Growing up in the 1970s in a multi-racial family, I have first-hand experience with police racism. The increase in police shootings recently has done nothing to quell my struggle with an anti-cop bias.
Still, I know and like San Diego Police Det. Robert Fabregas. Over the years, he’s patrolled my neighborhood and the area around my school. Our children participated in activities together. I’ve called on him repeatedly in a pinch and he’s always responded quickly, effectively, and kindly.
He’s been in law enforcement for 38 years and if anyone has earned the right to rest, it’s probably him.
“I could have [retired] seven years ago, but I worry about the kids we have out there now,” he said during a recent conversation. For a moment, I’m unsure if he is referring to the younger generation on the street or on the force.
He makes it clear that he wants a hand in training the younger cohort of officers. When he began his career in New York, he was part of a multi-generational police force, and the senior officers guided the junior cops. Now, he says, “Young cops need to mature. Police work, by nature, is reactive. Young cops are over-reactive; they don’t perceive threats the same way, and they’re reacting to that.”
He models for his trainees a command presence, in which he speaks quietly but with authority, even when in danger.
“I’ve had a knife pulled on me, and I didn’t change my tone.” He emphasizes setting aside preconceived notions. “If I have a bias, I can’t make a call about a case. I recognize when I have a bias. I don’t like it; it’s not fair.”
I challenge him on this. Would he really approach me, a 50 year old white woman, the way he’d approach a 20 year old Black man?
“I approach all cars the same. I’m not the enemy; I’m protecting the neighborhood.”
He said the relationship between cops and people shouldn’t be adversarial. “You go out of your way not to be a jerk. Escalation is the last thing you want.”
Still it’s clear to Fabregas that a perception problem persists between police and the rest of society, and that both sides share the guilt.
“Of course there are bad shootings. We’re people.”
He knows there’s a perception that “cops shoot someone and then go out and have a beer.” Experience has taught him that’s not true. “You relive it again and again.” He’s seen officers close to him suffer life-changing PTSD after a shooting, even when their actions were justified.
He describes himself as an “apex predator, a predator of predators.” Victims with developmentally disabilities are especially dear to his heart, and he vows to move heaven and Earth to catch and prosecute anyone who preys on them.
Still, he describes criminals with surprising empathy. “People who commit crimes are at the end of their rope. They’re hungry, addicted to drugs, etc. I talk to them, give them a chance to tell their story.” He doesn’t make an arrest until he’s 99.99% certain he has cause. In the interview room, sitting across the table from a suspect, he listens, and coaxes, “No one knows your side of the story. There’s no use telling me you didn’t do it, because I have proof. But if you talk to me, I’ll have something to give the DA.”
He sensed my doubt.
“When I go to court, I do present their side. They’re people, with extenuating circumstances. If you can see some of their perspective, you can deal with them.”
“I fix things. I’m here to serve the public. Everyone thinks we’re out to get people. We’re not. We’re out to get the facts. But if I wanted to be loved, I’d be a fireman.”
