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When pulled over by the police, know your rights! RE: Darnell Dockett


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Saw this on Shutdown Corner (Yahoo)....good for Dockett! He was pulled over for "speeding." Police then wanted to search his car. He refused until they could provide a search warrant. He stood his ground for over an hour and was eventually let go. He said he didn't have anything else to do so he didn't mind waiting LOL. Doesn't matter your race or anything along those lines, KNOW YOUR RIGHTS!

Here's the excerpt from his twitter account of what was going on:

I don't know why the police always messing w/me I'm never gonna let them search my car with out a search warrant! No matter what!

Police sitting here waiting on back up cuz I told them YOU NOT SEARCHING MY CAR! PERIOD! & now I'm sitting here! Owell I aint got [bleep] 2 do!

There R 3police cars and they are talking! I don't see A search warrant they won't see inside this escalade! I got all day hope they don't!

Police said "do you mind if we look around in your Vehicle?" I said I sure DO! He said "I'm gonna call back up" I said u wanna use my phone?

I think they (POLICE) going to get a search warrant cuz they sitting here looking like fools waiting on something!

These COPS really think I'm stupid they playing good cop bad cop! BOY STOOOOP! I'm not falling for that! NO SIR YOU WILL NOT LOOK IN MY CAR!

This cop just ask me how tall R u & where R U from! I'm bout to ask him can I go across the street to POPEYS while we sitting here waiting!

I been sitting here for a HOUR 1cop by the driver window, 2talking at the car! And the 1by the window being friendly! Like wtf?

I asked the cop why he pulled me over he said I was speeding I said BULL[bLEEP]! But give me the ticket that's when he asked to search my car!

So you gonna lie and say I'm speeding then you wanna search my car! Get the [bleep] ouutta here! Better go get a warrant *turns up radio*

OK so now I think they letting me Go cop just brought my DL's and registration! Yeah I'm bout to be out this MOFO! [

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Remember when he was getting into it with Portis and Heyer blew him up and got that BS roughing penalty? My favorite part was when he was barking later and Chris Samuels said "What happened? You got roughed up."

This is my thread now.

Hey! Let's rehash something that happened 3-4 (that's totally irrelevant) years ago for some LULZ.....seems like a great idea.

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he should have asked if they were detaining him, and if so called his lawyer.

there's little reason for them to hold you on the side of the road. they aren't going to get a warrant for that, and they either have probable cause of they don't. part of knowing your rights is knowing when you're allowed to leave.

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Here's a story told by Paul Butler at a conference I was at several years ago. Butler was a law professor at GW University at the time. Sorry for the length, but it's an interesting tale.


I'll start with a story that is going to complicate what I've just described as an easy issue. The story is about racial profiling. I'm the subject of the story. It's about one of the several times that it has happened to me, and the complicating factor is that in addition to being an African American man, I'm also a professor of criminal procedure, and sometimes those two identities seem redundant.

I'm walking about five blocks from here in the most beautiful neighborhood in the District of Columbia. It's the neighborhood where I'm privileged to live, and it's not a walk that I'm familiar with because I usually drive to work. Even though I'm coming home from work and walking in the city, I see raccoons, I see deer, all kind of birds, and even more unusual in the District of Columbia, I see African Americans and white people living next to each other. It's really a wonderful place to live.

I'm a little ashamed that this is an unfamiliar walk. It's occasioned because my car is broken down. It's about 9 o'clock at night. The streets are mostly deserted. I've got on jeans and a tweedy jacket, a law professor look.

When I get about three blocks from my house, a Metropolitan police car passing by slows down. I keep walking, and the car makes a right turn and circles the block and meets me. There are three officers inside the car. They greet me with the words, "Do you live around here?" I have been in this place before. I know that answering that question will be the beginning and not the end of an unpleasant conversation that I don't feel like having. I don't feel like answering after do I live around here, "Where do you live? It's kind of cold to be walking outside. Can I see some ID?"

So I ask a question instead. I answered their question "Do you live around here" with, "Well, why do you want to know?" The three officers exchanged a glance. It's the we've got a smart ass on our hands glance. I get that a lot. "Is it against the law to walk on the sidewalk if I don't live around here" I ask. They don't say anything. I said, "Have a nice day, officers," and I head towards home.

The police then engage in this investigative technique that probably is not called cat and mouse, but that's a more accurate description. They park their car on the side of the road. They turn off their lights and they watch me walk. When I pass out of their range of vision, they move their car to where they can see me, and in this fashion we arrive on the block where I live.

I have a question, and so I stop and wait. For once I have the power to summon the police faster even than the President of the United States, who lives about seven miles from my house. So sure enough as soon as I pause the car does, too, and the police and I then have I guess you could call it a conversation, but it consists mostly of questions. "Why are you following me? Why don't you tell us where you live? What made you stop me? We don't see a lot of people walking in this neighborhood. Are you following me because I'm black? No. We're black, too."

Now, that last answer was true, but it wasn't responsive. I asked these three black officers have they ever been followed around by a security guard or by the police? They all say yes. In today's New York Times there is an article, a long article about black police officers who are the victims of racial profiling in their undercover assignments. These officers say that stuff has happened to me. The sergeant says it doesn't bother her because she knows that she's not guilty. She's not a thief.

The specific context of the thief remark was I asked them if they knew about the Eddie Bauer case which had occurred recently. This was an instance in which an African American teenager was shopping at that store. He happened to be wearing a jacket that he purchased a couple of weeks before. The security guard at the store made him take off the jacket and go home and get a receipt to prove that he had purchased it.

The case had been in the news because there had been a trial the week before about whether that was a civil rights violation. The kid, an 18-year-old kid, when he testified about how that made him feel, he broke down and cried. It had been in the news because the kid ultimately was awarded quite a bit of money.

The officer said that she hadn't heard of it; the sergeant did, but they said again my neighborhood wasn't one where they usually see people walking, and furthermore, "We know everybody who lives in this neighborhood, and we don't know you." I asked them, "Do you know who lives in that house," pointing to the house where I've lived for the past 14 months. They answered, "Yes, we do."

And so I walked. I walked up my stairs. I sat on my porch and I waited. I waited because I'm a professor of criminal procedure, and I waited because I remembered the last time that I had cooperated I was in a different place and at that place cooperating meant I let them search my car or rather I let one search my car while the other watched me with his hand resting on his gun on 16th Street with cars whizzing by. I pretended like I was invisible.

Now the officers parked their car and they positioned the spotlight in my face. All three of them joined me on my porch. "Do you live here? Yes, I do. Can we see some identification? No, you may not."

During the antebellum period of our nation's history blacks were required to carry proof of their status, slave or free, at all times. Any black who was unsupervised by a white was suspect. In North Carolina to make it easier for law enforcement blacks were required to wear shoulder patches with the word "free."

So at this point the District of Columbia through its three agents sitting on my porch along with me tells me it's too cold to be outside. "Go in the house." I said, "I'm content where I am," and the police announce that they are, too. They are not going to leave until I produce some ID or enter the house.

This is where the story gets bizarre. Walking home relatively late for a law professor -- 9 o'clock is actually really late because I had been working on a book review for the Harvard Law Review, and the book which I'm carrying in my knapsack is Race, Crime, and the Law by Randall Kennedy, a professor at the Harvard Law School.

Since apparently none of us have anything better to do this evening, I take out the book and I show the officers Chapter 4, "Race Law, and Suspicion Using Color as a Proxy for Dangerousness," and this chapter in this book contains several stories just like the one that I've told you. It quotes a professor at Harvard University, Henry Lewis Gates, who says -- and this is what I read to the officers -- "Blacks, in particular black men, swap their experiences of police encounters like war stories, and there are a few who don't have more than one story to tell. Eric McDonald, one of the few prominent blacks in publishing, tells of renting a Jaguar in New Orleans and being stopped by the police simply to show cause why it shouldn't be deemed a problematic Negro in a possibly stolen car. The crime novelist, Walter Mosley, recalls when I was a kid in LA, they used to spot me all the time, beat up on me, follow me around, and tell me I was stealing things. Julius Wilson wonders why he was stopped in a small town by a policeman who wanted to know what he was doing in those parts." There is a moving violation that many African Americans know as DWB, driving while black, but this I tell the officers is the first time I've heard of walking while black.

I've got a big picture window in my house. I pointed to that picture window. It's right across the street from a park. It's a beautiful place to walk, and I tell the officers I see people walking down that street all times of the day or night, white people, and I never see them stopped and asked to produce ID or if they live in the neighborhood, and that's why I'm not going to show them my ID. It's not apartheid South Africa, and I don't need a pass card.

How did it end? The officers weren't interested in my politics or my reading Law Review articles. In fact, they announced that they were getting angry. They were burglaries in this neighborhood and car vandalism, and the police were just doing their job and I'm wasting their time, the taxpayers' money. One officer said I must be homeless. The other one says that I'm on drugs. When they find out who really lives in the house and whose porch I'm on, I'm going to be guilty of unlawfully entry, a misdemeanor.

The sergeant says ultimately that since I was being evasive, she is going to interview my neighbors. The two officers who remained radioed for backup. The officers over the police radio actually gave the wrong address for the house, and I corrected the officers. Soon a second police car arrived with two more officers.

I was cold, but stubborn. Finally my neighbor came out and identified me, and I was free to be left alone, free to walk on a public street, free to sit on my porch even if it was cold.

So that's the story. What is the moral of that story? What happened to me was racial profiling. In the most benign, charitable, legal interpretation racial profiling is when law enforcement uses a particular racial identity as one of several indicia of suspicion. So what it is is race based stereotyping. So when the police are looking for drug couriers at the railway station in addition to looking at clothing and how you purchase your ticket and how you walk when you get off the bus, they look at whether you are African American or Hispanic.


Recognize Henry Louis Gates' name? Butler told this story to a conference of criminal justice professionals in 2000, almost a decade before the infamous Gates incident at his home in Cambridge Mass. and the resulting "beer summit."

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Lmfao...too funny. Cops are the same way around where I grew up. Most of them were huge *******s on a power trip. Love this story.

---------- Post added June-28th-2011 at 03:16 PM ----------

I've been pulled over probably ten times and gone through a number of road checks and never once have I been asked to consent to a search or even step out of the car. Am I just lucky? Or am I just white?

I'd say your just lucky because I'm white and it's happened multiple times to me.

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I'm surprised they didn't just order him out of the car. When they do if you fail to comply they'll charge you with resisting arrest. That's how the cops in VA do it.

Just because they order you out of the car doesn't mean they cab search it.

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I'm surprised they didn't just order him out of the car. When they do if you fail to comply they'll charge you with resisting arrest. That's how the cops in VA do it.

Well you really don't need a warrant to search a car, just "probable cause"

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I've been pulled over probably ten times and gone through a number of road checks and never once have I been asked to consent to a search or even step out of the car. Am I just lucky? Or am I just white?

I hear you. Only one time have I ever been asked if I had drugs on me or if they could search my car and it was when I had a black friend with me in the car. On the one hand, I'm grateful I don't have to deal with this kind of treatment from police but on the other hand it's just so wrong. Law enforcement, on the back of the drug war, is out of control in this country.

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Never had a cop ask to search my car, but one time when I was a senior in high school, a buddy of mine and I went to pick up another friend of ours who had graduated the year beforehand, and was going to Howard. We were sitting in my car outside his dorm with the windows down waiting for him to come down. A cop pulls up next to me, rolls down his window and starts asking me questions about what I'm doing here, who I'm here to see, etc.

"Where are you from?"


"Well, this ain't Bethesda..." <drives off>

I'm sure his thought was, a couple of young upper middle class white kids around Howard? Clearly they must be here looking to buy drugs.

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