Just Another Pretty Face (It Must Be The Face!): Man Stopped by Police Over 50 Times!

By William H. Cooper

William H. Cooper III describes the years of racial profiling in law enforcement that had significantly affected his life, family, and friends. Readers will understand the life experiences of how Mr. Cooper paid the consequences emotionally, mentally, and financially because of wrongful law enforcement.

"Today despite having to endure, Mr. Cooper has overcome the injustices he faced, and he wrote this book to share his life experiences for readers to have another perspective and understanding as cautionary lessons of what it is to be racially profiled for this generation and future generations" (Maria M. Malave, Associate in Elementary Education, Camden County College, Blackwood, New Jersey).

"I have really enjoyed reading Just Another Pretty Face. I am a visual person, and each short story had me visualizing each scene. In a few of the stories, there is comedic timing that draws you in and makes the story personable. Thankfully, each story ended with no real arrest. This book is a good read" (Virginia D. Melton, Associate in Criminal Justice, Prince George Community College, Maryland).

"The greatest book ever written, the Bible, depicts troubles the Nubians lived with. Since then, thousands of more books describe the terrorized horrors African American men endured and still endure. Now in 2021, my father writes his testament of the stories that took place in his life. The injustices that take place while breathing and being black must end! Shame the devil! Tell the truth! Hate must not win! If you ever get pulled over, it is your duty, to save your life!" (Lisa A. Vargas-Long, Bachelor of Science in Business, Rutgers University, Camden, New Jersey).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662451478

Book preview

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Just Another Pretty Face (It Must Be The Face!)

Man Stopped by Police Over 50 Times!

William H. Cooper

Copyright © 2022 William Cooper

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

All these incidents are not in order but close to it, and they are true stories.

ISBN 978-1-6624-5146-1 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-5147-8 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

First Encounter

Riding My Bike

Sitting in the Park

From School

Going to Church

Jake’s New Car

Changing Signs

Avoiding Potholes

Get in the Yard

A Baby

Just Laughing

Gun Pulled

Basketball Court

All-You-Can-Eat

A Friend’s Old House

Waiting for a Ride

Post Office

Pregnant Woman

Ticket

Blinkers

Don’t Miss Your Turn

Seat Belt

Brake Light

Too Slow

Breakdown

Almost Home

Stop Sign

Chillin’ with Homies

Putting Out Trash

Route 42

Sticker

Following Me

Handicap Placard

Route 130

Not Even for Church

Senior Citizen

Chicken

Accident Report

On the Step

Walking to the Party

Checkpoint

Tree-Blocked Sign

Another Ticket

Company Car

Granddaughter

Yield Sign

Blue Jeep

DUI Checkpoint

Tinted Windows

Inner City Car Wash

At the Mall

Big Momma

Looking for William Cooper

Ashes

Coronavirus

Definition

Police Departments

Introduction

Wow, wow, wow! What a name for a book. I begin writing these tales about ten years ago. There are many reasons why I never finished, but the wait has added more stories. Sit back, relax, and read. You will be saying to yourself, like I did in the beginning, Wow, wow, wow! One of the reasons I got started again is something I read. The saying by Walt Disney states, The way to get started is to quit talking and begin doing. This is on a wall in a school I visited.

Before I get into what I am referring to, let me tell you something about myself. First I must include my family. My grandfather, William H. Cooper, came to the United States from the Bahama Islands as a child. We know many of the islands’ families migrated from Africa. Now there is my grandmother, her mother which was heavily mixed, and her siblings could have passed for Europeans.

Now comes my mother and her mother, my grandmother. There are pictures of them around, and it has my grandmother depicted as a Native American, but we are not sure from which tribe. Some people say we are part Irish also, but I am not sure. With this new DNA testing my young son did it, it states we are part Nigerian. What does this have to do with the story? Now comes me, I have been asked many times, What is your nationality? Are you Puerto Rican, Dominican, African, or some other nationality?

Now the real story begins. Well, I have been stopped by the police in the city, suburbs, and different states over fifty times, but I have never been arrested for anything. This book is about most of those short stories. All of this has me wondering, is it my face. Who do I look like? Some of my dad’s family say the older I get, the more I look like my father and grandfather. I am William H. Cooper III, and I am named after them both. I wonder to myself if it is like this for me, and what did they go through in their lives. They are both deceased now, so I cannot ask them.

On the following pages are short stories about some of the incidents that I, William H. Cooper III, encountered with the police. These are all true stories.

Over the years, to add to my looks, I have had curls, Afro, waves, and all kinds of things in my hair. I have worn different kinds of hats and used all kinds of lotions and creams on my face to keep it neat. Every morning I wake up and take a shower before I go out. Ever since I was in the Army, the sergeant said, Get that hair off your face! Today I still lived by that, shaving every day.

To add to the confusion, my first beautiful daughter is Lisa. She is part Puerto Rican and African American. I was around Puerto Ricans earlier in my life. Some of my best friends use to call me Puerto Rican. I have another beautiful daughter, Virginia, who is about my complexion. My two daughters have different mothers but look alike. Now as you read, you can understand some of my issues, maybe.

First Encounter

Growing up in Camden, New Jersey was a really enjoyable time. We grew up in the projects. The movie they made about Cooley High could have easily been about my family and friends. We lived in an area they called Centerville. There were different projects there: Branch Village, Shelton Terrace, and Roosevelt Manor. Plus there were a lot of single houses and stores.

There were main streets and smaller streets in between. There were Eighth, Ninth, and Tenth Streets. One of the side streets was Phillip Street. On Phillip Street, there was parking but not much. There were parking lots in the back of the houses where most people parked.

Something I forgot to mention, the houses where we lived were brand new. They were built for black families. At least, that was what I was told. To add to the story, you must know how things were different back then.

When I was young, they delivered fresh milk and cakes to your door. Not only was the milk delivered in the morning and put on your doorstep but it was also fresh and in glass bottles. Each bottle carried about a quart of fresh milk. If you ordered ahead of time, you could get chocolate milk in a glass bottle. This part of the story leads up to my first police encounter.

There was more to tell about the projects. The street at the edge of the project, Phillip Street, we used to skate there. Yes, skate there. Since there were not many cars parked there, a lot of children skated there. We had the old metal skates that you needed a skate key to hook onto your shoes.

Now that you heard all that, let me tell you how it came together. Back to the milk glass bottles, the milkman would deliver milk one day, and after you drank or used it, the milkman would come back about every other day.

To live in our development, the family had to have children. Just imagine all the children in a small area. Some of the children were good, some of them were bad or according to what day it was, that was how they acted.

Okay, let me tell you about these good and bad children. One day, a thought came over some children. I and my brother were included. Let’s take some doughnuts off the steps. That was what we did. We got up early not to get caught. Well, after sharing and eating a few boxes of doughnuts that were not ours, we were full.

Have you ever eaten a lot of cakes or doughnuts? You needed something to drink. We did not have any water or soda. Taking a quick look around, there was milk on most of the steps. Without much thought, we all said, Let’s get a bottle of milk. That milk was good, washing down all those doughnuts. Like I said early in the story, we were kids, not thinking about what