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My Experience With The Police

#DefundthePolice

By Jenna BushspiesPublished 4 years ago 5 min read
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I have witnessed domestic violence since a young age. The first time I remember I was five years old. I went out to dinner with my father and another woman, who he claimed was his friend. When we arrived home, I told my unassuming mother I enjoyed dinner with this woman and my father. After an argument, I helplessly watched my mother being choked by my father. The cops were not called. The guilt of this situation weighed on me for years.

This became a pattern. My father would get upset and someone would get hurt, whether through words or physical actions.

As children, our providers are the center of our universe. They are there to provide for us emotionally, physically, and mentally. They are supposed to give us shelter, food, and keep us safe. But who do you turn to when they threaten your safety instead of ensure it?

I remember late nights, wide awake, afraid something I, or someone else, did something to upset him. I remember the floor, dark and cold, wet from my tears. An empty pit, the size of a black hole, consuming me.

Often, the cops would be called, whether by my mother or a neighbor. They eventually knew my father on a first name basis. As a child, its hard to trust anyone when the people that are supposed to protect you, do the opposite.

I won't ever forget those nights. I remember one summer night, my father had threatened my mother verbally via phone he would key her car. A few hours later, her green jetta was keyed. My mother called the police. She revealed to them threatening voice mails. Yet the police claimed they had no evidence it was him, only 'he said-she said'. There were other incidences similar, like the time our front door handle was broken off.

Time and time again, the police would take my father's side or simply tell him that he just needs to calm down or maybe my mother was over reacting.

Eventually, my parents were divorced and separately remarried. Once my mother was out of his reach, my father began to abuse his mother, my grandmother. At first I thought it was ironic he chose to abuse two of the closest people to me. My grandmother has since passed and I have realized this is less than a coincidence.

My step mother along with her two sons are immigrants. Together, my father and step mother have a little girl. I was an only child until I was twenty years old. Being a big sister is the biggest blessing I have ever received. I love those children as if they were my own. We range from five years to twenty five years. Despite the age gap, the four of us are very close.

I found out my father was abusing the my two brothers and have had CPS involved for about a year and a half. The other night I had to call the police because the situation escalated between my father, my youngest brother and I. My father threatened his life.

I drove my brother and I down the street for safety purposes. The local authorities showed up and verbally acknowledged they knew my father. "Didn't he have a PFA from your mother years ago?" Yet when they showed up, despite knowing him and what his house looked like, they somehow didn't remember the house was on the county line. And so we had to wait for the state police to show up. The local cop notified me that my father had also called the police because I had quote on quote kidnapped my brother. While we were waiting, I was told that normally in those situations, if the child's life is as risk and he/she/they has a safe place to stay for the night, they will be ordered to stay there until CPS can come in the morning.

The state trooper arrived and asked my brother and I a few questions. My brother was very dissociated, something only trauma informed individuals would be able to spot. (This is a sign of trauma held in the body; think of fight or flight response.) He then let me know that because my father had called the police on me and I was not my brother's legal guardian he needed to mitigate a conversation between my brother and my father for him to make a call on what would happen to my brother next.

Due to my father's history with cops, he knew exactly what to say and when. Eventually, my brother was convinced he was lying and was told to go inside. Mind you, my five year old sister watched the entire thing.

I felt defeated; like I didn't do enough, like I needed to scream at the top of my lungs or start a fire in order to get someone to notice all of the wrong he was doing, all of the wrong I have noticed for years but everyone else was afraid to speak up about. I felt like I was a failure to my siblings.

The state trooper came to my window car to say he was sorry. I was hysterical. He said my father would drop his charges if the cop would drop my charges. Nothing was going to be filed that night. I drove away feeling disgusted with society and our world.

The next morning I filed a claim with CPS. I then realized I had an Instagram message from someone I did not know. Turns out it was my brother's friend. He and his family flagged down the cop to give a personal account of the abuse my father had committed and had a social media post from my brother to prove it. The cop called me later that day to tell me how sorry he was and that he had enough evidence from the neighbors combined with my account to file a claim.

I will never know what it feels like to be afraid to encounter the police because of my skin color. But I do know what it's like to be dismissed by (male) police who are older than you (female), be told you are overreacting, be accused of false accusations.

2020 has been a whirlwind and this is just the beginning. I think this year we are being called to burn down own current world in order to build a new one.

This is my story as to why I think the police should be defunded and that money should go to individuals equipped with trauma informed skills in order to deescalate situations and help individuals in grave danger. I do think the police can help defend the people going to help in these situations, but I do not think the police alone can handle abuse, overdose, or any call for a traumatic experience.

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About the Creator

Jenna Bushspies

Cancer sun. Gemini moon. Libra rising.

Human in constant battle of head versus heart.

Uncovering my way through the maze.

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