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| What service? |
| Anonymous - Sunday 24 February 2008 |
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| I'd at least understand if there was service to talk about, but no. If you happen to be a hard-working police officer reading this, then thank you and apologies to you. But if you happen to be part of the 99% of the bad apples that are supposed to look after our citizens, then read on. And make notes. The treatment that I got from the police was most unwelcome, in a supposed 'random raid' where I was mistaken for a foreigner. Being female and confronted with a lone male officer out of the blue on the streets of Johannesburg, my instinctual reaction was to mistrust the man. He did not show me any positive ID, did not explain what was going on and focused on trying to load me onto the back of his van like a sack of potatoes. But I resisted, while staring at the handle of his gun strapped on his waist. I fought becoming another statistic of a kidnapped young woman, raped and murdered by a criminal in a police suit. As if the brutality was not enough, I got the famed secondary victimisation by his croonies at the police station when I went to report the incident. The ineffective sergeant wrote the matter on a piece of paper I knew he'd discard the minute I left. I would never get so much as an apology from the policemen at the station I would rather not mention by name. There was no service for me, just a bunch of men playing cards and discussing which braai house they were going to visit after their shift. After enduring their snide remarks on my way out, I went home and tried to forget what had happened that Saturday morning. |
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