If you want to add fuel to the burning perception that blue lives matter more than those of civilians, you push something like House Bill 2043.
The bill would enforce a cover-up of the names of police officers involved in civilian shootings by criminalizing the release of that officer’s name until an investigation is complete, unless the investigation lasts longer than six months.
Naming an officer beforehand or providing information to the public that would ID the officer would become a Class 1 misdemeanor punishable by up to 12 months in jail or a fine of up to $2,500.
For those who think the odds are stacked perpetually in the favor of law enforcement and against justice in these deadly encounters, this bill looks more than a little like piling on.
A videotape of a shooting is no assurance that the officer in question will be punished for excessive force. North Charleston, S.C., police officer Michael Slager fatally shot a fleeing, unarmed Walter Scott in the back, but a jury failed to reach a verdict in Slager’s murder trial.
No one should have been surprised. An investigation by the Columbia, S.C., newspaper The State showed that police in the Palmetto State are rarely prosecuted and never convicted of misuse of force.
You don’t combat the perception of a stacked deck by hiding cards.
In particular, the often troubled relationship between police and the black community does not need an opaque coat slathered upon the existing layer of suspicion. To the extent mistrust of law enforcement is reinforced, police officers are less safe.
“It’s very important that the community and the police bridge the divide that they have,” said Evandra Catherine, a local activist pursuing a doctorate in education policy at Virginia Commonwealth University. But she fears this bill, if approved, will exacerbate that divide by providing police with a protection civilians lack, she said.
“If you know you can kill an innocent citizen and your name’s not going to be released, that’s just further hiding behind a system that’s oppressing us,” she said.
This bill is distinguished by the wide swath of folks and institutions who think it’s a mistake.
The Virginia State Conference NAACP, the Virginia Press Association, the Virginia Coalition for Open Government and the American Civil Liberties Union of Virginia are all opposed to this measure by Del. Jackson H. Miller, R-Manassas. And I can’t imagine local prosecutors and police chiefs are thrilled at the heavy-handedness of a proposal that chips away at their control.
“The bill is a bad idea, notwithstanding the presumed concern for officer safety,” wrote Richmond Commonwealth’s Attorney Michael Herring in an email.
“There will be folks in the general public who think nondisclosure is part of a larger effort to cover up or ‘contain’ the incident. Most departments, RPD in particular, do a good job of assuring residents that the incident will be thoroughly investigated.
“That makes the individual officer’s identity somewhat irrelevant,” he said. “Arguably, moreover, disclosure might lead to the discovery of info known only to people on the street (i.e. not investigators or Internal Affairs).”
Catherine would like the aftermath of such shootings to remain as transparent as possible, and argues that police chiefs already have broad discretion on the release of an officer’s name after a shooting. That decision-making power should remain in the hands of law enforcement agencies who know their communities best, she said.
Richmond Police Chief Alfred Durham said Monday that he authorizes the release of an officer’s name on a case-by-case basis, with the safety of the officer and his or her family being paramount.
That’s how it should be. But blanket policies that cite vague safety concerns should not trump transparency.
Catherine suspects that bills like this pop up because law enforcement officers are being caught in the act more often on cameras and cellphones, “so they’re trying to find ways to protect themselves in the community that may not be ethical.”
Some may view this bill as a race-neutral protection of law enforcement, “but there’s always disparate impact,” she said. “I think a bill like this would disparately impact communities of color.”
At a time when our nation increasingly seems to be marching to the beat of authoritarian impulses, we don’t need legislation that sends the signal that police deserve blanket protections that civilians don’t.
If police are under greater scrutiny, they need to own the challenge and respond in ways that ease doubts about their performance. Hiding behind a law that encourages secrecy and punishes disclosure only reinforces that law enforcement has something to hide.
At a time when some of the nation’s most powerful officials have declared war on the media and are thumbing their noses at disclosure, we don’t need state legislators advancing measures that codify secrecy — particularly when it comes to the volatile issue of police shootings of civilians.
It would be helpful as this bill advances — it was reported out of committee Thursday and is headed to the House of Delegates floor — for police chiefs and sheriffs to find their collective voice, protect their turf and safeguard their prerogatives.
They’ll be the ones cleaning up the mess left by this state-imposed cloak of secrecy. A shield must not become a hideout from accountability.
