One of the first things an apprentice journalist is taught is never to assume guilt. When a man is arrested for a crime, he is just that, "arrested," "charged with," "accused of," until a jury of his peers bestows upon him the proud title of "murderer," "arsonist," "robber," etc. There's one exception to this rule: cops involved in racially charged use-of-force incidents, especially incidents in which the action is caught on video tape.
Now, it's easy to say, "Hey, it's on the tape. That's proof." But no one except a prosecuting attorney would ever argue on the record that just because John Q Public is on tape burning his warehouse that he is an "arsonist." To do so in print or in public outside of the advocacy arena of the courtroom is to invite action for libel or slander if it turns out that John Q was just taking his gasoline-soaked rag collection for a walk that night.
But such protections do not apply to cops involved in racially charged incidents. For example, in the recent Inglewood, Calif., incident, Officer Jeremy Morse was "convicted" of assault by public officials, political activists, and the media long before his day in court.
Now it's not our intention here to argue the guilt or innocence of Officer Morse. Our concern is that a law enforcement officer tried by the media in a racially charged case has as much chance of a fair hearing as a Wiccan priestess in Old Salem.
The rhetoric that was spewed by activists and local politicos in the early days of the Morse case essentially amounted to an official proclamation of guilt. Inglewood Mayor Roosevelt Dorn was quoted in the Los Angeles Times as saying Morse should be fired. Note, the words "if proven guilty" were not part of Dorn's statement. And if you were a taxpayer in Inglewood looking down the barrel of a multimillion dollar police abuse suit, wouldn't you love the fact that your mayor is in the papers yelling, "We're guilty"?