Police surveillance: They have their eyes on you

By Duane A. Beyal
Special to the Times

The police car pulled up to the east side of a four-way intersection. I was about 10 yards away.

As I walked up, I expected him to pass through and continue on his way. But he stayed there, almost invisible behind tinted windows.

I reached the west lane and paused at the curb. I glanced at the police car. He still did not move.

Oh, so he’s going to let me cross first, I thought.

Wearing sandals, I hurried to the south side, aware of his eyes as he waited for me. I pumped my arms to show him I was not dawdling.

I reached the other side then felt the rush as his car went through the intersection.

As a regular walker around the town of Gallup, I’m familiar with the gaze of law enforcement. When a police vehicle passes me on the street, I can feel the officer’s look as he checks to see if I’m OK and not a member of the legions of drunks who populate the roadsides.

Is my walk OK, I think, should I plant my feet firmly and not waver or trip over myself or the lines on the sidewalk? Is my head up and shoulders square? Is he going to stop to question me?

I see them pull over or pass by then turn around to check an obviously drunk person. They often would arrest the person or call for the detox van. So when I am in their field of view, I try to walk right. When wearing boots, I lift my feet higher and take measured steps.

The police try to see everything. They try not to miss anything.

This feeling of surveillance is familiar to anyone who works for an overbearing boss. Nothing you do is right and everything is wrong or could be better — you should walk straight and not stagger.

Police surveillance can be necessary and useful. The word “surveillance” implies suspicion, a perfect way to view our lawmakers. For example, the 24 members of the Navajo Nation Council could use some surveillance to prevent a reoccurrence of the discretionary fund scandal.

Our new president and vice president, Russell Begaye and Jonathan Nez, can also benefit from the public’s surveillance. After all, they are unknown goods. The voters seemed to think, “OK, we’ve seen Joe Shirley now let’s see when these new guys can do.”

Will they walk straight or stagger? Will their plans and proposals go anywhere or will they get mired in the mindless bureaucracy? This is the nature of the public spotlight.

When they become candidates and if they win, they become different animals. Their words and actions are subject to the public’s scrutiny.

Who will be their police? It is you, the voters, the people, the young and old, the employed and unemployed.

Our new leadership should be nervous and anxious for success.

The downfall of past leaders of the Navajo Nation was because of how they chose to use their power and positions. They benefited themselves, their families and their friends. This is why any new leader should be under the microscope. For Begaye and Nez, this is an opportunity to prove themselves.

And the Council, that cantankerous group of personalities, also has begun anew, also with the opportunity to prove themselves.

As former members of that cabal, Begaye and Nez may reveal how the executive and legislative branches can work together.

Despite their watchful eyes, the men and women of law enforcement have shown me their human side. When I hitch-hiked on a freezing morning at Ya-Tah-Hey, N.M., junction, walked east of Gallup on a cold evening or along State Highway 264, they pulled over. Whether they were New Mexico state, county or city police, they gave me rides. To these police officers, I say thank you.

The police often face criticism, sometimes deservedly so, most of the time not. Some have fallen in the line of duty. Others continue to work in under-manned and under-equipped conditions. They deserve a tip of the hat from the citizens.

The state police cruiser pulled over ahead of me. The officer did not get out as I walked up to the side of his vehicle.

He opened a window and asked where I was going.

“Window Rock,” I said.

“Get in. I can give you a ride to the state line,” he said.

His car purred as it picked up speed. We were quickly at Tse Bonito, N.M.

I thanked him then walked the mile or so to my apartment.

Recently, as I watched a police vehicle coming down south Second Street in Gallup, I thought about that ride.

The next time a police car approaches me on the street in Gallup and I feel the look, I’ll wave.

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