The intersection of law enforcement and vulnerable populations has long been a source of profound friction, misunderstanding, and tragedy across the United States. In the Baltimore metropolitan area, a pioneering initiative known as Badges and Bridges is working to rewrite the script on how police officers and individuals with intellectual, developmental, and invisible disabilities interact. Co-founded by Maryland Department of Transportation Police Sgt. Kevin Moody and local community advocate Mack Dawson, the program seeks to humanize both sides of the badge before a crisis occurs, offering a model for de-escalation that balances officer safety with the neurological realities of citizens in distress.
The urgency of this mission was underscored during a routine traffic stop encountered by Sgt. Moody. The situation escalated unexpectedly when a motorist refused to remove his hands from his pockets—a posture that standard police academy training flags as an immediate tactical threat, as hidden hands can conceal firearms. However, Moody’s familiarity with neurodivergent behaviors allowed him to pause and reassess the situation.
The driver began shouting in extreme distress, declaring that officers would have to kill him that day. When Moody reiterated the demand to see his hands, the man pleaded, "Man, you just got to let me stim." A year prior, Moody admits, that phrase would have meant little to him. Recognizing that "stim" referred to self-stimulatory behavior—a mechanism used by individuals with autism and other developmental conditions to regulate anxiety and process overwhelming sensory input—Moody adjusted his tactical approach. Instead of forcing the man’s hands into view by physical force, Moody conducted a careful pat-down while allowing the driver to keep his hands in his pockets. The interaction ended peacefully, serving as a testament to the life-saving potential of specialized comprehension.
The Stakes: A Deadly Reality in Maryland
Incidents like Moody’s traffic stop highlight a critical gap in traditional crisis response, where the consequences of misunderstanding can be fatal. Recent history in Maryland illustrates the devastating stakes when police encounters intersect with mental health crises and developmental disabilities.
In March, law enforcement personnel in Howard County fatally shot 25-year-old Alexander LaMorie, a Columbia resident with autism. Just two months later, Baltimore Police officers responding to a mental health-related call in Southwest Baltimore shot and killed 46-year-old Louis Jackson. According to police reports, Jackson was armed, threatening suicide, and actively firing at responding officers on South Caton Avenue. Despite attempts by an officer to establish distance and issue verbal commands, the situation deteriorated rapidly, resulting in lethal force. Furthermore, in June 2025, Baltimore Police shot and killed 70-year-old Pytorcarcha Brooks during a severe mental health episode.
While the factual circumstances, threat levels, and operational environments of these incidents varied widely, they collectively expose the complex and volatile nature of modern policing. Officers are routinely dispatched to manage acute behavioral health crises while simultaneously confronting behaviors that may present genuine, lethal threats to public and officer safety.
National Data and Disproportionate Force
The friction between law enforcement and individuals with disabilities is not isolated to Maryland; it is a systemic national crisis. Comprehensive research indicates that disabled individuals are vastly overrepresented in police use-of-force statistics.
Data compiled by organizations such as Disability Rights Ohio reveals that between 30% and 50% of individuals subjected to police force live with a recognized disability. More alarmingly, studies suggest that roughly one-third to one-half of all individuals killed by law enforcement officers nationwide possess an intellectual, developmental, or psychiatric disability. These sobering statistics have driven civil rights advocates, community organizers, and progressive law enforcement officials to demand a paradigm shift in how officers are trained to evaluate threat levels, communicate during crises, and utilize non-lethal de-escalation strategies.
Origins of Badges and Bridges
The Badges and Bridges program emerged from an unlikely partnership forged more than a decade ago. Co-founders Mack Dawson, a professional massage therapist who identifies as neurodivergent, and Sgt. Kevin Moody first met while playing on the Arbutus Big Red, a semi-professional football team. Over the years, their bond evolved into a shared vision for community reform.
Recognizing that traditional classroom lectures fail to bridge the cultural divide between law enforcement and marginalized communities, Dawson and Moody developed an experiential framework. Their programming brings together children, adults, and families living with disabilities alongside active-duty police officers and first responders from Baltimore City, Baltimore County, and surrounding jurisdictions.
One of their flagship collaborative events took place during National Night Out, hosted by Preparing Youth for Tomorrow, Inc. (PYT) at City Ranch. PYT, originally founded by Moody to provide financial literacy and mentorship to at-risk youth in Baltimore, expanded its mission to foster direct, positive connections between community members and law enforcement.
At City Ranch, participants ranging from children as young as seven to adults with diverse neurological profiles interacted with police officers in a relaxed setting. They engaged in therapeutic activities with horses before sitting down for candid, unscripted discussions regarding the daily pressures, fears, and systemic struggles faced by both law enforcement personnel and the disability community.
A Two-Way Educational Exchange
Unlike conventional disability-awareness seminars that typically lecture officers on compliance, Badges and Bridges is built on a reciprocal exchange of perspectives. The curriculum addresses the realities of both sides of the uniform.
For police officers, the training demystifies the behavioral manifestations of intellectual, developmental, and invisible disabilities. Instructors explain how neurodivergent individuals process sensory overload, process verbal commands under stress, and rely on physical tics or stimming to regain emotional equilibrium.
Conversely, participants with disabilities and their families are given insight into the operational realities and safety protocols governing modern policing. Officers explain the rationale behind strict tactical commands, the necessity of securing hands, and the psychological impact of past operational trauma.
Sgt. Moody points out the vital importance of this reciprocal education by referencing a dangerous 2024 incident in New York, where a suspect unexpectedly opened fire on police officers from inside his pockets during an arrest attempt.
"We’re trained to be able to go back home to our families," Moody said, emphasizing the foundational mandate of officer safety training. "That’s why they teach us that stuff."
At the same time, Mack Dawson emphasizes that officers must be equipped to handle the psychological residue they carry from call to call. Law enforcement professionals frequently transition from horrific scenes of tragedy to routine community disputes without adequate time to decompress.
"I could be going to this from seeing deceased babies, you know what I mean?" Moody reflected, illustrating the hidden emotional toll carried by first responders. "And when I get there, that is your emergency at the moment, and you’re thinking that I’m not super sensitive to that, but you don’t even know where I just came from."
Broader Implications and the Path Forward
Dawson views mutual understanding not as a compromise of safety, but as an essential upgrade to community policing. By fostering empathy prior to an emergency, Badges and Bridges aims to short-circuit the escalation cycle that so often leads to tragedy.
"I know to not just ask a bunch of people who already kind of agree with me to come in a room and tell them, ‘Hey, this is how you should interact with people,’" Dawson said. "It’s more so, ‘I can see you’re hurt. We’re hurt too. Let’s try to figure this out and make sure that we both get that.’"
As police departments nationwide grapple with recruitment shortages, public scrutiny, and calls for systemic reform, initiatives like Badges and Bridges offer a scalable blueprint for community-led solutions. By replacing fear and suspicion with shared humanity and targeted education, programs in Maryland are demonstrating that safer communities begin long before the sirens start to wail.
