sure the emergency brake is engaged.”

“Got it.”

“Tell me what happened, Randy? I thought you were going to wait for me before approaching the vehicle.”

The woman interrupts. 

“He shot my husband for no reason, that’s what happened! Will you please get my kids out of the car? They’re frightened.”

“Patience please, ma’am. You will get your turn. I’m talking to Officer Jones right now. Randy?”

“I don’t know, man. It was a routine traffic stop. There were infants in the car for Christ’s sake! I asked the guy for his license and registration. I might have smelled marijuana, not sure. He told me that he had a firearm and a license to carry. I told him not to reach for it. He had his hand right here and I couldn’t tell what he was holding. I told him to put his hands on the dashboard where I could see them. I didn’t know where the gun was, and he wouldn’t put his hands where I could see them. He would not comply with my instructions. I couldn’t see the fucking gun!”

“Okay. Then what?”

“He was staring into space, like he was high or something. It was getting tense and I was nervous. I kept telling him to keep his hands on the dash because I had no idea where the gun was.”

“Okay, Okay. And?”

“He reaches down, and . . .”

“How many people were in the car?”

“Four, counting the victim. The female says she’s the wife and her I.D. indicates her name is Sarah Hayes, same last name as the driver, one Marcus Hayes. There are two kids who she says are their children.”

“Deep breaths, man, just take deep breaths. There were four people total? One male suspect, one female and two minor children?”

“Correct.”

“Why were they pulled over?”

“The vehicle and occupants matched the description of the Burger King robbery perps.”

“The Burger King guys are both male.”

“I couldn’t tell the passenger was female until I reached the vehicle.”

“Where were you in relationship to the suspect?”

“I was at his side view mirror with my gun drawn pointing down diagonally at the driver.”

“Are all rounds still in the vehicle?”

“Is the suspect still in the vehicle?”

“What about the woman?”

“She was a pain in my ass. She kept screaming. ‘You shot my husband. My babies. My babies.’ She claimed she’s got the whole thing on her cell phone.”

“Was anyone else at the scene besides these four?”

“No. Well, not that I know of, anyway.”

“Did you run the plate?”

“The car belongs to the driver. No outstanding warrants.”

“Where do they live?”

“Detroit.”

“What were they doing in Cedar Ridge?”

“I didn’t ask. They seem out of place for this area.”

“The boss is on his way. Hang in there. We’ll sort this out.”

CHAPTER ONE

“What do you think?” 

Cedar Ridge chief of police Warren Brooks has convened a task force to conduct a special inquiry into this officer-involved shooting. The most experienced law enforcement officials from city and county are named to the task force. 

The press will have a field day with this! 

The chief and the task force listen to the transcript of the audio and review dashcam video. They review copies of a disturbing iPhone video the victim’s wife captured. 

Officer Randy Jones has been suspended pending completion of the investigation. He faces state charges and a possible federal civil rights investigation and prosecution. The victim was African-American. His name was Marcus Hayes and he resided in Detroit. Officer Jones is a veteran Cedar Ridge resident and cop.

“This is off the record, correct?” A task force veteran asks.

“Absolutely,” replies Chief Brooks.

“Doesn’t look very good to me. I didn’t hear or see anything to suggest that the officer was in danger at any time.”

“Any time a citizen says ‘I have a gun’ to an officer, that officer is in danger,” counters Brooks.

“True enough, I suppose, but why would the victim tell the officer he had a gun if he planned to use it? The victim did exactly what he should have done under the circumstances. We can’t go shooting every citizen who is carrying and has a legal right to carry.”

“Hayes should have complied with Jones’ orders to the letter, don’t you think?” Chief Brooks is naturally inclined to defend his officer.

“We can’t tell whether he complied or not from the audio or the angle that the video provides. Furthermore, Jones asked the man, at least twice, for his license and registration. How was Hayes supposed to do that without reaching for something? At best, he was given inconsistent commands. Which ones should he have complied with? Close call.”

“You think Jones will face charges?”

“From the city or county, maybe. From the feds? Absolutely.”  

“For now, any investigation of Officer Jones will be handled in house,” Brooks says. “Internal Affairs needs to get Officer Jones in here for a confidential interview. We need to get his statement on the record. The audio and video tell us some, but not all of what was going on out there. 

“Monday morning quarterbacking is easy. We all have opinions about what we see on the video, but what was Jones seeing? What was going through his mind? What was the guy doing inside the car that caused Jones to react the way he did? We’ve got our work cut out for us. We may need to get another police department involved so that the investigation is completely independent. I don’t want any civil rights marches in our city—they are not good for our image.” 

“Neither is an officer-involved shooting of an innocent black man who was pulled over for no apparent reason.”

“There was a reason, dammit. The officer thought that driver and occupant looked like the Burger King suspects.”

“Because the driver was a black man? Any other reasons come to mind?”

“Jones said there was a resemblance.”

“That’s absurd, Chief. The Burger King guys were much younger, and, by the way, both male. This was a male and female with young children in car seats. There was no traffic violation. Jones admits on tape that he could not see the suspects well enough to tell that one was female. This so-called robbery suspicion was hardly probable cause for the stop.  

“But, let’s assume for a second that there was probable cause. These people did nothing wrong. He pulls them over, approaches the window and sees a man, a woman and two children. They are some twenty years older than the Burger King suspects. Officer Jones knows then and there that he’s made a mistake. Why not simply apologize for pulling them over, tell them it was a case of mistaken identity and to have a nice day?”

“Because he might have smelled marijuana?”

“That’s weak, Chief. He pumps four bullets into a guy over a possible joint? This smells like a case of driving while black through a predominately white community.”

“I know; I get it.  For now, we defer to Internal Affairs. Let’s reconvene once they’ve completed their investigation. Anything else?”

“Yeah, Chief. I don’t know Jones well, but this case is a powder keg. What if we have to sacrifice him, right or wrong, for the greater good of the community?”

“Not close to considering anything like that yet. We’ll cross that bridge if or when we come to it. For now, we let Internal Affairs do their thing. Anyone else? No? Okay, meeting adjourned.”