The ACLU has filed a federal lawsuit in response to a video which shows a deputy from the Kenton County Sheriff’s Office handcuffing a disabled elementary school child to restrain him.
Deputy sheriff Kevin Sumner handcuffed two children, an 8-year-old boy and a 9-year-old girl. The video shows Sumner cuffing the boy as he tells him, “You don’t get to swing at me like that.”
“Ow that hurts!” cries out the boy.
It is unclear what specific behavior led to the children being restrained, but the ACLU asserts that for school officials, including police officers, to use handcuffs on children is illegal.
The children are so small that the officer had to handcuff them around their biceps rather than their wrists. Both of the children have ADHD and other disabilities.
The lawsuit charges that the actions of the officer caused the children trauma and pain. It also names names Kenton County Sheriff Chuck Korzenborn, accusing him of failing to adequately train and supervise Sumner.
According to the boy’s mother, he is now suffering from anxiety, sleeping problems and is afraid to go back to school for fear of seeing Sumner.
“Shackling children is not okay. It is traumatizing, and in this case it is also illegal,” said Susan Mizner, disability counsel for the ACLU. “Using law enforcement to discipline students with disabilities only serves to traumatize children. It makes behavioral issues worse and interferes with the school’s role in developing appropriate educational and behavioral plans for them.”
The ACLU also charges that treating children with behavioral difficulties like prisoners at such a young age makes it more likely that they will be “funneled out of public schools and into the criminal justice system.”
The video obviously raises the question of why police officers are being used to discipline such young children. Surely it must be left to teachers and other school staff to perform such duties without needing to involve law enforcement officers?
And Then There Were None – Eric Frank Russell
[Anarchy in action – an excellent model of an anarchist or free society]
First published June 1951
Bidworthy found himself afflicted with a moment of confusion. Recovering, he informed hurriedly, ‘His Excellency the Earth Ambassador wishes to speak with you at once.’
‘Is that so?’ The other eyed him speculatively, had another pick at his teeth. ‘And what makes him excellent?’
‘He is a person of considerable importance,’ said Bidworthy, unable to decide whether the other was trying to be funny at this expense or alternatively was what is known as a character. A lot of these long-isolated pioneering types liked to think of themselves as characters.
‘Of considerable importance,’ echoed the farmer, narrowing his eyes at the horizon. He appeared to be trying to grasp a completely alien concept. After a while, he inquired, ‘What will happen to your home world when this person dies?’
‘Nothing,’ Bidworthy admitted.
‘It will roll on as before?’
‘Round and round the sun?’
‘Then,’ declared the farmer flatly, ‘if his existence or nonexistence makes no difference he cannot be important.’ with that, his little engine went chuff-chuff and the cultivator rolled forward.
Digging his nails into the palms of his hands, Bidworthy spent half a minute gathering oxygen before he said in hoarse tones, ‘Are you going to speak to the Ambassador or not?’
‘I cannot return without at least a message for His Excellency.’
‘Indeed?’ The other was incredulous. ‘What is to stop you?’ Then, noticing the alarming increase in Bidworthy’s colour, he added with compassion, ‘Oh, well. you may tell him that I said’—he paused while he thought it over—‘God bless you and good-bye.’
Sergeant Major Bidworthy was a powerful man who weighed more than two hundred pounds, had roamed the cosmos for twenty-five years and feared nothing. He had neverreturn to index been known to permit the shiver of one hair—but he was trembling all over by the time he got back to the base of the gangway.
His Excellency fastened a cold eye upon him and demanded, ‘Well?’
‘He refuses to come.’ Bidworthy’s veins stood out on his forehead. ‘And, sir, if only I could have him in the space troops for a few months I’d straighten him up and teach him to move at the double.’
‘I don’t doubt that, Sergeant Major,’ the Ambassador soothed. He continued in a whispered aside to Colonel Shelton. ‘He’s a good fellow but no diplomat. Too abrupt and harsh-voiced. Better go yourself and fetch that farmer. We can’t loaf around forever waiting to learn where to begin.’
‘Very well, Your Excellency.’ Trudging across the field, Shelton caught up with the farmer, smiled pleasantly and said, ‘Good morning, my man.’
Stopping his machine, the farmer sighed as if it were one of those days one has sometimes. His eyes were dark brown, almost black as they regarded the newcomer.
‘What makes you think I’m your man.’
‘It is a figure of speech,’ explained Shelton. He could see what was wrong now. Bidworthy had fallen foul of an irascible type. They’d been like two dogs snarling at one another. Oh, well, as a high- ranking officer he was competent to handle anybody, the good and the bad, the sweet and the sour, the jovial and the liverish. Shelton went on oilily, ‘I was only trying to be courteous.’
‘It must be said,’ meditated the farmer, ‘that that is something worth trying for—if you can make it.’
Pinking a little, Shelton continued with determination, ‘I am commanded to request the pleasure of your company at the ship.’
‘Really and truly commanded?’
The other appeared to wander into a momentary daydream before he came back and asked blandly, ‘Think they’ll get any pleasure out of my company?’
‘I’m sure of it,’ said Shelton.
‘You’re a liar,’ said the farmer.
His colour deepening, Colonel Shelton snapped, ‘I do not permit people to call me a liar.’
‘You’ve just permitted it,’ the farmer pointed out. Letting it pass, Shelton insisted, ‘Are you coming to the ship?’
‘Myob!’ said the farmer.
‘What was that?’
‘Myob!’ he repeated. It sounded like some sort of insult. Shelton went back, told the Ambassador, ‘That fellow is one of those too-clever types. At the finish all I could get out of him was ‘Myob’ whatever that means.’
‘Local slang,’ chipped in Grayder. ‘An awful lot of it develops in four centuries. I’ve come across one or two worlds where there has been so much of it that to all intents and purposes it formed a new language.’
‘He understood your speech?’ asked the Ambassador of Shelton.
‘Yes, Your Excellency. And his own is quite good. But he won’t leave his work.’ He reflected briefly, suggested, ‘If it were left to me I’d bring him in by force with an armed escort.’
‘That would encourage him to give essential information,’ commented the Ambassador with open sarcasm. He patted his stomach, smoothed his jacket, glanced down at his glossy shoes. ‘Nothing for it but to go and speak to him myself.’
Shelton was shocked. ‘Your Excellency, you can’t do that!’
‘Why can’t I?’
‘It would be undignified.’
‘I am fully aware of the fact,’said the Ambassador dryly. ‘What alternative do you suggest?’
‘We can send out a patrol to find someone more co-operative.’
‘Someone better informed, too,’ Captain Grayder offered. ‘At best we won’t get much out of one surly hayseed. I doubt whether he knows one quarter of what we require to learn.’
‘All right.’ The Ambassador dropped the idea of doing his own chores. ‘Organise a patrol and let’s have some results.’
What this is about at the root is ensuring that there is one and only one currency cartel to rule them all.
You will learn to love Big Government and Big Banking and Full Frontal Assault and Full Spectrum Intervention into every Facet of your existence or you will be impoverished, caged, and possibly even killed. However much it takes to control and totally dominate you, is the extent to which will without fail escalate their overlordings and brutalizations.
The shit has already hit the fan, it remains largely unseen because of the continued sacrifices of individuals and small business to the Great Society Machine that is rapidly gobbling and swallowing whole our entire world.
Now more than ever, every dollar you earn or spend legitimately and on their books supports their evil oppressions. The more you earn and own as a matter of public record and thus pay taxes on, the more you are forced to support your own oppression as well as your lesser fellow Americans.
It’s time to go offgrid and dark as best you can, all the while playing the good citizen by the light of day for as long as you can.
Ration and sequester what you still have, and learn today how to obfuscate and obscure whatever capital you still control and whatever marketable skills you might still possess that can earn you actual wealth as opposed to illusory digital funny money and traceable central bank digital ledger wealth which they can confiscate or devalue at their every whim and convenience..
You have to admit, You have heard enough! Eric has answered your questions! Now, you have to find a woman like Sarah Connor! Now before the machinery is completely in place and completely in control. You need a Sarah Connor who can raise both you and your children to be like John Connor!
It’s not going to be a battle of weapons like in the movie, but rather a battle of wits and philosophy.
You still don’t get it, do you? How many articles do you need? This is going to happen to you and everyone you love! He’ll find you! That’s what he does! These fiat currency terminators are out there. And that’s ALL he does! You can’t stop him! He’ll wade through you, he’ll reach down you throat and pull your fuckin’ heart out!
Listen, and understand! That Free Market Terminator is out there! It can’t be bargained with. It can’t be reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until every last vestsige of your freedom to trade, associate, and cooperate are dead.
Hero Stormtrooper guns down innocent 19 year old white man for applying his parking brake in a threatening manner.
One currency to woo them all, one currency to find them, one currency to rule them all, and in the darkness bind them.
“We swears, to serve the master of the Precious. We will swear on… on the Precious! But the fat Hobbit, he knows. Eyes always watching. We wants it, we needs it. Must have the precious. They stole it from us. Sneaky little hobbitses. Wicked, tricksy, false!”
From whom does the oil come, and to who does it belong. The trained bookkeepers like John D Rockefeller. Or the men who find it, extract it, transport it, process it, and find novel ways to employ it?
Are we to transact and mutually enrich alongside men of mind and ability. Or to serve men of imagined authority evidenced only by ink and paper and ancient myths of entitlements and protocols.
In the District of Columbia, where shadows lie. (double entendre intended)
Wow… Are you channeling my rancor, man? 😉
Maybe. I think I’m about as angry as you, but I just want to get away from everybody else and do my own thing, not start killing people who mean absolutely nothing to me. I want my own kind of anarchy, I care nothing for any imposed artificial order whatsoever.
I guess we’re the only ones who aren’t happy about trading our labor and skills for arcade tickets.
Derp, I bought a full size matchbox car with a hemi for 60,000 tickets. Derp, I got me a mcgriddle sandwich. Derp I went 400,000 in arcade ticket debt to get me a shiny plastic mcmansion.
Where’s the fucking rage and disgust at all of this. Trading your actual value for their fake greenback tickets is completely pathetic.
We now live in a world where you either go to a fake job for fake arcade ticket money. You meekly go to the counter and hope all your tickets will get you some kind of bauble you halfway want.
Or you get chased down and put to sleep or neutered for being a bad ameripet who didn’t do exactly what his masters told you and roll over and show your belly.
If your still in the same arcade with the clovers playing skeball with them and cackling over the extra ten tickets you won more than clover. You’re absolutely delusional.
You can’t win at life by playing any of their fiat currency cuntery games. Moral victories are neutered little lapdog losers.
Tor, spend a lot of time in Tx?
Yep, just did.
Sister is in Austin. Other sister and parents are in Kingwood.
Scott Henson of GFB swarmed by pigs while walking with his granddaughter.
I find it hard to believe someone called in a tip that this girl was being kidnapped.
I find it far more likely they knew who he was based on all their spy gadgets and thought they might be able to goad him into committing a crime by intimidating and harassing him in a surprise confrontation.
IPoT – Scott Henson
Had that been my child, that would have been his last day in that school. I would never make that child set foot in that building again.
I don’t have kids, but stuff like that makes me so mad, and that cop will never be punished for his crimes. Even if he is “sued”. Its taxpayers that will pay out when the kids parents win their suit.
If I do have kids, I am almost certain I will be homeschooling. Friends of mine do so, and their kids do so well with what they are doing. They do some awesome stuff that make their kids love to learn things. Not being tied to a school “schedule” lends to plenty of flexibility too.