She was a pregnant teen when a cop knocked on the car window. That encounter echoes 20 years later

Until that September evening, Marquita Jackson’s interactions with law enforcement had been unremarkable.

She had positive interactions with a friendly resource officer at Decatur High School, in Federal Way, just south of Seattle, where she was a student. As a child, she had collected stickers from officers handing them out at carnivals and near the housing community where she lived.

But now Jackson was 19, no longer a child and eight weeks pregnant. This next encounter with Federal Way Police would leave a lasting impression, she said.

It was a cool September evening in 2002. Jackson sat in a car outside her family home with friends, one of whom had a baby. They ate pizza and drank soda.

Four Federal Way police vehicles pulled up beside them, Jackson said. The officers said they had received a noise complaint in the area.

After showing police her identification, Jackson opened the car door and began to step out. She needed to use the restroom, but officer Karl Calhoun told her she had to stay in the car. When she refused, Calhoun threw Jackson to the ground, pulled her braids so hard that four came out, and thrust his knee into her back, according to court records.

Reached at his home in eastern Washington, Calhoun, who retired from the Federal Way Police Department in 2005, said he would not comment for this story.

Calhoun said in court documents that Jackson willfully delayed his ability to execute his duties as an officer, and that he could have moved on to a more pressing call. He said he didn’t recall grabbing Jackson by the hair, and that he may have put his knee on her side, but not her back.

“He swung me like I was a rag doll,” Jackson said.

Calhoun said he didn’t learn Jackson was pregnant until after she had been arrested. Another officer said in a declaration that a group of 7 to 10 people yelled as Jackson was detained, but the officer could not recall what was being said.

They were yelling, “She’s pregnant.”

Thirty days later, Jackson miscarried, court records show. She said the doctor told her that the fetus stopped growing at eight weeks — around the time of the encounter with Calhoun. Today, nearly 20 years later, that fall evening summons strong feelings for Jackson, a single mother of four who lives in Tacoma.

“I definitely view them differently,” Jackson said of police. “I'm kind of scared of them. But also, I'm very cautious of them.”

As names of people killed by police make headlines, the years that follow police encounters and their resulting impacts are seldom discussed. For Jackson, the memory of that day rears its head when she spots a police car as she’s driving — her heart pounds and her hands shake. It manifests itself physically in the way her hair never grew back quite the same in the spot where an officer yanked. It’s obvious in the way she parents her children — the oldest of whom is her son, age 16, and on the verge of driving.

Jackson’s interaction with police, along with at least two other pregnant women in King County, led to lawsuits. In Seattle in 2017, Charleena Lyles, a 30-year-old pregnant Black woman, was fatally shot by two Seattle Police officers. A year before that, in 2016, Renee Davis, a 23-year-old pregnant Native American woman, was fatally shot by two King County Sheriff’s deputies.

Jackson was friends with Lyles, she said.

Jackson settled her lawsuit out of court with Federal Way for $42,000 in 2006; she walked away with $15,000 after legal fees. Wrongful death lawsuits over Lyles’ and Davis’ deaths remain ongoing."

“The whole thing was unnecessary,” Jackson said recently.

Jackson was 5-foot-6 and weighed 135 pounds; officer Karl Calhoun in his declaration said he weighed about 225 pounds — nearly twice her size. He grabbed her braids and slammed her to the ground, she said in court records at the time.

Everyone began to shout.

“I'm screaming at him, ‘I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant!’” Jackson said. “My mom's outside, and my brothers and sisters are all outside, and they're telling him, ‘She's pregnant. She's pregnant!’”

Calhoun handcuffed her, then lifted her to her feet. She was arrested for obstruction (a charge later dropped) and placed in the back of a cop car. After a stop at the Federal Way Police Department, Jackson was taken to the King County Jail in Seattle.

Jackson said in court records that Calhoun sent her to jail to “teach her a lesson.”

She said that as she was being fingerprinted in Federal Way, Calhoun asked her if she had learned her lesson for talking back to an officer. She didn’t respond. She was crying.

“I was so scared,” Jackson said. “I had never been to jail before … so once we get to downtown Seattle, I'm obviously super scared and super nervous.”

Calhoun said in court documents that it was his decision that she go to jail and not be released, and that he didn’t have to clear it with anyone.

It wasn’t until she was in Seattle that she noticed that the Federal Way police officer had pulled the braids out of her scalp, leaving a bald spot. And it wasn’t until hours after intake that someone from the infirmary fetched Jackson to be checked out. Jackson was cramping, and wanted to make sure her baby was okay. But Jackson was about to be released at 3 a.m., and ultimately never seen by healthcare workers at the jail.

The next day she went to her OBGYN. Doctor’s notes from that visit asked that Jackson return if she experienced stomach pain, vaginal bleeding, and any new symptoms. She never followed up, because she felt better, according to court documents.

About a month later, in October, Jackson’s stomach began cramping and she noticed light vaginal bleeding. A doctor at St. Francis Hospital told her she was on the verge of miscarrying. She got a second opinion and was told the same thing: The fetus had stopped growing at eight weeks and she would soon miscarry. Hours after her appointment, she did.

Jackson attributes the miscarriage to her encounter with the Federal Way officer, who threw her to the ground, and put his knee to her back.

An obstetrician-gynecologist, an expert witness brought forward by the police department and officer Calhoun in Jackson’s lawsuit, said the miscarriage was unrelated to Calhoun’s actions. Court documents note that Jackson had noted cramping and pink spotting at a doctor’s visit a week before her arrest. Her aunt assured her she experienced something similar in her pregnancy and doctors told her pink spotting was okay.

Calhoun argued that he acted reasonably in the way that he detained Jackson. Jackson’s lawyer said Calhoun had no reason to detain her to begin with. Ultimately, the case was settled out of court.

“Police culture everywhere has evolved over the past two decades, and the Federal Way Police Department has worked hard to be at the forefront of responsible policing practices,” wrote police spokesperson Kurt Schwan.

Schwan pointed to declining rates of uses of force within the Federal Way Police Department. In 2020, he said there were 48 uses of force, meaning force was used in less than one tenth of one percent of all police contacts. He said the department’s data showed on average they used force half as much as they did a decade ago.

Today, Jackson advises her children on how to interact with police. She tells them to not to say anything when interacting with police. To do as they’re told and not give officers “any reason to put any force on you whatsoever.”

Her 16-year-old son DeJuan — who Jackson described as tall and appearing older than his age, but loving and sweet — isn’t allowed to walk alone to the corner store, which is five minutes down the street. None of her four children may play in the front yard without her there.

“I don't want my kids to leave this world prematurely,” she said.

She won’t let her son DeJuan wear a hoodie because of what happened to Trayvon Martin, the 17-year-old African American teen who was shot and killed by George Zimmerman in 2012 on his way back from a convenience store in Florida. Trayvon had been wearing a hoodie.

She tells her son DeJuan that hats are okay, and that when he walks, not to put his hands in his pockets. She also coaches him on what to do if they’re pulled over by police.

“Put your hands on the dashboard and don’t do anything,” she says. She encourages body language that won’t cause police to view him as a threat.

“It’s horrible. The police are supposed to be here to protect you,” Jackson said. “And I'm sitting here teaching him stuff ... telling him things to make sure that he doesn't get hurt by them. But in this day and age right now, it seems like something that is needed. I want my son to survive.”

His reaction is typically, “Mom I’m not a baby anymore.” To which Jackson responds, “You’re still my baby.”

Outside of the parenting lessons, Jackson said that experience in 2002 has also spurred growth.

“I wish I never went through it but it definitely has impacted me both positively and negatively,” she said. “The way that people look at you or treat you, don’t let that define who you are.”