R. I. P. Officers Wenjian Liu, Rafael Ramos, and  Charles Kondek

The hot war on the police, which Barack Obama, Eric Holder, New York Mayor Bill de Blasio and the Main Stream Media have been waging since August 9, and which a motley alliance of black supremacists and white communists and anarchists continue on the streets, took the lives of three policemen last Saturday and Sunday. The victims: NYPD officers Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos and Tarpon Springs FL Officer Charles Kondek. The killers: black supremacist Moslem Ismaaiyl Brinsley, 28, in New York City, and Marco Antonio Parilla Jr., 23, in Tarpon Springs. Both had lengthy criminal histories.

Republican voters are reportedly solidly behind the police and profoundly hostile to Senator Rand Paul’s typically clumsy triangulation attempts. [GOP Won’t Forgive Rand for Cop Critique, by Lloyd Green, Daily Beast, December 23, 2014].

I too am outraged at the killers and their enablers. But my attitude to the police is wracked with ambivalence—for reasons related to those outlined by reader “White Southerner” in one of VDARE.com’s most popular recent posts.

Growing up in Long Beach, N.Y., no institution treated me better than the Long Beach PD. And I was no angel. I was a street urchin and an “adjudicated juvenile delinquent.”

Of the 70 or so cops on the job, at least half knew me, and only two were hostile to me. I still remember many of their names with fondness.

Det. Donald Liguori had the patience of a saint, as I kept losing my bat and hitting him in the foot, when I played in the after-school softball league, where he umped. Det. Andy Donaghy saw me as a “Fonzie”-type character, in my black leather jacket. Det. Alonzo “Merk” Merkerson rescued my winter parka, no questions asked, from black Raymond Rainey, who had stolen it while I’d fought his cousin, Curtis Webb, on the boardwalk. Another time, “Merk”—who was also black—gave me a couple of bucks train fare to get out of town, when I was visiting from college, got into a scrape, and lacked the fare.

I even worked for a few months as an intern in the police records room.

Once I went straight, I considered becoming a cop, and was even encouraged to so by a Nassau County homicide detective who didn’t know me from Adam. But I decided against it, due to height issues.

I owe those heroes so much. And everything I write about policing, I write for them, not against them. But they have all since retired—many of them promoted to the big roll call in the sky.

But since then, for a generation or more, the NYPD and big city departments like it have killed themselves trying to make friends with their mortal enemies, black and Hispanic felons and the felons’ cop-hating “communities”—while treating law-abiding, working-class white men like me like criminals.

Thus, while I condemn the recent murderers, I refuse to say, “I support the NYPD.” For the NYPD is my enemy, or rather, it has profiled me as its enemy, since the 1980s.

In 1987, I went into a Brooklyn precinct to get an officer to accompany me, as required, to deliver a misdemeanor warrant following a workplace racial attack. The big, middle-aged Irish desk sergeant repeatedly bellowed at me: “Get the f—k out of here!”

I had to leave. If I’d argued, he’d have arrested me.

In September 1994, in black Far Rockaway, late in the first year in which Rudy Giuliani and William Bratton were “revolutionizing” crime-fighting, I was sucker-punched by two separate blacks (male and female), while waiting on line in a Korean deli.

I refused to leave, until the cops were called. The “bad cop,” a tallish bald guy of about 30, with a tiny bit of blond hair left, insults me: “You’re just mad, because you lost.”

“You wouldn’t be talking like that, if it was you that got jumped!” I yell back at him, which shuts him up.

The “good cop,” a handsome, 40ish, short man with a full head of blond hair, tells me, “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.”

They “disappeared” the crime.

Bratton and Giuliani gave the cops carte blanche to fight black-on-black crime—but, in a little-noted detail, did nothing for whites.

Later that year, or in early ’95, I called 911, to report shots fired on my street. Although the dispatcher said a patrol car was on its way, no car ever appeared.

Granted, I lived in a predominantly black neighborhood, but I was dealing with hostile black female 911 operators who claimed not to understand my English, even though I was teaching college voice and diction.

In 2005, six white Catholic school girls were brutally attacked for 20 minutes in their own white, Marine Park, Brooklyn neighborhood by 30 black boys and girls spewing racist epithets. The Irish, local precinct commander, Deputy Inspector Kevin McGinn lied, denying that the attack was racially motivated. Fortunately for the victims, local state Sen. Carl Kruger stood up for them.

In May 2010, I saw a tall, obese, 20-year-old black female, using her toddler as a prop, begin an altercation in supermarket in a white neighborhood. I demanded the police come and arrest her, but they arrested me, too, because of the lies of a couple of “respectable,” middle-aged black women. Although my ears were covered in bloody scratches, the white cops at the precinct treated my attacker like family, and me like a common criminal, because my attacker—as she’d bragged at the supermarket—had a brother in the NYPD. (All charges were eventually dropped—which means this incident too has effectively been “disappeared”).

In May 2011, a black drug dealer over a foot taller than me chased my son and myself into the local NYPD Transit Bureau station. A 31-year-old Irish lesbian sergeant of about 5’ with close-cropped hair commenced to spin a racial fairy tale, whereby I just “thought” the street thug, who had reversed direction in order to chase us, was trying to attack me. “As a black man in America,” she asserted that he had chosen to come into the stationhouse in order to salvage his “reputation.”

It’s like something the late communist lawyer William Kunstler might have made up.

Her white male lieutenant tells me: “She’s my best officer.”

Several times, I’ve been arrested for being assaulted and battered by racist blacks. White cops twisted my words, to make me sound like a “racist,” in an attempt to railroad me, and earn PC brownie points with their bosses. (Forget the symbol of “the great white defendant,” promoted by Tom Wolfe; any white defendant will do!)

For over 20 years, the NYPD has appeared to hire, virtually exclusively, racially antagonistic black females as 911 operators and police administrative assistants. This personnel policy bore fruit on December 20, when the call came into the 911 Call Center that two NYPD officers had been shot, execution-style. Two NYPD 911 operators reportedly made “anticop remarks” and one, apparently assuming the cops were white, exulted “They deserved it!” A shouting match ensued with at least one FDNY 911 operator, who cared more about the cops than the NYPD’s own operators. [EXCLUSIVE: 911 operators made 'anti-police' remarks, causing quarrel with FDNY dispatchers as 2 NYPD cops were dying, sources say, Ny Daily News, December 23, 2014]

Policemen increasingly treat law-abiding urban whites as cash cows, to finance the racial socialist state, through tickets, asset forfeiture, etc.

This is policing under anarcho-tyranny: police tyrannize the law-abiding, while giving license to criminals. David P. Goldman, who writes on PajamasMedia as “Spengler,” wrote before the killings of the “decriminalization” movement, which demands that black males increasingly be exempted from having to obey the law. Goldman got one half of the equation right, but left off the other half: the criminalization of the normal, patriotic, white male.

This is not to gainsay the war on police, which has raged for over 50 years. Between 1967 and 2000, but especially during the 1970s, black supremacists murdered waves of policemen across the country. The Black Panthers murdered at least 19 policemen, most of them white; the Black Liberation Army, founded by Panthers who felt the group was insufficiently radical, murdered at least 14; and the Nation of Islam murdered at least one.

Chicago authorities had the greatest success in dealing with black cop-killers: in a 1969 shootout, they killed them, and the cop-killing ceased.

Unfortunately, other urban police departments, including more recently the Chicago PD, have buckled under the relentless pressure from racist, cop-hating “civil rights leaders” by eliminating hiring standards for black and Hispanic (and female) officers, engaging in de-policing, and disappearing urban crime through foisting fakestats on the public.

Of course this Politically Correct sycophancy has resulted in the police being hated ever more by the black and Hispanic “communities”—and being undermined from within by what I call “counter-policemen,” like Capt. Ron Johnson, who marched with rioters and arsonists from the Bloods gang in Ferguson, apologized to racist blacks for the acts of Officer Darren Wilson, thereby throwing Officer Wilson under the bus, defaming him, and violating his legal rights.

The masked men Capt. Ron Johnson is marching in solidarity with aren't the Klan, they're the Bloods

Two more tales from white working class New York: on the afternoon of October 7, I caught a huge, black prowler on my property. He claimed to be from the electric company’s “supplier,” a familiar line burglars use when trying to gain access to residences.

Once I got rid of him, I called every extension at the local 100th Precinct, but no one answered the phone, and no voice mail machines activated. Finally, I called 911, where the operator took down my information and told me a car would come by to take down a report.

No one ever showed up or called back.

Similarly, on November 12, as Mayor de Blasio arrived fashionably late to the annual Dominican memorial service to the Hispanic victims of Flight 587 in my Belle Harbor neighborhood, I was leaving, disgusted, because the Dominican woman leading the ceremony spoke exclusively in Spanish. I yelled at de Blasio, in English, “Why are they speaking a foreign language in America?!”

De Blasio ignored me, but one of his goons, a young white cop, slapped the newspaper I had in my hand, as he walked past. I called the white goon an anatomical term I’m not permitted to use at VDARE.com, and then was accosted by a Hispanic and black goon, respectively. The black one threatened to arrest me, though I hadn’t broken any laws, which merely inspired me to call him “a thug” and “a coward.” I did likewise to the Hispanic goon. I then demanded and got their names: Sgt. Frank Hernandez and Det. Andre Holmes.

At home that morning, I called Internal Affairs, to complain about the three. But no one picked up the phone. Finally, the polite black female 911 operator took down my name, telephone number, and address, and assured me that someone would come by to take down my complaint.

Again, no one ever showed.

The cops may have turned their backs on Bill de Blasio last Saturday night. But they turned their backs on the only people who cared about them years before that.