At last week’s gay bashing forum at the Q center, a couple of the speakers noted that when they filed police reports, the police officers on scene refused to give them business cards. Their complaints are not unique… more in this week’s issue.
But supposedly, that all changed last September, when City Council told then-Chief Rosie Sizer to require all officers to give out business cards, whether or not they were requested, at every interaction with the public.
If police were refusing to identify themselves when asked (as required) before September, it seems likely that there hasn’t been 100% compliance with the new rule.
I’m curious to know how the practice is holding up. Have you been in a police interaction since September where the officer didn’t give you a card? Send us an e-mail. And speaking of business cards, maybe the Mercury can print me up a few???
Did the cop who got kicked out of the vegan cafe give the shopkeep a card? Inquiring minds want to know.
Here is the thing,
As soon as you ask a cop for their card they will ask you for your name, address and birthday.
And if you refuse to give them such things, what happens Jasun?
Do you still get a card or do they get all “Well if you won’t show me yours then I won’t show you mine! And now I’m taking my ball and going home jerksnout!”
As soon as you ask a cop for their card they will ask you for your name, address and which worker-owned vegan cafe you frequent.
Every officer I’ve interacted with has been a good boy; I have two business cards sitting in a folder somewhere.
Per Oregon state law you must ‘identify’ yourself to a sworn police officer.
It comes down to intimidation.
You ask a cop for their card, they then ask you for your name, address and birthdate. Cops do know how to use Google.
I had one cop play a really fucked up game of giving me his card and taking it back 3 times. Cops do know how to push buttons and escalate situations.
The ‘Clean and Safe’ rent-a-cops are supposed to give cards as well. Again, they know how to push buttons.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=io_FXPXEMtk
And, there is the problem. When you ask for a business card, this should not be seen as a ‘who is in power’ struggle.
Very rarely have I had the pleasure of asking for a business card and have a cop simply give me their card.
Now that I think of it all the cops I ever encountered (and there were lots) when I worked graveyard at a certain hipster boutique hotel handed out their cards like candy and never once asked me for any of my info.
This was nearly 5 years ago though, so I wouldn’t be shocked to hear that stuff has changed.
Or maybe the cops who deal with the 3AM weirdness of 8th and East Burnside have bigger problems than trying to get the contact info of the local service industry employees.
when an officer knocked on my door two months ago looking for a past (temporary) room mate, my son answered and explained that the person moved. He then asked for a business card from both officers. (2 cops were there) One replied in a very smart ass tone “What are you gonna do, call me sometime?” The other officer complied by handing his card… and then informed his partner”You better give him your card”
My 17 year old son knew the law better than the one cop did!
Keep in mind, all of this was recorded on a Sony Digital Recorder, and a Phillips MP – 3 Player {dual recording to pick up everything, and in case one were to stop}, in which I announced to the nurses, and the “Doctor” that this would all be recorded. The Quack did not approve of the recording. I informed him that it was not his decision. Just as Parents’ have every right to be in the room when their Children are visiting a Doctor, Dentist, Psychologist {Psychiatrist have a M.D. (went through Medical School); whereas Psychologist have not}, and among other things, when being questioned by the Police. I, and so do you, have the right to have a record of what occurs during any and all of these meetings. Police record Conversations, take notes at their pace, Physicians keep Medical Records {as do Dentists, Psychologists, Psychiatrists, et. al.}, and We the People of the United States Have the Right to Keep Their Own Records.
At approximately 2:30 AM, Saturday, 20 June, 2010, I visited the VA Medical Center. As to why they call the VA Medical Centers “Medical” or “Hospitals” I have yet to figure out as the VA Hospitals/Medical Centers. The VA Hospitals in Seattle, Tacoma {American Lake}, Spokane, Bremerton Outpatient Clinic, and Reno have never given me Medical Treatment for my Back which I receive 30% Service Related Disability. 20% for my Back {Degenerative Arthritis of the Lumbar Spine}.
Point is, on the 20th of June, 2010, at the Reno VA “Hospital/Medical Center” an Officer was there keeping an eye on me. Funny thing is, I am 36, and the only crimes I have been covicted of are 4th degree assualt and Dissorderly Conduct {September, 2001}after I asked a Central Washington University Student outside of Holmes East Dining Center, “is that beer in there?” As the kid was holding a 44 Ounce 7 – 11 Big Gulp Cup. “Yeah” he replied, {you want a drink?”
“Sure, why not” {not a question}. I took the cup, asked him if he was 21, and he answered “no.”
I have now been in college for more than nine years, and I know students drink; even those who are under 21. But his kid was walking around on campus drinking it.
So as the responsible 28 year old {ass – hole} I was {am}, I removed the lid and drank the whole cup of beer. Now I had previously drank a fifth of Vodka with Tyler and another 2/3rds of a fifth with Tyler and his cousin. I was pretty drunk. Maybe 180 pounds, 6 – 7 % Body – Fat, but I was fucked up and do not remember leaving Getz – Short {my Apartment at CWU}, I do remember the Walnut Tree on Main Street, and the Beer, {by reflex} punching and knocking down the Freshman when he probably went to take his cup back. Was it self defense? I do know I was Dissorderly because when I came to again I howled out “if any of you beautiful young ladies have a boyfriend that cannot fulfill your sexual needs or just need a good fucking, come over to my place after this shit is over…” while on my knees and my hands cuffed behind my back. Assault? Dissorderly? Fuck yes.
Back to the Reno V.A., I kept asking for the cop’s name, and he would not say, nor would any of the Reno VA Hospital’s staff. When the V.A. Quack finished doing nothing I informed him “so you are refusing me treatment?”
“No I am not refusing you treatment, it is three o’clock in the morning; you should come here during the day.”
“I came here at this time because I knew the “Hospital would be empty. I am an Economist; my time is not free, and I will not allow the VA “Hospital” Doctors’ to continue wasting my valuable time. But you have not given me any treatment.”
He again insisted he had done his job.
“You took the Hippocratic Oath Right? The Hippocratic Oath; you do remember the Hippocratic Oath? Did you take the Hippocratic Oath?” The Quack walked away and said anything else.
The Reno Police Officer continued to watch my every move. Why? When I came in to the “Hospital” I was wearing an Overcoat. Not a Trench coat; but a $500.00 Calvin Klein Wool/Cashmere Overcoat. A $600.00 Geoffrey Beene Silk/Wool Suit. A light blue/white vertically striped Tommy Hilfigger ($80.00 – $100.00} Dress Shirt. An inexpensive $50.00 Pink Silk woven in 45 degree Striped Donald Trump Tie, White Stacy Adams {Santana} Snakeskin Shoes and a Stacy Adams 100% Crushable (SAW 544) Cement {White} Fedora. Even down to the Black Calvin Klein Socks, Reversible Belt, Underwear, and T-Shirt. All plus Washington’s 8.6% sales tax.
No Gunman, Enforcer, or Suicide Bomber wears clothing that cost somewhere between $1,500.00 – $2,000.00 of clothing.
I asked for the Officers Name many times. The Officer never got too close to me because I immediately inquired as to why he was present and asked for his name. Just before I left the VA “Hospital/Medical Center” I remembered, “Yeah, I never got the Officer’s Name. What is his name?”
A lady asked at the Desk asked why I needed “to know his name?”
“Because {I replied} if he asks for my name I have to give him my name and Identification, and I have the right to know his Name and Badge Number.”
The Officer instructed me to leave, “your visit is done here, now you have to leave.”
“Excuse me, but this a Veterans’ Hospital and I am a Disabled American Veteran {I spoke with a growing smile.”
“You’re in my house now.” {With Arrogance and a false sense of authority, the Super Pooper” asked me}, “Are you looking for trouble?’ This is my House.”
With a huge shit eating grin I removed the Sony Recorder from my Shirt Pocket from which it was recording, as the Punk Pooper Scooper now stood before me in attempt to Intimidate me.
“Hold on one second I got to get all of this” {I said with a still, ever-growing smile}. “Are you threatening me?” My smile kept growing.
“If you’re looking for trouble I can take care of that.”
“I have done nothing or broken any Laws”
“You are disturbing the peace” spoken from the Punk Bitch Future Mall Security Dork”
There was no one else there, except VA employees. No other Patients.
About a foot away from me now the Officer proved how Fucking Stupid he is. This guy is a Backwoods Inbred, Butt-Fucked-by-Bulls, Nerd, who was likely the victim of being a Childhood Pussy who got his ass kicked in regularly.
He was obviously sizing me up.
And I then realized…
Putting my Recorder close to my mouth, spoke into my Recorder; the Officer is making threats, telling me this is his house, and is now standing less than arms reach of me
With no expectations of him answering my next question, I asked {again, with the recorder to my mouth. “What is your name?” Moving my eyeballs inches closer to his chest and spoke into the Microphone “O, r” then stopped for a second and brought my eyes just inches from his chest {with no concern at all as I knew the Officer had just Hung Himself from the Gallows Pole; because he is so fucking dumb, and with all VA Employees watching on, his dick had to shrivel up inside his cowardly ass}, with one hand holding the Sony Recorder to my mouth, and my other hand holding my VA Disability, Marine Corps Documents {VA Form 21-8764, “Disability Compensation Award…,” DD – 214, Honorable Discharge, {PMI/RC} Primary Marksmanship Instructor and Range Coach {Graduation Certificates}, and other Marine Corps Awards, Documents, and VA Documents; point being, I was holding approximately {I am too lazy to count the number of pages, but} 40 ± 5 sheets of paper/documents in a plastic document protector, and began to once again read his Name Tag
“O, U, R, J, A, N, I, A, N,” {Last Name Ourjanian}, “Initial, H”
I then looked him in the eyes with a huge smile on my face, the biggest grin he has/had ever seen on the face of someone he was trying to Intimidate/Boss – Around. And with the following words coming from my mouth and the look in my eyes which informed him “I {Joseph Michael Vannett} am not only a much bigger man in physical size, several times more intelligent, having far more wisdom amassed beyond his life experience, far less arrogant {though this sounds contradictory}, exponentially more confident in myself and abilities because of my awareness of my previous failures, and so much more, but most importantly, because of my life experiences, education, self-humility, humbleness, loyalty, dedication, integrity, and all qualities which define one’s personality and the charismatic qualities, and after being pushed around throughout my your {even up to this moment}, I have never backed down, and my knowledge of Case Law, and the Law of Evidence Far and Above Exceeds His; and this understanding he will never have because he is too Fucking dumb to realize he does not know everything, and the powers of Law Enforcement are limited. And at anytime an Officer of the Law compromises the Integrity of the Law, s/he compromises the Judicial System of the entire Nation.
And so I looked him in the eyes knowing he is a punk – ass – pussy and ended our conversations with…
“Thank you very much; you made this all too easy for me.” Looking better than he ever has and better than he will ever be, I turned and walked away and stated “What a bunch of Flatfoots.”
vannett@eagles.ewu.edu
vannett@gmail.com
http://www.myspace.com/josephvannett
josephvannett@myspace.com
Joseph Michael Vannett
Semper Fi