TheeBadOne
Member
http://www.duluthsuperior.com/mld/duluthtribune/news/local/5888935.htm
For years, I've listened to city councilors grumble about police-related issues.
It seemed just a little ironic -- and a bit amusing -- when Councilor Carol Reasbeck took one of two guns fitted to fire simulated ammunition from Capt. Chuck LaGesse. I couldn't be sure exactly what was next, but the nature of discussion led me to believe the councilor would end up shooting a police officer.
When shots rang out, I'd have sworn my heart stopped beating.
It was a valuable lesson in the use of force for someone who brandishes a pen.
The use of force is actually quite rare, involving about1 percent of all contacts between the public and police, according to U.S. Bureau of Justice statistics.
In Superior, force is used much less frequently. While the Superior Police Department averages about 27,000 contacts with the public annually, incidents that require officers to use force average 40 per year, LaGesse said.
Whenever officers are required to use force, it is documented and reviewed by department command staff.
Police have the power to use force to gain compliance from a suspect. They have the authority to use deadly force to protect against great bodily harm or death.
There's no room for an officer who abuses their authority -- I'll be the first to point out the officer that does. I'm also obligated to be fair to the officer simply caught in bad circumstances.
In both cases, Reasbeck was justified --- a police officer in bad circumstances. I witnessed it. The class agreed.
Reasbeck played the role of a police officer on the scene of a man threatening suicide. LaGesse knelt in front of her with a gun to his head.
"Put the gun down, sir," Reasbeck demanded.
"Go away, cop," he replied.
When Reasbeck repeated the command, LaGesse grew agitated, spun around and fired.
Shots rang out almost simultaneously.
When the scene unfolded again, LaGesse tucked the weapon at his waist as he spun around and was unarmed as he faced her again.
Reasbeck fired.
Suicide by cop, the class agreed.
For those of us watching, picking it apart was easy.
Initially, Reasbeck started to walk away, thinking she got the bad guy. It took Reasbeck a moment to realize she'd shot an unarmed man.
"Oh my God. I thought, oh my God," Reasbeck said of the moment when she realized LaGesse was unarmed. "I don't know how they do it."
The training kicks in, said Superior Police Officer Bill Andrews, who's been shot at twice during 24 years with the department. In 1979, Andrews and several other officers had been called out to break up a loud party in the 1800 block of Banks Avenue. Some unknown individual fired at officers, forcing them to duck for cover. After making several arrests, officers left the scene only to be shot at again near North 17th Street and Tower Avenue, Andrews said.
It's training that defies traditional fight rules. A fight with a police officer won't be a fair one. Officers' and innocent lives depend on police keeping the upper hand in violent situations.
There's plenty of time to pick apart an incident when it's over. Deadlines are fierce, but we in the media still have the luxury of time.
It's a luxury officers rarely have when a split-second decision could cost a life.
I remembered my skeptism when I read about a Duluth police shooting -- a man armed with a BB gun was shot in the back of the head, right shoulder and lower back early March 22. About 20 shots were fired.
The truth is, it's typical of police shootings, according to a report by the U.S. Bureau of Justice. Police are trained to continue firing until the threat has been eliminated, the report states.
Before the St. Louis County attorney's office rendered its opinion on the shooting in Duluth, I understood how it could be justified.
The circumstances weren't terribly different from those I witnessed during a ride-along with Superior Police Officer Thor Trone. A kid armed with a toy had me convinced I might witness another human being -- an officer or a kid -- being shot.
It's a good thing the kid dropped the gun as fast as he did or Trone would have shot him, Andrews said later.
As I stood at the police desk later, filling out a witness statement, the kid's toy laid side-by-side with Trone's Kahr K40 on a desk a few feet away. In the light, minor differences were easier to see.
They are the same details that would have raised questions if the kid had spent the night in the morgue or an emergency room instead of the Douglas County Jail.
Once I signed my witness statement, I put my pen away.
Had things turned out differently, someone else would have written that story.
For years, I've listened to city councilors grumble about police-related issues.
It seemed just a little ironic -- and a bit amusing -- when Councilor Carol Reasbeck took one of two guns fitted to fire simulated ammunition from Capt. Chuck LaGesse. I couldn't be sure exactly what was next, but the nature of discussion led me to believe the councilor would end up shooting a police officer.
When shots rang out, I'd have sworn my heart stopped beating.
It was a valuable lesson in the use of force for someone who brandishes a pen.
The use of force is actually quite rare, involving about1 percent of all contacts between the public and police, according to U.S. Bureau of Justice statistics.
In Superior, force is used much less frequently. While the Superior Police Department averages about 27,000 contacts with the public annually, incidents that require officers to use force average 40 per year, LaGesse said.
Whenever officers are required to use force, it is documented and reviewed by department command staff.
Police have the power to use force to gain compliance from a suspect. They have the authority to use deadly force to protect against great bodily harm or death.
There's no room for an officer who abuses their authority -- I'll be the first to point out the officer that does. I'm also obligated to be fair to the officer simply caught in bad circumstances.
In both cases, Reasbeck was justified --- a police officer in bad circumstances. I witnessed it. The class agreed.
Reasbeck played the role of a police officer on the scene of a man threatening suicide. LaGesse knelt in front of her with a gun to his head.
"Put the gun down, sir," Reasbeck demanded.
"Go away, cop," he replied.
When Reasbeck repeated the command, LaGesse grew agitated, spun around and fired.
Shots rang out almost simultaneously.
When the scene unfolded again, LaGesse tucked the weapon at his waist as he spun around and was unarmed as he faced her again.
Reasbeck fired.
Suicide by cop, the class agreed.
For those of us watching, picking it apart was easy.
Initially, Reasbeck started to walk away, thinking she got the bad guy. It took Reasbeck a moment to realize she'd shot an unarmed man.
"Oh my God. I thought, oh my God," Reasbeck said of the moment when she realized LaGesse was unarmed. "I don't know how they do it."
The training kicks in, said Superior Police Officer Bill Andrews, who's been shot at twice during 24 years with the department. In 1979, Andrews and several other officers had been called out to break up a loud party in the 1800 block of Banks Avenue. Some unknown individual fired at officers, forcing them to duck for cover. After making several arrests, officers left the scene only to be shot at again near North 17th Street and Tower Avenue, Andrews said.
It's training that defies traditional fight rules. A fight with a police officer won't be a fair one. Officers' and innocent lives depend on police keeping the upper hand in violent situations.
There's plenty of time to pick apart an incident when it's over. Deadlines are fierce, but we in the media still have the luxury of time.
It's a luxury officers rarely have when a split-second decision could cost a life.
I remembered my skeptism when I read about a Duluth police shooting -- a man armed with a BB gun was shot in the back of the head, right shoulder and lower back early March 22. About 20 shots were fired.
The truth is, it's typical of police shootings, according to a report by the U.S. Bureau of Justice. Police are trained to continue firing until the threat has been eliminated, the report states.
Before the St. Louis County attorney's office rendered its opinion on the shooting in Duluth, I understood how it could be justified.
The circumstances weren't terribly different from those I witnessed during a ride-along with Superior Police Officer Thor Trone. A kid armed with a toy had me convinced I might witness another human being -- an officer or a kid -- being shot.
It's a good thing the kid dropped the gun as fast as he did or Trone would have shot him, Andrews said later.
As I stood at the police desk later, filling out a witness statement, the kid's toy laid side-by-side with Trone's Kahr K40 on a desk a few feet away. In the light, minor differences were easier to see.
They are the same details that would have raised questions if the kid had spent the night in the morgue or an emergency room instead of the Douglas County Jail.
Once I signed my witness statement, I put my pen away.
Had things turned out differently, someone else would have written that story.
