Police Shootings: The Rest of the Story
Kevin J. Mullen
Several persons have been shot at night by the present police, and the consequence is that when a policeman arrests a man, he goes, without a word. . . . It may be laid down as a rule that when at night a person runs, and runs too fast for him, the policeman should shoot,
and shoot in such a manner that the offender will not run farther, nor shoot back.
-- Daily Alta California April 20, 1853
The question of police shootings has come up again. [1996] The city is paying out a great deal of money for lawsuits resulting from police shootings, we are told, and there seems to be some
question about official willingness to control this ultimate use of police force. The Alta editor in gold rush San Francisco succinctly defined the issue which confronts us still: "There may be two faults in a policeman;" he opined "he may shoot at the wrong time, or he may not shoot at the right time. . . ." The editor assigned equal weight to both faults but made his bias clear elsewhere: "The policeman who will let a wrongdoer escape rather than shoot him is unfit for the place." We've come some distance from the thinking of that time. Now, at least, officers are not supposed to shoot at people just for running away.
Police officers are uniquely empowered with the awesome authority to take another's life under certain circumstances. Officers should not exercise that power lightly, of course, and society has every right to scrutinize its use closely. It is also important, however, to consider the total context in which police shootings occur. There is a saying in the fire service that firefighters are “people who run into burning buildings when everyone else is running out." Similarly, while others may avoid violence occurring in front of them -- or even run away -- a police officer is expected, and sworn, to get involved.
Not surprisingly, the consequences are sometimes fatal. Over the years, many of the more than 70 officers killed in the line of duty since the department's founding have been killed in
face-offs with criminal offenders. While tragic, it must be expected as part of what officers are sworn to do. Most recently, in November 1994, Officer John Guelff, the first responding officer to a man with a gun call,died in a gunfight with his killer.
Other officers have been ambushed, killed pursuing wanted criminals, or fatally injured while saving human life. But too many have died for failing to shoot first when it might have saved their life. The public may forget these incidents but theyare imbedded in the institutional memory of the department. On October 1, 1925 Sergeant "Joe" Brady was shot down without warning when he approached a suspicious auto near the Fairmont Hotel. Captain of Detectives, and later Chief, Charles Dullea summed up Brady's dilemma -- and that of all street officers by asking rhetorically: [Should the officer] be courteous and approach with his gun in his holster? Or shall he play it safe and approach with a cocked and threatening weapon? . .. . Such is the policeman's position: If he plays safe, he may be dismissed; if he is courteous he may be killed.
After Officer Timothy Ryan was shot down by a drunken ex-husband in a domestic dispute in 1943 -- with his weapon still in its holster -- one editor suggested that officers draw their
weapons more frequently "even if they may face the displeasure of citizens who feel they are exceeding their authority by having a gun in hand when they come to settle some quarrel between husband and wife." There would be others. Officer Eric Zelms might not have died in a Tenderloin doorway on New Years Eve 1969, shot with his own weapon, if he had shot first and asked questions later. AndSergeant John Macaulay -- the last to be murdered before Officer Guelff -- might not have died in 1982 had he been a little quicker on the draw. John Macaulay had superb street instincts and the quick physical reflexes of the fine boxer he was. Three years earlier, murder whether John perhaps hesitated for a moment because of what he had gone through on the earlier occasion, thus fatally slowing down his reaction time.
There have much more deadly periods for San Francisco police officers than at present. Fourteen officers were killed in the line of duty in the "roaring" 1920s, 13 in the depression years of the 1930s, and another 14 in the turbulent decade from 1965 to1975, remembered by many as a series of "Summers of Love." Part of the reason for the decline in police deaths probably has something to do with the introduction of bullet-proof vests, as well as improved officer safety training, and the availability of virtually instantaneous backup. But perhaps criminals are also increasingly disinclined to do harm to police officers for fear of the sudden fatal consequences of such behavior. I certainly hope so.
San Francisco Examiner January 3, 1996