'Guardians' who prey on the innocent

It happened just before 4am on Wednesday.

I was driving to work when I noticed blue lights flashing ahead of me. I felt an instant sense of panic and fear.

Yet, I wasn't guilty of anything. My vehicle licence was up to date. I had my driver's licence on me. And I did not have any outstanding traffic fines.

My instinctive fear is based on all the stories I have investigated for Carte Blanche about uniformed policemen who hijack, harass and/or intimidate citizens. The voices of those victims came rushing back in those moments.

It was still very dark, but because I was travelling on a well-lit road I was easily able to make out the following: the flashing blue lights belonged to a Johannesburg Metro Police patrol vehicle. An unmarked car was parked a few metres ahead and three men stood between the vehicles.

Two were in uniform. The third was a white man who seemed to be explaining something in earnest to the officers.

Something wasn't right. But there was no way I was going to stop to find out. I considered calling the police, but what would I say? That I had a bad feeling? I drove on.

Four robots away, out of nowhere, flashing blue lights suddenly appeared behind me. Rising panic pushed up into my mouth. I reduced my speed and moved into the left lane, hoping that they were in a rush to get somewhere.

I was wrong. They switched lanes, too, and put on their siren. Fear joined my panic. I recalled the advice of Gerrie Gernicke, director of the Johannesburg Metro Police, to our viewers about what to do if they ever felt unsafe in such a situation.

"Reduce your speed, put on your hazards, with your arm out of the window, and indicate to the police vehicle to follow you to the closest garage or police station."

I did just that. Then, the robot changed to red. If I stopped, my life could be in danger. If I jumped the robot, I could put somebody else's life in danger and would be committing an offence. I stopped at the robot.

Within seconds, a uniformed officer was standing at my half-open window. Keeping my voice steady, I asked him if he could follow me to the nearest garage, which was only 100m away. He refused.

I reminded him politely that I was a woman, it was still dark and I was not comfortable in my current location, stationary on the road.

He refused and said: "But when you people have accidents and you need help, then we have to come."

I didn't understand his point. I asked again for him to follow me to the garage. Again, he refused. I started to feel really scared.

"I'm a television journalist," I said. "I'm on my way to work. I know I am allowed to drive to the nearest garage or police station. So, let's just do that."

He looked at me intently.

"What have I done wrong?" I asked, trying my hardest to remain firm but polite.

That's when a second officer appeared. He took one look at me and in a cautionary tone to his partner said: "Let her go."

He probably recognised me. I beat a hasty retreat, my heart racing.

The fact that bad elements in our law enforcement agencies make us distrust those who are meant to protect us is such a disgrace.

I felt so vulnerable in those moments.

But I was lucky. I got away. Not everybody does.

• Devi's e-mail address is devi.sankaree@intekom.co.za