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Juvenile crime punishment
Police officers use of force authority
How should juvenile crime be punished
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"Turn!" They yelled at me as I followed orders.
It was odd being on the other side of the law. I couldn't hide behind my father's name any longer If he even would claim me as his own anymore. The flash broke my concentration.
"Turn!" They yelled once again as once more I listened.
I was beloved. In their eyes, I could do no wrong. But things have changed. They took the final picture of me as two police officer came into the photo room and grabbed handcuffed me.
"Come on, time to go to your cell." He escorted me out.
We passed multiple of criminals. The ones that make your skin crawl at night. Look at me, I'm short and weigh like a feather. I don't belong in a place like this. We passed through them all even a few empties ones until we reached the entrance.
"Where are we going?" I looked over at them both, waiting for an answer.
"They deem you unsafe to be kept in town. We are taking you to a secure area." He explained as the other didn't even look at me.
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Crazy to see the people you spend your whole life with can turn on you so quickly. The officer protected me from any physical altercation, yet they found ways to hurt me. They yelled in my face, yelling whatever offensive word they could say, yet I stared straight ahead with a blank face. They wanted a reaction out of me, but I couldn't let them have it. We approached the vehicle as I let them push me into it. They surrounded my side of the car, banging on it. What else did they want from me? They got what they wanted by getting me, an innocent person, arrested for such a petty
Officers abusing their power can range from taking bribes, choosing who they decide to let go and who to prosecute, and even abusing their power by molestation. In July of 2009 two Phoenix police officers lost their jobs after they stopped a bikini clad woman who had run from a rear end collision. The officers handcuffed her, drove her back to the accident scene to complete the paper work, and then drove her to elementary school where they knew that they would be alone. When they reached the school one of them fondled her breasts, abdomen, and buttocks while the other one watched and did nothing to help he...
“But they didn't have to beat me this bad. I don't know what I did to be beat up." Rodney King, March 3, 1991. Police Brutality has been a long lasting problem in the United States since at least 1903 when police Captain Williams of the New York Police Department said the phrase, "There is more law at the end of a policeman's nightstick than in a decision of the Supreme Court." In the 1920's the Wichersham Commission had a number of instances of police brutality. Many of these included the use of the "third degree" (beating to obtain a confession). This is a very effective way to get a confession out of somebody. However, beating the accused could easily elicit a confession from a scared and innocent person. Also, this puts the accused person's life in danger. Police officers must make snap life and death decisions daily. Officers' work in an environment where death (theirs, their partners, and an innocent or guilty person) is one decision away. How does that constant fear effect an officer's perception? Unfortunately, many that are attracted to law enforcement are aggressive and prone towards violence as a solution. Police officers have a lot of power. With this power comes responsibility. Police brutality can be defined as the excessive or unreasonable use of force in dealing with citizens, suspects and offenders.
Just because you shouldn’t be arrested for expressing your “disrespectful, discourteous, and annoying” words and opinions towards an officer doesn’t mean he or she still won’t arrest you for doing so. You may recall that the tragic arrest of Sandra Bland in Texas only came after the officer perceived her as being disrespectful. And just because you have the right to mouth-off to a cop doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do in a given
I tried to duck down, but they had me at gunpoint. I couldn’t see; the flashing lights from the police cars were blinding me. One officer was behind me while the other one was in front. The officer behind me was putting handcuffs on my wrists. They dug into my wrists. The policeman guided me to the car and lowered me into it. We were headed to the jail.
Throughout history injustice and inequality have thrived in our justice system. Prejudice, stereotypes, racism, and discrimination have allowed the mistreatment of minorities to continue to exist. This is giving officers the right to violate human rights. What ever happen to the phrase "innocent until proven guilty", it seems to be nonexistent nowadays. Police officers have decided to take matter into their own hands, becoming the judge, jury, and executioner.
At a turning point in my life I became very outspoken, I’ve seen more doing my job and in life that people only see in movies. Those experiences and the abuse haunt me. I made the choice, and criminal law was all I knew, I was good at my job and I provided well, for my girls. Now they provide for me. After all, each of us do what we must for reasons many others will never understand, nor is it anyone’s business to judge.
They sat us down on the curb and began asking us if we were allowed to be out at 11:30 and what we were doing at this time of night. We repeatedly told them that we had permission from our parents to be out and that we were doing nothing wrong. The officers were convinced we were doing some kind of illegal activity. They asked us if we were egging houses, meeting up with girls, smoking weed, and why we ran when we saw the police car. We told them that we were waiting for our friends and that we ran because we couldn’t recognize the police markings or who the person pulling up was. The officers told us to cancel our plans with our friends, called our parents, and forced us to go straight home. They had no evidence that we were doing something wrong, but they still assumed we were and so did the person that called
Waking up everyday to see four, sometimes even five, cop cars driving down my street. The sound of sirens always grew loud as they’d pass by and the lights would peer through my window. As a child, I never understood why the cops were down my street every day. I lived in the south side of Sacramento, California the community there had altered my way of living. My parents coached me that even though things were as they were I should still act as though the matter at hand was important, and that I should care. As I have gotten older I realize that it's my family and others around me that I love me had educated me to respected other
A few hours later they transfer me to another jail for more fingerprints and mugshots. I finally end up at 4th Ave they had everybody that had gotten arrested sitting either against a long white wall with a bench or in the tanks, which they’d put about 15 people in while they wait. I’m waiting in the tanks for more fingerprints along with about 13 other females. A lady in there was in the middle of dying her hair a bright red so it smelled strongly of ammonia, another lady was homeless and caught stealing shampoo from a CVS, while another was sitting huddled in the corner, shaking immensely coming down from her drugs; while I sat there, my mind silent. The whole night consisted of moving tank to tank, fingerprints, mugshots. Around 5 am everyone sat in a room waiting to be called before the judge. Still sitting in silence, I waited while the girl next to me kept falling asleep on my shoulder. I tried to discretely move away but was stuck between her and some black guy. Thankfully I was up
My hands were roughly cuffed behind my back, a black cloth bag was placed over my head, and I was roughly shoved into what I assumed was the back of the NSA agent’s car.
They pinned me to the wall like I was a wanted criminal, but none of them spoke a word. Like silent hunters, they lacked emotion and human traits, they're souless monsters that only cared about the law. The law which had now been passed due to the amount of crime and scum that had filled our streets with blood, is all their fault, but in they eyes of the government, its all of us. Those who potentially will become corrupt thugs and cause nothing but devostation and suffering through cruel ways.
Yesterday I was in my uncle's basement and found a million dollars. “Let's go play in the basement,” Andrew yelled.
Fluorescent lights, the pungent smell of hairspray and adverts left and right of tabs soda. Drowned by the lights a conversation was taking place between mother an daughter. Leah Douglas was begging for her mother to get wit the times and let her get what all the other popular kids were getting. The topic at hand was a perm, Leah desperately wanted one, however, her mother refused, deeming it inappropriate take for a girl her age. Leah was already able to sneak some eyeliner, she wasn’t about to test her limits by further arguing with her mother. With her parents to her side, Leah knocked on her aunt's door. It was Thanksgiving and going to their aunt Gracie’s was a tradition in the Douglas household. Gorging herself with the sloppy joe’s and sauce
My knees knocking together, quivering in fear I couldn’t scream anymore. I squeezed my eyes open. Worried about what fears was lying ahead. Someone or something turned the corner and It came at me. I couldn't move paralyzed in fear for all I knew I was dead.Then in screamed in my face. Wait hold on if i'm going to tell the story i need to tell it from the beginning.
On Tuesday, March 19, 1985, a horrific accident occurred as a fire broke out on Second and “J” Street in San Bernardino. Overnight, it instantly killed my mother, stepfather, brother, and two sisters. Because I tragically lost my entire family, it transitioned and transformed me into the person that I am today. I had spent many nights at my Aunt Joanna’s house, my mom’s sister because my stepfather, Andy, use to beat me immensely. He beat me to the point where he put me in a coma twice. Even though I survived the beatings and death, I still spent the rest of my childhood and adolescent years in a