Whenever we talk about Police, each of us has his own experience and opinion.
Some people would protect officers for anything they have done, even crimes; while some would blame them for the smallest mistakes.
To be a good policeman is probably not simple. Law enforcement has the task to act when there are crimes—infringements of the penal code—, protect citizens, be reachable, and be honest.
Above all, Police officers have ´executive power´: a wide range of freedom to act according to their choices, which can be influenced by their personal mood or will.
Most officers claim that they do a dangerous job, and therefore, they often wish, request, or pretend not to be persecuted for errors or abuses.
I write here some of my personal stories with police in Italy and in Finland, I do this after the portal ´TrustPilot´ is continuously blocking my genuine review for the website of the Italian police force ´Carabinieri,´ probably under the police request.
I was a kid when I already had my first experiences with the Italian Police. I remember, exceptionally vividly, a few anecdotes:
Calling Italian police when my father was hitting me, my mother, and my siblings; nothing happened. The police didn’t come at all. We were even spending nights in the street because my father would kick us out.
For a few days, I didn´t want to go to school, my family didn´t know what to do; therefore, they brought me to ´carabinieri.´ I was about eight years old, the military-police locked me into a cell for about ten seconds, to ´stimulate me to go back to school´, for me it translated into a ten years trauma.
When I was a teenager, I went to Genoa demostrate during the G8 to peacefully protest, asking the wealthiest governments to not forget the rest of the (developing)world in their plans.
During the protests, I witness with my eyes plainclothes police spur young protesters to damage proprieties.
The officers were saying: ¨go and break everything…¨. The government–of Berlusconi–wanted the protest to be aggressive so that they could claim bans to any demonstration, hence have more space to act without critics from the population.
During the (bloody)protests, several friends of mine were hit and even illegally blocked by the police. One protester—after being provoked by the police–was killed, tortured, left dying on the ground, and even mocked afterwards.
The carabinieri agent who shot at him claimed that acted for self-defense. Nevertheless, the police jeep ran on the boy two times—which was left on the ground for a long time—surrounded by tens of policemen who didn´t even check if he was alive or dead. Later on, Police officers even smashed a stone on his head to simulate an ´accidental´ death.
The name of the boy was Carlo Giuliani, he was 23 years old and he had never been involved in violence or crime.
At the age of 20 yo I am stopped by Police while I drive my car.
The policeman gave for granted that I was a drug user–just because I was driving in an area where there are some–and asked me where I had ´my syringes.´ Telling him that I was not sa drug user was not enough, he made a mess of my car, and when he didn´t find anything at all, he tried to find something wrong with my car documents. Unfortunately–for him–everything was good with my documents. When I told him that continuing to keep me stopped for no reason seemed an abuse to me, he told me literally: ¨me, as a ´carabiniere,´ I can put a shotgun in your mouth, arrest you, and say that you have tried to kill me; the judge would believe me, not you¨.
Some people in Italy say that mafia in Italy would not exist without acceptance from most of the local folk. This may be a reason for the survival of mafia.
A second reason could be that the police forces are not effectively stopping the mafia. Maybe because some corrupted policymakers, perhaps because the police are afraid, or because they are lazy.
Calling the police in Finland when I was assaulted in someone’s apartment: the cops entered the appartment within five minutes; here the story:
A hot summer in Finland is considered to have an average of 19 degrees, above this temperature, you almost feel in another country. But unfortunately, it was not summertime; it was an icy cold winter in Helsinki. A night to forget with people to forget.
I come back from Tallinn with Viking Line boat XPRS. Around 19:00 I meet on board Mia and Maarit—two Finnish girls—, we socialize, sing, and spend the evening together. They invite me to their place, I accept.
Mia is flirting with me, she tells me a sad story about her sickness and says that she has no money: ¨I have just spent out a loan of 2000 euro¨.
With the promise that I could stay at their place to sleep, I cancel then the appointment with a friend who was supposed to host me and to be thankful I invite for drinks.
After the evening in the disco, we are going to Maarit’s place, with her other friends—we were in total nine—they continue the afterparty with alcohol and drugs. I tell them that I would like to only drink water and go to sleep because it´s late—5:00 o’clock in the (Friday)morning—and I don´t feel good. When I said that, everyone started mocking me because I did not drink alcohol—or wanted drugs—they start even to use bad words and tell me to go away in the (freezing)street.
I ask them to let me first take a rest because I did not feel good and it was cold on the street, I could not even go to my other host to sleep, cause she was sleeping already.
They not only verbally but also physically attack me just because I was not leaving immediately. One of the friends of Mia takes a knife in his hand and come close to me. I call the police—where they ask me to speak Finnish, but somehow I manage to tell them the address—I try to block him, and they all start to attack me.
One of the aggressors puts his arm around my neck and tries to suffocate me, the rest of the group holds me and they are all ready to hit me hard.
At this very moment, the Police get into the apartment. It seemed the scene of a Rambo movie, the police entered precisely in the instant when I was blocked and hopeless.
I’m injured on my forehead and on my right thumb, the police officers don’t care much about this.
I tell the police all the facts, but they don’t really listen to me; they speak in Finnish with the people that were assaulting me; I say that they have drugs, I show them the knife used to attack me; the cops say that I just have to go away and that they would not make any report about the facts.
Futhermore, I repeat them that I want to go to the Embassy and that I am injured, but they say that I should just leave.
I go to the Embassy where they tell me to go to the police to make a report.
What do I think about police?
I think that there are good and bad policemen, but in Italy, if I call them, I know that there is little chance that they would come, and if I see them in the street, I know that it´s more lickely that they would harras than help me.
What’s the difference between a detainee and a soldier?
The difference is that the soldier can let out his hunger and frustration freely on other (innocent)people, the detainee can´t do it.