Face Down in the Gutter
Tyreek Hill’s humiliating moment
I remember the party as if it were yesterday — though my cousin Lynn’s Sweet Sixteen birthday took place over 60 years ago. Because my uncle threw a lawn party, and his house was located in a ritzy neighborhood, the local police department dispatched a cop and his car to work security for the event.
While “securing” said event, the officer got roaring drunk on my uncle’s liquor, stole 4 bottles of the hard stuff, and then drove away boasting what I would guess was at least a .20 blood alcohol level.
Even at that tender young age, I had trouble believing my eyes. “Did that drunk actually drive a vehicle in that condition?” I asked myself. That was my introduction to the police force.
At age 15, I was stopped by a local police officer in a case of mistaken identity (I matched the description of a house robber) and smacked in the face from behind when I shot his partner a derisive look at being questioned. The chief of police came over to my house to apologize so my mom wouldn’t sue the department.
After that, I pretty much knew not to fuck with cops. That’s not to say that every policeman steals liquor, gets very loaded, and then drives a vehicle. Or every law enforcement officer likes to smack people around for little to no reason. Still, I’m all…
