The profoundly disturbing police killing of Sonya Massey in her own home is a complete failure of policing and of humanity.
Just the latest incident of a police officer killing an unarmed Black person, it is rightly raising fundamental questions about policing in America. It is also, however, raising questions about whether Sean Grayson – the sheriff’s deputy who killed Massey – should have even been allowed to serve as a police officer in the first place.
Grayson’s past, after all, contained a number of serious warnings that should have given any department pause before hiring him and equipping him with a gun and badge. Before being hired by the Sangamon County Sheriff’s Department – his sixth law enforcement job in just four years – he had two DUI convictions and a general discharge from the military that noted “misconduct (serious offense).”
But these very legitimate questions about whether someone with a past like his should be allowed to serve as a police officer are not necessarily ones that the law alone can answer.
The law can and should screen out as many individuals as possible who are clearly unfit to serve as law enforcement officers. A robust officer certification regime, for example, does exactly that by barring individuals with significant histories of misconduct or unlawful behavior from serving as police officers in the state. It also can improve information-sharing between agencies, guarding against the so-called “wandering officer problem” while ensuring that misconduct investigations don’t end simply because an officer resigns. States can also mandate comprehensive background checks, ensuring that hiring agencies have and review the criminal records, misconduct history, and relevant references of prior employers. And they can mandate psychological screening and ongoing reviews of existing personnel.
As more facts about Grayson come to light, it may turn out that he should have had his license denied or revoked by law. But it may not. The law rightfully often leaves room for nuance in distinguishing between a complex human history and a series of red flags. A years-old misdemeanor conviction is typically not enough to categorically bar someone from serving as a police officer, for example. After all, people grow and change, and there are benefits to having more police officers who know from firsthand experience what it’s like to be in the back of a cop car or struggle with substance use. Grayson’s rapid change of agencies is suspicious to be sure, but the law can’t penalize someone simply for switching jobs.
That’s where human judgment comes in. Absent any serious criminal convictions or findings of misconduct, the law can provide police departments with the relevant information and empower them to act on it – but it’s up to leaders in those agencies to make the right decision.
In this case, it seems like the leaders displayed an abject failure of judgment with deadly consequences. Grayson’s most recent employer, at least, was aware of much of his checkered past—certainly enough to raise concerns—and hired him anyway. Likewise, there’s growing evidence that Grayson lacked the temperament to serve in law enforcement. The sheer casual cruelty in Grayson’s statements in Massey’s home strongly suggest those weren’t the first verbal red flags he ever raised. Others who interacted with him in prior roles have said as much.
In other words, the problem in this case wasn’t necessarily a lack of information. It was a lack of judgment and accountability. Grayson should clearly not have been a police officer, even if the law technically allowed it.
When it comes to the high stakes decisions of who should be allowed to carry a gun and badge, it's critically important that the right information gets into the right hands. States can and absolutely should take steps to make sure it does.
But it’s equally important that decision-makers make the right decision with that information once they have it. That is, after all, the purpose of laws designed to equip leaders with that information in the first place.