Faye Wells, a 5-foot-7, 125-pound black woman, graduate of Duke with an MBA from Dartmouth and vice president of strategy at a multinational corporation discovered this past September what it feels like when one of your neighbors calls 9-1-1 because they mistakenly believe you are an intruder in your own home. What happens is that nineteen officers from the Santa Monica Police appear at your door with guns drawn and a K9 ready to take you down in desperate terrified panic.
On Sept. 6, I locked myself out of my apartment in Santa Monica, Calif. I was in a rush to get to my weekly soccer game, so I decided to go enjoy the game and deal with the lock afterward.
A few hours and a visit from a locksmith later, I was inside my apartment and slipping off my shoes when I heard a man’s voice and what sounded like a small dog whimpering outside, near my front window. I imagined a loiterer and opened the door to move him along. I was surprised to see a large dog halfway up the staircase to my door. I stepped back inside, closed the door and locked it.
I heard barking. I approached my front window and loudly asked what was going on. Peering through my blinds, I saw a gun. A man stood at the bottom of the stairs, pointing it at me. I stepped back and heard: “Come outside with your hands up.” I thought: This man has a gun and will kill me if I don’t come outside. At the same time, I thought: I’ve heard this line from policemen in movies. Although he didn’t identify himself, perhaps he’s an officer.
As she soon discovered, he was a police officer and he was far from alone. Unlike so many other incidents no one physically harmed on this particular day, but the psychic wounds of what Ms. Wells experienced are not likely to heal soon.
Unknown to Wells, when she’d called a locksmith to help her get back into her apartment, her neighbor had called the police telling them that “a guy and two girls” had broken into the apartment. “He had some tools, he was tapping on the lock. They just went into the apartment a minute ago. They just broke in. I’ll tell you right now obviously this guy does not have key to get into the apartment. It’s one latino male, dark hair, he's got a hat on and there were like two girls. … I think they’re hispanic. I need some cops over here right now.”
She writes that as police arrived to investigate the reported break in they shouted at her to exit guns drawn.
I left my apartment in my socks, shorts and a light jacket, my hands in the air. “What’s going on?” I asked again. Two police officers had guns trained on me. They shouted: “Who’s in there with you? How many of you are there?”
…
I had never looked down the barrel of a gun or at the face of a man with a loaded weapon pointed at me. In his eyes, I saw fear and anger. I had no idea what was happening, but I saw how it would end: I would be dead in the stairwell outside my apartment, because something about me — a 5-foot-7, 125-pound black woman — frightened this man with a gun.
She was taken downstairs, hands behind her back, paraded out in front of her neighbors, she counted another 16 officers in addition to those who entered her apartment against her wishes.
In and of itself this is somewhat normal, except for the large number of officers. It’s largely what happens next that is alarming and shocking.
Once officers had “cleared” her apartment of any other persons, something she’d already told them, they brought her back into it to talk. Not once during this entire time had any of them explained to her what was going on despite her numerous questions. Instead they asked her why didn’t come out of her apartment shouting “I live here”, to which she responded that didn’t make sense since she didn’t even know who they were or why they were there.
Shouting at anyone with a gun doesn’t seem like a wise decision.
She asked why they hadn’t announced themselves? Why they’d pointed guns at her? Why they didn’t answer her when she asked what was going on? Why no one accepted her ID — which would have confirmed her address— even though she repeatedly offered it? She demanded all their names and badge numbers, and only received few. Some of them simply ignored her and walked away.
A sergeant promised to get her all the names later. She eventually received most of them.
She confronted the neighbor who’d called the police, he argued that he’d never seen her before even though she’d been living in that apartment for the last seven months. She pressed him on whether he understood how frightening this had been for her, how she could have so easily lost her life? As she questioned him further he grew angry, “I’m an attorney, so you can go f— yourself.”
Charming.
She spoke again to the officers and they wondered “wouldn’t she want the same response if she’d been the one to call?” She said “Absolutely Not!” She had been terrified. She was well aware of how it could easily end, particularly for persons of color who encounter police. In justification, one of the officers admitted “it’s complicated, but sometimes people kill cops for no reason.”
And there you have it.
Cops, with all their training, all their gear, the guns, tasers, batons, body armor, and an additional 16 officers backing them up are just terrified, in near panic, that an unarmed little 125 lbs. woman was somehow a massive threat to them. That’s just stunning. They seem unable to conceive that the reverse was actually the case. No one seemed to fully understand or appreciate the fear and panic of Ms. Wells from being accosted and dragged out of her apartment by armed men who refused to answer her questions, identify themselves or explain themselves. No one considered the long term consequences of their actions and their lingering impact on an innocent woman. She describes this poignantly.
The trauma of that night lingers. I can’t un-see the guns, the dog, the officers forcing their way into my apartment, the small army waiting for me outside. Almost daily, I deal with sleeplessness, confusion, anger and fear. I’m frightened when I see large dogs now. I have nightmares of being beaten by white men as they call me the n-word. Every week, I see the man who called 911. He averts his eyes and ignores me.
I’m heartbroken that his careless assessment of me, based on skin color, could endanger my life. I’m heartbroken by the sense of terror I got from people whose job is supposedly to protect me. I’m heartbroken by a system that evades accountability and justifies dangerous behavior. I’m heartbroken that the place I called home no longer feels safe. I’m heartbroken that no matter how many times a story like this is told, it will happen again.
This is the part that I find truly sad. Clearly her frightened neighbor, frantically calling 9-1-1 thinking that he’s just witnessed a latino burglary ring, doesn’t appreciate how being thought of and treated like petty criminal in her own home felt like. Nor do the police. It’s like they’re completely devoid of empathy, empty of understanding what it’s like to be the other person on the other side of a loaded gun. It doesn’t matter if the neighbor or the police were racially motivated or not, their panic may have had many causes but in the end, the resulting effect is still the same.
She describes how while waiting in line inside a crowded restaurant with a friend she felt panic and a desire to flee once she saw two officers also waiting. Her eyes locked on them. Like sense memory those moments of panic from that day in September came flooding back. She says she always resisted generalizations and could imagine these officers were “good people”, but at the same time after her experience with SMPD she felt a lump in her throat.
I realized that if I needed help, I didn’t think I could ask them for it.
That’s exactly how many people of color feel. After being pulled over for a bogus pre-text stop. After being stopped while walking down the street, rousted, verbally insulted and searched by police for no valid reason, not just once but time after time after time.
Because “Black Crime.” Because “Police get shot.” Because “Santa Monica.” Because, whatever.
And this is without things getting ugly. Without them getting violent. Without being tasered. Having your desk flipped over by “Officer Slam.” Being tossed on the ground and having Cpl. Casebolt smash his knee over your back. Or over your neck. Even without any of that, the trauma is real, and lasting. We’ve all heard the numbers time and time again, but we sometimes fail to remember the cumulative damage that is beyond just the physical.
The lingering trauma of shattered trust which once lost it can be nearly impossible to recover.
Friday, Nov 20, 2015 · 12:25:21 AM +00:00 · Frank Vyan Walton
Statement from the Chief of Santa Monica Police.
As a Black woman born and raised in South-Central Los Angeles, I empathize with Ms. Fay Wells and how this experience has made her feel. On the other hand, as an experienced law enforcement executive, I understand the Police Department's response and the need for that response. This seeming dichotomy may be difficult for some to accept, particularly given the national dialogue. From my perspective, the 9-1-1 caller was not wrong for reporting what he believed was an in-progress residential burglary. Put yourself in his place. Ms. Wells is not wrong to feel as she does. Put yourself in her shoes. And, the Santa Monica Police Department's response was not wrong. Put yourself in the officers' shoes. I have chosen to share the post-incident audio recording so you can listen and draw your own conclusions...
This incident is reminiscent of those Rorschach-style images where it depends on your perspective whether you see a blob of ink, the image of an old woman, or you see the beautiful woman's profile. Some will see this circumstance as an indictment of law enforcement while others will see it as further proof of the breakdown in police-community relations. For me, I don't see this incident as either of those things. Instead, this incident presents a clear and present opportunity for all facets of our community and this Police Department to continue to work together, to engage in on-going conversations about the realities and myths of the protective function inherent in policing, and to emphasize the importance of community, particularly in terms of knowing one's neighbors. I hope we can all to be more thoughtful before we rush to condemn the actions of a group of police officers who were doing their best to keep our community safe. I welcome the opportunity to engage our community in these all- important conversations.
Jacqueline A. Seabrooks, Chief of Police
Santa Monica Police Department
The discussion between her and the officers is interesting, they made their case that they were doing what they were doing because basically “people lie to us” when she said it was her apartment and there was no one else there. One officer does say that said “Police!” when they were on the stairs, but even he admits that might not have been audible with the dog barking.
They kept saying “we understand how you feel” and really they don’t, not even close. They go on about how “You’d want us to come if you had called?” She says “yes, but I don’t want guns pointed at me.”
They go “well if it was a burglar...” and I’m just not following their logic here. She says that they even pointed a gun at her when came to the window see what all the commotion was outside and it’s just no recognition, no understanding that having two guns shoved in her face for no reason IS. NOT. COOL.
Later she’s talking to the what I assume is the Sergeant as they’re talking about his following up with her on the ID’s of each of the officers.
Wells: So the other guys just disappeared and they didn’t give me their cards, which was just awesome.
Sgt: When there’s a call for service, everyone here will provide you that information. You’re gonna contact me on Tuesday, I’ll follow up. Is that ok?
Wells: What are you gonna do, you’re gonna give me everybody’s number? And by the way, completely rude that they just walked away after.
Sgt: I’ll talk to them.
Wells: Y’know I feel like you’re not, I don’t mean to be a jackass.
Sgt: Well I…
Well: Are you gonna talk to them?
Sgt: Yes, ma’am.
Well: If you don’t, just tell me you won’t and I won’t follow up.
Sgt: I’ve no reason to lie to you. Why would I be lying to you?
Yeah, I found that sequence real ironic since he just spent ten minutes trying to explain all their prior actions by saying “People lie to us.” Here we have the contradiction that these guys just didn’t get, they treated her like a liar from the very first second, then continued to justify that treatment during the entire discussion after, but here he sound literally offended that she dares to suspect that he himself might be a liar.
Well: To try and make me feel better about the situation and then try to tell me that something gonna happen.
Sgt: No, hold on one second. I’m telling you the truth and trying to make you feel better. I’m not gonna stand here and lie to you, I have no reason to lie to you. I have no reason what-so-ever to lie to you. I’ve told you all the information I know.
Well: Do you know why the other officers told me that would give me their cards and then walked away?
Sgt: I’ve been standing right here with you, I’m not a mind reader.
Oh god… oh god… oh god…
Wells: No no, we were on the stairs and I asked for their cards.
(Several seconds of pause, another unintelligible voice in the distance)
Sgt: You asked me why the officers left, I don’t if they have another call or whatever.
Wells: Actually I asked them for their cards and they just turned around and walked away.
Sgt: And you asked me why they did, and I said I don’t know why. I’ve been standing right here with you, I had no conversation with the officers. I have no idea why they left.
Wells: Really? You don’t know why officers left when I said “can I have your card?”
Sgt: Ma’am I have no idea if they have another call they need to go to or not.
Wells: But they can’t take two seconds? They didn’t run away, they walked away slowly.
Female Officer: Mostly because there was really no need for collecting all of our cards…
Wells: You guys don’t feel there’s a need, you didn’t have 16 people show up and put a gun on you.
A lot of the conversation circles around itself over and over like that, it’s just funny to me how much he took it personally when she felt he might be lying, immediately after several officers had just lied to her and walked away instead of providing their cards, contrasted to the ten minutes they spent justifying why they just had to assume she was a liar so they pulled their guns first and then asked all their questions later.
Ultimately the list of officers they provided to her was incomplete and only after cross-checking with a list that went to the Washington Post were they able to sort things out.