THANK YOU FOR SAYING I’M ONE OF THE GOOD ONES, BUT I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE

By: Deon Joseph

In recent Facebook posts, where I try to bring logic and reason to an emotionally charged issue, I usually get this response “Yeah, but you are ONE of the good ones.” or “You are one of the rare ones.” I truly appreciate the love and complements. I really do. But the fact is there are thousands of us. They may not be as vocal or well known, but throughout my career, I have worked with some of the most caring police officers to ever wear our badge.

After a civic leader dehumanized my fellow officers, I tried everything in my power not to respond. But when I looked back on my 25 years of service. I thought about the incredible men and women I have worked with in three parts of the city I serve.

I thought about my early years. My training officer was a white man who was loved by a black community in Venice. He was almost worshipped there for his dedication and fair treatment of them. He is the man who showed me that you don’t have to be an asshole to be a cop. And that people of color understand we have a job to do, but just want us to treat them with respect when we do it. His name was Bill.

Another training officer, a thin white woman from the LBGTQ community who in the heat of a tense moment with a violent mentally ill person three times her size, told me not to shoot the woman, who wrestled with her over a large knife she tried to kill herself with. She did everything she could not to shoot her, though she had every right to and should have, especially after her gun fell out. She spared her life nearly at her own expense. Her name was Vicky.

Then there was a Black training officer who defused incidents by his mere presence. He was professional and respectful. Before you called it de-escalation, we called it verbalization (it’s nothing new, most of us have been doing it). He was a master at it. His name was McCool.

Another white training officer had a suspect cursing at him when he showed up, but had them laughing in tears by the time he was done booking them. His name was Officer Goode. He used humor to diffuse situations and never lost his temper.

I then came to Skid Row, and worked with a cop nicknamed Batman. Who showed me that my muscles would not save me when dealing with troubled communities but respecting them, while at the same time taking no shit from them, would. He taught me to slow down and talk to people even at their worst. His name was Officer Greg Bateman.

A classmate of mine of German descent who wore her heart on her sleeve, who prior to me making my mark on Skid Row, laid the foundation for an initiative that would save countless lives among the homeless. She never sought honor or recognition. I learned from her to come from the heart. Especially if it was made of gold. Her name is Kathy. She also helped veterans and held community meetings with the homeless in the street.

Two Black officers who made 257 felony arrests in one year, they took guns and large amounts of drugs from Skid Row hotels and still had the respect of the community. They were Officers Fierra and Prude.

An East Side detail officer and his entire unit, who had the worst job in the city, trying to improve the quality of life in Skid Row with impossible odds. Everywhere I patrolled all I could hear from the community was “Where’s Earl?” “Is Earl here today? Please tell him we said hello.” His name was Officer Earl Wright Jr.

I then worked one of the most dangerous areas in the city for a year. I was a juvenile investigator. People were dying nightly from gang violence. While some of the hardest-working officers on Central Avenue were trying to stop the constant bloodshed, I was partnered with two Hispanic officers who took me under their wing at one of the worst times of my life personally and we rescued more missing children than I could count. They were Officers Juan and Frank.

I came back to the Row again, and became a senior lead. There I worked with an officer who helped families in the projects get financial assistance. His name was Officer Mike Fernandez.

As time passed, I found my own calling. I helped house homeless people, mentored children and tried to empower homeless women on Skid Row, while simultaneously reducing crime using my heart more than my handcuffs, and helped make a place no one thought could ever be safe, safer. When I began losing the battle, 50 of the hardest-working men and women I ever saw helped bring sanity to a place that could easily be compared to Dante’s Inferno.

A legendary foot beat officer named Lenny stood on one of the most corrupt blocks in downtown and warded off drug dealers, and violent criminals by his presence alone. No officer stayed dedicated to the Main Street beat like Junior Davis did. The community loved him and they still miss him to this day.

Another incredible SLO who is trying unique and dynamic things to bring communities together in love and peace is a blonde white office named Julie Nony. Her ideas to build trust are incredible.

Several Black officers have taken mentorship to a new level, as they created a mentoring program and football camp for at-risk youth in one of the most dangerous parts of the city. The Watts Rams to this day are exposing Black youth to the reality that they can rise above adversity and live their dreams

Another white police officer who always finds a way to save the lives of people of color. Whether it’s stopping a woman from being strangled to death or delivering babies in the street, this man has a fire in him to help people. I’m proud to call Officer Popham a brother in blue.

Several patrol officers who embraced community policing over three years, rescued children and kept the dam from breaking in Skid Row as the unit assigned to that area was depleted due to injuries. Officers Linnear, Tapia, Brunsen, Hernandez, and another who later promoted and went to South LA and earned the nickname Dr. King for how he championed of a community in south LA. His name is Sgt Delano Hutchins.

My twin brother Cleon Joseph was in charge of a community relations office. He reinvigorated his unit to buy into dialogue with the community.

And currently, I work in the greatest senior lead office in the city, with twelve of the greatest officers, who drop everything with their busy schedule to engage in Trust Talks with the homeless community and open their hearts to them.

I can go on and on. These officers from all walks of life and so many others go above and beyond for their community with no desire for recognition.

Before any civic leader dehumanizes us to pander to people, they should open their minds to the reality that we save far more lives than we take, and share that with the public. Build more relationships than we break. We are not what you say we are.

If you told the public about us, maybe they would know that the honorable rule is just that, that they do not have to fear us when something happens hundreds of miles away and that most of us are doing the right thing.

Yes I acknowledge there is a negative exception, but that’s in any profession. Don’t ask me to judge you by the content of your character (which I always will no matter what), then turn and dehumanize me based on our surface.

If today’s media showed you the thousand of officers who care just like I do, you wouldn’t be so quick to judge us all when a select few fail us all.