An Open Letter to Sergeant William Palmer, MPD
Don't do stupid stuff, Bill. The reason that you're alive after your stupid little assault Friday is that I don't want to hurt you, much less kill you. You have my word that I will not hurt you; my word is good. You don't have to be afraid of me.
When you stupidly lunged at me to grab my knife and gun, you didn't watch my hands. One of them was on my backup gun; the other was within an inch of a backup knife.
The reason that you're alive is that I've decided that I'm not going to hurt or kill you if you do something stupid. You have my word, Bill. Believe me; it'll be easier on you.
So, here's your choices, the next we meet for me to go over the MGDPA responses that you're going to be providing to me, over the next several months:
1. Chill. If you've got issues, bounce them upstairs to your boss. Me carrying at City Hall is an issue that's well above your pay grade -- bounce it upstairs. Maybe you want to get the law changed; take it up with the legislature. I'll warn you, in advance, that if you try that, you'll just make a public fool of yourself, but, hell, Bill, at this point, that'd be like wetting a river, given your job and your fool stunt on Friday.
2. Arrest me, soft. If you want to arrest me, Bill, all you've got to do is tell me, "Joel, I'm placing you under arrest." I will, slowly, raise my hands to shoulder level, getting them well away from any weapons that you see or don't see. You can then hook me up; if you don't want to use your own cuffs, you can use mine -- behind the hip, lefthand side. I won't resist, Bill; I give you my word. We'll settle our differences in court, me for whatever fool thing you've decided to falsely arrest me for, you for your false arrest.
3. Arrest me at gunpoint. Draw your service weapon, point it at me, after announcing that you're going to arrest me. Call for backup to secure me. I won't resist -- you have my word, Bill -- them or you. Keep your finger off the fucking trigger. You don't want my blood on your hands, and I won't have yours on mine.
4. Jump and thump me, MPD style. Yes, I know how you badged boys work; you just handed me all sorts of evidence of that. Again: I won't resist, and we'll settle it in court, unless it turns out to be the last possibility.
5. Execute me. I'm a hypertensive diabetic with two degraded disks up against his spine, Bill. I'm easy to break. You can do that, Bill, but you'll have to live with the consequences. I won't; I'll be beyond all pain.
No, I don't want you to do any of the above, Bill. I want you to do your job, keep your cool, and keep your hands to yourself. If I get to choose between any of the above, I'd pick #1. My second choice would be #2. Third choice #3. Fourth choice #5.
Don't get yourself in deeper, Bill. You have rights, Sergeant Palmer -- you have the right to remain silent, to the advice of counsel, and you have the right not to make any more of an ass of yourself than you did in Tim Dolan's office on Friday.
We still have some data from the instant MGDPA request to go over. Does Tuesday, November 9, 1PM, work for you? It should take about thirty minutes.