Photo by Art Holeman “This was one of the most embarrassing, humiliating things I’ve ever gone through, and I would hope that it never happens to anyone else.” — Phoenix Councilman Michael Johnson

Michael Johnson’s law enforcement experiences have put civil rights on the Phoenix City Council’s front burner.

“Do you think racism played a role in your arrest?” Phoenix Councilman Michael Johnson sits back in his chair, takes a deep breath and stares at the ceiling of his City Hall office. When the silence becomes uncomfortable, the 56-year-old African-American looks back and gives an answer that speaks volumes about his unresolved issues with the most painful and embarrassing episode of his life. “No comment.”

To look at Johnson’s service record is to understand his protracted hesitation. A former Phoenix homicide detective turned community leader, the popular south Phoenix councilman is trying to strike a delicate balance between standing up for his beliefs and putting the March confrontation with a young, white Phoenix Police officer behind him. And with a potential run for Phoenix mayor in the wings – he says he’s “considering” the move and “could win” – the incident couldn’t have occurred at a worse time.

Then again, Johnson’s life has been filled with euphoric highs and devastating lows. Born in central Phoenix, his mother and six siblings moved to the projects of Los Angeles when he was in third grade. His father wasn’t around, and his mother scraped by with welfare and the kindness of others.

At 19, Johnson married, had his first of three children and moved back to the Valley. Law enforcement was a calling, and he quickly became a Phoenix Police aide before enrolling in the academy. At 21, he became a full-time officer. “All my life, people helped me. It was a blessing for me to be able to go out and help others,” Johnson says.

He retired in 1995 but continued his law enforcement work as a transit security adviser, an aide to the state Department of Gaming and a private security specialist. He maintained relationships with the Downtown and south Phoenix communities, and political experts believe it was Johnson’s unique crossover appeal among Phoenix’s African-American, white and Hispanic communities that bolstered his run for City Council in 2000. He is now serving his third four-year term until 2014.

“If you have credibility within the community, it will carry you through whatever you do,” Johnson says. “Integrity is something nobody can ever take away from you.”

Johnson needed the support of his community in 2009, when he learned he had prostate cancer in the same three-month period he lost his father and two relatives. Doctors removed the prostate before the cancer spread, but the recovery was long and uncomfortable albeit life-changing.

“It showed me that tomorrow isn’t promised, and you have to make the most of each day you have,” Johnson says. “Things could have been better, but they also could have been a lot worse.”

And then, things got a lot worse. Johnson awoke on March 19 to find a nearby house ablaze. He says he spoke with a Phoenix Fire captain and received permission to check on his neighbor. That’s when he encountered Phoenix Police Officer Brian Authement, who wouldn’t allow Johnson to enter the area.


According to police and media reports, a scuffle ensued and Authement wrestled Johnson to the ground, handcuffing the councilman and leaving him face down for as long as 10 minutes. Photographs show that Johnson and Authement, an Iraq war veteran, both suffered cuts and bruises.

African-American leaders jumped to Johnson’s defense, and the area’s Democratic state representative, Cloves Campbell Jr., called for Authement to be fired. Phoenix Mayor Phil Gordon led a contentious public meeting designed to address community concerns. Johnson and Authement, meanwhile, were both left to wonder whether they would face criminal charges.

“This was one of the most embarrassing, humiliating things I’ve ever gone through, and I would hope that it never happens to anyone else,” Johnson says, adding that if he could turn back time, he wouldn’t have done anything differently.

Authement declined an interview request through Phoenix Police spokesman Detective James Holmes, who wrote in an e-mailed statement to PHOENIX magazine, “This was, indeed, an isolated and unfortunate incident for the councilman and the officer, and they both agree that putting this encounter in a past tense is best for them and entities for whom they work.”

Asked whether department procedures would change as a result of the incident, Holmes writes: “Though there were particular counseling issues involved for Officer Authement as a result of this incident, we see no immediate need for changes to department policies and procedures.”

Union officials for the Phoenix Law Enforcement Association backed Authement because they believed he was following orders to secure the fire scene. PLEA spokesman Levi Bolton denies allegations that racism played a role in Authement’s actions.

U.S. Attorney Dennis Burke, working closely with city officials and investigators, closed the matter in June without charging Johnson or Authement. Burke and local leaders began hosting public forums in July for residents to express their concerns.

The issue opened old wounds for south Phoenix’s minority community. Between Johnson’s arrest and Senate Bill 1070, the immigration statute that gives police broader power to detain people suspected of being in the country illegally, some residents say they’re concerned about the direction Arizona is heading.

Pastor Aubrey Barnwell of First New Life Missionary Baptist Church in south Phoenix says SB 1070 has compelled the neighborhood to pull together. But Barnwell says the March incident made south Phoenix  residents and some of his 600 parishioners even more apprehensive.

“There have been so many people who have left, and those who haven’t left physically have left emotionally,” Barnwell says. “They’re locked in their homes and live in a constant state of fear.”

Johnson is not shy about echoing Barnwell’s concerns and blasting the legislation.

“Our state has taken a huge step backwards and we’re regressing in civil rights more than we ever have,” he says. “People are focused on 1070, but there are a lot of other rights being eroded.”

Is Johnson talking about his own rights? It’s hard to say, but he’s glad his own experiences have given others the strength to speak up. “People would not have focused on these issues if this had not happened to me,” Johnson says. “I want to provide an opportunity for them to have that voice. God put me in that situation for a reason.”