Keith's Log

Reflections From a Retired Superintendent

A personal space for reflections, case studies, and updates. Check back occasionally to see more from Keith.

Latest Entry

Police Reform Must Begin With The Human Being Behind the Badge

In North America, we have come to regard the police as the "keepers of the gate"—the people standing between us and the threats we fear. We ask them to protect our homes, our families, our neighbourhoods, and our communities. We expect them to prevent crime, respond when we are victimized, apprehend those who break the law, and ensure that justice follows.

We also expect something more: professionalism.

We want our police services properly equipped, well trained, fiscally responsible, and capable of meeting the demands placed upon them. We want accountability. We want transparency. And, increasingly, we want a voice in how policing is delivered in our communities.

But there is an uncomfortable truth that we must confront.

When I speak of "the public," I cannot pretend that everyone experiences policing in the same way.

For many Black, racialized, and Indigenous people, the police do not always represent safety. For some, the arrival of a police officer can produce anxiety rather than reassurance. For others, encounters with police have left lasting scars of humiliation, fear, trauma, or distrust.

For these communities, the phrase "serve and protect" can feel like an empty slogan.

I know this because I have lived on both sides of the uniform.

I am a Black man. I am also a retired Police Superintendent who spent more than three decades in law enforcement. I have experienced policing as a citizen and as a police officer. I have seen the institution from within, including its strengths, its shortcomings, its noble intentions, and its failures.

That dual perspective has convinced me of something fundamental:

Police reform cannot be achieved simply by changing policies, rewriting procedures, or purchasing new equipment. It must begin with the human being behind the badge.

When communities lose faith in the police, the consequences extend far beyond hurt feelings. People become less likely to report crimes. They become reluctant to provide information. Victims may hesitate to seek assistance. Witnesses may remain silent.

In the end, everyone becomes less safe.

So when racialized parents feel compelled to give their children "the talk"—instructions on how to behave if they encounter the police—we should recognize that as a profound failure of trust. When a child is taught to fear the very institution charged with protecting them, we cannot simply dismiss that fear as a misunderstanding.

We have a problem.

The question is: What do we do about it?

Having spent more than 31 years in policing, I believe meaningful reform must address the human side of the profession. The following recommendations are not intended to be a comprehensive blueprint. But I believe they could make a significant difference—not only for racialized communities, but for every citizen and every police officer.

1. Choose Coach Officers With the Same Care We Choose Leaders

Police recruits are sponges.

They absorb what they see, what they hear, and—perhaps most importantly—what they are taught to accept as normal.

That is why the selection of coach officers must be taken far more seriously.

Police services should identify officers who genuinely exemplify the values, ethics, judgment, and culture they want to instill in the next generation. The coach officer is not merely teaching recruits how to write reports, conduct investigations, or make arrests. They are teaching them what it means to be a police officer.

And what they model today may become the culture of tomorrow.

The position of coach officer should also be separated from the promotional process. When coaching is viewed primarily as a stepping stone to advancement, the wrong incentives can emerge. Officers may pursue the role for their own career benefit rather than because they possess the qualities required to shape the careers and character of others.

If necessary, police services should create other meaningful incentives to attract the right people to the role.

There is another critical element that must not be overlooked: diversity.

Racialized officers should be intentionally and meaningfully included in the coaching and development of new recruits. Their perspectives can help prepare young officers to navigate issues of race, bias, cultural difference, and community relations.

If we fail to involve racialized officers in shaping the next generation of policing, we are leaving an invaluable resource on the sidelines.

2. Make Accountability and the Duty of Care Non-Negotiable

Every recruit should receive rigorous, accountability-based training.

Officers must understand that wearing a badge does not diminish their responsibility to the people they encounter. It increases it.

At the heart of policing must be a clear understanding of duty of care—the responsibility to treat people with dignity, respect, and humanity while safeguarding their rights, safety, and liberty.

That responsibility must extend beyond an officer's own conduct.

If an officer witnesses another officer behaving improperly, causing unnecessary harm, or failing to perform their duties, there must be a clear and enforceable obligation to intervene.

The culture of "I was just following orders" or "That wasn't my problem" cannot survive in modern policing.

Officers at a scene must be trained to manage one another as well as the situation itself. The goal should always be to create the best possible outcome for everyone involved.

That requires more than lectures in a classroom.

Police training should include realistic, dynamic simulations that replicate the pressure and uncertainty of actual incidents. Those scenarios should include situations in which an officer's own colleague becomes aggressive, loses control, or acts outside policy and law.

Officers must learn how to intervene.

They must learn how to de-escalate.

They must learn how to create time and distance.

They must learn how to project calm in the middle of chaos.

Because when a critical incident occurs, officers often revert to their training. If we want different outcomes, we must train for them—physically, mentally, and repeatedly.

3. Teach Officers That First Contact Can Determine Everything That Follows

One of the most overlooked aspects of policing is the first interaction between an officer and a citizen.

That first contact matters.

In fact, it can determine the direction of everything that follows.

Most police encounters are not high-risk confrontations. They involve traffic violations, noise complaints, calls for service, disputes, or other relatively routine matters.

Yet an officer's opening words can immediately establish whether the interaction becomes cooperative or adversarial.

Consider the difference between an officer approaching a driver and saying:

"Do you know why I stopped you? Where are you coming from? Licence, registration, and insurance."

The officer may simply be doing their job. But the tone and sequence can immediately place the citizen in a defensive posture.

As a uniformed supervisor, I received many complaints from citizens about the way officers treated them. In numerous cases, the underlying issue was not the reason for the police interaction itself. It was civility.

People often told me that the situation might never have escalated if they had not felt disrespected at the outset.

That is an important lesson.

Professional first contact should be a fundamental component of police training. Officers should be taught that respect is not a sign of weakness, and courtesy does not undermine authority.

The ability to communicate effectively is a policing skill.

So are de-escalation, critical decision-making, and knowing when to disengage.

4. Shift the Culture From "Arrest-First" to "Problem-Solving"

Police officers are trained in the powers of arrest—and rightly so. There are situations where arrest is necessary and appropriate.

But an arrest is not always the best answer.

Early in my career as a uniformed patrol officer, a seasoned detective once approached me at the station and advised me to make more arrests.

I asked him why.

His answer was simple: It demonstrated that I was working. It gave me experience processing paperwork. And, he suggested, it could make me more competitive when promotional opportunities arose.

He wasn't necessarily giving me bad advice.

But I couldn't get past one thing.

We were dealing with people's lives.

Young and somewhat naïve, I followed that advice. My arrest numbers increased, and my supervisors noticed. I was praised for being productive.

But something didn't feel right.

I knew that some of those arrests could have been handled differently.

Some situations called for discretion.

Some called for intervention.

Some called for problem-solving.

The culture of "Let's go make some arrests" needs to give way to a culture of "Let's go solve some problems."

Those are not the same thing.

The badge number attached to an officer should not be measured only by the number of arrests associated with it. We should also ask how many conflicts were resolved without an arrest, how many situations were successfully de-escalated, and how many people were connected to services that addressed the underlying problem.

Police organizations should consider recognizing officers who demonstrate exceptional problem-solving and sound discretion—particularly when they choose an alternative to arrest when a better, lawful option is available.

The goal should not be to make fewer arrests simply for the sake of making fewer arrests.

The goal should be to make better decisions.

5. Be Willing to Police the Police

Finally, reform requires courage.

Police services must be willing to immediately acknowledge mistakes, poor performance, misconduct, and criminal behaviour within their own ranks.

Not tomorrow.

Not after public outrage.

Not after a video goes viral.

Immediately.

The public should not have to demand accountability before a police organization takes responsibility.

When an officer fails, the institution must be prepared to say so.

When a policy is flawed, it must be changed.

When training is inadequate, it must be improved.

When misconduct occurs, it must be addressed.

And when criminal behaviour is committed by an officer, the response must be as serious as it would be for anyone else.

Accountability cannot be selective.

Reform Must Be About More Than the Badge

Police reform is often framed around use-of-force policies, administrative restructuring, recruitment, technology, and operational procedures. All of these things have a place in the conversation.

But if reform ignores the human side of policing, it will remain incomplete.

The public does not experience policing as a policy manual. They experience it through individual officers.

Through the officer who approaches their car.

The officer who responds to their home.

The officer who places them in handcuffs.

The officer who decides whether to arrest them.

The officer who chooses to listen—or not listen.

The officer who intervenes—or looks away.

That is where trust is either built or destroyed.

I believe we can build a better model of policing—one that protects the public while respecting the humanity of every person encountered by police. One that recognizes that accountability and compassion are not opposing principles. One that understands that discretion is not weakness, and that professionalism is not measured by how many people we arrest but by how effectively we serve our communities.

I have spent more than three decades inside policing. I have worn the uniform. I have supervised officers. I have made difficult decisions. I have also experienced the institution as a Black man.

Those experiences have taught me that meaningful reform will not come from simply changing what police officers do.

It will come from changing how they think, how they are trained, how they are held accountable, and how they understand the profound responsibility that comes with wearing the badge.

The police are, indeed, the keepers of the gate.

But the gate must be one that every citizen believes they can safely approach.

That is the standard we should be striving for.

And until we reach it, the work of police reform is not finished.

— Keith Merith

Earlier Entry

Ronald Greene: Another Case That Must Not Be Forgotten

In this recounting, I offer another example that speaks to the repetitive, systemic injustice that has plagued Black and Brown people at the hands of police. It is true that many of the incidents I discuss are among the most egregious examples of police misconduct. But I never want a single case to be relegated to the annals of history without a lesson being attached to it.

For this example, I take you to May 10, 2019—and to the death of Ronald Greene.

The excerpts from Greene's autopsy report are deeply troubling. The report listed his cause of death as "cocaine-induced agitated delirium," complicated by a motor vehicle collision, physical struggle, inflicted head injury, and restraint. Yet the report also noted that the lacerations on Greene's head were inconsistent with injuries typically associated with a motor vehicle collision and were more consistent with multiple impact sites from a blunt object.

The gaps in the official record were equally disturbing. No written incident report was provided despite requests. No detailed information regarding the motor vehicle collision was supplied. No emergency medical services records were provided. Even more troubling, the coroner's report did not clearly identify the manner of death.

That omission is significant. A death certificate or coroner's report generally requires the manner of death to be categorized as one of the following: natural, accidental, suicide, homicide, or undetermined. Yet in Ronald Greene's case, the circumstances surrounding his death remained shrouded in uncertainty. It would be nearly two years before the public would learn the truth about what happened to Ronald Greene at the hands of police.

And it was not the coroner who revealed it. It was not the police officers involved. It was not their administrators. It was not the officials responsible for investigating the incident. It was not the justice system that finally brought the truth to light. Instead, the public learned what had happened through leaked body-camera footage that eventually reached an Associated Press reporter.

Shame.

On that fatal night, Ronald Greene's mother was told by Louisiana State Police that her son had died as a result of a motor vehicle crash following a police pursuit. According to the initial account, officers had attempted to stop him shortly after midnight for a traffic violation.

That explanation remained largely unchallenged for two years, despite repeated efforts by Greene's family to obtain answers about what had happened. The family pursued a wrongful-death lawsuit and sought the appointment of a special prosecutor to investigate the matter.

Two years. Think about that. Two years passed before the public was given a fuller picture of what happened to Ronald Greene. And then came another disturbing revelation. When 49-year-old Ronald Greene's handcuffed, lifeless body arrived at the hospital on a gurney, Louisiana State Police reportedly told the emergency-room physician that Greene had died upon impact when his vehicle crashed into a tree. But the doctor's observations did not match that account. Greene's body was covered in blood and bruises. He had two Taser prongs in his back. The emergency-room physician documented his disbelief in the medical notes with the words: "Does not add up." It did not add up.

Following the filing of the wrongful-death lawsuit, Louisiana State Police issued a new, one-page report that substantially changed the account. The revised version stated that Greene had been taken into custody after resisting arrest, had become unresponsive, and died while being transported to the hospital. By then, 442 days had reportedly passed before an internal investigation was initiated.

The body-camera footage would eventually expose a far more disturbing reality. Officer Chris Hollingsworth, who was later fired, was captured describing his own actions during the encounter. In the recording, he said: "I beat the ever-living fuck out of him, choked him and everything else trying to get him under control. All of a sudden, he just went limp. I thought he was dead."

The footage showed officers striking Greene, repeatedly using Tasers, and restraining him. Greene could be heard crying out in pain, saying that he was scared, and apologizing to the officers. He pleaded for his life while officers continued to use force against him.

At one point, Trooper Kory York was seen dragging Greene face-down along the roadway by the chain attached to his leg shackles while Greene's hands were cuffed behind his back. The justification offered for the police encounter was that Ronald Greene had been speeding, running a red light, and attempting to evade police. But even if those allegations are accepted as true, they do not answer the fundamental question:

What happened to the principle that a person's punishment must be proportionate to the offense?

Speeding is not a death sentence. Running a red light is not a death sentence. Attempting to evade police is not a death sentence. And none of those actions gives anyone the right to beat, choke, shock, or otherwise abuse a person who is in police custody.

So now, I present the outcomes of this case to you. You be the judge. Ask yourself: Was justice served?

State Criminal Proceedings — The Initial Account and Allegations of a Cover-Up

Authorities initially told Ronald Greene's family that he had died in a car crash following a high-speed pursuit. Years later, leaked body-camera footage revealed a much more disturbing encounter, showing officers using force against Greene as he pleaded for mercy. The footage fundamentally challenged the original account of what had happened that night.

Indictments and Dropped Charges

In late 2022, a state grand jury indicted five officers—four state troopers and one local deputy—on charges ranging from negligent homicide to malfeasance. Over time, however, prosecutors dropped the most serious charges, including negligent-homicide allegations. Prosecutors cited the difficulty of proving the precise cause of Greene's death beyond a reasonable doubt amid conflicting autopsy findings that referenced physical struggle, Taser use, prone restraint, and cocaine-related complications.

The question remains: When an official account changes, when video evidence contradicts initial statements, and when a person's final moments are captured on camera, how much uncertainty should be allowed to obscure accountability?

Final Resolutions

Original police disciplinary punishment for Trooper Kory York was 50 hours of suspension without pay. I once received 40 hours of docked pay for being at fault in a vehicle accident with no injuries. Yet in this case, a man was beaten, shocked with Tasers, restrained, and dragged while handcuffed—and the consequences for those involved were, by comparison, remarkably limited.

According to the eventual criminal proceedings, York was initially charged with negligent homicide and malfeasance in office in connection with Ronald Greene's death. York ultimately pleaded no contest to a misdemeanor battery charge and those more serious charges were ultimately dropped. He was sentenced to two years of probation and 100 hours of community service. The disparity is difficult to comprehend.

Former Union Parish Deputy Chris Harpin, who had originally faced two counts of malfeasance in office, ultimately pleaded no contest to one misdemeanor count of simple battery. The more serious charges were not pursued, and the case was resolved without a conviction for malfeasance in office.

Charges against other officers, including Dakota DeMoss and John Clary, were quashed or dismissed.

Master Trooper Chris Hollingsworth, who was seen on video striking Greene, was fired from the Louisiana State Police. He died in a single-vehicle crash in 2020, shortly after learning that he would be terminated.

Federal Investigation — No Federal Criminal Charges

In January 2025, the U.S. Department of Justice informed Greene's family that federal prosecutors would not bring criminal civil-rights charges against the officers. Federal prosecutors concluded that they could not prove the required element of willful intent beyond a reasonable doubt.

For Greene's family, the decision represented another painful chapter in a case that had already been marked by unanswered questions and conflicting accounts.

A Broader Civil-Rights Investigation

The exposure of the body-camera footage in Greene's case also contributed to broader scrutiny of the Louisiana State Police. The U.S. Department of Justice opened a "pattern or practice" investigation examining allegations of systemic excessive force and potential misconduct within the agency.

This is important because Ronald Greene's case was not simply about one night or one officer. It raised questions about an entire system. Who investigates the investigators? Who holds law enforcement accountable when the initial official account is later contradicted by video evidence? Who protects the family when the institutions responsible for providing answers are the same institutions being questioned? And how many other families have been left without answers because there was no body-camera video, no leaked recording, or no reporter willing to pursue the truth?

The Civil Lawsuit and Settlement

In May 2026, Louisiana State Police and a local sheriff's office agreed to a $4.85 million settlement in the federal wrongful-death lawsuit brought by Ronald Greene's family, including his daughter.

A settlement can provide financial compensation. It can acknowledge that something went terribly wrong. But money cannot restore a life. It cannot give a mother back her son. It cannot erase the images captured on body-camera footage. It cannot undo the fear and suffering of Ronald Greene in his final moments. And it cannot erase the two years during which his family was left to live with an explanation that the evidence would ultimately call into question.

That is why Ronald Greene's story must not be forgotten. The lesson is not simply that one man died during an encounter with police. The lesson is that the truth was delayed. The official story changed. The evidence was hidden from the public until it was leaked. The family had to fight for answers. And even after the truth emerged, accountability remained limited.

This is precisely why these cases must be remembered. Because when society allows each individual case to disappear into the annals of history without examining what went wrong, the system is never forced to learn. And when the system does not learn, history repeats itself.

Ronald Greene deserved better. His family deserved better. And the public deserved the truth from the beginning—not two years later, not after a lawsuit, and not because a leaked video happened to find its way into the hands of a reporter.

The question before us is not simply whether justice was served in Ronald Greene's case. The larger question is whether we, as a society, are willing to demand a system in which justice does not depend on a leaked video, a determined family, or the persistence of a journalist. Because if justice only arrives when someone happens to expose the truth, then we must ask ourselves:

How many other Ronald Greene's are still waiting for the truth to be told?