One Story of Resistance to Police Abuse in New Orleans

My earliest recollection of interaction with a police officer is being pulled over as a teenager for questionable offenses such as dust covering part of my license plate, "riding too close" to the line on the side of the road, or hairline cracks at near the bottom of my front windshield. All of my friends had similar experiences. When we were stopped, the officers always ran everyone's license in the car and would sometimes separate everyone and try to get us to contradict each other's story about where we were going and why we were together. Occasionally, an officer would search someone's book bag. When they let us go, there were never any apologies. On the contrary, officers often seemed irritated to find that no laws were being violated, and even more so the times that searches had been conducted.

I grew up in Baldwin Michigan, one of the few rural, majority black towns in that state. As a juvenile, my younger brother was once pulled over and arrested for allegedly appearing intoxicated. At the police station, after passing a Breathalyzer test, my brother's blood was tested for drugs. Although no drugs were found in the car or on his person, he was charged with possession of a controlled substance for THC in his blood.

In 1999, I moved to New Orleans to attend Dillard University. During my first year here, I witnessed NOPD officers hold a man on the ground while another cop beat him. One of my friends from Dillard had money stolen from his wallet by officers when he was arrested. I also learned of the murders, extortion, and robberies perpetrated by legendarily corrupt NOPD officers such as Len Davis (who was convicted of planning and executing a murder) and Antoinette Frank (who killed three during a robbery).

My Story

In April of 2008, I was the passenger in a car that was pulled over in Harahan for minor traffic violations. Apparently, I angered the officer by asking why he wanted my driver's license rather than the driver of the car. Next, the officer ordered me out of the car in a visibly agitated manner and proceeded to both verbally and physically abuse me. He then arrested me without telling me - or the driver of the car – the reason. I was later charged with "Battery on a police officer" and "Resisting Arrest," although I did not fight with or resist any officer on that night. The next morning, a friend paid the $1500 bail so I could be freed.

When my court date arrived two months later, I was told that the District attorney had not picked up the charges and to check back in three weeks. When I called back, I was told the same thing. In early August, I received a notice by mail informing me that the Jefferson Parish district attorney had picked up the charges and I was instructed to appear before the court for arraignment on September 15. On the appropriate date, I pled not guilty.

Following the arrest, I spoke about my situation with many friends, family, and strangers. Nearly all of them expressed sympathy and a desire to help. Many advised me to hire a quality lawyer. Unfortunately, I was doing a lot of volunteer work at the time, barely surviving off the salary of a part time job, and did not view myself as realistically able to afford counsel.

Through conversations in my community, I came to see that my situation did not exist in a vacuum. Courtrooms in New Orleans and around the country have no shortage of individuals victimized by rogue officers. From the positive responses I was encountering when explaining my situation to different people, I recognized that there is a wide assortment of people who are familiar with this problem and want to help.

Around this time, a group of my friends and a couple of concerned community organizers began to meet weekly, to both discuss my case and trade ideas on what could be done to combat the problem of police harassment and racial profiling. These problems touch all walks of life, but disproportionately drain time, money, and people from low-income communities. A flier was created which explained my situation and encouraged people to show support by doing outreach, organizing gatherings where I could come talk about my case, and by calling the District Attorney to ask that my charges be dropped. Weekly, in the New Orleans suburbs of Harahan, Kenner, and Algiers, groups of us spent time knocking on doors, talking to people about my situation as well as problems they had encountered with police misconduct. More than 450 people signed a petition that requested all of my charges be dropped.

The diverse group that attended these meetings consisted of past neighbors, friends from college, community activist, and veteran organizers. Through an ex-roommate, I connected with an attorney who agreed to represent me at no charge. Because somebody else had access to a copy machine, we were able to get thousands of fliers printed. Another person volunteered to drive around and leave stacks at local businesses. As my December court date grew near, we continued to prepare and collaborate, utilizing networks, and pooling resources. At the weekly meetings, other ideas included putting together a media panel aimed at bringing attention to past and present examples of police brutality; compiling short pamphlets detailing methods of response available to survivors of brutality and misconduct; as well as working on a short documentary showing various people from around New Orleans discussing these issues and things regular people can do to fight back.

Court and Beyond

On December 11, 2008 it snowed in New Orleans. Despite the bad weather, I was joined at the courthouse that morning by about 40 concerned friends, students, and activists. My witness, the driver of the car when I was arrested, was scheduled to fly into New Orleans from Houston the evening of December 10 – but her flight was cancelled. The Harrahan Officer who arrested me, Bryan J. Hueseman, did not make it to the courthouse either. A decision was made to continue my case until April 8, 2009.

After that court date, the attorney who was representing me decided to end his work on my case, and I am once again in search of legal representation. Friends and allies have continued to meet and are still searching for ways of combating law enforcement violence. Although we have limited finances, we have begun to move forward with projects such as the media panel and informational pamphlets.

Throughout this ordeal, I have learned there are many ways in which folk are struggling against abusive police in Louisiana, and that this fight has been going on for a long, long time. For example, Safe Streets Strong Communities, a local grassroots membership organization, has fought for the creation of an independent police monitor in New Orleans. The ACLU of Louisiana fought in the legislature to force police departments to keep statistics about race in their policing. I have researched academic views of our country's criminal justice systems and looked at the Cop Watch programs in other cities.

A part of me still worries that finding solutions for such a big problem is impossible. I struggle against accepting harassment as just another bad part of life that people such as myself have to endure. I am sad to say that this point of view is shared by many of my friends and family members.

However, I have observed that much change throughout history has been initiated by small groups of dedicated people. And, I believe that too many people are affected by the injustices of police brutality – it's inevitable that we come together and utilize our collective genius in creating a cure for this ill.

James Williams is an organizer based in New Orleans.

Work is still going on around my case. Help is needed in publishing a short pamphlet titled, "What to do when your rights are violated." We need support in the filming and editing of people discussing experiences with law enforcement violence and ways of dealing with it. Finally, we are seeking venues to host panel discussions on this subject. Interested individuals or organizations should call James Williams at jamesatdu@hotmail.com.