Law Enforcement’s Albatross
Racism, corruption, and a culture of violence. Why police reform feels like a Sisyphean task
Boston, 1636. A ragged lot of men spill out from a wooden gate buttressed by a wall of packed earth. Draped in loose linen shirts stained with the day’s dung, they didn’t cut an imposing figure. Most were half-drunk and showed no sign of slowing down.
The town gate dropped with a soft thud and mud splattered onto their trousers. The city at their backs, they stared into the impenetrable darkness of an unfamiliar land.
The youngest of the bunch eyed his newfound companions with contempt.
Crooks and drunks, the lot of ’em, he mused. Only here to pay a debt or serve their time.
A man with something to prove, his sense of duty led him to the Watch, unlike his now properly swilled acquaintances who certainly weren’t standing ankle-deep in the Neck’s sludge by choice. Last night’s brawl left one of the town’s Selectmen with a black eye and a bruised ego, and this sorry lot just happened to be around when the Selectman came to.
Still, they’re watchmen. I suppose we’ve got to look out for each other now, assuming they can see straight.
