By: Aithne
My recent foray into the glamorous world of police transparency was an illuminating experience! Waltzing into the HPD station, I was ready to bask in the glow of their newfound ‘greater transparency’ policy. You know, the kind of transparency that usually just means they finally were going to try to clean the station’s front glass doors.
Day 1 – Transparent
So, first attempt, and I witnessed what could only be described as an officer expertly manipulating a poor soul into losing their marbles. This person, who might have been having a rough day, was being poked and prodded by Officer Smiley until they finally erupted like a shaken up soda can. Even another cop nearby was like, “You better keep your bigoted views to yourself” to his fellow cop. Once the civilian’s rage was kindled, the typical HPD beat down commenced. But then, when I started to ask questions about the ruckus at the St. Patricks Day party there came the classic HPD two-step: “Talk to Lieutenant Naka” followed by the ever-illuminating “We don’t talk to reporters.” So much for transparency!?
Day 2 – Frosted
Day two, I figured, maybe the memo about being open had finally reached the coffee machine. Nope. Instead, I walked in on what appeared to be a wrestling match between two officers and a woman who looked like she could be knocked over by a light breeze. Now, to their credit (and I use that term loosely), there was a knife on the ground. Apparently, she’d gone all cray cray on an officer, then resorted to fists after being disarmed. Look, I wasn’t there for the initial kerfuffle, but the scene I walked into looked like less than professional law enforcement. And the charming way they were speaking to her? Let’s just say ‘demeaning‘ was putting it mildly. But hey, at least they had an excuse, right? They always do.
Day 3 – Mud
Then, a glimmer of hope! Sergeant Lyssandra Ritter, bless her sugar sweet heart, actually spoke to me. That’s her (face obscured at request) standing next to the guy in the Cannoli. I got the usual “Lieutenant Naka” spiel, and then, a quote for the ages from her superior: “We don’t give information about ongoing information.” Profound. I felt like I’d just unlocked the secrets of the universe. Sergeant Ritter did at least confirm the knife and punching involved with the girl they’d just dragged back to the bowls of the station, which, while not excusing the excessive force, was something. Context is key, even if the context is ‘cops gonna cop.’
Sergeant Ritter, perhaps feeling a pang of guilt or maybe just wanting to pawn me off on someone else, offered a patrol walk-along. I jumped at the chance! I had a sneaking suspicion she was trying to set me up with Sergeant Ellis, who had just walked in, for this walk along – you know, the guy who once ticketed me for interfering with his ego? Thankfully, he had donuts to dunk. So sergeant Ritter was stuck with me herself.
The walk-along started innocently enough. We first encountered a woman who seemed to have achieved peak levels of ‘not sober’. Sergeant Ritter, with the sweetness of saccharine, asked for her ID, glanced at it with less interest than a barkeep at Lou’s checking for underage drinking, and handed it back. No radio check, no nothing. I half-expected her to pull out a Ouija board to see if the woman had an APB. She also apparently had a profiling strategy involved targeting blond women (even though she was one herself!), apparently to avoid any accusations of… profiling… people. Makes perfect sense.
The very next woman we encountered, however, was not amused by this impromptu street-side ID parade. She flashed her work name tag and let Sergeant Ritter know, in no uncertain terms, what she thought of her and yours truly for “working with them.” I can’t say I blamed her. I probably looked like a part of the whole HPD personal propaganda production. Sergeant Ritter’s attempt at playing the friendly neighbourhood cop was so over-the-top it was practically a community theatre production.
Then came the pièce de résistance. The understandably irritated citizen pushed Sergeant Ritter hard, and right back into me! And what did our brave officer do? She turned tail and ran! Truly! When I asked her about this, she nonchalantly said it wasn’t a felony to push a police officer. This from the same department that seems to charge you with assaulting an officer if you accidentally make eye contact for too long. The irony was thicker than Hathian humidity in July.
So, yeah, the whole experience was a surreal blend of questionable tactics, bureaucratic stonewalling, and unintentional slapstick. While the transparency I was hoping for remained elusive, I do have to give them points for the sheer entertainment value.
And hey, I was finally able to later that evening speak with Lieutenant Nakayama. Her propensity for divulging information seemed mostly limited to one word responses of “Okay?” But she did say I could talk to the officers involved in incidents, even that I should! So, baby steps, people, baby steps. Maybe one day I’ll actually understand what’s going on behind those slightly less opaque than before glass doors (Might be Naka with her mouth full of things other than words? -Ed)
