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For Black Motorists, a Never-Ending Fear of Being Stopped
The Constant Fear of Driving While BlackLaw-abiding black and Hispanic drivers are often left frightened and humiliated after being stopped by police, who too often see them as criminals. Listen as individuals across the country share their stories.

For Black Motorists, a Never-Ending Fear of Being Stopped

Minorities are pulled over by police at higher rates than whites. Many see a troubling message: You don't belong.

ByMichael A. Fletcher
Photographs byWayne Lawrence
March 12, 2018
12 min read
This story is part of The Race Issue, a special issue of National Geographic that explores how race defines, separates, and unites us.

About this story
The Undefeated—an ESPN website that explores the intersection of race, culture, and sports—teamed up with National Geographic to ask people of color across the U.S. what it’s like to be racially profiled during a traffic stop, and the ripple effect such incidents can have on families and communities. This report also will appear on TheUndefeated.com.

Black motorists are pulled over by police at rates exceeding those for whites. It’s a flash point in the national debate over race, as many minorities see a troubling message: You don’t belong here.

An idyllic afternoon of Little League baseball followed by pizza and Italian ice turned harrowing when two police officers in Bridgeport, Connecticut, stopped Woodrow Vereen, Jr., for driving through a yellow light.

A music minister at his church, Vereen struggled to maintain eye contact with his young sons as one of the officers instructed Vereen, who is black, to get out of the car and lean over the trunk, and then patted him down. Vereen could see tears welling in the eyes of his seven- and three-year-old sons as they peered through the rear window. He cringed as folks at a nearby bus stop watched one of the officers look through his car.

He never consented to the 2015 search, which turned up nothing illegal. The American Civil Liberties Union of Connecticut sued on behalf of Vereen, alleging that police searched him without probable cause. Last year, two years after the incident, he received a settlement from the city. His tickets—for running a light and not carrying proof of insurance—were dismissed.

2 young African American men standing for a portrait in a tropical setting by a highway

Anquan Boldin and C.J. Jones | PGA Boulevard and Interstate 95, Palm Beach Gardens, Florida (Stopped in 2015) | Former pro football player Anquan Boldin (at left) stands with his cousin C.J. Jones near the spot where Jones’s brother, Corey, was fatally shot by a Palm Beach Gardens police officer. Officer Nouman Raja was fired and is under house arrest, awaiting trial on charges of manslaughter and attempted first-degree murder with a firearm.

an African American woman standing for a portrait on a suburban street

Deborah Wright | Dixwell Avenue and Benham Road, Hamden, Connecticut (2014) | Wright was stopped by a Hamden police officer who sharply demanded her license and registration. His tone shifted when he realized that she served on the civilian police commission in nearby West Haven, and he politely explained that the registration sticker on her car had expired.

Yet the stop lives with him.

Traffic stops—the most common interaction between police and the public—have become a focal point in the debate about race, law enforcement, and equality in America. A disproportionate share of the estimated 20 million police traffic stops in the United States each year involve black drivers, even though they are no more likely to break traffic laws than whites. Black and Hispanic motorists are more likely than whites to be searched by police, although they are no more likely to be carrying contraband.

Across the country, law-abiding black and Hispanic drivers are left frightened and humiliated by the inordinate attention they receive from police, who too often see them as criminals. Such treatment leaves minorities feeling violated, angry, and wary of police and their motives.

Activists have taken to the streets to protest police shootings of unarmed black people. Athletes, including National Football League players, have knelt or raised clenched fists during the singing of the national anthem at sports events to try to shine a light on lingering inequality.

Vereen had always told his children that the police were real-life superheroes. Now that story had to change. “Everything I told them seems to be untrue,” said Vereen, 34. “Why is this superhero trying to hurt my dad? Why is this superhero doing this to us? He is supposed to be on our side.”

The first time my now 28-year-old son was stopped by police, he was a high school student in Baltimore, Maryland. He was headed to a barber shop when he was startled by flashing lights and the sight of two police cars pulling up behind him. The stop lasted just a few minutes and resulted in no ticket. It seems the cops just wanted to check him out. My son’s fear morphed into indignation when an officer returned his license, saying, “A lot of vehicles like yours are stolen.” He was driving a Honda Civic, one of the most popular cars on the road.

an African American man, wearing a suite and tie, standing for a portrait on a highway

Judge Robert L. Wilkins | I-68, Exit 43C, Cumberland, Maryland (1992) | Wilkins and three family members were detained and the exterior of their rental car was searched by a drug-sniffing dog after a state trooper stopped them for allegedly speeding in 1992. The American Civil Liberties Union brought a class-action lawsuit against the state police, and the state of Maryland settled in 1995, marking one of the earliest cases holding police accountable for racial profiling. The settlement required the state police to track traffic stops and searches by race, which revealed large racial disparities that prompted policy changes, including a more transparent complaint process for motorists. The racial disparities in traffic stops in Maryland are now smaller, but they continue.

Woodrow Vereen, Jr. | Fairfield Avenue, Bridgeport, Connecticut (2015) | Vereen's two young sons were riding with him when he was stopped and searched by police for running a yellow light. He won a cash settlement after suing police over the illegal search and now struggles with what to tell his children about how to regard the police.

Shaken by cases in which seemingly routine traffic stops turn deadly, many black parents rehearse with their children what to do if they are pulled over: Lower your car window so officers have a clear line of sight, turn on the interior lights, keep your hands visible, have your license and registration accessible, and for God’s sake, let the officer know you are reaching for them so he doesn’t shoot you.

Drivers of all races worry about running afoul of the rules of the road. But blacks and Hispanics, in particular, also worry about being stopped if they are driving a nice car in a modest or upscale community, a raggedy car in a mostly white one, or any kind of car in a high-crime area. It affects everyone, from ministers and professional athletes to lawyers and the super-rich.

“It’s been more times than I care to remember,” said Robert F. Smith, 55, a private equity titan and philanthropist, when asked how often he thinks he has been racially profiled. Smith, with a net worth of more than three billion dollars, is listed by Forbes as the nation’s wealthiest African American. Yet he still dreads being pulled over.

“A very familiar feeling comes each time I’m stopped,” he said. “And that’s the same feeling I got the first time I was stopped, when I was 17 years old.”

Rosie Villegas-Smith, a Mexican-born U.S. citizen who has lived in Phoenix, Arizona, for 28 years, has been stopped a couple of times by Maricopa County sheriff’s deputies, who are notorious for using allegations of minor traffic violations to check the immigration status of Hispanic drivers.

In 2011 federal investigators found that the department pulled over Hispanic drivers up to nine times more often than other motorists. The stops were part of a crackdown on undocumented immigrants ordered by Joe Arpaio, the Maricopa County sheriff from 1993 to 2016.

an elder Mexican American man standing for a portrait by a street in a desert setting

Daniel Magos | South 27th Avenue and West Durango Street, Phoenix, Arizona (2009) | Magos and his wife, Eva, were stopped and searched by a Maricopa County sheriff’s deputy who said he could not read the license plate on their pickup truck. The stop ended without a ticket, but the humiliation of the roadside encounter consumed the couple, even as Eva lay on her deathbed in 2016.

an interracial family of three generations standing for portrait at night on a sidewalk

Bobby McGee and Family | South Princeton Avenue, Chicago, Illinois | Almost all of the adults in the McGee family, shown here near the South Side home of Bobby McGee (far right), say they have been racially profiled or mistreated by Chicago police. The repeated encounters have resulted in an entrenched wariness of the officers sworn to protect them.

Courts ruled the stops illegal, but Arpaio pressed ahead and was found guilty of criminal contempt in July 2017. President Donald Trump—who has stoked racial tensions by bashing immigrants, protesting athletes, and others—pardoned Arpaio the following month. Arpaio recently announced plans to run for a seat in the U.S. Senate.

The statistics on traffic stops elsewhere are spotty—neither uniformly available nor comprehensive—but they show the same pattern of blacks and Hispanics being stopped and searched more frequently than others. The disparity spans the nation, affecting drivers in urban, suburban, and rural areas. Men are more at risk than women, and for black men, being disproportionately singled out is virtually a universal experience.

A 2017 study in Connecticut, one of the few states that collect and analyze comprehensive traffic-stop data, found that police disproportionately pull over black and Hispanic drivers during daylight hours, when officers can more easily see who is behind the wheel. Many police departments have policies and training to prevent racial profiling, but those rules can get lost in day-to-day police work.

“One reason minorities are stopped disproportionately is because police see violations where they are,” said Louis Dekmar, president of the International Association of Chiefs of Police, who runs the police department in LaGrange, Georgia. “Crime is often significantly higher in minority neighborhoods than elsewhere. And that is where we allocate our resources. That is the paradox.”

Too often, officers treat minorities driving in mostly white areas as suspect, Dekmar said. “It’s wrong, and there is no excuse for that,” he said.

an African American man, wearing a suit, standing for a portrait on a street

Robert F. Smith | South Monaco Parkway, Denver, Colorado (1979) | Smith, a multibillionaire software investor, says he was 17 the first time he was stopped by police. Since then, it’s happened repeatedly. Once, an officer crossed the median of a four-lane highway and pulled him over because Smith’s new car had a temporary, and legal, rear license plate instead of permanent plates on both the front and rear. Another time, while he was driving a sports car at six a.m., en route to a gym, Smith was stopped and unfairly cited for driving through a school crossing light. Smith timed and recorded the flashing light prior to his day in court. “I drive that route every day to drop my children off, so I know when school starts and I know when the flashing light starts,” he said. “Here you are, a middle-aged, African-American male, driving a nice car, not doing anything wrong, yet you are followed. You know they are pulling your plates.”

a white father Mexican American mother their son and daughter by a street in the desert

Garrett Smith and Rosie Villegas-Smith | Interstate 17, Exit 229, and West Anthem Way, Anthem, Arizona (2009) | The Smiths were pulled over by a Maricopa County, Arizona, sheriff’s deputy who said they were going five miles an hour over the speed limit. They suspect they were stopped because everyone in the car except Garrett was of Mexican descent.

Robert L. Wilkins was a public defender in 1992, when he and several family members were stopped by a Maryland state trooper while returning to Washington, D.C., from his grandfather’s funeral in Chicago. The trooper accused them of speeding, then asked to search their rented Cadillac. “If you’ve got nothing to hide, then what’s your problem?” the trooper said when they objected to the search on principle.

The trooper made them wait for a drug-sniffing dog. As Wilkins and his family stood on the side of the highway, a German shepherd sniffed “seemingly every square inch of the car’s exterior,” Wilkins recalls. Before long, there were five or six police cars around them. At one point, Wilkins, now a judge on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia, noticed a white couple and their two children staring as they rode by. He imagined that they thought the worst: “They’re putting two and two together and getting five,” he said. “They see black people and they’re thinking, ‘These are bad people.’ ”

Wilkins filed a class-action suit alleging an illegal search and racial profiling, and the state of Maryland settled, largely because of an unearthed police document that had warned troopers to be on the lookout for black men in rental cars, who were suspected of ferrying crack cocaine. The settlement required state police to keep statistics on the race and ethnicity of drivers who were stopped. A second suit forced police to revamp their complaint system. Those changes brought some improvement, and racial disparities in traffic stops in Maryland were cut in half.

What lingers, though, is the indignity and anger that drivers feel over being singled out. “There’s a power that they want to exert, that you have to experience. And what do you do about it?” Smith said. “There’s an embedded terror in our community, and that’s just wrong.”

Michael Fletcher, a senior writer at the Undefeated, previously was a reporter at the Washington Post covering education and race relations. He is co-author of the 2007 book Supreme Discomfort: The Divided Soul of Clarence Thomas. Wayne Lawrence is a widely published documentary photographer whose stated focus is “communities otherwise overlooked by mainstream media.” His work has been exhibited at galleries and institutions including the Bronx Museum of the Arts. Lawrence also shot the photos for this month’s story on intermarriage.

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