Beth and the Keystone Kop

There has been the occasional spirited conversation on disabilities and cops, from various sources, the former cop with hearing issues, myself and my sister, who fall into the HI spectrum (hearing impaired, conductive loss)the occasional hearing but shocked, the jokester, and so on.
There is good and bad and all. A disability will not make you a saint. You can be a supposedly nice and gentle person with the ability to use yours to manipulate, I've seen that too. It's why I choose to teach and practice that you are not your disease, you have choices on how you're going to teach people. One little girl I knew would attempt to get out of mundane work, with "You have to do it for me, I'm disabled". From what I recall, her mother rather quickly snipped that in the bud! You are not your problem, you are affected BY your problems. (Should that be effect?)

So, my tale of the idiot cop:
The spirited discussion stemmed from this:
Really stupid and infuriating comment read one day: "I stopped a car, and found both driver and passenger to be deaf. I never knew deaf people could drive, let alone get licenses, but to my surprise the license came back valid". And I never knew someone with an IQ of 30 could be a cop. You learn something new every day, aight?

Well, there are honestly marvelous people in all groups. There are idiots in all groups, and there are people, whom after receiving a missive letting them know that I'm not putting up with any bullshit, suddenly kiss my butt.

See, I've met the ignorant cop.
Once, in an attempt to remove myself from danger, my body chose that inopportune moment to go into panic mode. Not only was I attempting to slowly extricate myself, from people who didn't understand that attacking me and then getting too close and hugging me (Who has to really be comfortable with someone to offer touch)- but my anxiety kicked up and all I had was the basic signs for "No, go away" while I struggled against a panic attack (having been informed they're embarrassing, I always attempt to fight them.) A cop seriously thought that the gesture and my panicked, shallow breathing as well as the tears flowing and the gutteral sounds I attempted to make "Get away, you're not helping" were actually violent. He grabbed my arms forcefully, while I stood there, unable to do more than cry and attempt to breathe. I recall him shouting "That was a violent, threatening gesture. I could arrest you right now!" Who ever called the lawyer that put him in his place, I am eternally grateful. I've never been the trouble-making sort, and generally am a "good girl", so I couldn't understand why, on a day when the order of the day seemed to be "Shove her around, she doesn't complain", when my body chose to say "Hey! Too much!" I was the one accused of violence. Herein concludes my rant on the criminal justice system.