A black cop who introduced himself to his young neighbor in Lake Charles, Louisiana never knew how his simple hello helped shape the little boy’s future.
“He was just a regular guy who put on a uniform and went to work every day, and said ‘hi’ to a little kid across the street, and didn’t realize how much of an impact he was having on my life,” said Las Vegas Police Captain Carlos Hank, who did not have a chance to tell Officer Emmett Guillory before his death.
Hank’s choice to join the force was something he struggled with throughout his childhood.
He grew up in a time of strained police-community relations in the South, where someone’s skin color could be the only factor that got them in trouble with the law.
Like the time Hank — then a third-grader — and his cousins were kicked out of a bowling alley and followed home because “some gentleman just didn’t like us being there,” Hank said. , 52, in an interview from his office at Metropolitan Police Department Headquarters on the first day of Black History Month.
When his mother called the police, they directed suspicion towards the children rather than the man who had followed the children in a van, even though he “didn’t have any story to refute what we were saying”, said said Hank.
Or years later, when another group of officers abused his mother.
“I don’t want anything to do with the police department,” Hank remembers thinking.
Disillusioned and deflated, Hank said a speech from his mother helped straighten him out: “These are those cops,” she told him, reminding him how much he had loved the police, Officer Guillory and other good cops they had met along the way.
“Either you’re going to be part of the solution or you’re going to be part of the problem, and you can sit back and blame the police all you want, or you can get involved and make changes,” she told him. said. son.
Calling it his “come to Jesus” moment, Hank chose to be part of the solution.
Those who know him say Hank has a passion for community-based policing.
“He is the embodiment of what a true leader is, what a true human being is,” said Sgt. said Andrew Bates. “And we should all strive in our personal lives, but in a professional way, to continue to give selflessly.”
His balanced personality was on display the day he was interviewed. Outside Metro headquarters, a troubled man approached him, describing how the agency’s internal affairs officers ignored his complaint about an incident at Harry Reid International Airport.
Hank calmed him down and told him he could contact a Citizen Review Board or seek legal representation.
The man, who did not give his name, appeared serene as he thanked him and walked away.
“Sometimes people just want to be heard,” Hank said with a smile. “That’s all it is.”
‘A leap of faith’
Hank joined the Marine Corps when he was 17.
He first explored the military branch police unit, but was too young to carry a gun. Instead, he worked in aviation during his 12-year stay. It has deployed in operations such as Desert Storm, Desert Shield and Desert Calm.
Out of the military, living in California and looking to reinvent himself, Hank thought about joining the California Highway Patrol or other police departments.
His brother Charles Hank — who recently retired as Metro’s deputy sheriff and is currently deputy chief of the Maui Police Department — pushed Carlos to join him in Las Vegas.
The salary was decent and he could provide a decent living for his family, he was told. Hank married his high school sweetheart and they share three adult children and a trio of grandchildren.
Charles Hank initially tried to lure her out by faxing her copies of his pay stubs.
“It wasn’t about the money for me,” Hank said, adding that he wanted to “put down roots” after living all over the world.
Hank thought about it and took a “leap of faith” after a church sermon spoke to him in 2000.
Hank rose through the ranks of patrol officer, sergeant, lieutenant, and then captain, now leading the agency’s internal oversight and constitutional policing unit, which investigates critical incidents, including the use of force by the police.
“We need to listen to both sides and how we need to act on the facts that are presented to us, and not let our biases, our biases influence what we do and how we do it,” Hank said. “And so those life experiences helped me become who I am today, and it shaped the way I treat people: fair, firm, consistent all the time, regardless of your race, creed or your color.”
‘Second to none’
Bates and Hank met as freshmen at Metro’s police and corrections academies and have been close ever since. In their time patrolling together, Hank has always treated strangers with compassion and empathy, Bates said.
“Carlos goes to extreme lengths to make sure his family is taken care of,” Bates said. “And I haven’t seen any change in that regard when interacting with the community.”
And in times of grief and illness, Hank didn’t waver, said Bates, who watched his friend suffer while his mother went through her own battle with cancer.
“Yet to this day, the man gives 110% to the Las Vegas community,” he said. “The guy gives selflessly at every turn.”
“I’m very proud to call him a friend, a very close friend,” Bates said, adding that Hank was also shy and humble. “The guy is second to none. They don’t make them like that anymore.
Metro’s multicultural adviser, Mujahid Ramadan, has known Hank for 15 years, describing him as a “true asset” to the force.
“As a person, he’s top of the line,” he added.
Ramadan credited Hank’s involvement in youth programs and said the captain came from a “progressive-thinking” generation of subway leaders who emphasize community relations over strength.
To be a black officer
Nearly 10% of Metro employees are black, according to statistics provided by the agency. Fifty-six percent are white, approximately 21% are Hispanic, and the remainder are American Indian/Alaska Native (0.6%), Pacific Islander (1.5%) and mixed race (5 .3%).
For Hank, Black History Month represents “progress” but also “grief.”
“You know, we have a first black president in my life; first black vice president in our lifetime,” he said. “It’s awesome.”
But there is still a long way to go, he acknowledged.
If a police killing like the murder of George Floyd at the hands of a Minneapolis police officer happened in Las Vegas, Hank’s unit would investigate it.
In these tragedies he said, “You are human first. And you see the pain. You see the heartache. The pain does not go away. Or it’s not going away just because I’m wearing a badge. And you see it and you feel it. It’s right there. It’s palpable. It’s palpable. And the same anger and the same frustration that the citizens feel, I felt them.
“I have a family. I have children. I have grandchildren,” he said. “And when I look at this situation, you know, I have to respond to it.”
What would he say to someone like his younger self who was suspicious of the police at some point?
“Join the force,” he said, giving Metro’s recruiting website, protectthecity.com. “Get there as fast as you can.”
Contact Ricardo Torres-Cortez at rtorres@reviewjournal.com. To follow @rickytwrites on Twitter.
