seighten said:
You are ABSOLUTELY right about the race thing working both ways. I grew up in a horribly rich snobby town, and hated every second of it. As soon as I graduated high school, I moved to what most would consider the ghetto in South Carolina. I'm white in a predominately black neighborhood. I get along great with my neighbors, color isn't an issue between us. They all say I make better greens than their grandmothers.
But that's not my main point. Shortly after my first stingray surgery, I ran out of cigarettes around 2am. I don't know what it is about percocet, but it made me want to smoke like a chimney. Corner store was only about a 1/4 mile drive from my apartment, so I figured I'd be fine for a short drive. So, out I went. Nobody was on the road, nobody was on their bike. Right before I got to the stop light on the intersection of S. Beltline and Rosewood (for any who might have lived and Columbia or been stationed at Ft. Jackson, you know the area I'm talking about), this cracked out black dude on a bike jets in front of my car, and I hit the brakes hard.
It was a nice evening, and I was driving my new car (2005 Nissan Altima 3.5SL), so I had the a/c and the window down. All of a sudden, I hear a scream at my window and this cracked out black dude is staring me in the face, and starts punching me repeatedly before I knew what the hell was going on. Put my injured arm up to block the punches (the one with the fresh surgical ray sting wound), and the bastard punched it open. Now, I had forgotten my gun, so this was an issue. Dude pulled a knife, so I backed the car away, hit 911 on the cell phone, and watched as this guy was still chasing me. So, I tried to run his ass down. The Columbia PD substation isn't far from my apartment (it's the ghetto, what do you expect), so as I was chasing the bastard when the Columbia PD showed up. I slammed on my brakes, and got out of my car, and with my arm literally streaming blood all over the ground, my muscle hanging out, and blood running down my face, I was screaming for help.
Two black cops got out of the cruiser. One took my story, the other took the crackhead's. They started asking me questions like "what the hell are you doing at this hour in this neighborhood in such a nice car?".
"Check my license, I live here"
"Please, you only live here because it's a drug haven"
"Excuse me?"
"This guy over here says you tried to buy crack from him, and the deal went sour, so you tried to run him down, and due to you being white in this neighborhood at this hour in this car, we're inclined to believe him."
My jaw just dropped.
"I want to press charges against this guy, NOW!"
"Well, if you press charges, we're going to take you in on drug charges, so shake hands and make up. We've given the man your address in case he wants to press charges against you."
I left, now on my way to the hospital (since they wouldn't call me an ambulance), and the car pulled hard to the right. I get out, still bleeding profusely, check it, and that god damned piece of **** crackhead slashed my tire. I was dizzy from the blows to the head, and I was losing a bit of blood, so I continued on to the hospital. Hospital claimed to call my surgeon, but they never did, and I had to go through another closure surgery after being hooked up to a hemovac for about 3 weeks.
The hospital staff was nice enough to bandage me up, do a neurological exam, and put my spare tire on, and send me home. In the morning, I called up the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division (SLED), and told them what had happened. They saw I was a concealed weapons permit, so I had to have undergone the drug test, fingerprinting, extensive background check, and was a law abiding citizen. They called up the Columbia PD headquarters, and there wasn't even an incident report on file. They saw the doctor's reports, and opened an investigation, because I obviously couldn't make anything up that good. Plus, they found the crackhead's knife on the side of the road along with his crack that he ditched (his prints were on it, never found out what happened to him).
Week went by, I heard nothing. This crackhead had my address. The day after the assault, I went out and bought more guns, a .357 mag, and a .44 mag. I kept getting knocks on my door at 3-4am, and each time, I'd grab one of the guns and cock the hammer back loudly (or rack the slide) since I didn't trust the cops, and I'd hear running.
Another week went by, and I get a call back from SLED. They went through all the cruiser tapes from the hour that I reported the incident (they checked my phone record and saw the 911 call, found the 911 call, and listened to it), and found the officers that did that to me, and they were fired.
So yeah, that point about reverse discrimination is totally plausable, since I've been a victim of it.
By the way, this was the damage a few days after I was assaulted:
I don't care who you are, you aren't going to get me to trust cops. Forget asking them for directions, that's an explicit reason I got my Altima with a GPS Nav system package.
the cops that i've been pulled over by have the same intelligence as a head iceberg lettuce.
