I wanted to be a good law enforcement officer.     I thought going by the rules would pay off, but I was wrong.
On a humid night in the Delta, out on the Stovall Plantation, I witnessed what any person should not. I watched white police officers handcuff a young African-American male, beat him until his face was swollen, and throw him in the back of a patrol unit. I watched as they opened a back door on the unit and let a big German shepherd police dog in on the handcuffed individual. The dog started biting him everywhere that big dog could bite and the man started calling my name. After a few seconds I recognized the man as being one of two inmates who had walked away from the county jail. Blood was all over the back seat and the rear windows of the patrol unit as that big dog kept tearing the flesh from the handcuffed man. This is true, this actually happened, I saw and listened while the person being attacked kept calling for me to help him. What could I say? What could I do? I was the only African-American out there, besides the guy who was being mauled and torn to shreds by that big dog. We were out on the Stovall Plantation located just a few miles past the Clarksdale, Mississippi city limits. I was a fulltime deputy sheriff at the time, having transferred over from the Clarksdale Police Department. The rest of the officers were Clarksdale Police Officers who had left the City limits to assist me.    I had been dispatched to the Stovall store on the Stovall Plantation located not very far from Clarksdale. I pulled up to the side of the store, left everything on and advised the dispatcher that I had arrived on the scene and that I could hear noises coming from the store. All of a sudden I heard, unit-7 copy, unit-6 10-4 and so on. Everyone was heading my way. I had no idea what was about to take place. I heard a loud noise at the rear of the store and suddenly I observed two people running from the rear of the store. I had by that time moved to a safe location where I could observe practically all of the area around the store. I identified myself and ordered them to stop. They kept running. I fired several rounds from a .380 rifle, not trying to hit them, just trying to get them to stop. I could hear splashing in the water in a ditch behind the store and I thought they had left the area. When the officers arrived with the dogs they asked me which way they had gone and I pointed toward the area where I last saw the two people running. The officers walked toward the area I had pointed out and in a couple of minutes I heard yelling and saw that big dog jumping up and down in the high weeds where one of the suspects was hiding. The other suspect was not in the area, not to be found. This is when all hell broke loose. This is when I witnessed what I believe to be the closest thing I had ever seen that could be compared to a lynching. The police officers acted like night-rider's, like they really enjoyed beating on the suspect and watching the dog bite and chew on the person. The dogs face and mouth was covered with blood and that big dog seemed to like the taste of the blood. I was sick to my stomach. I could never do that or anything like that to anyone.    When the officers finally took the suspect to the hospital, they advised the emergency personnel that the suspect was bitten while attempting to escape. People in the hospital knew better and many of the people didn't like this, but what could they do? They didn't witness anything. The suspects clothing was torn all to pieces and his hands were mangled from the dog biting him as he rolled and kicked and moved around in the back of the patrol unit. This was sad. This was sick.
Continued...

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