The one guy said something about killing police officers. He said something about the way they make him feel when he’s just walking down the street and one walks by or pulls up beside him. “This one time on I-95,” he sighed, “a cop pulled up beside me and my heart was beating like I had a trunk full of dope.” Then he went on to talk about a teacher he had once called that a “conditioning.”
He said his mom was once touched inappropriately by a cop and one called his father a nigger and made the trigger pulling motion with his fingers; the one kids make when playing cowboys and indigenous folks with no real weapons.
He said something about badly wanting to kill a cop to see if it would stop them from killing us. He thinks about it so much, he wonders why he hasn’t sought help. What would he tell the therapist, he wondered. “Ain’t shit a therapist can tell you that’ll make you feel safe around police officers,” he said. He’s probably right.
He said it’s best he leaves, to which the other man replied, “just teach the people to police their own neighborhoods. Teach them to govern, to lead, to build and collaborate. Then teach them to kill anyone who threatens that. Paul refuses to leave and let go of hope. He told me,” and the man finished.
It was something about killing police officers that ended the conversation.