ABC News
Kim Potter Kim Potter, the white cop who killed Daunte Wright, a twenty-year-old black man, murdered Wright when she drew and fired her handgun instead of her taser. Potter claimed she only intended to tase him. According to Potter, she mistakenly drew and fired her gun instead of her taser. Potter may be telling the truth. She may have accidentally used her gun instead of a taser. But if she had successfully drawn her taser, its use would have exceeded Minneapolis Police use-of-force guidelines cited in the Derek Chauvin trial.
Use-of-force trainers in the Chauvin trial testified that law enforcement officers should only respond with the level of force proportionate to the resistance or aggression of the suspect. After pulling Wright over because of alleged expired tags, Potter and two other officers found that he had an outstanding warrant for a misdemeanor. As one officer attempted to take Wright into custody, Wright slipped away from him and re-entered his car. According to the Minneapolis Police Department Defense & Control Guide (see below), the proportionate force would have been a controlled take-down, including a neck restraint. Potter should only have considered the use of a taser if Wright had been actively aggressive.
Potter’s intended use of a taser becomes more problematic when his alleged offense, failure to respond to a misdemeanor warrant, is considered. The officers knew Wright’s address and could have let him go and sent him a summons or refused to renew his tags until he had answered the misdemeanor warrant. The Minneapolis Police Department did not train Potter, but adherence to the Minneapolis Police protocol for the use of force by Brooklyn Center, a small police department twenty miles from Minneapolis, seems reasonable. Potter’s training background, however, remains quite murky, with many of her courses in her personnel file redacted. At this time, we do not know how much use of force training Potter had or if she had been sufficiently trained in using tasers or confusing her handgun for her taser in stressful situations.
Over the last 20 years, there have been about 15 incidents in which police officers confused handguns with tasers. Generally, experts explain the cause of this weapons confusion is due to stressful situations and inadequate taser training. That is, stressful situations can distract an officer’s attention and reduce his or her ability to process information. And thus, when a police officer is called on to draw and fire a taser, he or she may revert to drawing and firing his handgun because it is a more practiced task. To help disrupt the association between the more practiced task of drawing a gun and the intent to draw a taser, best practices in police training require officers to carry tasers on their non-dominant side. Nonetheless, some police officers continue to carry tasers so they are accessible to their dominant hand, and thus, more likely to be confused with their gun.
Over the last 20 years, there have been about 15 incidents in which police officers confused handguns with tasers. Generally, experts explain the cause of this weapons confusion is due to stressful situations and inadequate taser training. That is, stressful situations can distract an officer’s attention and reduce his or her ability to process information. And thus, when a police officer is called on to draw and fire a taser, he or she may revert to drawing and firing his handgun because it is a more practiced task. To help disrupt the association between the more practiced task of drawing a gun and the intent to draw a taser, best practices in police training require officers to carry tasers on their non-dominant side. Nonetheless, some police officers continue to carry tasers so they are accessible to their dominant hand, and thus, more likely to be confused with their gun.
Johnannes Mehserle. Cathleen Allison/Associated Press While weapons confusion can occur, some experts question the validity of it in specific incidents. In 2009, a Bay Area Rapid Transit Authority (BART) police officer shot and killed Oscar Grant. The officer, Johannes Mehserle, eventually claimed he intended to tase Grant but shot him instead. But in the immediate aftermath of the shooting, Mehserle did not mention to anyone that he had confused weapons. Instead, Mehserle claimed that Grant, having been pinned face down on the platform, suddenly moved his arm in a way to suggest he was reaching for a handgun. Because Mehserle believed Grant was drawing a gun, Mehserle would have had to retreat from where Grant was lying to deploy his taser in a workable manner. If Grant had had a handgun (he was unarmed), he would have shot Mehserle before he was distant enough from Grant for Mehserle to use his taser. It is more likely that Mehserle intended to shoot Grant with his handgun and then, discovering that Grant was unarmed, said he was reaching for his taser. A recently unsealed internal BART report of the shooting refutes Mehserle’s weapons confusion story. Investigators of Mehserle’s story found that he tried to draw his handgun twice before looking down at his holster and freeing it. These actions make his intention clear.
Robert Bates. Tulsa World More credibly than Mehserle, Robert Bates claimed weapons confusion when he shot Eric Harris, an unarmed black suspect. Bates, a 73-year-old white millionaire and insurance executive, was a reserve volunteer deputy with the Tulsa County Sheriff’s office. After Harris fled on foot from deputies who were conducting an undercover sting operation, Bates reached several deputies who were struggling with Harris on the ground. As Bates approached them, he yelled out “Taser” but drew and fired his handgun. Bates claimed he had intended to draw and tase Harris with his taser, which he wore on his chest to use with his dominant hand. Investigators of this shooting discovered that the Sheriff had given Bates a position as an “advanced” reserve volunteer. The Sheriff’s Department also allowed Bates to skip training by making financial contributions to the Sheriff’s Office. As reprehensible as Bates’ bribery was, it lent credibility to his claim of weapons confusion. Bates was essentially untrained for his position and should never have been near an undercover sting operation.
Both Mehserle and Bates were tried and convicted for manslaughter. Mehserle served about 11 months of a two-year sentence, and Bates served about 18 months of a four-year sentence. In two other cases, the victims recovered, and the authorities did not bring charges against the officers. Two cases remain unresolved. When a police officer kills a suspect and claims it was due to weapons confusion, the authorities may prosecute the officer and, if found guilty, he will usually serve some time. But like other instances of deadly excessive force, weapons confusion by police officers is not always punished. The trial of Derek Chauvin, the ex-Minneapolis policeman convicted of murdering George Floyd, suggested one way in which prosecutors might increase the conviction rate for police officers who use unjustified force.
Some observers of the Chauvin trial credited his conviction to a rupture in the “blue wall of silence.” Fellow officers are usually unwilling to testify against white police officers accused of using deadly excessive force against suspects. But eight of Chauvin’s fellow officers, including the chief of the Minneapolis Police Department, testified against him. The testimony of Chauvin’s fellow officers undoubtedly helped to convict him. Also, the amount of videotape documenting the murder was extensive and unambiguous. In some instances of deadly excessive force, the videotape evidence is brief and unclear. Observers must rely on the reliability of police witnesses to understand what happened.
Nonetheless, incriminating evidence from fellow police officers and videotape are not the only differences between the Chauvin and other deadly excessive force trials. In almost all the other trials involving excessive deadly force, the defense emotionally distances the suspect victim from the jurors. In his study On Killing, Colonel Dave Grossman showed that soldiers are not “naturally” willing to kill. Instead, the military must teach them to kill. Grossman uses the term “emotional distance” to characterize the process of overcoming resistance to killing. Defense attorneys for police officers accused of using deadly excessive force must teach the jury to be emotionally distant from the suspect victim. The defense attorneys do not simply portray the victim as someone who committed a crime. They try to show that the suspect victim is different from the jurors [and police] (i.e., the good guys). And because the suspect victim is “other,” he is not entitled to the same treatment as a “good guy.” The defense establishes emotional distance by showing the suspect victim was morally and culturally different from the “good guys” in as many ways as possible. The police are entitled to treat an emotionally distant suspect as odiously as possible. And, too often, the jury agrees.
Both Mehserle and Bates were tried and convicted for manslaughter. Mehserle served about 11 months of a two-year sentence, and Bates served about 18 months of a four-year sentence. In two other cases, the victims recovered, and the authorities did not bring charges against the officers. Two cases remain unresolved. When a police officer kills a suspect and claims it was due to weapons confusion, the authorities may prosecute the officer and, if found guilty, he will usually serve some time. But like other instances of deadly excessive force, weapons confusion by police officers is not always punished. The trial of Derek Chauvin, the ex-Minneapolis policeman convicted of murdering George Floyd, suggested one way in which prosecutors might increase the conviction rate for police officers who use unjustified force.
Some observers of the Chauvin trial credited his conviction to a rupture in the “blue wall of silence.” Fellow officers are usually unwilling to testify against white police officers accused of using deadly excessive force against suspects. But eight of Chauvin’s fellow officers, including the chief of the Minneapolis Police Department, testified against him. The testimony of Chauvin’s fellow officers undoubtedly helped to convict him. Also, the amount of videotape documenting the murder was extensive and unambiguous. In some instances of deadly excessive force, the videotape evidence is brief and unclear. Observers must rely on the reliability of police witnesses to understand what happened.
Nonetheless, incriminating evidence from fellow police officers and videotape are not the only differences between the Chauvin and other deadly excessive force trials. In almost all the other trials involving excessive deadly force, the defense emotionally distances the suspect victim from the jurors. In his study On Killing, Colonel Dave Grossman showed that soldiers are not “naturally” willing to kill. Instead, the military must teach them to kill. Grossman uses the term “emotional distance” to characterize the process of overcoming resistance to killing. Defense attorneys for police officers accused of using deadly excessive force must teach the jury to be emotionally distant from the suspect victim. The defense attorneys do not simply portray the victim as someone who committed a crime. They try to show that the suspect victim is different from the jurors [and police] (i.e., the good guys). And because the suspect victim is “other,” he is not entitled to the same treatment as a “good guy.” The defense establishes emotional distance by showing the suspect victim was morally and culturally different from the “good guys” in as many ways as possible. The police are entitled to treat an emotionally distant suspect as odiously as possible. And, too often, the jury agrees.