Good trouble or bad trouble? The jury is still out

I blame Bill Poteat. His 2024 Martin Luther King Jr. Day editorial in The Paper sent me off my couch and into what Congressman John Lewis called “good trouble.” At least I thought it would be good trouble. Looking back, I’m not so sure.

I grew up during the civil rights era but mostly chose play over protest. Bill’s words revived my lingering guilt — cleverly disguised as his own — and motivated me to act.

In May 2020, I lay in a hospital bed with a TV when George Floyd was killed. Bored and bombarded with media, I was brainwashed, so when my good‑trouble gene triggered I chose to investigate police use of force. Minneapolis residents had not been knowledgeable about their Use of Force policy. Should Morganton residents know ours?

I thought it would be easy. I had decades of experience in government policy development and auditing manuals. One trip to City Hall, a quick skim, and I’d return to my couch, conscience sated.

At City Hall they told me I would have to go to Police HQ. At HQ I was greeted by Captain Brown, who asked me three times why I wanted to see their Use of Force policy. No smiling. He informed me that no hard‑copies existed, but he said he would check with the chief and see if I could be sent a copy.

Chief Whisnant approved, and Captain Corriveau sent a PDF of the Use of Force policy, and later, the full 800‑page manual. I read it, taking notes, naively expecting improvement suggestions would be welcome.

I saw that every page was copyrighted by Lexipol, so I researched Lexipol, and what I found was a national problem. A private company with a background in providing legal defense teams for officers charged with illegal use of force was literally setting policy for thousands of America’s police departments! Public abdication of American police policy to the private sector scares me, but I didn’t want to take on a national issue. Read the April 2018 Texas Law Review (Lexipol — The Privatization of Police Policymaking) if you do.

Still, Lexipol’s software allows for customization, so my concern turned local: What has Morganton done to tailor these policies for our community? Since many police departments transparently share their policies on their city webpage, I was able to compare our policies to others. I learned our manual is only a slightly modified version of Lexipol’s template.

Looking for answers, I asked to see the last locally written policy — pre-Lexipol. No luck. Policy manuals older than three years weren’t kept at HQ, and my public records request for the 2014 policy manual established that none could be found in City Hall. I am left wondering: Where did Morganton place the balance between protecting citizens and minimizing lawsuits before adopting Lexipol’s California rhetoric?

After several requests to meet with someone to provide the results of my review, I was granted one hour with Captain Corriveau. I provided copies of my suggestions, but I doubt they were actually considered by anybody. Were they unreasonable?

• Make it policy for officers to identify themselves when requested
• Require officers to activate their cameras whenever engaging the public
• Include a revisions section at the end of each policy
• Make public safety policies available to the public
• Require officers to use the minimal amount of force necessary, instead of “objectively reasonable”
• State that a verbal warning “shall” precede the use of deadly force, instead of “should”
• Require officers to promptly intervene if they see a fellow officer using excessive force
• Establish a Police Community Advisory Board

When it became obvious during our meeting that my input was not desired and unlikely to be used, I shifted gears and told Captain Corriveau that if I could make only one recommendation, it would be that our Public Safety Department start a Police Community Advisory Board (PCAB). I showed the captain where Lexipol recommends that Morganton police establish such a group, and that it be used to help modify policies. Captain Corriveau said this was not necessary.

A month later I wrote to the city manager and chief, formally requesting that Morganton establish a PCAB, citing President Obama’s 2014 Task Force recommendation for police advisory boards. I received polite responses over the next several months, but no action.

In September, I requested a copy of the audio recording of our meeting made by Captain Corriveau. I was afraid I was going to have to make a 3-minute presentation to City Council and I wanted to avoid misquoting the captain. My request traveled through our legal system, and six months later I appeared before Judge Davis. The attorney representing the police objected, but the judge ruled I could have it, providing I didn’t play it for others. I asked whether my wife and a friend could hear it, and he said yes, but only her and my named friend. Any further sharing would be a Class I felony. Huh. I stashed the recording where even my wife can’t find it.

In March, I requested all changes made to the policy manual since the copy I was given a year earlier, and I received 38 pages of paper. I was not surprised to find that none of my suggestions had been implemented. I hand-counted 39 times where “should” turned into “shall”, but not the one I requested about verbal warnings before deadly force. It’s fine that ballistic vests now “shall” be available to all sworn personnel, but the tweak that might save my life was ignored.

Was the trouble I caused good trouble or bad trouble? I honestly don’t know. I can’t think what I could have done differently, yet I seem to have done no good at all.

So, I’m tapping out. Consider this my resignation from Use of Force policy activism. If nobody else wants a PCAB, I won’t either. I’ll retreat to my couch and let my ulcer heal.

Thanks for the push, Bill. Sorry I failed.