Cops beat motorist in diabetic shock

Cops beat motorist in diabetic shock (‘Stop resisting, motherf**ker’)

Date: 2012-02-11, 5:13PM PST
Reply to: [Errors when replying to ads?]

Highway Patrol trooper enters the scene first, gun drawn, and kicks the driver’s window of Greene’s four-door sedan. After several moments, the trooper opens the door.

The trooper, his gun still raised, then gives Greene conflicting commands. He first tells him not to move, then tells him to come forward.

A second trooper quickly cuffs Greene’s wrist and pulls him from the car, which rolls forward until an officer stops it.

Greene flops to the ground, clearly dazed as five officers rush him. A sixth officer, with Henderson police, enters the frame late and delivers five well-placed kicks to Greene’s face.

“Stop resisting mother (expletive)!” one officer yells.

Greene doesn’t scream until a second Henderson officer knees him in the midsection — and then does it three more times. Greene was later treated for fractured ribs.

Police suspected Greene was intoxicated as he weaved among lanes about 4 a.m. on Oct. 29, 2010, and finally stopped his car near Lake Mead Parkway and Boulder Highway in Henderson.

But that wasn’t the case, which they soon discovered after they searched Greene.

“Call in medical,” one officer says in the video. “We found some insulin in his pocket. . . . He’s semiconscious.”

“Let’s get medical out here. He’s a diabetic, he’s probably in shock,” the officer later tells dispatch.

Greene’s lawsuit said officers then forced him to stand by a patrol car in handcuffs and blow into a Breathalyzer, despite being injured. Paramedics later arrived and treated him for low blood sugar.

Greene was released without a citation, and officers apologized to him for “beating him up,” the lawsuit said.

He immediately went to a hospital, where he was treated for the broken ribs and the bruises to his hands, neck, face and scalp, the lawsuit said.

One of the harsher moments in the video comes near the end of the clip, when one officer can be heard laughing loudly.

One officer notes that Greene “was not a small guy.” An officer laughs and says, “I couldn’t take him by myself.”

Several points:

This certainly isn’t the first time cops have mistaken diabetic shock for intoxication–and with similar results. We’ve also seen a number of incidents where cops have mistaken epileptic seizures for aggressive behavior, often resulting in a Tasering. The root problem here is the same as that with the cops who mistakenly mistake a bounding or territorial dog with an aggressive one, and then kill it. The cops get excused because they made “honest mistakes.” (Though in this case, the honest mistake ended with mistaking low blood sugar for intoxication.) But that means they haven’t been trained properly. At some point, enough of these stories should have made the news that departments across the country would begin to implement such training. That doesn’t appear to be happening.
Note that at one point in the video, after they’ve just beaten a helpless man, one cop asks his fellow officers if any of them are hurt.

Not only were none of these cops criminally charged, every one of them is apparently still protecting and serving the public. The story indicates one seargeant was “disciplined,” but we aren’t allowed to know what that discipline was. The department also claims to have changed some policies in response to the incident. But we aren’t allowed to know exactly what those changes are, either.

We also aren’t allowed to know the names of any of the officers in the video. This is inexcusable. It seems pretty clear that there’s a culture problem, here. Mistaking a diabetic for a drunk is bad enough. Beating him senseless when he clearly posed no threat is criminal. And yelling “Stop Resisting!” at a man who is clearly not resisting is indicative of a police culture in which excessive force is common enough that the officers know what to say as they’re beating someone to give them cover later. Laughing after you’ve just beaten a man, and after you’ve just discovered he was a diabetic is straight-up pathological. All of which means there’s plenty of reason to doubt this particular department’s internal review process. These officers names need to be released, so journalists and police watchdog groups outside of law enforcement can look into their histories on the job.

Greene and his family were given a $292,500 settlement, which of course will be funded by taxpayers, not the cops who beat him senseless. This too needs to change. The cops who beat green should be forfeiting a portion of their paychecks to him for the rest of their lives. And those paychecks should preferably be compensation for work other than police work.

Can Tom Childers Be Trusted?

In Tom Childers claims to have a niece:

fourthchakra: finally relaxing after a day of helping my niece move …

Here we see relentless perception management, exposed for what it is.

I happen to know Tom Childers. I know his family. I am his brother.

I happen to know Tom Childers’ other brother. That brother lived with me for the past decade. Tom abandoned his relationships, with us both, years ago. My younger brother was homeless, living on the streets of San Francisco, for over a decade, until I convinced him to live with my family, and helped him recover what he had lost.

(Mind you, that youngest brother is no slouch. He winds transformers from scratch, repairs AC and DC power supplies, repairs amplifiers and many other electronic devices, does component-level replacements on motherboards and circuit boards, and had an Advanced or Extra class amateur radio license before he was 20 years old, if I recall correctly. … Imagine what he might have turned into, if he hadn’t had a usurper for an oldest brother.)

I happen to know that Tom Childers doesn’t have any other family members, other than I and my youngest brother.

So whose niece is this? Not Tom’s. Tom doesn’t have a niece.

That’s not actually true. Tom does have a niece. Actually, he has four nieces.

He has never met them. He has never made any attempt to meet them. He has never sent any of them anything – not a birthday card, not a Christmas card. One of them has a birthday that’s within twenty-four hours of Tom’s birthday. He has no idea who it is, their name, their gender, or the actual date of their birth.

It’s not like they lived in a distant land, either. We all live in Northern California, and, for most of the timespan under consideration, we lived even closer than we do now – but even now, living a few hundred miles away, we’re easily within Tom’s range … because Tom has a large collection of expensive BMWs, the last time we checked.

Tom’s never helped any of his family members move, either. I think he contributed a grand total of one afternoon and maybe one trip – not one round trip, just one trip – helping me move, once, back in 1992. That’s it. I don’t recall ever seeing Tom work hard at anything physical.

I’m not saying that Tom doesn’t have a good reason for what he did, and does. He may very well have a series of excellent reasons for avoiding his family members.

No, what I’m saying is that Tom probably won’t put those reasons down in writing. Sure, he’ll tell you whatever you want to hear … but good luck getting it in a form that can be used for evidentiary purposes.

My cynical guess is that the ‘niece’ was nubile, and had some cute friends. Either that, or whomever the niece really was related to, Tom really wanted to impress her with what a great guy he was. And, of course, twit about it, so that everyone would know what a great guy he was – it’s all about perception, you see.

To be honest, even if Tom did try to introduce himself to his real nieces, he’d face a series of challenges … which he seems to have intuited, insofar as he has consistently avoided this, and them.

You see, Tom has a track record of what I would describe as somewhere between scofflaw, and criminal, conduct.

Some of the things I legitimately suspect Tom of, include insurance fraud, and perhaps theft of a firearm, as well, and possession of an unlicensed handgun, too – transported across state lines, it would seem.

He’s also been known to withhold testimony in at least three different lawsuits that I know of, and I think he may have withheld material information from subpoena at least once, too.

The following short story will tell you a lot:

Once, I met this guy named Irving Greisman, on the Municipal Railway – the ‘L’ Taraval, if I recall correctly. (Irving is a very well known member of the San Francisco Jewish community, by the way.)

I learned that Irving owned a software development company, and Irving indicated a willingness to consider hiring me. We parted on good terms.

In anticipation of the interview, I dropped off my resume, and, I think, a book I’d told him about – describing software simulating a starship – and, also, because I’d told him about my interest in geodesic architecture, a model of a tensegritic icosahedron I had designed and built.

Irving never got back to me. Later, he claimed he’d had a few drinks, when he’d made me the offer. But the problem was that the book I had loaned him – expecting to get it back at the interview that never materialized – didn’t belong to me. It was my brother, Tom’s, book.

When I discussed this with Tom, Tom suggested that I break into Irving’s house and take my stuff back. Which struck me as unnecessarily risky … and also somewhat ruthless. Lawless, even.

Ignoring, for the moment, the fact that the book was probably at Irving’s office … I have to say, that seemed like a pretty bold thing for Tom to say. Not what you’d expect, from the teacher’s pet and Mamma’s boy I’d known him to be, when he went off to college.

It made me wonder what he’d been up to, while away at college. MIT is, of course, notorious for Ted the Tool’s MIT Guide To Lock-Picking, amongst those whom follow such things. I’d heard tales about multi-kilo bales of marijuana, etc … and I began to wonder, what had been left out.

Me? I opted for the less controversial route of small claims court. I filed a small claims court case, in San Francisco, against Irving Greisman, also of San Francisco. I prevailed. I got the book back; and my tensegritic icosahedron, too.

(A decade later, when I ran into Irving, again, while working at AMPEX R&D, I earned Irving’s respect by treating the whole incident as water under the bridge – we’d both learned some important lessons, and I was prepared to leave it in the past. Irving, by the way, is Jewish, and probably an ardent Zionist, too … and I don’t hold that against him, either. I suppose you could say that he is one of the people whom inspired me to start up my own UNIX consultancy. But this is another story.)

Malice? Or stupidity? Tom went to MIT – you decide.

Before he ever speaks to his real nieces, he has a lot of explaining to do … and he owes me a few notarized statements, sworn under oath, as well. Not to mention compensation for the damages he deliberately and knowingly inflicted.

I’m pretty sure he has absolutely no intention of ever doing such a thing. C’est la vie.

I can cope with the consequences of his behavior.

Can he? Not without a facade, it seems.

And so, the need for someone else’s niece – to support the illusion that Tom actually has other family members, whom he has not turned upon, and driven away, and whose positions he has not usurped.

Not to beat a dead horse … but I definitely know that Tom has abandoned his obligations to other family members, besides me.

Not just me … not just my younger brother, whom he abandoned to homelessness.

Not just his stepfather, whose funeral was delayed two weeks so that Tom could meet an important deadline, for Oracle Corporation … and collect a large bonus.

But, also, his grandparents – who just happened to misplace a Colt .45 automatic pistol, about the same time that Tom acquired one … and who, for some reason, Tom never, ever returned to visit, again, in the twenty years after that event … even after his grandmother was found dead, in the kitchen, where she’d lain, for three days, while the dog nibbled on her … or, three years later, when his grandfather died, alone, in a hospital for the elderly, surrounded by strangers.

Maybe his father, too – there are some unanswered questions surrounding our father’s untimely death, from a heart attack … mostly, to do with the probability that Tom – the only person in possession of this information, at the time – gave our father’s home phone number to an opposing party’s lawyer, in one of several closely-connected lawsuits … and, perhaps, facilitated a telephone conversation, between the opposing party’s lawyer, and my father … which so upset my father that, shortly thereafter, he died of a heart attack.

I can say that the sole reason I was not able to attend my own father’s funeral, is because Tom withheld the contact information and details of the funeral from me – and I could not attend, because I did not know where it was being held, and did not have any way to get in touch with my stepmother (she and my father had recently moved).

Most recently, my younger brother inquired after some possessions he’d left in my mother’s care – and Tom claimed to have no idea of where they were. Some computer backup diskettes … a knife … a portable 10 amp marine-grade battery charger, which my younger brother had restored to operation, with extra-long cables.

It’s a good thing I have photographs of that Ghurka knife that my father gave my younger brother … because it appears that the Ghurka knife is, now, stolen property … and my personal suspicion is that the object in question is in Tom’s topmost bedroom drawer … or, maybe, in his office, being used as a letter opener … while the battery charger is probably in his garage.

Either that …or he treated his youngest brother’s possessions as so much garbage … and threw them away.

As I read it, Tom is one cold dude.

And yet, he chose, as his Twitter handle, “fourthchakra” – referring to the heart chakra.

Is that a misnomer, or what?

I’m not saying Tom’s a bad person. He has a very nice collection of BMWs – that must surely mean something, to someone, somewhere. He lives in Marin County, after all, and, as everyone knows, Marin is one big hotbed of meditation and enlightenment. That has to count for something, too.

And he lives in a nice house that was just built, and cost a few million dollars. That’s important, as well – even if it was built with credit, not savings, and cost as much as a thousand-acre ranch and a few hundred head of cattle, besides.

And there’s nothing wrong with Tom constantly reminding people that he went to MIT.

Just don’t ask him where the diploma is … or if he, actually, flunked out … or if using his alumni email address, under the circumstances, might not be misleading. Unless, that is, you want to see his blood pressure go up.

One can only conclude that an enlightened being, somewhere, saw right through Thomas Dallas Childers, and told him to continue to work on that part of himself – his heart … and Tom mistook it as a compliment.

I’ve inventoried my obligations to my oldest brother, carefully, over a span of time, exceeding a decade … and, try as I might, I cannot find, anywhere, an obligation to misstate the truth, as I understand it, in order to protect him from the consequences of his own [in]action[s]. I almost feel as if I have a responsibility to protect the public from him; not vice versa.

So, I’m not saying that Tom can’t be trusted – with your money, with someone you love, with your freedom.

But I am saying … caveat emptor.

I’d hate to see Tom occupying any public office, where integrity of character was important.

  • Location: ‘Stop resisting, motherf**ker’
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 2847084183

About homelessholocaust

I actually do not write most of these articles, I collect them here, for my personal useage, I find Some Other's enjoy them as well, which is a side effect of my Senility. As I am a Theosophist, and also study Vedanta Society of Northern California, so Your Visitation from the Akashic records to approve my feebile works gives me Great Hope! I am 68, years old, I will Come To You in another 30 or so years. You Reinforces my Belief that in my Sleep I visit The Akashic Records when I remember my dream's. I keep notes about 'Over There." the Colour of Daylight is Darker, but the Life is Brighter, property has no meaning, and it is homish. are the energetic records of all souls about their past lives, the present lives, and possible future lives. Each soul has its Akashic Records, like a series of books with each book representing one lifetime. The Hall (or Library) of the Akashic Records is where all souls’ Akashic Records are stored energetically. In other words, the information is stored in the Akashic field (also called zero point field). The Akashic Records, however, are not a dry compilation of events. They also contain our collective wisdom.
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