Black in Blue: Policing While Black, My Experience on a Major Police Department in Los Angeles

By Tanza R. Smalls

This book is dedicated to the hardworking men and women on
police and fire departments all around the world, especially
the men and women who have paid the ultimate price with
their lives. The dedication, self-sacrifice, and decisions these men and
women make on a daily bases is very much appreciated. The experiences
and opinions expressed in this book are solely the experiences and view
of the author. All events and incidents are personal experiences of
the author Tanza Smalls, and names of officers have been changed or
omitted to protect privacy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 26, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465375018

Book preview

Copyright © 2011 by Tanza R. Smalls.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011917873

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4653-7500-1

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4653-7499-8

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4653-7501-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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Contents

The Beginning of the Rat Race

Graduation Day and Probation

Road to Valor

Civil Unrest: The 1992 Riots

Hollywood, Here I Come

Teaching the Drug Abuse Resistance Education Program

Instructing the Finest

Promotion and Skid Row

Nothing Dies That Is Remembered

Rewarding Bad Behavior

Behind Bars

References

Dedication

Thank you to all of the men and women in California and around the country for the service, sacrifice, and dedication to communities. All of your hard work and sacrifices to a sometime thankless profession is noticed and appreciated.

The Beginning of the Rat Race

My decision to join the Los Angeles Police Department started back in June 1988. I was sitting in a parking lot Angelinos know as the 405 Freeway, attempting to get to work. There I was, sitting in traffic on the freeway, trying to figure out what I was going to say to my supervisor when I arrived. I then heard a stern female voice from the radio announce, "If you are bored of not going anywhere in life, if you need a challenge in your life and if you are a black female, then the police department is looking for a few quality female minorities. If you are up for the challenge, call this number. #######." So what do you think I did the minute I arrived at work? Yep… I called the dog-on number. The person on the other end of the telephone told me that I can take the written portion of the entry test. He informed me that the test was at seven o’clock on Saturday morning at the police academy. Guess where I was on the following Saturday morning? . . . You got it, standing in a line that made a dollar sale at Macy’s look like a half-off sale at the ninety-nine-cent store. I must have stood in line for a full hour. Finally, a tall, thin white man wearing a dark police uniform with three white stripes on his sleeve and wearing the shiniest boots I have ever seen appeared. This guy came out to the line and led us to a classroom that was located up a slight hill. I was wondering if the new recruits had to walk or worst run up this hill on a daily basis.

There I was, sitting in a school chair, taking the test. Now you just can’t fail a police entrance test with dignity. I think the test is designed to make you look and feel like a goat that got lost on the goat trail. After I completed the scan-tran (bubble test), the proctors who scored the test gave the applicants a break while the test scores were processed. When the applicants returned to the classroom from the break, a proctor entered the room and announced to the applicants, If your name is called, please get up and stand in the back of the room. No other explanation was given. So the names were called in alphabetical order. Suddenly, I heard Smalls. I got up, wondering if my name was called because I passed. The suspense was almost at an end. We were led from the room just outside the door; then I heard cheers coming from the other side of the door. Well, it didn’t take me long to figure out that I was not going to be one of the future girls in blue, not this go-around!

You’re probably thinking the test must have been hard… Nope, only if you think common sense is hard; I felt like a complete moron. Good thing I was not one of those people who would die if I didn’t become an officer, but no way was I going to let a common sense test outsmart me. Ninety days later, I was back in that half-price sale line, racking my brain once again. This time after the test was completed and turned in, I felt that I had a fifty-fifty chance of passing. This was my second time up at bat, and this time, I hit a home run! After I passed the written test, everything else was downhill, or so I thought. The next step was completing an oral interview. I felt that this was simple, sitting down and answering questions from three people: two were police employees (sergeants); the other a civilian from the community. In my opinion, this step was easier than the written portion. When it was over, one person on the panel came out into the hallway, stuck out his hand for me to shake, then proceeded to congratulate me for passing this portion of the testing process. He told me I had scored a 77 percent on my oral. After being informed of my score, I was completely and outwardly insulted. I thought, why bother sitting down talking with me if they knew they were going to pass me? I knew I was the flavor of the year, and so did they. So, why not 90 percent or even 100 percent? This low score spoke volumes to me. I felt the low score was a way to keep me in my place. I knew the community; particularly the African American community needed me in the department. Armed with this opinion, I continued the process. I proceeded upstairs to the fingerprint section… Now I was on my way!

My second obstacle was my assigned background investigator. He kept in close contact with me. Now, at this point, I thought I wouldn’t get a fair deal because he was a white male. As time went on, I realized I lucked out because I was assigned to one of the nicest guys in the system. He called me one day to inform me of my academy start date. In a deep voice, he said, "Hello, Tanza, congratulations, you’re slated for the August class that