I went on patrol with CMPD. Here’s what I saw.
- endgamemjd
- 1 day ago
- 3 min read
THE CAROLINA JOURNAL
It’s 6:30am. We’re cruising along North Tryon in a blue-and-white cop car. We drive by an encampment of homeless people, clutching blankets around their shoulders for warmth. One group has built a fire in a tin roasting pan in a parking lot. The officer who is my ride-along partner respectfully tells them they must put it out. They comply and wave as we drive off.
“Are they doing that out of respect?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” he replies. “They change if they’re caught breaking the law, like yesterday.”
He describes yesterday’s arrest of two men found sleeping in a car, surrounded by drug paraphernalia. A search uncovered a large amount of fentanyl. The men resisted arrest, were wrestled into submission and taken to jail, where the officers spent over five hours processing the arrest.
I’ve long supported law enforcement and expressed frustration with the judicial system in Mecklenburg County. Through this ride, I observe firsthand the daily challenges of CMPD officers.
“Most cases are dismissed.” the officer explains. “Overworked assistant DAs often get the facts wrong.”
I mention that the newly passed Iryna’s Law provides for 10 new ADA positions for Charlotte. He acknowledges that’s helpful, but he’s skeptical the county’s judicial system will improve.
We cruise through a neighborhood of modest brick homes. Families are waiting for the school bus. The officer describes the area as crime-ridden, with frequent homicides and many crack houses. He points out the security cameras that capture license plates of cars involved in crimes. They’re helpful; but they’re often broken, and there aren’t enough of them.
The day is a barrage of requests for help. A sister reports her psychotic brother has gone off his medication, relapsed into drugs, and is wandering the street half-clothed. We wait with the Emergency Medical Unit while the man, screaming wildly, is subdued. He’s taken to Atrium’s Emergency Room, dropped off, and eventually released. Frustrated ER doctors tell me this is typical, as they have no facilities to keep such patients.
At CMPD headquarters, we observe police dispatchers. The supervisor explains that although the pay is good — a dispatcher makes between $55,000 – $60,000 — he struggles with high turnover. Nearly one-third of positions remain unfilled.
My ride-along partner introduces me to his usual partner, an Iraq veteran, who is helping a trainee log in a bag of fentanyl and a loaded gun in the evidence room. The airport drug canine unit is there with half a dozen unclaimed boxes filled with marijuana shipped in from Oregon.
We end the day responding to a call from a convenience store owner, about a gang openly selling drugs in his parking lot. Five menacing-looking young men loiter at the corner. They move away slowly as we arrive. The owner has recently purchased the business, and the drug sellers threaten his livelihood. Outnumbered, the CMPD officer confronts the men.
They move around the corner, and he tells us, “I’ve arrested these guys before. The leader shot another member recently in an argument over a small amount of marijuana. They told me if I keep hassling them, I’ll end up like Officer Eyer.” Officer Eyer, a member of the North Tryon Division, was killed last year in a firefight with a repeat offender who shot eight peace officers.
As we pull away, passing the drug gang waiting for us to leave, my ride-along partner’s mood brightens. He turns on Young Jeezy’s “Put On.” As the rap music pounds, “I put on for my city…” he proudly says, “I was Officer of the Month for North Tryon. I wanted this played at the ceremony.”
Beyond our respect, these brave men and women deserve our full support: fair wages and benefits, efficient processes and technology, effective mental health solutions, and a judicial system willing and able to incarcerate pretrial violent criminals that are a flight risk and repeat offenders.