Cop shooting cases should be viewed case by case

In our great and vast universe, we witness every day the diversity and randomness that God has created.

We know, without thinking, that every tree we see is different from the one rooted next to it; trees have their own genus and species with their own genetic codes, sprouted from specific soil with their own branch expansion to the sky, each ring inside each trunk telling another annual story that is unique to that tree. We believe that each snow speck that falls from the sky bears the same identity as no other, just as we study the undersides of our fingers and know that our prints belong to us alone. And each of us knows that our own experiences are unique to us, even different from our siblings.

Yet when it comes to so many events of today's world, we seem to want -- despite our natural instincts otherwise -- to view events as if they are the same everywhere.

In Sunday's Southeast Missourian you'll find a story about a local police shooting in April that left a man dead in Cape Girardeau County. Online at semissourian.com, you can see the dashcam video that was released last week, as a response to our Sunshine Law request. Once you see the video and our story that explains and checks previous statements, it's likely you'll too surmise that the officer, Jason McBride, was justified in killing Jeffrey Darrell Hobbs. The dashcam video does not show the shooting itself (it happens out of view of the camera), but the audio on the officer, along with McBride's subsequent explanations, witness testimony and tire tracks left at the scene, tell the story. It was a tragic incident, but reasonable people can deduce that McBride -- who had fought with Hobbs for about 80 seconds while trying to wrestle him to the ground before the fight moved to Hobbs' car -- had reason to use deadly force. The altercation, resulting in several injuries including a large gash on McBride's forehead, moved to Hobbs' car, and Hobbs was able to put the car in gear and attempted to drive away with McBride hanging out of the vehicle. The officer managed to turn the car off, but Hobbs continued and got the car started again. McBride gave plenty of warning, yelling twice that he was going to shoot Hobbs, then fired two shots when Hobbs refused to stop; the shots were a final attempt to end a minutes' long tussle that was escalating as the car began moving once more.

Several of our journalists examined the evidence, just as Cape Girardeau County's prosecutor did. Hobbs needn't have died, but he died as the result of his poor judgment. He was not innocent.

This incident was unique. But how will people interpret it in larger context? Both men were white.

The Cape Girardeau County incident was a much different situation than one last week in Tulsa, Oklahoma where a black man, Terence Crutcher, was killed by a white female officer, Betty Shelby, all captured on video, some footage from the air, some from dashcam. It's hard to watch that footage and believe that appropriate or justifiable force was used. Crutcher's vehicle had stalled. The video showed Crutcher walking toward his SUV with his hands above his head. Several officers followed him as he walked, guns drawn. Audio from the police helicopter offers disturbing racist language, identifying Crutcher by his appearance as a "bad dude." It's been claimed that Crutcher was not following orders, but only a biased observer could watch that video and believe that Crutcher's death was justified.

In Charlotte, North Carolina, we were presented with yet another police shooting last week that captured national attention. Keith Lamont Scott, a black man, was shot by a black officer as police were searching for a different person with an outstanding warrant, according to reports. Details, and conflicting information, are still emerging in that case. The family has seen video of the incident, and they are requesting the video be made public, but it has not been released. Police say the man who was shot was armed; an allegation that has been disputed by family.

What we witness in our country today, through social media and with television and radio commentary, is that people try to connect dots when it isn't wise to do so.

It should go without saying that any unjustified killing by a law enforcement officer should be punished and spotlighted. (On Thursday the Tulsa officer was charged with first-degree manslaughter.) When these incidents happen, fellow officers, particularly those in leadership positions, should acknowledge mistakes in judgment. Blind support of bad works hurts everyone, especially when innocent lives are lost. And, yes, sometimes, too often, black people are unfairly targeted and feared.

On the coin's flip side, we've heard many unfair criticisms and comparisons in recent days. Pundits, in attempt to argue that racism among cops is widespread, compared a black man being shot by police to other incidents where white people are only arrested instead of killed, or where white mass shooters being fed fast food because the criminal stated he was hungry. That brings us to our original point.

Nature tells us that we live with unlimited variables. The same officer who offered food to the mass shooter probably would not have shot a black man in another incident. Let's not use broad brushes and cherry-picked anecdotes to paint black men as "bad dudes" or police officers as racists. Neither assumption is fair.

Officer McBride gave several warnings to Hobbs, tried to wrestle him to the ground, told him twice he was going to shoot before he did so. But should this incident be used as evidence that police give white people more leash than black people? Of course not. Each case is a unique tragedy. We shouldn't see incidents as confirmations of our opinions or agendas.

Each officer is different. Each victim is different. The levels of threat are different. We should expect anger when officers kill someone without justification.

We should also expect fatal force when someone wields a weapon toward a police officer, or places that officer in grave danger.

Our fine and brave police officers deserve our respect. And our black men should be presumed innocent until they have been proven guilty in a court of law, or until they present an obvious, deadly danger.

Both sentiments can happen. We can support police while also condemning bad actions and holding bad officers accountable.

But not as long as we cling to stereotypes and blindly take sides. These issues are too important to get wrong because of our desire to push an agenda.