I, An Unarmed White Male, Was Brutally Assaulted By A Police Officer


I’m going to need you guys to bear with me here, because recounting this experience is not the easiest of tasks. I usually like to keep things pretty lighthearted around here, but this article will provide a change of pace from that narrative — a necessary one. For not only was I viciously accosted in the early morning hours of January 10, 2016, but it was by a member of an organization I thought could be trusted — the Austin Police Department. Their mission statement, “To keep you, your family, and our community safe,” is one they failed to uphold on that cold winter night; a night I won’t soon forget, as it was the night my faith in authority died.

Ever since the incident, I’ve found sleeping through the night to be a difficult task. Every time I close my eyes, I see the police officer who attacked me, Officer Trinity, staring back at me with a menacing look on his unforgettably slender face. Even in the swift darkness of a blink, I somehow still have time to make out his long, dark hair and huge, flaring nostrils before I’m comforted once more by the solace of light granted to me by the reopening of my now on-the-verge-of-tears eyes. I’m truly a prisoner in my own body. It’s awful, and I hate thinking about it, but it’s time for me to power through. To tell my story so that future Austinites won’t have their lives ruined by this awful cop like mine was. Here it goes.

After leaving Buckshot, the flagship bar of Dirty Sixth in Austin (shoutout to Alan), right before bar close, I was sufficiently drunk. Not stumbling around or anything, but by all means were both my inhibition and guard lowered. By my side was a girl I refer to as my girlfriend, but who probably does not herself claim to be affiliated with me in such a way (or, quite possibly, in any way). As we turned south off Sixth Street onto Neches Street, we came across a group of Austin PD cops patiently waiting for the bars to close so they could do one of their thrice-weekly rounds of Sixth Street crowd control.

That’s when I saw Officer Trinity. Tall, dark and handsome, I knew at first glance that this beautiful, majestic beast was a threat to my masculinity. Despite his manhood not being within full view, I could tell just by quickly and conspicuously glancing at his nether region that he was packing some serious heat. The worst part? I looked over at my girl and could instantly tell that she wanted nothing more than to ride him right then and there.

“C… Can I touch him?” my girlfriend asked one of his fellow officers. The cop nodded in agreement while Officer Trinity just stood there proudly. My heart sank.

Never one to want to feel left out, however, I figured I might as well touch him too. Don’t judge me. He was quite the specimen, after all. Besides, with his steel toe shoes and monster quads, any provocation of this behemoth would surely end in utter destruction on my end. Not to mention assaulting a police officer isn’t a good look by any stretch of the imagination.

So there I stood, gently touching this male officer of the law in plain sight of hundreds of passersby, when it happened. It was so quick and I was so drunk that I wasn’t entirely certain it happened at all. That is, until the next day, when my worst fears were confirmed: while drunk and unarmed, I was a victim of police brutality perpetrated by Officer Trinity.


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Jared Borislow

Jared Borislow (né The DeVry Guy) is a Senior Writer for Grandex Inc and a 2015 graduate of the University of Wisconsin.

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