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<a href="http://www.counterpunch.org/day07262007.html" eudora="autourl">
http://www.counterpunch.org/day07262007.html<br><br>
</a></font><font face="Times New Roman, Times" size=4><b>July 26,
2007<br><br>
</font><h1><font face="Times New Roman, Times" size=5><b>"I Don't
Know That the Police Look at Us as Human"<br><br>
<br>
</i></font><font face="Times New Roman, Times" size=5 color="#990000">
Apartheid
Americana</b></font></h1><font face="Times New Roman, Times" size=5>By
SUSIE DAY<br><br>
</font><font face="Verdana" size=6 color="#990000">T</font>
<font face="Verdana" size=2>wo of my friends were just beaten and
arrested by Brooklyn police. My friends, Michael Tarif Warren and Evelyn
Warren, are African-American attorneys whose work consists, in part, of
defending victims of police violence. I want to tell you about how police
punched and humiliated these good people on the corner of Vanderbilt and
Atlantic, in their own, predominantly Black neighborhood on June 21st;
about Tarif's clothes being torn almost off--I don't want you to miss a
thing. But many facts must wait until the Warrens' trial. Here, excerpted
from a legal brief, is how Tarif describes what happened:<br><br>
</font>
<dl>
<dd>"At approximately 5:45pm, petitioner and his wife were in their
vehicle, stuck in traffic, when they saw members of the New York Police
Department apprehend a young man, handcuff him, and physically abuse him
while he was prone on the ground. Petitioner and his spouse exited their
vehicle to inquire why police were engaging in that behavior, but
immediately returned when ordered, without getting near the police or the
young man. Sergeant Steven Talvy, however, approached the petitioner and
his spouse and, after they identified themselves as attorneys, proceeded
to strike petitioner numerous times in the head and face and strike
petitioner's wife in the face."<br><br>
</dl>Sergeant Talvy handcuffed Tarif and pushed him into the police van.
Evelyn, though "stunned," remembered her legal training and
walked toward the mostly African-American crowd of onlookers:<br><br>
<dl>
<dd>"I said, 'Did you see what was happening?' Naturally, they did.
All these people had poured out of a nearby McDonalds, plus it's rush
hour and traffic was deadlocked. I say, 'Did anybody take photographs?'
They said, 'Look at your jaw.'<br><br>
<dd>"I didn't know it, but my jaw was swelling up. So I said, 'Take
a picture of my jaw,' you know?"<br><br>
</dl>I saw Evelyn three days later; her jaw was still swollen. It could
have been worse: Seeing that Evelyn was trying to retrieve her
confiscated driver's license, Sergeant Talvy ordered police to throw her
to the ground, but the onlookers' shouts stopped them. Evelyn and Tarif
were taken to Brooklyn's 77th Precinct.<br><br>
<dl>
<dd>"We were lined up against the wall with other prisoners. Tarif's
clothes were ripped and falling off him. I will never forget, there was
this blond officer in Talvy's unit--they were laughing together--and the
guy said, 'What's this, a strip show?'<br><br>
<dd>"You have to remember that Tarif and I were involved because the
police were kicking this young man viciously. He was Black; probably
around 18. His face was a bloody mess. Obviously, Talvy thought he could
get away with it because he said, 'Well, it's your word against mine.
Let's see what happens.'"<br><br>
</dl>What happened was that Tarif was charged with Obstructing
Governmental Administration, Disorderly Conduct, and Resisting Arrest;
Evelyn, with Disorderly Conduct. Reactions poured from the Black press
and community; there was almost no coverage from mainstream media; and a
resounding silence still emanates from the New York Times. <br><br>
Three weeks later, I visit Evelyn at home. She tells me how she's
fighting to put her life back together:<br><br>
<dl>
<dd>"I grew up before segregation ended. My father was a contractor,
a small-business person. He used to go to Mississippi to work. And every
time he would leave for Mississippi, my mother would cry. So I recognize
racism. <br><br>
<dd>"I guess I was raised to be the best I could be in whatever I
chose to do--by being the best, I could overcome certain conditions. I
was foolish enough to believe that. I still know my value, but this
incident tells me that they</i> don't know my value--whether you're a kid
wearing baggy pants, or a lawyer wearing a suit and driving an upscale
vehicle--it doesn't matter to them.<br><br>
<dd>"I should have been more aware of this. Tarif and I represent
police brutality victims. I've heard accounts and seen the evidence, but
to experience it firsthand--it's earth-shattering. So I have a new
appreciation for what people go through. While you live in a world that's
in turmoil, you still have a little corner where you feel safe and
secure. I no longer have that. Before this, I was concerned about what
was going on in Iraq, Africa, Venezuela. Now, I'm concerned about what
goes on within ten blocks of where I live.<br><br>
<dd>"Black people are hit harder by police than any other
community--I know</i> that. Tarif and I went to a meeting last Saturday
where, in the projects, Black people are accosted coming out their door.
Police say, 'Let me see some identification.' Now, if you're coming out
the door, you must have had some right to be there. Unless you're seen
carrying a TV or stereo system, why should you show ID?"<br><br>
</dl>I ask Evelyn what she wants white people to know.<br><br>
<dl>
<dd>"I want them to know that what I'm telling is the truth. That
any people of good moral standards should be concerned about law
enforcement that's out of control. At minimum, they should ask questions
of Police Commissioner Kelly and of Mayor Bloomberg: 'What's going on,
here? This is unacceptable.' If those officers knew they could face
charges just like any civilian, they'd think twice."<br><br>
</dl>Then Evelyn says something that stops me cold:<br><br>
<dl>
<dd>"I don't know that the police look at us as human. I don't know
that they would hear us if we spoke to them." <br><br>
</dl>And I realize that, like many white people, I have lived for years
with the genteel, self-protective assumption that, if I believed hard
enough that Black and White people are equal, then the world must be OK.
I realize it's never been OK--that my friends are in danger--that our
lives remain deeply divided. <br><br>
<dl>
<dd>"Tarif keeps saying this happened for a reason, that the Creator
is on a mission here. But my overriding emotion, aside from sadness and
feeling powerless, is anger. I'm determined to change things. Because, if
that officer can do what he did to us, in broad daylight, with 50 to 100
people watching--what happens when nobody's around?"<br><br>
</dl>Susie Day</b> can be reached at:
<a href="mailto:sday@skadden.com">sday@skadden.com<br><br>
</a>© Susie Day, 2007<br><br>
Contact:<br><br>
<a href="http://www.nyc.gov/portal/site/nycgov/menuitem.bd08ee7c7c1ffec87c4b36d501c789a0/index.jsp?doc_name=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.nyc.gov%2Fhtml%2Fmail%2Fhtml%2Fmayor.html">
Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg</a><br>
City Hall<br>
New York, NY 10007<br>
(212) 788-9600<br><br>
<font size=3> <br><br>
</font><font face="Verdana" size=2>Police Commissioner Raymond W. Kelly
<br><br>
New York City Police Department <br><br>
One Police Plaza <br><br>
New York, NY 10038<br><br>
<a href="http://www.nyc.gov/html/mail/html/mailnypd.html">
http://www.nyc.gov/html/mail/html/mailnypd.html</a><br><br>
<br><br>
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