Just Doing Their Job?

WHEN it was all over--it took less than one minute--I had more questions than answers. I was confused because I wasn't sure if I should be angry. I'm still not sure.

My brother Michael and I were stopped by police last week in Brookline, where we live. This was the second time in my 22 years of existence that I have been stopped by police. Both times were in the last four years; should I expect the fate of being stopped every other year to continue?

The last incident began when my brother and I got off the Green Line trolley car at the unnamed stop in front of the Holiday Inn on Beacon St. I remember that it was 10:45 p.m., because when I told Michael that I was going to buy the New York Times then, the smart-aleck said, "Yeah, it's 10:45."

As we crossed the tracks, looking both ways of course, a police car pulled up, flashing its lights at us. A police officer got out and asked us which direction we were coming from. I pointed to the trolley car which was stalled at the light.

"Could you guys hold on a second," he said in a friendly, but firm, manner. "There's been an armed robbery."

I said something along the lines of "What does that have to do with us?" I now realize that we should have stopped the trolley car that was passing us as I said this, to get someone to identify us. Instead, I was just humiliated as the faces on the train peered out of the windows at us.

After the police officer told us the robbery had been committed by two Blacks, he called on his walkie-talkie for a description of the suspects. Another police car pulled up, with its red light whirling; these bright lights exposed our identities to all.

UP to this point, it all seemed unreal. But the second car's arrival forced me to take it more seriously. I hoped the police were not prepared to "apprehend the perpetrators." There were several inaudible words over the walkie-talkie, then I heard "dark clothes..." I cursed myself for not being dressed in a bright suit and tie.

Then we heard the words that would set us free: "Dark-skin Blacks." At the same time, we reached out, instinctively, and showed him our nearly-red Black (a former girlfriend once told me I was closer to orange than Black) arms. I had to suppress a laugh, as I wondered if whites are ever identified as light-skin and dark-skin whites.

When Michael and I were set free, we both had a hard time not laughing at the incident. Should we have been upset? Or was it just too silly for us to get upset? It was the secret between the two of us that made each of us grin, even laugh, when we looked at one another that night.

I began to consider possible explanations for why I was stopped. After all, I did have a Harvard bookbag full of constitutional law books, which must have tipped them off. And, I told myself, we were two Blacks out walking (not running, for some reason) in the vicinity of a crime committed by two Blacks.

I'm still not sure what to think of the encounter. When I think of the much worse incident in which two Harvard students were ordered off a shuttle bus and searched by Cambridge police last March, I wonder if I'm just being paranoid.

We weren't harassed. The police officer who questioned us was rather friendly, telling us immediately why we had been stopped. The mood of our encounter would not have been altered much if he had asked us if the Sox should trade Boggs.

As we rounded the next corner towards home and he saw us again, he smiled and waved. He was only doing his job, I though. He was protecting my rights, even if he had to violate them a little to do it.

I was never really scared, although I was nervous at the thought that my treatment could have been different if I were stopped some 40 or 50 years ago, or if I had been stopped in Roxbury. And I wondered how many Blacks, Brookline residents as well as visitors, were stopped that night.

And what would have happened if we had matched the description? We probably would have been taken to the scene of the crime. Some person would look us over: my fate in the hands of an angry stranger. I suppose I would have been upset at being taken somewhere to pose in a lineup. I didn't have much to do that night except finish a paper, so I must admit that I wouldn't have been terribly inconvienced.

I was more humbled than inconvienced. Should I have taken this as a personal affront? Or should I have been upset that this happened to me as a member of a particular group? I'm just not sure if I should be angry or confused.