Breonna Taylor. Eric Garner. George Floyd. People of color experience a higher rate of violence at the hands of law enforcement. The new book Come Home Safe by ABC News legal analyst Brian Buckmire uses the experiences of two siblings, both accused of separate crimes they didn’t commit when they are simply living their lives. The book may be fictional, but the experiences are based on real experiences and the “talks” that families of color often have to try and keep their children safe. Come Home Safe uses real-life advice, lessons, suggestions from attorneys, law enforcement, and the those who have been wrongfully accused.
Come Home Safe comes to stores February 7, 2023.
Here’s an excerpt from the book:
Come Home Safe
By Brian G. Buckmire“THE POLICE ARE ON THEIR WAY,” Olive says to Reed. “In the meantime, why don’t you start recording?
Let’s not wait till we know what kind of police interaction this is going to be. If things go well, then we
can delete the video. But if it’s negative, then we have a full video of what happened. We don’t want
people to say, ‘Well we don’t know what happened before,’ if something goes wrong and it becomes
our word against the officers’.”
Reed nods and holds up his phone, pressing Record.
“Hello, miss, can we have a word with you, please?”
Olive looks up to see an officer walking onto the curb toward them. The woman is still
screaming, waving her hands in the air as she speaks to another officer, who is struggling to keep up.
“What’s your name?” the officer asks softly.
Does she just stay quiet? Ask for a lawyer? Hope her mom gets Reed’s message in time and
rushes over? Olive runs through all of her options. “Ask for a lawyer and don’t talk to cops without us,”
Olive remembers her parents telling her? What do I do? What do I do? Wait for Mom, ask for a /lawyer
and say nothing else, or do something different altogether? She kept coming back to the same three
choices.
She glances over at Reed. He’s filming her conversation with the cop, fear and worry etched in
his face. She doesn’t want him to speak up. They’ll treat a teenage boy in a track suit harsher than they
would treat a little girl, Olive thinks. If I stay quiet, who here will speak up if they believe the woman and
nothing else? Who here will stand up for Reed? Am I not my brother’s keeper?
“Olive. My name is Olive, sir,” she responds. “And this is my brother, Reed,” Olive adds, pointing
at Reed and his camera. The officer looks at Reed; the cut on his cheek still looks raw.
“Well, Olive it’s nice to meet you. My name is Officer Rob Smalls. I’m sure you saw, but this
woman waved us down and told us you stole her cell phone from this table over here. Do you know
anything about that?” The officer stands tall in front of Olive, looking her up and down as if he’s
searching for something. Olive pauses a moment. He didn’t even ask about Reed, she thinks. This cop
rolled up and saw one person screaming, uninjured, and another with a visible wound. And he doesn’t
even ask about how the person got hurt?
“I know nothing about her phone. My brother and I came in to order drinks. I sat down to have a
drink while my brother used the bathroom next door. Then she came screaming at me, demanding that
she have my cell phone because she said I—”
“When did you get to the café?” the officer says, interrupting.
“Excuse me?” Olive says.“When did you get to the café?” the officer repeats.
“I don’t know the exact time, maybe ten minutes ago now?” Olive responds.
“Did you see a phone when you got here?”
Wait. Olive plays the officer’s question back in her head. Is he trying to interrogate me? Like I
took the phone? Does he think I’m a thief? As her mind races through what is going on, her eyes catch
sight of a little black box fixed to the officer’s chest. She realizes something.
“Your light isn’t on,” Olive says.
“What do you mean, my light isn’t on?” the officer asks.
Olive remembers her dad’s office door. It’s always closed when he’s watching camera footage or
listening to 911 calls. She always wants to see what’s happening in those videos, but Dad says “it’s
confidential” or “you’re too young.” He’s told her about body-worn cameras and how important video
of any kind is to his job. Dad explained that in New York City, and many cities around the country,
officers wear body cameras. These cameras are meant to show what happens between officers and
everyday people. Because for far too long, when someone was arrested, it was their word against the
cops’ . . . cops are people, and like people, they don’t always tell the truth. “Technology, smart phones,
and the affordable portable cameras in the hands of people who are overpoliced is bringing their
experiences in front of millions, regardless of where or who they are,” Dad had said. “These aren’t just
stories of officers abusing their power, planting drugs, and committing murder that have been told in
communities for decades anymore. Now, there are videos the world can see. The deaths of people like
Eric Garner, George Floyd, and Ahmaud Arbery became cases that changed a lot because of video.”
“I’m sorry, Officer, but my dad always says that if I’m talking to a police officer and I don’t see
their camera on, I should politely ask them to turn it on. You have a body camera on your vest, and the
light is not on. That means it isn’t recording, right?” Olive says, pointing at the camera on his chest.
“Is this something you feel needs to be recorded? I’m just trying to help out here.” The officer
chuckles, not seeming to take her request seriously.
When Olive doesn’t respond, the officer presses a button on the camera, and a light turns on.
“Miss, you are now being recorded,” he says, sighing theatrically.
