Michael Proctor’s downfall did not begin with the Karen Read case, nor with the Myles King investigation, nor with the avalanche of racist, misogynistic, anti‑Semitic, and homophobic text messages that finally forced the Massachusetts State Police to fire him. His downfall began long before he ever put on a badge. It began in the years when he learned, and was rewarded for, a worldview built on cruelty, bias, and the belief that certain people mattered less. What the public is now discovering is not a sudden scandal. It is a long‑running pattern of bigotry that appears to stretch back to his youth, a pattern that should have disqualified him from policing entirely. Instead, it was ignored, minimized, or never investigated at all.

Proctor's story is not just one officer’s racism. It is the story of a system that hired him, armed him, empowered him, and protected him, even as he sent messages fantasizing about violence against Black people, mocking women, praising Hitler, and expressing contempt for entire communities (sounds a lot like Donald Trump). It is the story of how a man who admitted, in his own words, “No idea how I passed the background” still became a Massachusetts State Police trooper. And it is the story of how his bigotry may have shaped investigations, influenced outcomes, and endangered lives.

This is not a neutral story. It is a story about institutional failure, moral rot, and the danger of letting racism hide behind a badge.

The Roots of a Pattern: Bigotry Before the Badge

Although the public record does not provide a detailed biography of Proctor’s high‑school years, the text messages uncovered in multiple investigations paint a clear picture: his racism did not begin in adulthood. It was not a sudden lapse in judgment. It was not the product of stress, burnout, or the pressures of policing. It was a worldview he carried with him long before he applied to the Massachusetts State Police.

The messages show a man who was comfortable using racist slurs, joking about violence against Black people, mocking women, praising white supremacist imagery, and expressing hatred toward entire groups. These are not attitudes that appear suddenly at age 30. They are learned early, reinforced socially, and carried forward unless challenged.

And nothing in Proctor’s early life appears to have challenged them.

Instead, he entered adulthood with the confidence that he could speak, think, and joke this way without consequence. That confidence is not accidental. It is the product of environments — social, educational, cultural — that tolerated or rewarded bigotry. It is the product of peers who laughed at racist jokes, teachers who ignored them, and institutions that never asked whether he was fit to wield power over the public.

By the time Proctor applied to become a police officer, his worldview was already formed. The question is not whether he was racist before joining the force. The question is how many people saw it and said nothing.

IThe Background Check That Should Have Stopped Everything

The most damning evidence about Proctor’s pre‑police life comes from Proctor himself. In 2017, he texted:

“No idea how I passed the background.”

That is not the statement of a man with a clean record. That is the statement of a man who knows his past should have raised red flags.

The newly released hiring records show that Proctor applied to the Boston Police Department before joining the Massachusetts State Police. During that process, he complained that the background investigator “had it in for him.” He worried about what the investigator might uncover. He warned friends that they might be contacted. He expressed anxiety about the thoroughness of the review.

When he later applied to the Massachusetts State Police, he again warned friends that troopers might reach out during his background check. And then, after he was hired, he admitted he did not understand how he passed.

Defense attorney Rosemary Scapicchio put it bluntly: “Had the Massachusetts State Police conducted a thorough background check, he would not have passed.”

The text messages uncovered in multiple investigations are not merely offensive. They are violent. They are hateful. They are dangerous. They reveal a man who fantasized about harming Black people, who mocked victims, who expressed admiration for white supremacist imagery, and who treated racism as entertainment.

One message stands out because it has been widely reported and is central to understanding the depth of his bigotry. In it, Proctor wrote that he was planning on“tying up a [Black man] and dragging him from my bumper through the streets of Randolph.”

This is not a joke. It is a fantasy about committing a lynching.

Here are some other messages, which speak for themselves:

“2 park rangers stabbed in Boston Common… has to be the work of a nigger”

“Let’s get some horses and white sheets and burn a cross in the arboretum”

“We could use them niggers as dart boards.”

“Why don’t black people get sunburnt? Because prisons are indoors.”

“America sucks… Hitler was really onto something, then the fucking US had to step in and ruin it.”

These messages were not isolated. They spanned years. They appeared in conversations with friends, colleagues, and other officers. They were part of his daily communication. After running into an apparently attractive woman, Proctor said,

“Haha can’t wait to look this cunt up tonight at work”

They reveal a worldview in which Black lives were disposable, women were objects, and violence was entertainment. They reveal a man who should never have been given a badge. The articles mentioning Proctor’s quotes only give you an inkling of his deep-seated bigotry. You need to read the complaint filed by Karen Read and her attorneys to get a true understanding.

Here’s a sample of what you aren’t seeing in the articles:

“I haven’t shot anyone, but I did pull a nigger over today for tossing a cigarette out the window.”

“It should be ‘punch a nigger day’ in Canton today out of retribution. Any shine you see, blast it in the face.”

The “Slow Response” Mentality: Letting a Black Crash Victim Die

Proctor texted a fellow officer in discussion of a multi-car crash:

“Actually, take your time, I saw a nigger was involved, so I wouldn’t rush if you’re working. Let them die,”

When an officer fantasizes about dragging a Black man behind his car, when he expresses hatred toward Black people, when he jokes about violence, it raises a chilling question:

Would he let someone die?

The public record shows no investigation into whether Proctor ever delayed aid to a Black victim. No audit of his emergency responses. No review of his dispatch logs. No inquiry into whether his racism translated into real‑world harm.

But the possibility is not hypothetical. It is grounded in his own words. A man who fantasizes about killing a Black person cannot be trusted to protect one. A man who jokes about violence cannot be trusted to respond quickly when violence occurs. A man who expresses hatred cannot be trusted to act with compassion.

The failure to investigate whether Proctor ever allowed harm to occur is not a minor oversight. It is a moral failure. It is a failure of leadership. It is a failure of accountability. And it is a failure that leaves unanswered questions about the lives he may have touched — or failed to save.

How do you separate policing from the racist beliefs of police officers? You can’t. In many cases, the remedy will be to let innocent and potentially guilty people go because of improper investigations. Every case Michael Proctor has been involved in is being investigated, and we may get the answer to the question of whether he let people die, or even killed some, as he dreamed of. Multiply Michael Proctor times America and see what you get.

America’s police forces have work to do.