Well, friends, grab yourself a cup of coffee and settle in, because your old pal Paul has some things to get off his chest about what passes for police leadership these days. And I gotta tell you, after spending the better part of two decades in law enforcement—starting back in the '70s when cops were still allowed to be cops, continuing through the '80s, and proudly serving as a fully certified reserve officer until 1992—I've seen some things. I've got the scars to prove it, both the ones you can see and the ones you can't. So when I watch what's happening up in Minneapolis, it doesn't just make me angry. It makes me sad. Sad for the profession I loved. Sad for the men and women still trying to do the job. And frankly, sad for a country that seems to have lost its ever-loving mind.
Now, Law Enforcement Today—God bless 'em—has never been shy about calling out police chiefs who've traded their badge for a political party membership card. They've taken shots at Art Acevedo, that traveling circus act who bounced from Austin to Miami leaving a trail of chaos and press conferences in his wake. But folks, I'm here to tell you, Acevedo just got bumped to second place in the "What Were They Thinking?" Hall of Shame.
Ladies and gentlemen, meet Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O'Hara.
Now, I don't know Chief O'Hara personally. Never met the man. But based on what I'm watching unfold up there in the frozen tundra of Minnesota, I can tell you this much: if leadership were a crime, this guy would be serving consecutive life sentences. And here's the really tragic part—he's not just embarrassing himself. He's embarrassing every man and woman who's ever pinned on a badge, strapped on a duty belt, and walked out the door not knowing if they'd walk back through it at the end of shift.
Let me break this down for you, because it's a two-act tragedy worthy of Shakespeare—if Shakespeare had written about bureaucratic cowardice and political pandering.
Act One: The Apology Tour Nobody Asked For.
So last month, Chief O'Hara did something that used to be considered normal in police work. He told the truth. During an interview, he was discussing a Halloween shooting in what they call the "Dinkytown" area of Minneapolis. Now, I don't know who named it Dinkytown, but whoever did apparently had a gift for prophecy, because the leadership response to crime there has been, well, dinky.
O'Hara pointed out—accurately, mind you, based on the data his own department collects—that this area has become a magnet for assaults, robberies, shootings, and auto thefts. He noted that the folks committing these crimes weren't disadvantaged local kids with no options. No sir. These were kids coming in from surrounding communities, sometimes driving "mommy's Mercedes-Benz," who were descending on the area like locusts on a wheat field.
He specifically mentioned that groups of East African kids were coming from surrounding communities to commit crimes in Dinkytown.
Now, here's the thing, folks. A police chief's job—and I know this because I actually did the job—is to identify crime patterns and tell the community what's happening. That's not racism. That's not bigotry. That's called police work. When I was on the job, if we had a crime pattern involving any identifiable group, we said so. Not because we hated anyone, but because that's how you solve problems. You identify them accurately, and then you address them.
But oh no. Not in 2025. Not in Minneapolis.
The Somali community launched an online petition demanding an apology. And what did our stalwart Chief O'Hara do? Did he stand by his accurate assessment? Did he point to the data? Did he remind everyone that his job is to protect ALL citizens, including the law-abiding members of every community who are victimized by criminals?
Nope.
He folded like a cheap lawn chair at a family reunion.
"The Somali community here in Minneapolis has been welcoming and has shown love towards me, and I appreciate it," O'Hara said at a hastily arranged news conference. I'm surprised he didn't bring flowers and chocolates.
"If people have taken anything that I have said out of context in a way that's caused harm, I apologize, and I'm sorry for that because that's not my intention at all," he continued.
Now, let me translate that from Bureaucratic Coward into plain English: "I told the truth, but powerful people got mad, so now I'm pretending I didn't mean what I clearly meant, and I'm hoping everyone will forget I ever had a spine."
You know what, folks? George Carlin—God rest his cynical soul—used to talk about how language gets corrupted to hide meaning. He'd have had a field day with this. "Out of context." What context, exactly, would make "groups of East African kids coming from surrounding communities to commit crimes" mean something other than what it obviously means? Was he speaking in code? Was it opposite day? Did someone spike the coffee at the press conference?
Here's what really burns my biscuits about this whole thing: Every time a police leader caves to political pressure and apologizes for telling the truth, it sends a message to every cop on the street. That message is: "Your boss won't back you up. Keep your mouth shut. Don't make waves. And whatever you do, don't accurately describe what you're seeing with your own eyes."
That's not leadership. That's surrender.
And let me tell you something from experience—when the troops figure out that command won't back them up, morale doesn't just drop. It craters. I've seen it happen. Good cops start updating their resumes. The ones who stay start doing the bare minimum to avoid controversy. And the criminals? They figure it out real quick. They know when the cops have been muzzled.
Act Two: The Constitutional Crisis Nobody Saw Coming, Except Everyone.
Now, if the Apology Tour was Act One, Act Two is where this tragedy goes from bad to absolutely unhinged.
This week—and I swear I'm not making this up—Chief Brian O'Hara told Minneapolis residents to call 911 if they see ICE agents "kidnapping" people.
Let that sink in for a moment.
A sworn law enforcement officer. A police chief. A man who took an oath to uphold the Constitution of the United States. Is telling citizens to report federal law enforcement agents—who are lawfully executing their duties under federal immigration law—as kidnappers.
I've been around a long time, friends. I've seen a lot of stupid things in my day. I've seen criminals do stupid things. I've seen politicians do stupid things. Heck, I've done a few stupid things myself over the years—ask my wife, she keeps a list. But this? This might be the single most reckless, irresponsible, and potentially dangerous thing I've ever seen a police chief say publicly.
"We have experienced reports in this city...where people call to say that there's folks that are masked, that they're not sure if they're law enforcement, that they may be kidnapping people. We have those reports," O'Hara said with what I can only assume was a straight face, because surely no one could say something this absurd while smirking.
Let me remind the good Chief of something he apparently forgot—or never learned, or chose to ignore because it's politically inconvenient. There's this document called the Constitution of the United States. Maybe you've heard of it. It's been around since 1787. It's kind of a big deal.
Within that document, there's a little thing called the Supremacy Clause. Article VI, Clause 2, for those keeping score at home. It says—and I'm paraphrasing here for the folks who didn't go to law school—that federal law is the "Supreme Law of the Land." That means when Congress passes immigration laws, and federal agents enforce those laws, they take precedence over state law, local ordinances, and most definitely over the hurt feelings of a politically compromised police chief.
The Constitution trumps your politics, Chief. Every. Single. Time.
But here's where it gets really dangerous, and I want everyone to pay attention to this part because it matters.
When you tell citizens to call 911 on federal agents, you're not just making a political statement. You're creating a scenario where local police officers might be dispatched to "intervene" in a federal enforcement action. Think about that for a second. Minneapolis cops, responding to a 911 call, showing up at a scene where ICE agents are lawfully executing their duties.
What could possibly go wrong?
I'll tell you what could go wrong, because I've been on both ends of tense situations, and I've got the scars to prove it. When you have two groups of armed law enforcement officers who aren't coordinated, who might not immediately recognize each other, who might be operating on different information—that's a recipe for tragedy. Someone could get hurt. Someone could get killed. And for what? So Chief O'Hara can score points with the progressive wing of the Minneapolis city council?
This man is willing to put his own officers in danger—officers who trust him to have their backs—because he'd rather virtue signal than lead.
And speaking of dangerous situations, let's talk about this notion that ICE agents are somehow unidentifiable masked marauders roaming the streets of Minneapolis. This is a lie. A flat-out, demonstrable lie.
ICE agents engaged in enforcement operations wear clearly marked clothing that identifies them as ICE or federal law enforcement. They're not hard to spot, folks. The "ICE" on the jacket is kind of a giveaway.
"But they wear masks!" the critics shriek.
Yeah. They do. You know why? Because unhinged people on the internet like to dox federal agents. They like to post their names, their home addresses, pictures of their families. They like to make threats. These agents wear masks for the same reason undercover officers protect their identities—because there are crazy people out there who want to hurt them and their loved ones.
But I notice Chief O'Hara doesn't seem too concerned about masked rioters attacking his own officers. He doesn't seem too concerned about masked Antifa types throwing frozen water bottles and commercial-grade fireworks at cops. The sudden concern about masks is, shall we say, selectively applied.
George Carlin had a term for this. He called it bullshit. And he was right.
The Real Victims Here: The Cops on the Street.
You know who I feel sorry for in all this? The rank-and-file Minneapolis police officers who are trying to do their jobs with this clown show happening above their pay grade.
These are men and women who signed up to serve their community. They go out every day not knowing what they're going to face. Domestic disputes that can turn violent in a heartbeat. Traffic stops that might be routine or might be their last. Calls to neighborhoods where people would just as soon spit on them as say thank you.
And now, on top of everything else, they've got a chief who's telling citizens to call 911 on federal agents—which means these officers might get dispatched into a situation where they're supposed to... what, exactly? Arrest ICE agents? Interfere with a federal operation? Stand there awkwardly while their chief's political grandstanding creates an international incident?
These cops didn't sign up for this. Nobody does.
Back when I was on the job, we had chiefs we disagreed with. That's nothing new. But we never—and I mean never—had a chief who actively tried to pit us against other law enforcement agencies for political points. That was a line nobody crossed, because everybody understood that when you cross that line, people can get hurt.
Chief O'Hara has obliterated that line. He's not just crossed it; he's set up camp on the other side and is roasting marshmallows.
My advice to Minneapolis police officers? Start updating your resumes. Seriously. I know that's hard to hear. I know you love your city. I know you took an oath. But your oath was to the Constitution, not to Brian O'Hara. And when your chief is actively working against the Constitution and putting you in impossible situations, you don't owe him a thing.
A Personal Note From Someone Who's Been There.
Let me get personal for a minute here, because I think it matters.
I started in law enforcement in the 1970s. Ford was president when I first pinned on a badge. I worked through the Carter years, the Reagan years, into the Bush years. After I pulled the pin in 1986, I remained a fully certified reserve officer until the summer of 1992. That's close to two decades of service.
In that time, I saw a lot. I saw the best of humanity and the worst. I saw cops who were heroes and, yes, I saw a few who had no business wearing the uniform. I saw communities that appreciated us and communities that wanted us gone. I saw policies that made sense and policies that were written by people who'd never spent a minute on the street.
But through all of it—through all the changes, all the challenges, all the political winds that shifted this way and that—there was always one constant. We were cops. We backed each other up. We respected the law, all of it, even the parts we didn't personally like. And we sure as heck didn't try to score political points by pitting ourselves against other law enforcement agencies.
What's happening in Minneapolis isn't just bad leadership. It's a betrayal. A betrayal of every officer on that department. A betrayal of the citizens who deserve honest policing. And a betrayal of the oath that Brian O'Hara swore when he took the job.
I've got scars from my time on the job. Some physical, some not. I wear them proudly, because I earned them doing something that mattered. I wonder if Chief O'Hara has any scars. I wonder if he's ever been in a situation where his life depended on making the right call in a split second. I wonder if he's ever had to trust his fellow officers with his life, and had them trust him with theirs.
Based on what I'm seeing, I doubt it. Because anyone who's been there—really been there—would never treat their officers the way he's treating his.
A Message to Good Cops Looking for a Home.
Now, here's where I want to end on something positive, because Lord knows we could all use some positive these days.
If you're a Minneapolis police officer—or any officer stuck in a department where the leadership has lost its mind—I want you to know something.
There's a home for you here.
Florida is hiring. And specifically, right here in Marion County, we appreciate law enforcement. We actually want cops to be cops. We don't expect our officers to apologize for doing their jobs. We don't pit local law enforcement against federal agencies. And we definitely don't tell citizens to call 911 on ICE agents who are lawfully doing their duty.
Governor DeSantis has made it clear: Florida backs the blue. And here in Marion County, that's not just a slogan—it's how we live.
The weather's better. The politics are saner. The cost of living is reasonable. And when you put on that uniform and go out to protect the community, you'll know that your leadership has your back.
I'm not saying it's perfect. Nowhere is perfect. But I am saying that if you're sitting in Minneapolis right now, watching your chief tell people to report federal agents as kidnappers, wondering how things got this crazy—you've got options.
Come to Florida. Come to Marion County. Bring your family. Bring your skills. Bring your dedication to the job.
There's a place here where being a cop still means something. Where telling the truth isn't a fireable offense. Where the Constitution is still the supreme law of the land, and everyone knows it.
We'd be glad to have you.
Final Thoughts.
Look, I could go on. Lord knows there's more to say about the state of policing in America, about leadership failures, about the politicization of law enforcement, about the absolute circus that passes for governance in some of these cities.
But I'll leave you with this.
Brian O'Hara isn't just a bad police chief. He's a symptom of something larger. He's what happens when political considerations override professional duty. He's what happens when leaders care more about avoiding criticism than about doing the right thing. He's what happens when the oath becomes just words you say at a ceremony and then forget.
And here's the saddest part: there are good people in Minneapolis. Good cops. Good citizens. People who just want to live their lives, raise their families, and not worry about whether they're going to be victims of crime. Those people deserve better than what they're getting.
They deserve leadership that tells the truth, even when it's uncomfortable. They deserve a police chief who backs up the officers on the street instead of throwing them under the bus. They deserve someone who understands that the Constitution isn't optional, that federal law matters, and that playing political games with public safety is a betrayal of everything law enforcement is supposed to stand for.
They deserve better than Brian O'Hara.
And for those Minneapolis officers who've had enough—who are tired of the games, tired of the apologies, tired of being pawns in someone else's political chess match—remember what I said.
Florida's waiting. Marion County's waiting. And we'd be proud to call you our own.
Stay safe out there, friends. Back each other up. And never forget why you took the oath in the first place.