Mathew Bianchi took routine traffic stops seriously and handed out tickets regardless of people’s connections within the Police Department. He says he was punished for it.
Mathew Bianchi took routine traffic stops seriously and handed out tickets regardless of people’s connections within the Police Department. He says he was punished for it.
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The police unions distribute the wallet-sized courtesy cards — sometimes referred to as “get out of jail free” cards — to members, who in turn pass them out to friends and family. Bianchi had been instructed to let card carriers off without a ticket.
By the time he pulled over the Mazda in November 2018, drivers were handing Bianchi these cards six or seven times a day. But this woman’s card was a little older, a little tattered-looking. It was difficult to make out the contact information of the officer who had given it to her, which is usually written on the card’s back. So Bianchi did the wrong thing, which is to say, the right thing: He wrote the woman a ticket.
Though Bianchi didn’t know it then, he had just begun what would become a yearslong struggle to do the job the way he thought it should be done. He had inherited his moral obligations — and a strong dose of stubbornness — from his grandmother, who raised him on Staten Island. But he had no family in the Police Department, and no one who could tell him what to do when its leadership began to turn against him.
The month after he stopped the Mazda, a high-ranking police union official, Albert Acierno, got in touch. He told Bianchi that the cards were inviolable. He then delivered what Bianchi came to think of as the “brother speech,” saying that cops are brothers and must help each other out. That the cards were symbols of the bonds between the police and their extended family and friends.
Bull and shit. This was not a stand for the sanctity of the justice system! He thought he was being had by someone who had a bad copy of the hundreds of “get out of jail free” cards. He thought nothing of every single other card he gladly accepted. He tried to call someone bluff and got it wrong and got told off then whent sulking to the papers about it.
Bianchi found himself pulling over the same people three, four, even five times. Bianchi stopped one teenager about a dozen times; he got so familiar with the family that the kid’s father began sending him holiday greetings. (The kid is now a police officer.)
This tries to make it sound like he was making a stand for the right thing when he allowed many card holders go.
It's one of the few that he actually wrote a ticket to that bit him on the ass and now for some reason The Times is doing this saintly write up on him.
Bianchi was starting to view the cards as a different kind of symbol: of the impunity that came with knowing someone on the force, as if New York’s rules didn’t apply to those with connections.
It boggles my mind that people can be that naive. This has been the way since prehistory.
While he did the right thing, it was clearly for the wrong reason. He is fine with the system. He just thought someone was gaming it.
The outcome is good in that the system is rightly being scrutinized along with the union. But let's not hold this guy up as some sort of hero. He just wants that system to be more secure.
Is an idealistic cop the kind of cop who commits domestic abuse against their spouse because they believe in the goodness of it not because they enjoy it?
Are you not understanding the context of idealism here?
If the cop was idealistic in this context he wouldn't be doing what the shitty cops do, he'd be trying to put the shitty cops away, for all of the reasons that make the shitty cops shitty cops.
More idealistic cops would be a nice change, too bad too many of those cops are usually forced out of the job early into their careers.
The new Netflix true crime doc American Nightmare has a perfect contrast between shitty cops and one that stepped up to do her job the right way. (Fuck the Vallejo PD!)
By the time he pulled over the Mazda in November 2018, drivers were handing Bianchi these cards six or seven times a day. But this woman’s card was a little older, a little tattered-looking.
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The stop that ended Bianchi’s career in the traffic division was unremarkable.
It was Aug. 31, 2022. He was parked above Hylan Boulevard, and a woman wearing scrubs passed him in her car. She appeared to be using her phone. Bianchi pulled her over on a side street.
The woman didn’t put up much of a fuss, Bianchi said. She didn’t have a courtesy card and she didn’t drop any names. Bianchi wrote her a ticket and sent her on her way.