The perfect image summing up the entire relationship between these agitating slactivists versus the Police officers who are putting up with them nation wide.

Hate filled, misguided animosity versus stoic, disciplined, professionalism.

It may be tolerated under the circumstances to scream and curse at these fellow HUMAN BEINGS, but doing so certainly speaks volumes about what kind of a person you are, which is the antithesis of peace and equality minded.

Jerry Washington, pictured in the top left, filed a sexual harassment complaint against two officers in the Santa Rosa Correctional Institute. A few days later, after the officers learned of the complaint, they threatened to kill Jerry. Jerry filed another complaint with the prison about the death threats. Afraid for his safety, he wrote his sister a letter and included copies of both of the grievances he had filed. You can read the letter and copies of the complaints here. In the letter he tells her very clearly that if anything happens to him, she should know that it wasn’t an accident.

Seven days later, Jerry Washington was killed in prison.

These stories are unbelievable! America is a hot ass mess. I’m sitting here with my jaw on the floor and giving thanks that I have been lucky enough to avoid becoming a young Black prison statistic because clearly there is no guarantee that you’ll make it out alive.

An Egyptian police officer died trying to disarm a bomb at a gas station in Cairo, this Tuesday. The moment when the agent is hit by the explosion was recorded by a photographer of the local newspaper ’ al - youm al - saabi ’.

According to the Egyptian police, the bomb was hidden in a vase, and the explosion happened near a police station in Al - Harram’s busy avenue that gives access to the pyramids. The agency AFP claims that the jihadist group Ajnad Misr took over in their profile on twitter the responsibility for the attack

Oklahoma wants to ban hoodies.

Oklahoma State Sen. Don Barrington ® wants to help curb crime in his state so he has written a bill proposing a $500 fine on clothing that would conceal a person’s identity which would include hoodies.

You know Oklahoma is an open carry state right?  Don’t wear a hoodie, because you might be a bad guy committing a crime, but feel free to carry a handgun on your hip because it’s so easy to tell a good guy with a gun from a bad guy with a gun.

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Who are you? You’re the beating heart of the city. The tone. The safe sense of security we have when we get into bed at night. The knowledge that your greatest fear isn’t falling to your death or spiders. You dread looking at a screen one day and recognizing a name. An address. Because what do you do when it’s someone you know? Someone, who if they die under your hands, leaves you with a crushing guilt, heavier than any burden you’ve ever carried. Worse than witnessing a baby die in it’s mothers arms. An elderly gentleman succumbing to a disease he’s fought valiantly all of his life. You wonder why you submit yourself to constant mental torture, the unforgiving cycle of no sleep, stress, and anxiety. No sleep because on some days you watch the sun rise, and others you watch it set. No sleep because you can still smell the blood of the nine year old boy whose skull split open on the sidewalk after his drunk mother ran into a telephone pole. No sleep because you question every breath you have taken since then. At times, the bottle of pills on your dresser looks friendly, an open invitation to move on peacefully, away from the searing pain of the images carved into your eyelids. Your imagination is both your enemy and your friend. It offers you a blissful escape when you need it, and haunts your worst nightmares. There is a voice that screams at you, “why?” “what if?” It screams at you in the dark, and you are scarred, but no one notices. Who are you? Who are we? We’re the people that don’t want to be named. We’re the ones, the “they” you call when you make that other decision. We’re the ones who are awake when no one else is, the ones who run in while others run out and the ones who will stop at nothing to make sure you live the life we would want for ourselves. We are first responders.
—  Anonymous

Because we’re finally realizing that a Dukes of Hazzard situation isn’t just going to happen to us unless we start taking steps to make it happen, we started looking into rural law enforcement. We talked to an ex-deputy from the Scott County Sheriff’s Department in northern Tennessee, a region so rural that it used to have a road called “N***** Bend” (and no, the “N” did not stand for “Nacho”). Here are some of the other hilarious things we learned about down-home crime fighting…

6 Things I Did as a Cop in a Shockingly Corrupt Small Town