This is my experience, and it's the greatest teacher of all...
I was an MP stationed at Ft. Benning, Ga. in Jan 2000. Most of my calls were shoplifting or verbal domestic disputes. I had stopped off at the security office of the PX (Post Exchange), when the security ladies had mentioned they were observing two young black males. One had slipped several CDs into his jacket (I’ll call him CD), the other kept watch (called Watcher). CD had an arm hidden under his winter jacket, so we weren’t able to ascertain if he was armed or not, or just easier to hold more CDs. CD was about 5’11”, maybe 6’ even; Watcher was about my height, 5’9”.
I followed the security lady toward the males, since they had to leave store grounds before she could approach, to give them a chance to pay or give back the CDs; I could only approach afterward. Though Watcher was silent, CD was belligerent, cursing us both with loads of ‘Fuck you, bitch’, ‘Get away from me, mother fucker’, etc.
I got on the radio and requested backup, but our reception was awful (our radio tower was struck by lightning several weeks earlier, awaiting repairs), so I wasn’t fully sure my transmissions were received. The security lady was able to talk Watcher into staying put, but CD left the building, refusing my instructions to step back into the store area.
He walked out of the store, cursing and ignoring me. I stayed with him, but never touching him. At this point, I had every legal right & authority to grab him, and throw him down to the ground, and cuff him…but I didn’t. This wasn’t over a fight, breaking & entering, stolen car, etc. It was over stolen CDs, which I personally didn’t see him take. He got about 60 ft. into the parking lot, when I noticed another squad running code 2 (lights on, accelerated speed). My radio traffic was heard. I said to CD, “You’re not going to be able to talk to both of us like that.”
He bolted. I ran in the Army, meaning in formation, at a steady pace, and not particularly fast. This guy was gone like a track star! Mind you, running in a t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers is one thing; running in a starched & pressed uniform, jungle boots (soft nylon sides), and a leather police duty belt is another form of torture. He crossed the parking lot (100 m) and made it to a pedestrian bridge before I had even crossed half the lot! The bridge had two ascending levels, the crossing portion, and two descending levels, and a path leading to a residential area. I had called ahead, stating his eventual destination. He had crossed the bridge, dropping the remaining CDs along the way. While crossing the bridge, two units had passed underneath, presumably to intercept him. I came off the bridge, and was able to see thru a yard between two houses a patrolman exit his vehicle, yelling at my suspect to stop. I followed the patrol around the house to my left, only to discover two more units had tackled him just a few feet from the bridge exit. He had intended to jump me from behind.
With two units on him, we pulled his jacket off, and realized why he had his arm hidden: it was in a shoulder sling. He had dislocated it a week earlier. I stood over him, proudly stating: “You couldn’t outrun my radio, could you!?” Knowing my blood was up, another unit stopped me from any further boasting. I traced my steps, collected the CDs, found his hat, signed for the security footage, and drove back to the station. When I arrived, the father, a Master Sergeant, had arrived to pick up CD. Just as they were leaving, I tossed CD his hat, saying “You dropped that, too”, with a definitive ‘fuck you’ tone.
I don’t know what happened to CD, but as a general rule, when a military dependent is arrested, charged, and/or investigated by MPs, the sponsor (soldier) must report to their CO (commanding officer). I don’t remember what unit or position the father was in, but I’m guessing he had to report to a Lt. Colonel to ensure he can get his shit together. This also goes on the soldier’s record, for a possible security threat. A soldier with a family in turmoil is a threat, no matter how trivial.
The lesson I took away from this was no matter how righteous I was, I refused to escalate the situation, and let it go from bad to worse. Even years after Rodney King, I didn't want to be associated with the story of 'white MP beats unarmed black teenager with a shoulder sling.' The detail that his arm was under the jacket, therefore unknown to me of his injury, would be conveniently forgotten. In my opinion, if Zimmerman had only done what I did, and not escalate, but be more communicative, I think Martin might still be alive.