Diane Craglow was caring for a 14-year-old autistic boy named Connor Leibel in Buckeye, Ariz., one day in July. They took a walk to one of his favorite places, a park in an upscale community called Verrado. She was not hesitant to leave Connor alone for a few minutes while she booked a piano lesson for his sister nearby, because he usually feels safe and comfortable in places that are familiar to him, and he learns to be more independent that way.<\/p>\n
When Ms. Craglow returned, she couldn\u2019t believe what she saw: a police officer looming over the now-handcuffed boy, pinning him to the ground against a tree. Connor was screaming, and the police officer, David Grossman, seemed extremely agitated.<\/p>\n
As Ms. Craglow tried to piece together what had happened, more officers arrived, spilling out of eight patrol cars in response to Officer Grossman\u2019s frantic call for backup. Soon it became clear to Ms. Craglow that the policeman was unaware that Connor has autism, and had interpreted the boy\u2019s rigid, unfamiliar movements \u2014 which included raising a piece of yarn to his nose to sniff it repeatedly \u2014 as a sign of drug intoxication.<\/p>\n
As a graduate of Arizona\u2019s Drug Evaluation and Classification program, Officer Grossman is certified as a \u201cdrug recognition expert.\u201d But no one had trained him to recognize one of the classic signs of autism: the repetitive movements that autistic people rely on to manage their anxiety in stressful situations, known as self-stimulation or \u201cstimming.\u201d That\u2019s what Connor was doing with the string when Officer Grossman noticed him while he was on patrol.<\/p>\n