What happened to Tyreek Hill wouldn't have happened to me, and that's not right

Miami Dolphins receiver wasn't a danger when pulled from car, forced to ground.

(Jenni Carlson)

This is a story about someone headed to a football game, a traffic law violation and a police officer encounter.

Those details can apply to Tyreek Hill.

No doubt you've heard what happened Sunday as the Miami wide receiver was headed to the Dolphins season opener. He was caught speeding near the stadium, and less than a minute after being stopped by police, he was forcibly removed from his car and placed face-down on the ground.

Hill had his hands cuffed behind his back.

We'll get to the details in a moment, but I am sure of this: the situation escalated to that point because Hill is Black. I know that's a hard reality for many to accept. We want to trust the police. Heck, we want to trust our fellow human beings and believe that there's good in people. 

And there is.

But there's also racism in people. When we see it, we must recognize it, we must call it out and we must demand better.

I believe Hill, the one-time Oklahoma State star, deserved better. 

I believe he deserved to be treated like I was a few weeks ago.

Heading to OU's opener, I was navigating the side streets of Norman, trying to avoid traffic. And no, I'm not going to tell you my route; that'd be like a fisherman sharing the whereabouts of his fishing hole and suddenly finding it packed with people. I came to a stop sign and knew the cross traffic didn't stop. After stopping and looking to my right (nothing), then my left (car signaling a turn before it got to me), I started to pull out.

That's when I realized a car had come over a hill to my right and I was about to pull right in front of it.

I hit the brakes, and so did the other driver. I threw my hands in the air, hoping it would signal my abject horror at the mistake I'd made. I was prepared to let them go, but the driver waved me on.

That's when I saw the car had Norman Police Department on the side.

I felt bad regardless, but this took things from bad to worse.

I continued through the intersection, and about a block later, I saw the flashing blue and red lights in my rearview mirror. I wasn't even mad; I knew I deserved it.

I rolled down my window, and as soon as the officer began walking to my car, I leaned out and started apologizing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I said. 

He took my license and asked if I was headed to the game. I told him I was and that I was a sportswriter. At that point, I could tell he was giving my license a long look, trying to figure out if he recognized my name, so I told him the last name on my driver's license isn't how I'm known in the sports world.

Once I told him he probably knew me by "Carlson," he immediately brightened. Said he remembered when I covered high school sports back when he was in high school.

(Truth is, I never really covered high school sports, though I've always written about them. But po-tay-toe, puh-tah-toe.)

He returned to his car, and I awaited my fate.

After several minutes, he came back with a warning. No ticket. No fine.

Whew.

Then he said that he wasn't even going to pull me over at first, but he figured someone might call him in. Then again, since I'd almost hit him, how could I blame him for not pulling me over?

Plus, he said, it is important to make stops on game day to keep everyone mindful and safe.

I get it. 

But I have to admit, I thought about that encounter this week after learning the details of Tyreek Hill's traffic stop. Body cam footage released Monday shows an officer knocking on Hill's car window, prompting the receiver to roll it down, hand over his driver's license, then tell the officer not to knock on his window.

The officer asks Hill to keep his window down.

Hill doesn't comply.

"Give me my ticket, bro, so I can go," Hill is heard saying. "I'm gonna be late. Do what you gotta do."

"Keep your window down," the officer says.

"Don't tell me what to do," Hill replies.

He later told CNN that he was trying not to cause a scene. If he kept his tinted window rolled up, fans driving or walking past wouldn't see that it was him.

Could Hill have communicated that with officers? 

Probably.

Could he have handled the situation better?

Sure.

Still, being snippy isn't cause for being pulled out of your car and forced to the ground. But that's what happened next, even though Hill had shown he wasn’t a danger to police.

The officer tells Hill to get out of the car.

"I'm gonna get out," Hill says. "I'm gonna get out."

The officer not only opens the door but also grabs Hill by the arm.

"I'm getting out," Hill yells.

Another officer grabs Hill by the back of the head and forces him to the pavement. The officer keeps Hill in place with a knee to the receiver's back while he's put in handcuffs.

At one point, the officer tells Hill to "stop crying."

After Hill is removed from the ground, he is forcibly made to sit on a curb.

The force used on Hill was excessive, the show of power was unnecessary and the authority was abused. And it happened because Hill was Black.

If there's any question, flip our traffic stops. 

If I'd been the one stopped near the stadium in Miami on Sunday and been flippant and defiant about rolling up my window, there's no way I'd have been pulled out of my car and forced to the ground. The officer might've asked me to explain myself. Or he might've explained why he wanted to window open. But no way it escalates to me being face down on the pavement.

If Hill had been the one stopped on the way to OU a few weeks ago and leaned his head out the window to apologize, maybe everything goes the same. 

Or maybe he's told forcefully to stay inside the vehicle. 

Then, who knows?

By the way, I'm not a Hill apologist. I was covering Oklahoma State in 2014 when he was arrested on a felony complaint of domestic abuse by strangulation. I read the police reports. What his pregnant girlfriend said he did was horrific.

But who he is, for better or worse, didn't seem to come into play Sunday morning in Miami. 

What he is — a Black man — did.