My real relationship with the Pontiac Police Department began as a child, before I could even understand. A man who was one of my father's drug friends, and a regular at our house for Sunday. He killed a member of the PPD at General Hospital (now Doctor's Hospital). His girlfriend, dressed as a nurse in an attempt to free him from police custody. He had been injured during his arrest. This folly created a "shoot out" in the room that left both Melvin and the cop dead. I don't remember the cops name, because at that age that was all irrelevant. We didn't mourn the officer, but my father's friend. My parents went through the house talking about how he had just been at our house the week before. Because of that, I held the opinion that it was the officer who had did something wrong for dying. The police that came to his rescue and murdered my father's friend was the bad guys. I would grow to hold that opinion.
A few years later, when my father left my opinion of them got worst. One day, after my father hadn't been to our house for months. He came over on afternoon and stayed the day. That night, while we lay sleeping in our bed, Pontiac Police kicked our door down. They knocked, but when my mother became afraid, because she was home alone with five (5) small children didn't open the door. We had been robbed a few years before by a bunch of men looking for drugs and money, while my father was away. When they knocked on th door, they had said they were the police, too. Frozen on the stairs with no where to run, the Pontiac Police kicked our door in. A few weeks later, after another visit they did it again. Only this time, I was awoken to a White man hitting his flashlight on the edge of my bed. I woke up and looked at him. He realized what he was doing and stopped. That is a memory I hold in my mind forever!
They stood at the foot of the bed questioning my mother. At the time, she was only 33 years old. Younger than I am, today. She had physical and mental issues, because of my father's dealing in drugs. The weeks he went missing, the break-ins and robbers at the door. She had five small children that she took care of on her own. She didn't use drugs, there was no drugs in our house and no traffic from addicts coming in and out. To this day, I never understood how they could keep knocking down our door, because my father came to visit for a couple of hours a month. I wonder to this day how that could happen. My mother was flustered about that for years, because his real woman with his real drugs was down the street. I still don't get it, but I'm beginning to blame it on my father's "friends" he had on the PPD. I'm thinking they gave the Drug Task Force bad information. They wouldn't give real info, but they held no real likeness for my mother. She wasn't an addict and didn't use any drugs, why would they care if they gave her up. That's the saddest part, because in my heart after all I've been through I know it's true.
Some of my father's friends, who disenchanted with the hard work in the plants became police officers. Only after the City of Pontiac decided that African-Americans could be cops through litigation. My father being one of the smartest amongst the group helped a few of them study for the test. Gave them allowances that allowed them to continue to feed and house their families. This became the barter he used in the years to come in order to deal his drugs. He did a good job, until 1982 when one of the largest drug bust in the State took place. Yep, I've been in the midst of two, one in '82 and the other in '98. As my brother grew he began a journey into dealing, too. My sorta nephew was a leader in trouble in the city, and at 18 my brother was chased down the railroad tracks and beat up by the Drug Task Force of the PPD. After a lack luster relationship with our nephew and the birth of his son, he embarked on a relationship with a group of men, protected by the PPD. This was his insurance that he wouldn't be beat up, harassed or arrested by them. It worked just fine until the FBI and ATF got involved.
While all of this was going on, I was living my life. As I like to boast, I am drug-free all of my life. Sure you might be able to connect me with men who are drug addicted, but mostly I didn't see them a lot. They dropped through from time-to-time. I've been alone most of my adult life and pretty much my teenage years, too. While my friends were having sex and being introduced to drugs by their boyfriends and sisters and brothers and sometimes parents, I was doing none of that. At 19, I went to the military and embarked on a new city. The Affirmative Action initiative that had taken place in the early 80's was beginning to show promise for the African-Americans on the PPD. Suddenly they were detectives and lieutenants, and some were even calling the shots. They had formed a type of bond that was I believe initial meant to survive. Like many of the Mafia type organizations in our country's history. They worked together and their relationship helped them get through the daily grind of being Black in a White dominated workplace. At the time that Walter Moore and his cronies came into office two things had happened. The Blacks on the PPD were in record numbers and the drug infiltration had become the real business in the city. It became these men and women new job not to help keep themselves in a job, and patrol our neighborhoods, but fill their pockets with large amounts of drug money.
Then the object became to keep it dominated by their friends and loyal citizens. Therefore they began to cheat on the tests. The tests for officer to detective, detective to sergeant and so on. This allowed them to keep a healthy number of "their people" in the loop. Where these positions where held only by Whites, who by this time weren't even living in Pontiac. They began to keep this illegal hold, by showing the new group that they deserved it, because they want to patrol our streets, but not live amongst us. This all went a long way to their survival and hold on the drugs in the city. Since they were all drug addicts themselves. I never paid any of this any attention as a drug-free citizen. At 19 all I wanted to do was party, but then came the summer of 1991. That's when I started going out with Jon (Jukie) Chambers. His sister was knee deep in the drugs in Pontiac, Pam Chambers who last I checked left here a Captain. Proof positive they were cheating on those test!
Suddenly Jon liked me, and we were a fast item. After my so-called friend brought us together for her own reasons. I spent many nights at "the house" with him, but one morning I was awoken to chains. When I glances towards the window, I saw a crane picking up his brother pick-up ready to repossess it. Later that morning his brother Nate, came to the door asking for Jon's vehicle. What was surprising is what he said he'd be doing that afternoon after work. He would be going over to "Boo's" house around the corner and getting $2,500 to get his truck back. I knew who Boo was, he was my brother's drug boss, and the biggest dope dealer that I knew in the city. What cause did a man whose sister was a then Sergeant at the Pontiac Police Department, have in getting money from a drug dealer? Moreover, why would he give it to him? Then I discovered that his new girlfriend was Boo's first cousin. I guess he didn't know I had come there that night. I didn't know anything about their family, but I was getting ready to get a crash course on their deceptive behavior.
Now let me tell you that when they get word of this blog, you will hear stories of babies and my being crazy and some of which may be true. The one thing that is still true and that I have first hand knowledge of is that Pam Chambers is a dirty cop. The other thing that I have proof of is that she is no way in the world smart enough to beat out all the people she did for her position. Her brother, Jon, is said to be the first man in Pontiac that I have stalked. All of which is laughable to me, since it was he who could sit still at home while I went to party at Rio De. Not only to turn around and start having sex with one of the women I went there to party with every Thursday night. After his "slip of the tongue" it became Nate Chambers job to make me seem crazy, while at the same time keep me free of his brother. He didn't want his brother to become a "goody two shoes" like me.
So, until I came to work at Sears and discovered that these people were everywhere, I was pretty dumb. I had jobs working with some people who had been shady with the company who were now Pontiac cops, Oakland County Sheriffs and such. I was willing to ignore it all. Even the part about Paul beating on Patricia. It was too much for me to know however, and Pontiac contrived a perfect plan to silence me forever, after I picked up the phone to call Steve that fateful day! Then I became a stalker (laughable), so that the crooked police wouldn't make him a drug cop (even more laughable). Although no one ever made mention that Pam Chambers brother was married to the "King Pin's" first cousin. Steve and I had to ride the wave of the last nine years. Their plan could have worked, if Jon wasn't so stupid to follow me to work and wait for me at the school five years after our own ordeal. This being witnessed and could be proven by a friend we both grew up with. If he was willing to cooperate and not come looking for me, after they got him a viable mate that he had married a few years before. Kevin Harris (PPD) was at Oakland County the other day, and when I spoke to an old friend, a cop he asked. "Is he the only one she sees?" Um, yeah he is the only one I see. I don't know you. I know Val - another long story - but I spoke to him already. Contrary to what you want to believe I'm not obsessed with the police. If you were smart, you would understand that, but...
I pick on Kevin, because even after all I've been through and come out on the other side. A little bruised, battered and distraught; I survived. Kevin, however found that old friend who was witness to Jon's "longing for days of old." They were together at Target, and Kevin wanted to show this friend that I didn't care about him. When I saw my friend, I smiled and embraced him, as I had did a few months before. I don't make it my business to hang with drug dealers, but for "good cops" they can be their best informants. Although, most Black cops in Pontiac use them to fill their pockets. I don't subscribe to such things, and believe that you pick a side. Either your the one who provides the order, or your the force that creates the disorder. With the skunks being lured to my yard, the "tails" that follow me everywhere I go, and the men that you try to force on me - who are not Steve; I'm totally disenchanted by you.
They say that Police Officer's suffer from a control complex. They think that they rule the world, and if they place the right person, in the right situation at the right time, you can turn them from a good person to a bad one. They've been corrupted and can't believe you can't be corrupted. I hope that's not due to the color of my skin. Sorry Kevin and the rest of you. I don't ever go for the "Okie doke". I love myself too much, but I hate what you have done to our people. I hate how you take an office of honor and prestige that children strive to emulate and made it into a crooked organization. Now it is time to pay for your dirty deeds. don't send the drug dealers after me, because I still get confused. Is Steve my man, and I need to be punished, or am I his stalker who should be left alone. I'm confused, because I don't get it. If I am this crazy criminal, delusional with severe mental issues; why are you bothering me? Why do you follow me, put skunks in my yard, have you crackhead informant harass me and such. What the problem is? Why am I being kicked out of school for nothing? Why do I have to create a blog to shed light on all of this? If Steve don't want me and I'm his crazed stalker, I should be a none issue. So I hate you, even more than the stupid White cop who was digging his flashlight into my bed 34 years ago.
I knew he was my enemy, and I knew he didn't have anything in common with me. You, however, are suppose to be my "people". You are suppose to help me, and not harm me. You have an issue with drugs and power, and these things are not my problems at all. So in reality, other than skin color we have very little in common. You should be able to accept that in your daily life and make me a non-issue. If you can't do that then you will always have a problem. You can't change the world, because you have a badge. You need to try and change yourself and maybe the world will be better. I am moving forward. You are in big trouble with the sheriff coming in!
To all the drug dealers who feel that I'm destroying your game, I deeply apologize. I, however, have nothing to do with you either. I'm out here doing the same thing you do, "Trying to survive." I also have the police on my back, and I'm working overtime to do just that. You get yours your way, and I'm going to get mine my way. You need to ask the police you deal with if they have any skeletons they don't want nobody to know about. If they say they can take care of it, you need to make sure they aren't talking about me. They have failed to take care of me and now you have to scramble to hold on to your "thang". In the words of that Mario Van Peebles, to Ice-T in New Jack City, "I put my trust in you, and you put your trust in a crackhead." I'm just saying...
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