Best 907 quotes in «police quotes» category

Do you know where 'policeman' comes from, sir? ... 'Polis' used to mean 'city', said Carrot. That's what policeman means: 'a man for the city'. Not many people knew that. The word 'polite' comes from 'polis', too. It used to mean the proper behaviour from someone living in a city.

During voir dire, the interviews for jury selection, each person is asked under oath about their experience with the criminal justice system, as defendant or victim, but usually not even the most elementary effort is made to corroborate those claims. One ADA [Associate District Attorney] told me about inheriting a murder case, after the first jury deadlocked. He checked the raps for the jurors and found that four had criminal records. None of those jurors were prosecuted. Nor was it policy to prosecute defense witnesses who were demonstrably lying--by providing false alibis, for example--because, as another ADA told me, if they win the case, they don't bother, and if they lose, "it looks like sour grapes." A cop told me about a brawl at court one day, when he saw court officers tackle a man who tried to escape from the Grand Jury. An undercover was testifying about a buy when the juror recognized him as someone he had sold to. Another cop told me about locking up a woman for buying crack, who begged for a Desk Appearance Ticket, because she had to get back to court, for jury duty--she was the forewoman on a Narcotics case, of course. The worst part about these stories is that when I told them to various ADAs, none were at all surprised; most of those I'd worked with I respected, but the institutionalized expectations were abysmal. They were too used to losing and it showed in how they played the game.

Even if you want no state, or a minimal state, then you still have to argue it point-by-point. Especially since most minimalists want to keep exactly the economic and police system that keeps them privileged. That's libertarians for you--anarchists who want police protection from their slaves.

Evil as existed in all times, and in all places; and in all times and places, those willing to meet evil have also existed. This is the warrant for and the essence of the warrior.

Every time I think of Tim Leary I get angry. He was a liar and a quack and a worse human being than Richard Nixon. For the last twenty-six years of his life he worked as an informant for the FBI and turned his friends into the police and betrayed the peace symbol he hid behind.

Evil and I are old adversaries. When we compete I hate to lose," Manny Bettencourt from Murder in the Pinelands

Fear of the police is learned through experience.

Expect to be blatantly harassed by the local utility company and corporate controlled law enforcement departments when investigating utility fraud.

From the start he'd sworn to himself that the job would never make him callous. But here he was, annoyed at someone for having the gall to get murdered when he had other plans.

Few people realize that the primary purpose of the police is to protect the corporate interests and that protecting the general public is a much lower assignment.

Fugitives were predictable the first hour after escape. They always needed the same thing. Travel. Lodging. Cash. The Holy Trinity.

Furi’s breath caught at the sound of Syn’s voice. He came into the room looking like he was going to hurt Ronowski. Was he the one behind the glass all this time? Asshole. “Let’s go Furious.” Syn stood at the door glaring at Ronowski. “Do you not want your husband contacted?” Ronowski continued ignoring Syn’s glare. Furi turned around at the door. “It doesn’t matter. He’s already been contacted … with divorce papers.” Furi left the room and took long strides through the precinct until he was outside. He knew Syn was behind him, though his steps were light, he could sense him there. Furi was so angry he wanted to round on Syn and punch him in the face. This meant Syn knew everything about him. About his husband, how he made additional money, about every fucking thing. He’d taken away Furi’s control. That just wouldn’t do. ‘Nectar of the Most Forbidden Fruit’ Damnit. Furi was mad, and not just a little bit. He was like a man on a mission. Syn watched him fling the doors open and head around the corner. “Furi, can I talk to you?” Syn asked as calmly as he could. Furi turned down a side street and rounded on him fast, his long hair flying over his left shoulder. He grabbed Syn by the collar of his jacket and threw him hard up against the wall. “Ugh, fuck! Furi relax, I can explain,” Syn said, using a soothing tone. “You knew I was going to be picked up. You stood outside that mirror watching me. Did I entertain you? You think I give a fuck about you judging me because I jerk off on camera for money?” Furi growled in his face. “First: I didn’t know you were going to be picked up tonight. Ronowski is my first officer and he deals with that. He reports to me whenever he feels he has something worth investigating further. Second: he didn’t talk to me about you until after I left you this evening. Third: I didn’t even know you worked at Illustra, but now that I do, read my lips; I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.” He watched Furi’s eyes, saw them land on Syn's mouth. His face just mere inches from his own. He saw Furi’s anger turn to arousal just as his did. Syn brought his hands up slowly, desperately wanting to bury them in Furi’s hair.

Frosh (2002) has suggested that therapeutic spaces provide children and adults with the rare opportunity to articulate experiences that are otherwise excluded from the dominant symbolic order. However, since the 1990s, post-modern and post-structural theory has often been deployed in ways that attempt to ‘manage’ from; afar the perturbing disclosures of abuse and trauma that arise in therapeutic spaces (Frosh 2002). Nowhere is this clearer than in relation to organised abuse, where the testimony of girls and women has been deconstructed as symptoms of cultural hysteria (Showalter 1997) and the colonisation of women’s minds by therapeutic discourse (Hacking 1995). However, behind words and discourse, ‘a real world and real lives do exist, howsoever we interpret, construct and recycle accounts of these by a variety of symbolic means’ (Stanley 1993: 214). Summit (1994: 5) once described organised abuse as a ‘subject of smoke and mirrors’, observing the ways in which it has persistently defied conceptualisation or explanation. Explanations for serious or sadistic child sex offending have typically rested on psychiatric concepts of ‘paedophilia’ or particular psychological categories that have limited utility for the study of the cultures of sexual abuse that emerge in the families or institutions in which organised abuse takes pace. For those clinicians and researchers who take organised abuse seriously, their reliance upon individualistic rather than sociological explanations for child sexual abuse has left them unable to explain the emergence of coordinated, and often sadistic, multi—perpetrator sexual abuse in a range of contexts around the world.

Government workers are commonly as corrupt as the corporate government that employs them.

Goody. That must be why they were looking for a 22-caliber anything when they came by with their search warrant this morning.' 'They didn't!' 'They did.' 'When?' 'Oddly enough, right before I upped my meds.

Greed has already poisoned their minds, they cannot see they are being robbed.

Great idea," I said. "Call the police. Call the fucking police.

Guadalupe Fuentes: --They're not paid to kill honest people, to shoot for no good reasons. Rubenia Fuentes: --Ah, my little girl, then why do you think they give them those big guns that look like tree branches and are larger than they themselves? To shoot, baby, to shoot. Because if they don't, that gives rise to talk that the authorities are useless, are nothing more than decoration.

Harass me and we will have a problem.

He had spent so long working with the police, everything was a conspiracy to him.

He didn't know the right people. That's all a police record means in this rotten crime-ridden country.

He firmly pulled her body against his and he brushed her lips with his. Staring into her eyes, he lightly slid his tongue across her bottom lip. She drew a deep, staggered breath in response to the wave of heat she felt flushing through her. Derrick smiled at her. Then, he softly kissed her. He lightly swept his tongue between her lips, pressing his warm, soft lips to hers. He slid his hands up her body and cradled her face with his hands. Then, he passionately kissed her, tickling her tongue with his. He sucked her lips, gently, as though he was sampling nectar on a delicate petal. Then, with an intense urgency, he dipped his tongue past her lips, caressing her tongue with his. She felt fluttering inside. Anne’s body craved him. A shallow hum escaped from within her in response to how he was making her feel. She could feel his body responding to her. He was breathing heavier which was waking Anne’s primal needs. The tidal wave of lust that had just churned within her was slowly calming as his kiss became more subtle and tender. He gently pressed his lips against hers. He pulled back a little and looked away, exhaling.

Huggies from my Juggies

He was a man more concerned with the truth than his arrest quota, a philosophy that would often have him skate on thin ice with the higher ups.

He watched her walk away with a sway in her hips that tossed her long, milk-chocolate-colored ponytail from side to side.

How I wish the police service is instructed to arrest people who over-complain! Just arrest them, do no harm to them, but make them do the "work" they complain about with hard labour!

He pulled my skirt up. I began to worry. Everyone knew he had broken in girls before and I didn't want it to happen to me. I said, 'No. Get off, please.' He pulled me down the alley and pushed me to the ground. As I lay on my back worrying about my new blue coat, he pushed his fingers up between my legs — and rammed himself into me. I was crying. His lips were pressed against mine but I was motionless, like a small corpse. He grunted and I knew it was over. He got up, I just lay there on the ground, my tights round my ankles. The clock was striking twelve. As he walked away, he turned and said, 'I've always wanted to do it to you. I like your mouth'. When I got in, my mum said, 'Tracey, what's wrong with you?' I showed her my coat, the dirt and the stains, and told her 'I'm not a virgin any more.' She didn't call the police or make any fuss. She just washed my coat and everything carried on as normal, as though nothing had happened. But for me, my childhood was over, I had become conscious of my physicality, aware of my presence and open to the ugly truths of the world. At the age of thirteen, I realised that there was a danger in innocence and beauty, and I could not live with both. (describing childhood rape)

Ho sentito la gomma svuiccare.» «Prego?» intervenne Moroder, che stava battendo il verbale al computer. «Sì, insomma fare svuic.» «… E il suddetto motociclo emetteva un suono prodotto dallo sdrucciolamento repentino della gomma posteriore sulla superficie viabile…» tradusse Moroder in clinico burocratese.

How strange," continued the king, with some asperity; "the police think that they have disposed of the whole matter when they say, 'A murder has been committed,' and especially so when they can add, 'And we are on the track of the guilty persons.

Human life is precious; the life of a child even more so. Knowing that your grasp is the only thing that separates a child from life and death is a heavy burden. Although it may take a split second, those times feel like hours when you are praying that you are making the right choice. Should I wait for more help? Can she hang on long enough? What if the river pulls her from me? What if she can’t hold her breath long enough? What if she panics and tries to break free? These types of questions and fears run through a person’s mind when they are trying to save someone. For a police officer, the decision has an even greater impact. He will be judged. If he can’t hold on, if she can’t hold her breath or the river takes her, he will be judged. He will be stupid for not waiting, he will be weak for not holding on tight enough, and he will be prosecuted in the court of public opinion without being able to defend himself. His picture will be displayed on the news alongside the image of the dead, innocent child. You have seconds to decide. What will it be? Will you risk your life, your reputation, and your future to save this child or do you wait? If you wait and she is lost, you still lose. This is the riddle of law enforcement: finding a way to do the right thing and succeeding at it, without upsetting or injuring anyone.

I actually do have a motto,” said Heat. “It’s ‘Never forget who you work for.'" And as she voiced the words, Nikki felt a creeping unease. It wasn’t exactly shame, but it was close. For the first time it sounded hollow. Fake. Why? She examined herself, trying to see what was different. The stress, that was new. And when she looked at that, she recognized that the hardest part of her day lately was working to avoid confrontation with Captain Montrose. That’s when it came to her. In that moment, sitting nearly naked in Rook’s living room, playing some silly nineteenth-century parlor game, she came to an unexpected insight. In that moment Nikki woke up and saw with great clarity who she had become - and who she had stopped being. Without noticing it, Heat had begun seeing herself as working for her captain and had lost sight of her guiding principle, that she worked for the victim.

I also remember that my father was one of the people who voted to get the Dauntless out of the factionless sector of the city. He said the poor didn’t need policing; they needed help, and we could give it to them. But I would rather not mention that now, or here. It’s one of the many things Erudite gives as evidence of Abnegation’s incompetence.

I am fearful of the police.

I am far more fearful of the police than I am of North Korea.

I advise all people that have had an interaction with the police to obtain a copy of the police report, as you may find a very different story in there to what actually occurred.

I almost forgot to tell you - you have the right to remain silent, but if you do, my boys at the station will process your bones to help you confess.

I always thought 'love at first sight' was silly and incredibly irresponsible. Then, you came along and you flipped it on me. I understand it now. I do! ~Sheriff Derrick Decker

I am fearful of the government.

I could only think one troubling thought: the police, the state, did the bidding of the holders of great wealth. How much freedom of speech and freedom of assembly you had depended on what class you were in.

I didn't get the impression that the policeman cared much about the whole thing either. After another thirty minutes of ruthless interrogation ('Can you ve'fy you eat banan' pancake?') he let me go asking me not to leave Khao San within 24 hours

I don't know why you decided to wear that costume, but it makes you a symbol. Just as Robin was a symbol. Or Superman, or Nightwing, or the policeman who wears his uniform. And this isn't just a symbol of the law, it's a symbol of justice. When one policeman is killed, others take his place because justice can't be stopped.

I do not own a gun in the USA because I recognize that it may get you legally killed by law enforcement.

I dread having to call the police, as I have no idea if they will send good cop, bad cop, lying cop, incompetent cop, aggressive cop, assaulting cop, corrupt cop, or the worst one of them all, the terminator cop.

I dreaded an invasion of ghosts or, less likely, an invasion of the police.

If I am ever unexpectedly stopped in my car by the police, my response after pulling over in a populated area is to politely and clearly inform them that I am unarmed, I am recording everything, if they want to take me to the police station that they will need to appoint a lawyer, and I am now using my USA federal right to silence.

If peaceful protesting really worked, the need to peacefully protest would have subsided to almost zero a long time ago! Instead, the thing that has subsided to almost zero are the number of complaints filed against police officers that are actually upheld.

If Jack had followed him instead of trying to reclaim his car, he would undoubtedly have voiced his disappointment that they were not yet shooting laser cannons. Frankly, Richard thought dodging the police’s bullets would be problematic enough.

If you can see a cop in your rear view mirror - no matter how far back the cop is - TURN!" according to Attorney Rex Curry, "The sooner you turn the better. Your goal while driving should be to never let a law enforcement officer into a position where he can pull you over. Don't even let them come close enough to read your tag.

If there is money to be made, those who have no moral backbone will surely take advantage of another.

If you can see a cop in your rear view mirror - no matter how far back the cop is - TURN! The sooner you turn the better. Your goal while driving should be to never let a law enforcement officer into a position where he can pull you over. Don't even let them come close enough to read your tag.