Lions Behind the Shields: Bravado of Deceit, Anger, Sexism, and Racism

Prologue

Saturday morning, June 13, 1959, at about nine thirty in the morning, Officer Ray Aucoin—five feet seven inches tall, 220 pounds, and a new hire with the Acadian police department—was on patrol. When he came to the intersection of Sixteenth Street and Clinton, he saw a young black boy carrying what looked like a BB gun. Officer Aucoin drove his patrol car to the side of the street next to the boy and said, Hey, boy, come here.

The child sheepishly walked up to the cruiser. As he approached the driver’s side of the vehicle, he could smell the pungent odor of tobacco reeking from the breath of the officer. The officer’s teeth were stained brown from the juice of the dipping tobacco.

Still sitting in the car, Officer Aucoin demanded, Give me that goddamn gun, boy.

The child extended the gun, and Officer Aucoin pulled it from his hands. Aucoin examined it and determined that it wasn’t a BB gun but an air gun, which fired by forcing air from its muzzle.

What’s your name, boy?

Tearfully the juvenile said, Frank Grima, sir. Grima saw a tattoo of a skull on the left arm of the supersized policeman, which added to his fear of the angry-sounding bogeyman.

Don’t boohoo to me, boy. How old are you?

Wiping his eyes, Grima responded, I’m ten years old, sir.

You must be a bad little motherfucker, huh?

No, sir, I’m not bad.

If you’re not a badass, why are you crying like a little bitch and looking so damn scared?

Officer Aucoin threw the air rifle back to Grima, striking him in the chest with it. Grima could hear the menacing laughter of the officer fade as he drove away down Sixteenth Street.

Grima was about two hundred feet from his house, and his mother had witnessed part of the encounter with the police officer. She shouted at him. The still teary-eyed Grima ran to her, and she asked him what had happened.

Grima explained that the policeman had stopped him about his rifle. He then asked, Why are policemen so mean?

Baby, you have to be careful with policemen. Many of them are mean to colored people just because they can be. Always say ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ and stand still when they talk to you. You know how we’ve been talking to you about what was in the paper and on television about colored children going to school with white children?

Yes, ma’am.

Right now, a lot of white folks in the South are angry about this. Sometimes policemen are in the position to do something about their anger, and the mean ones sometimes do. Frank Grima, I want you to promise me to always follow the law. You hear me?

Yes, ma’am. I promise.

1

Eleven years later, Frank Grima was in the office in the Acadian City Police Department.

Olga, Chief Richard King’s secretary, offered Grima coffee. He had arrived at eight fifteen for his eight forty-five interview to join the department.

Grima sat in the waiting room, thinking, Today is Friday, August 28, 1970. Regardless of what happens, I will never forget this day. I know I have to do my best, and just being good may not be good enough. I know I have to strive for excellence.

Grima observed that the selection board consisted of Chief Richard King, a weathered-looking sergeant, and an older, stone-faced lieutenant.

The conference room was arranged around an oval mahogany conference table in a very austere and formal setting. There was nothing on the walls, and there were only enough chairs for the room’s four occupants. The candidate was completely exposed as he sat approximately three feet away from the table, centered before the board members.

When Chief King spoke to Grima, his voice boomed, demanding a response to his deeply probing questions. Tell us about your life until this point.

Grima gave a detailed and transparent accounting of his life from high school through his recent experiences in the United States Navy.

The sergeant with piercing eyes asked, Why do you want to become a police officer?

I would like to take advantage of the offer of the department for tuition support to attend college. I have the GI bill and coupled with the benefits of the department I could really do well.

The older lieutenant continued the questioning. Grima, how will you handle it when a citizen calls you a nigger?

I have lived in the South all of my life and have encountered that. I will consider it a part of the job and act in a professional manner.

The lieutenant responded, Specifically, what does that mean?

I will ignore the inflammatory words and focus on the citizen’s problem.

After fifteen minutes of structured questions, Chief King abruptly ended the interview. Grima was sent out while the board conferred.

While Grima was out of the room, Chief King said, I have some concerns with Grima. His main reason for becoming an officer is totally personal. Most good prospective officers have a stronger desire to serve the public and catch criminals.

The streetwise sergeant responded, Yeah, Chief, but I think his honesty and commitment to his goals will make him grow into the job.

Chief King thought a moment and then said, Okay, Sergeant, we’ll go with your insight.

Once he reached the waiting area, Grima took a deep breath and felt a lot of the stress of the interview leave his body. However, he was also inspired by the warm smile and extended hand of another applicant who was waiting for an interview. The applicant identified himself as Peter Hillman. During their short conversation, Grima developed a sense that Hillman was a really nice guy. Hillman had reddish-brown hair, freckles, and a sincere-looking smile. His looks were Irish, but he said he had a German background.

After the board came to a decision, Grima was called back into the conference room.

Chief King said, Grima, the board has decided to give you this opportunity. The police academy will begin in a week. We want you to go to the city doctor’s office, where you will be medically cleared for employment. We anticipate that you will live up to our expectations. The academy experience is a crucial part of your training as a police officer that you must successfully complete.

Grima thought, I feel like I was raked over the coals, but I did it. I know I will live up to this challenge in the academy.

The next day, Grima met Hillman at the city doctor’s office, where Hillman had also been sent to be medically screened. They continued their earlier small talk, which revealed that Grima was a navy veteran and Hillman a recently discharged Marine, wounded during his tour of duty in Vietnam.

Hillman said, Here we are, warriors for our country, and look at the negative receptions we received. I was wearing my uniform at the Los Angeles airport, and a young hippie-type with her friends called me a baby killer.

Grima responded, Unfortunately, we have those types in a democracy.

This talk should be a crime punishable by a fine and a stint in jail.

Grima pondered that response. Hillman is really a nice guy but doesn’t seem very flexible in his thinking. I don’t think it right to burn your draft card, but there are some real questions about the reasons for the Vietnam War.

A week later, on a Sunday evening, Hillman and Grima drove the seventy miles to the Louisiana State University Police Academy. During the ride they shared their life stories, and Grima felt a strong connection to Hillman. I like Hillman. He is an honest and sincere person. If he says it, he means it, and I can tell he walks his talk.

After they arrived and were sitting in the reception area, Grima retrieved a brochure and read it aloud to Hillman. We will spend ten weeks here studying criminal law, the laws of Louisiana, search and seizure, firearms, and other law enforcement-related subjects. The dorm where everyone will reside is Peace Hall. We can expect fifty-three other cadets in our class from various cities in southwest Louisiana.

Grima and Hillman were shown around the academy and assigned as roommates.

At 12:30 a.m., the silence of their first night in the academy was disrupted by the boisterous sounds of singing voices.

Grima asked, Hillman, what is that commotion going on?

Before Hillman could answer, thundering voices sang to the tune of I Wish I Was in Dixie: We are the lions behind the shields. We have the power, the juice, and we are strong as steel …

Hillman replied, Sounds like a group of drunken cadets trying to simulate singing.

Grima went to the door and opened it. He saw at least six cadets singing, banging on makeshift drums, and hollering as they ushered in the first night in the academy. Do you think this is an example of what to expect for the next ten weeks?

I’ll bet these lions behind the shields will get too busy with the work of the academy to keep this up.

The next morning, after hearing about the night’s hullabaloo, the director of the academy, Herbert Tounoir, explained the expectations of the academy. He also clearly defined the structure and organization of the program. Everyone was subject to a strict code of conduct. They were to act in a professional manner while achieving the academic, physical, and firearms requirements. He warned against any more breaches of the rules of the institution.

After Tounoir’s speech, Grima asked Hillman, Do you think Director Tounoir’s message will get through to the cadets?

Honestly, buddy, no, especially not to the lions of the shields. They see themselves as above the law, and I think we can expect to see more of this type in our business.

During the second week of classes, the cadets were in the main classroom conversing during a break when Hillman said, Grima, I saw your score, you made a ninety-eight on that second-week examination.

Yeah I did.

Do you ever get tired studying?

Studying is what we’re here for, isn’t it? Grima replied.

Phil Matte, another cadet, overheard their conversation and said, Hey, Grima, maybe you could help me in some of those subjects. I failed the first examination and made a seventy on the second. I’ve been out of school for a long time, and I wasn’t a very good student then.

Grima replied, Sure. I believe we can work with you on that.

Three other cadets overheard the conversation and invited themselves into the study group. Over the next several weeks, the study group grew to a membership of twelve. The rising weekly grades of the participants were a positive reflection of the team’s effort.

During a break between classes on the Monday of the eighth week, one cadet commented to several others, including Grima, Man, did you hear the loud noises last night? I didn’t get any sleep until after one thirty.

Grima replied, Several weeks ago Hillman and I came to the opinion that we can expect to encounter these same types of individuals on the job.

During the ninth week, cadets qualified with their firearms; Hillman was on the firing line and flawlessly shot three straight perfect scores of three hundred points. The instructors were not surprised because they had observed his technique and were familiar with his military background. Hillman was without question the top gun of the class.

After firearms qualifications, Grima thanked Hillman for the pointers he had given him. Hillman’s pointers had improved Grima’s average from eighty to eighty-nine percent.

That Thursday night, Hillman and Grima were in downtown Baton Rouge at the Grand Theater. Hillman had talked Grima into seeing Dirty Harry.

As the lights went down, Grima whispered, I hope this movie is as good as you claim. He was thinking, I like to study on Thursday night. This is really taking me out of my comfort zone. But I like hanging with Hillman.

You’ll like it. Now be quiet; the movie is about to start.

About an hour into the movie, Hillman noticed two men sitting several rows in front of them, smoking cigarettes and playing with their lighters. Hillman whispered, Do you see those guys smoking and making figure eights with those cigarette lighters? They are creating a hazard and might start a fire. Getting up, he said, I’m gonna tell them to stop playing with those lighters.

Grima placed a hand on Hillman’s left arm and said, We’re not in our jurisdiction. If you have to do something, why don’t you just go tell management and let them handle this? Damn, why does Hillman have to play policeman all the time?

All right, that will work. Hillman walked away in the direction of the lobby. He returned shortly with the manager in tow. The manager approached the smoking patrons, and engaged them in a conversation. After their conversation, the manager passed by Hillman and whispered that the two guys apologized and promised to put their cigarette lighters away.

After the movie, Hillman asked, Okay, what’s the verdict? Was the movie worth it?

Yeah! It had some relevant points in it. One of the relevant points I got was about noble cause corruption: doing the wrong thing for the right reason is something cops face on a too frequent basis. I enjoyed it, but I think there are going to be a lot of cops getting the wrong message.

Hillman replied, You worry too much.

The next day’s class was traffic investigation presentations. The class was taught by retired trooper Jeffrey Madison. Madison began his class with a racial joke, using the term nigger as the punch line.

The laughter generated by Madison’s first joke prompted him to continue his vile attempt at humor. During his second joke, Hillman, who sat behind Grima, said in a full volume voice, Grima, let’s get out of here. This is insulting bullshit, and we don’t have to listen to this.

Grima replied in a whisper, Hillman, I know its bullshit, but I need this job.

Hillman chuckled. Oh! And I don’t need my job? What’s more important, our jobs or our dignity?

Hillman stood up and walked toward the door in the rear of the classroom. Grima thought, Can a man have dignity without a job? Damn, Hillman is putting me in a bad position. This will probably cause some serious problems for me.

Grima rose from his seat, uttered under his breath, Jesus, what have I gotten myself into? and followed Hillman out of the classroom.

The resultant silence was almost deafening.

Hillman led Grima directly to the office of the director of the academy, Herbert Tounoir. Grima thought, into the lion’s mouth. I wonder what his attitude will be?

In the director’s office, Hillman and Grima voiced their concerns about the racial jokes. After listening to them, Director Tounoir called Madison into his office and had a private conversation with him. Then Tounoir brought Hillman and Grima back into his office.

Madison said, I apologize for the racial jokes. I had never heard any objections before now. I didn’t have any intention of insulting anyone and was only using the jokes to break the ice for the class.

Hillman said, Those jokes were insulting, and they didn’t added anything positive to your presentation.

Madison replied, I will consider not telling these jokes to any of my future classes.

Grima added, That would solve a lot of problems.

Tounoir asked Hillman and Grima if they were satisfied that the issue was resolved.

Hillman explained, We don’t think Madison should be teaching cadets. He is obviously insensitive and doesn’t respect anyone. Though I am white, I was embarrassed that anyone would be using these terms in this place of higher learning.

Grima echoed, Trooper Madison forced us to react to his cruel words.

Tounoir was visibly stunned by Hillman’s and Grima’s responses. He seemed to be confused and then said with annoyance, You two guys don’t tell me how to run this academy. Go back to class.

Before returning into the classroom, Grima turned to Hillman. Director Tounoir has obviously labeled us as troublemakers. What do you think our future will be like in the department?

Why are we troublemakers, because we didn’t go along to get along? Grima, you and I will do our jobs and be just fine in the department.

Facetiously, Grima replied, Thanks for bringing me down this road. This controversy is exactly what I need in my career at this point.

Glad to be of assistance, buddy. But on a serious note, thanks for backing me up. I know you didn’t have to follow me out that door.

Grima had been feeling a bit miffed over the circumstances. Now he found himself caught up. Yes. I had to back you up. What choice did I have?

You made the right decision, and history will bear this out.

I still need my job. Next time you decide to orchestrate a dramatic protest move that could cost me my livelihood, let me in on that decision-making.

The word quickly got out about Grima and Hillman’s complaint against Madison. Grima heard through the grapevine that they were heroes to some of the cadets and zeroes to many others. They had violated the blue wall of silence by telling on another officer for a minor offense.

Grima was worried about his reputation and what was getting back to the department. Initially he grumbled to anyone who would listen that he wasn’t looking for any notoriety. Almost apologetically Grima said, I didn’t like his jokes, but I don’t think he intended to insult anyone.

Cadet Millison told Grima it sounded like his balls weren’t as big as Hillman’s. This remark hit home with Grima, and he stopped complaining.

Saturday, the next day, while in the television room of Peace Hall, Cadet Victor Rice shouted out at Grima and Hillman, There go the Defiant Ones! Cheers were shouted out, along with fist pumping from many in the crowded room.

Grima asked Hillman, What’s the reference to the Defiant Ones?

The Defiant Ones were two convicts, one black and one white, who were chained together and had to cooperate to make their escape. They defied all odds as they eluded authorities.

Grima thought, This could be another nail in my career coffin. I bet that moniker will travel the seventy miles to the ears of many at the Acadian police department.

Cadet Thomas told Grima and Hillman, You guys did more for race relations in this academy by standing up to Madison’s racist jokes than anyone in the history of the academy.

Hillman looks more satisfied with himself than I feel, Grima thought. He doesn’t seem bothered at the prospect of being a martyr for some civil rights cause. I don’t want that honor. All I want is to have a reasonable career with a good pension. I don’t want to be the hero. That seems to be the track Hillman is on.

On Thursday morning in the tenth week, at precisely 1:26 a.m., the thunderous bang of a .357 magnum firearm discharging jerked Hillman and the other sleeping denizens of Peace Hall into a violent alertness. Hillman found himself reaching for his thirty-eight caliber Smith and Wesson in a reflexive response.

When the shot rang out, Grima was startled, but already up and using the restroom. The restroom was located directly across from the final resting place of the fired bullet.

Grima hunkered down after he heard the explosion and the crumbling of wood and plaster as the bullet struck the wall. He looked out of the door of the restroom and saw what could again make him violate the code of silence. He made a decision: I will bury my head in the sand on this one.

Grima ducked back to conceal himself from the mischief-makers. A few seconds later, he again peeked out of the door. The miscreants had disappeared. However, room doors began to open cautiously as heads and necks stretched out to steal looks at whatever carnage had taken place.

Grima stealthily emerged from the restroom to mingle among the other cadets as they filtered into the hallway. Their investigation revealed one large bullet hole that had shattered the very first plaque given to the academy, along with the wall behind it.

After feeding their curious minds, Hillman, Grima, and the other cadets went back to their respective rooms and closed their doors in anticipation of the inevitable inquiry. Hillman asked Grima what had happened.

Grima said, The lions of the shields. Then he refused to entertain any more questions from Hillman about the matter.

That same morning at eight o’ clock assembly, Director Tounoir gave a speech highlighting safety, ethics, and doing the right thing. Tounoir then announced that whoever discharged the weapon should turn himself into the administration. He further stated, If the cadet responsible does not turn himself in by one o’clock, I will conduct an extensive investigation. As a result, there might not be a graduating class tomorrow.

The buzz about the plaque being shot was the talk of the academy. The incident was dubbed Who murdered the plaque investigation. Rumors were rampant. Everyone had a they-say.

Grima didn’t volunteer to anyone that he hadn’t been asleep when the shot rang out and that he could solve the mystery.

The one o’clock deadline came and went. True to the blue wall of silence, Tounoir didn’t have a clue as to who had done the shooting of the plaque and wall. Nevertheless, the director seemed to be relieved that the session was over and graduation was the next day.

Friday, November 13, was a beautiful Louisiana winter day. The twenty-fifth academy class graduated with all of its original fifty-five members. The top gun award in the class went to Peter Hillman. Academically first in the class was Frank Grima.

Grima was praised at the ceremony by Director Tounoir as the first Negro to finish on top of his class at the LSU Regional Police Academy. The dead-fish handshake he then gave Grima at the presentation of the Top Cadet plaque spoke volumes about his insincerity.

During the seventy-mile ride back to Acadian, Hillman and Grima exchanged small talk about their experiences over the past ten weeks.

Looking at Hillman, Grima said, You did the right thing by walking out of class, and you forced me to do the right thing too. And for that, I am grateful.

Hillman replied, You did great. I know you will stand tall for the right things.

Thanks for the support. I believe Madison is the exception and not the rule in law enforcement. What I would really like is to complete my career without drama, controversy, and endless dilemmas.

Hillman replied, Good luck on that one. We’re in the arena of life, and we have targets painted on us. And you, being a black cop in the deep South, had better expect to deal with racial issues and lots of them.

2

Reality of Interactions

Monday after graduation from the academy, Officer Frank Grima reported to the 7:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. shift. Grima was greeted by Captain Tony MacArthur, the watch commander. The lieutenant was Joe Bird, and his sergeant was Ray Aucoin.

Captain MacArthur told Grima, I like to start my new boys off with a seasoned officer to set them on the right track. You are assigned to Sergeant Ray Aucoin.

Aucoin came into the watch commander’s office; his uniform shirt was spotted with brown drippings from his chewing tobacco. He mumbled, Grima, get your stuff and come with me.

Grima thought, Wow, this guy is grossly overweight, almost as big around as he is tall. The Skoal in the lower right side of his mouth is distorting his face like a fun house mirror.

Grima walked to Aucoin’s white police sedan and was further alarmed by the brown stains on the driver’s-side door and the odor of old tobacco. The driver’s side of the bench seat dipped like a crater from Aucoin’s massive weight. He had a two by four under the seat so that he wouldn’t sink below the steering column. An old red plastic cup with tissue in the bottom sat in the middle of the bench; it was filled with saliva