I am not sure how long one has to live in the United States to have a run-in with the police, but I have had a few in my time here. I do not consider myself a criminal, but I don't need to be one to have run-ins with the police. There is something called "racial profiling". In all of my cases, a traffic stop was used as pretext; and in almost all of them, I was let go after they ran my drivers license and came up empty handed.
In one instance, the cop ask if the car was mine, and when I answered "yes", he then asked how much I paid for it. In another instance, my entire car, including the trunk, was searched without a warrant. And in what I consider the scariest instance, I was pulled over in the middle of the night in Santa Cruz. As I was pulling over per instructions given to me by the officer behind me, another officer came from the opposite direction and swooped in, and the two patrol cars sandwiched my car. Caught in a storm of flashing police lights, I found myself wondering whether I was a drug dealer and didn't know it. Or maybe I had committed murder in my sleep and didn't realize it. But just like the other incidents, this one too ended with the officers running my drivers license and coming up empty handed. With no ticket issued, I was cut loose and never told why I was stopped in the first place, and I never asked.
In 2003, I happened to move into a neighborhood that was a bit secluded. The house is on a cul de sac and a few turns are required from the leading streets to get you there. In my first month there, I was followed by an officer on my way home. When you are being followed, you just know. And when we got to my house, I just pulled onto the driveway and packed my car. The officer then continued and slowly drove to the end of the cul de sac and turned around. After entering the house, I quickly went upstairs into the master bedroom which had a window facing the street. Standing behind the curtain, I peeped through the window (nobu style) and watched the officer slowly driving by while taking a good look at the house.
Ironically, my neighbor two houses down was a San Francisco Police Officer. We got to know each other and he would keep an eye on the house when we were out of town. We would have conversations over the roaring engine noises of our lawnmowers on Sundays as we manicured our lawns. He had seen me riding bikes with my kids and doing other activities with them, and he always complimented me on being an active father. When my dad was here, he took the liberty to praise him on his efforts in raising me, and he told my dad that he should be proud of me. Because we were neighbors, he had a window into my life and saw me as an upstanding citizen and active father. Proximity made this possible. But if he wasn't my neighbor for 12 years and had no window into my life, would he racially profile me just like the other officers did, I wonder?
