Though Mackey often faces pushback from others, typically non-white and non-male characters, the show implicitly permits his disturbing behavior through the establishment of his patriarchal role of father. Ortner insists:

“Patriarchy as a social formation of power relations always has two sides, one predicated on threat and domination by those above over those below, and the other predicated on love and protection of those above to those below. The protective side of patriarchy is particularly relevant in family organization, but it is also especially visible in the context of the patriarchal organization of the police. Indeed, it is this that gives us the most visible and hateful aspect of police brutality beyond the beating or killing itself: the impunity of the beaters and killers” (2022: 148).

Within this context, the series frames Mackey as that which holds the line against complete unrest in Farmington. Like the ideal father figure, he protects his home (Farmington) and family (its residents) and turns to corporal punishment against those who threaten the safety of his dependents. Especially in the first season of the series, Mackey is regularly rescuing innocent women and children from drugs, exploitative pimps, pedophiles, gang-members and other horrors that await the innocents of Farmington the moment they step out their front door.

Danny answers the door to her date.	Dutch cleans out his desk (S1E1).

Chopra-Gant in his writing on The Shield describes how the series places Mackey as protector of the public. It does so by depicting other officers’ personal lives at the end of the pilot episode. Wyms goes home to her golden retriever, Danny goes on a date, Aceveda cradles his baby, while Dutch in latex gloves with a sponge cleans feces out of his desk drawer (due to a prank played on him earlier in the episode) (Chopra-Gant, 2012). Meanwhile, Mackey and the Strike Team load their weapons and pile into a van preparing for a drug raid. Communicating to audiences that Mackey and the Strike Team are never off the clock. While his power is enforced by violence, his propensity to protect the women and children of Farmington allows for (certain) viewers to consider Mackey’s vigilante justice comforting. Shawn Ryan, the show’s creator explains:

“Vic cuts corners, but when it comes to your kid, he’s exactly the kind of bastard you want on the street…Vic speaks to something in the American people, and he does embody a very contemporary dilemma.” (Marshall, 2009).

Vitale argues that in popular media, justice often comes in the form of revenge. These “revenge fantasies”, as he refers to them, play out often on The Shield.The series continuously reminds viewers that in Farmington violence is an everyday occurrence: gang activity, drugs, murder, and rape are part of daily life. This structuring, perhaps inadvertently, communicates to viewers that Farmington demands more police action and harsher police tactics. Much of the justice doled out on The Shield takes place on the streets, by the Strike Team, or in the interrogation room, typically by Wyms and Dutch. Viewers are never taken inside the courtroom; the purposeful avoidance of any judicial settings contributes to the perception that a criminal’s just desserts get served on the streets. To further establish this point, the few times the series does take audiences into penitentiary spaces, they are depicted as under the control of criminals who thrive within this space. These scenes imply that offenders fare better in prison than they do on the streets of Farmington, thanks to Mackey’s stronghold. Thus, on The Shield, criminals’ punishments are meted out by police, not judges.

This establishes a central tenet of the series- that justice often cannot be achieved within the confines of the law, in the courts, and with prison sentences. To this point, the episodes usually present two methods of crime control. First, the interrogation, often helmed by Wyms and Dutch, sometimes with a parent or lawyer present. These interrogations last hours, sometimes continuing over days or weeks until offenders finally admit to their crimes. Within the interrogation room, there’s a sense of relief when a criminal confesses their transgressions; it’s palpable to both the detectives and the accused. The interrogation room becomes a place of truth, where the wheels of justice turn, albeit slowly. Compare these scenes to Mackey and the Strike Team’s chaotic car chases, beatdowns, running down alleyways and jumping over fences to grab suspects by the collar. Mackey’s interrogations, for example, have involved driving gang members into enemy territory threatening to leave them, holding someone over a building’s edge, forcing a suspect’s head into a snake tank, or just an old fashioned gun to the head.

Mackey’s violent interrogation tactic- Left, (S7E13) Right, (S5E1).

However disturbing Mackey’s actions are, if we interpret them on a different scale, within the confines of neoliberal capitalism, his actions do get results. Within current social conditions, for example, hyper-consumption and human rights abuses are inextricably linked (Pérez & Esposito, 2010). Although such a juxtaposition is traditionally made in considering the creation of tangible items like fast-fashion clothes and sweat-shop labor, the way consumers ignore this relation can also be applied to how they overlook the more violent aspects of police work. As Ryan suggested, people are often satisfied to ignore the plight of non-white citizens in low income neighborhoods, as long as they feel safer. Thus the most brutal policing appears to get the most satisfactory results.

In season two Wyms found Mackey to have facilitated the physical assault of Adam, an innocent man, because he suspected that he might have been involved in the murder of teenage boy:

“WYMS: You allowed an innocent man to get the shit kicked outta him.
MACKEY: He’s not innocent. He’s a pedophile. You should’ve seen the diseased crap we found at his place.
WYMS: But he’s innocent of this crime.
MACKEY: Well, I’m sure he’ll think twice before cruising the schoolyard and committing his next crime.
WYMS: But he’s innocent now! You just don’t get that do ya?” (S2E12).

The exchange places Wyms as an anchoring force in the Barn,[1] [open endnotes in new window] maintaining a strong code of ethics, balanced by a cynical awareness of Mackey. They have two visions of justice. Wyms sees honor in following the law, while Mackey views the law as a starting point from which to apprehend and intimidate criminals. The series sets up an interplay between these two iterations of policing, Wyms seeks justice after a crime has been perpetrated; Mackey hopes to prevent crimes from being committed. This is the crux of The Shield’s position on U.S. policing- that the most effective policing is the most violent and inhumane and has little regard for codified law.

Nicholas Ray argues,

“The Shield’s symbolic universe is so constructed that when Mackey suspends or is required to suspend law in the name of law, the result is habitually engineered to be safely to the benefit of the juridical order” (Ray, 2012).

Mackey’s propensity for using brutality for good tilts the audience in his favor. For instance, this happens when he spearheads the investigation and subsequent arrest of gang members planning to get school children addicted to heroin (S2E5), and again when he helps solve a gruesome massacre of women and children at a domestic violence shelter (S2E6). His desire to protect the women and children of Farmington extends beyond the clock, for example, when he helps Connie, a drug-addicted sex worker, detox from crack, quitting cold turkey so she can regain custody of her son, Brian (S1E10). Chopra-Gant explains that the show’s

“specific anxiety about children [and women] is actually symptomatic of The Shield’s more general symbolic deployment of the family- with Mackey as its patriarchal head- as a metaphor for society as a whole” (Chopra-Gant, 2012).

Earlier in the series audiences witnessed Mackey’s tender relationship with Connie; he tried his best to keep her safe and help her regain custody of her son. After her death (S2E6) his run-ins with other sex-workers and addicts are brutal, belying a viewer’s belief that Mackey’s paternal powers are used to inform a moral compass.

Farrah, a friend of Connie’s, requests his help in investigating her friend’s murder, initially Mackey refuses:

“FARRAH: My girl gets murdered, and you don’t give a shit? Don’t care I’m next?
MACKEY: By me, that’s euthanasia.
FARRAH: Vic…
MACKEY: I’ve already been down this road with this slut, her mouth is only good for two things and one of them is lying through her teeth.” (S7E7)

The vulgar disregard with which he treats Farrah is illustrative of a larger shift for Mackey. The abuse he now exercises over his “families” stems from his own control and power— the badge. In fact, once Mackey is threatened by the loss of his badge, he heavily leans on other markers of power to enforce authority, namely his maleness. In the same episode we see his treatment of Farrah set in stark contrast to Shane Vendrell, another member of the Strike Team’s, treatment of another sex worker on the case, whom Vendell vows to protect. Throughout The Shield, Vendrell, Mackey’s right-hand-man, causes the most chaos within the Strike Team, and is the greatest threat to Mackey’s paternal position within the team.

Chopra-Gant attributes this to Vendrell’s own position as a new father within the later seasons:

“Vendrell’s increasingly belligerent attitude toward Mackey can be interpreted as a sign of his refusal to remain in a subordinate position to the Strike Team now he is about to become a father himself: it is a claim of ownership of the law of the father that challenges Mackey’s exclusive possession of that authority (137).

Ironically, at the end of the episode Mackey discovers Farrah had set him up to kill her pimp. After he verbally and physically assaulted her, she mockingly yelled to him as he walked away:

“I still got you handling my business for me. May not be so pretty anymore, but I am walking, talking pussy, and you let me lead you by your dick! You ever thought about cutting it off? Freeing your mind once and for all?” (S7E7)

In some sense Farrah’s lines reestablish Mackey as righteous, his original suspicions about her materializing in the final minutes of the episode. However, coming at the eleventh hour of the series, the sentiment of Farrah’s statement is telling, especially as a bookend to the series. Mackey’s identity as a member of the LAPD and as a man propel him through the series; his selfhood is enmeshed with fatherhood, virility, alpha-brutality, and a continuous conflict with women in power. I contend that Farrah’s use of the term “dick” acts as a metonym for his badge. Mackey’s enforcement of the law has always been steeped in hyper-masculinity. Her suggestion of “cutting it off” and freeing himself comes at a time where he has only ten days until he must forcibly surrender his badge. Thus, Farrah’s mocking words beg him to consider what life will be like when something so intrinsic to his identity is removed, whether that be his “dick” or his badge.

Mackey’s hold on the Strike Team and his own family slowly unravels as he struggles to keep his job. After the murder of Lem[2] in season five, the Strike Team slowly cannibalizes itself. The series ends with Vendrell poisoning his pregnant wife and son and killing himself to avoid prison. Meanwhile, Ronnie is arrested; Mackey incriminates Ronnie in a confession, and signs himself onto ICE, receiving full immunity for his crimes. As punishment Mackey is forced off the streets and into a menial desk job, while his ex-wife, Corrine, and his children are put into protective custody. The final episode closes with Mackey finishing his first day at the office with the creeping realization that his misdeeds have completely isolated him.             

On his desk he places pictures of his children, that he can no longer see, and Lem, the Strike Team member murdered by Vendrell. Sitting with the proof of his failures as a leader, protector, and father, Mackey walks towards the window and watches police cars with sirens blaring as they drive down the street. He takes his gun out of a safe, tucks it into his pants, and leaves the office with a smirk. Chopra-Gant (2012) argues that despite being fully disempowered, official forms of authority have never given Mackey his power anyway:

“In [the ending’s] ambiguity it preserves the possibility that Mackey has not been defeated at all—that even though outside official channels of law enforcement, he will continue to operate unseen as the maverick protector of a society from which he must always remain apart (143)”

Such an ending reiterates Ortner’s assertion that the police operate with the presumption that white men are superior and hold status that is vital to the basic functioning of society. Therefore, Mackey’s power emanates from his identity as a white male and not necessarily as a codified member of the police force.

While one could dismiss The Shield as a revenge fantasy, the reality is that The Shield’s origins are not based in fiction. The Strike Team was a task force designed to focus on gang-related crime; these gang-focused task forces began to emerge in the 1980s and 90s. By 2003, there were an estimated 360 gang units in the United States (Vitale, 2017). Vitale notes that these gang units typically follow a similar pattern, becoming isolated and insular from their co-workers. He continues:

“Their specialized function and intelligence-gathering aspect lend them an air of secrecy and expertise that they cultivate to reduce outside supervision or accountability.”

This result of the gang units’ specialization was evidenced most notably during the Rampart Scandal of 1999, which exposed the corruption within the LAPD CRASH (Community Resources Against Street Hoodlums) unit.[3] During the investigation CRASH unit officers were accused of false arrests, unlawful shootings, beatings, robberies, and drug dealing. As a result, hundreds of prior convictions were overturned, several officers were forced to retire or incarcerated, and the city paid out millions in damages to the families affected by their crimes (Vitale, 2017). In that regard, The Shield truly was “pulling back the curtain” on the corruption that exists within U.S. policing.

To conclude, the series ends with the most vicious characters, the members of the Strike Team, dead, in prison, or forced off the streets. The assumption that the purge of the Strike Team, the “bad apples”, will allow for morality to prevail in the Barn and within Farmington is a naïve one. In the pilot episode Wyms and Aceveda shared the following exchange:

“ACEVEDA: Doesn’t bother you, the things he does?
WYMS: I don’t judge other cops.
ACEVEDA: Mackey’s not a cop, he’s Al Capone with a badge.
WYMS: Al Capone made money by giving people what they wanted. What people want these days is to make it to their cars without getting mugged, come home from work, see their stereo still there, hear about some murder in the Barrio, find out the next day the police got the guy. If having those things means some cop roughs up some nigger or some spick in the ghetto, well, as far as most people are concerned it’s ‘don’t ask don’t tell.’” (S1E1).

Here, Wyms gets to the heart of neoliberalism’s impact on policing. What becomes most important is the protection of property and the speed and efficiency at which crimes are dealt with, unfortunately, many citizens are willing to sacrifice the how. As the series progresses Wyms becomes increasingly intolerant of Mackey and the Strike Team’s lawless behavior. In the final season, as the new captain of the Barn, she refutes her advice to Aceveda in season one, stating, “We can’t expect justice out there when we don’t demand it in our own house,” (S7E11), but the call has always been coming from inside the house. In the United States, policing as an institution is built on racism, classism, oppression, and violence. In this regard, the Strike Team’s very existence is a manifestation of urban policing policies.

The normalization of the brutality perpetuated on The Shield rests upon the dehumanization of the non-white and low-income citizens living in Farmington. However, this is by design, as Coleman argued, within the context of the ever-developing urban sprawls, free-market capitalism dictates that certain communities lower property values, risking the capital of wealthy property owners. In this sense, policing has been a street cleaning service of sorts, roughing up and arresting the homeless, loiterers, drug dealers, addicts, and others who dare to ruin the illusion of safety and the aesthetics of a gentrified urban zone. Ultimately, Mackey and the Strike Team operated within the boundaries of the law as interpreted by the logic of neoliberalism, with their ultimate fault being turning on each other. The Shield reminds audiences that the unraveling of the Strike Team and Mackey originates not from their near constant enactments of police brutality, but from the murder of Terry Crowley, and Lem, two white members of the LAPD. The Shield positions masculinity and whiteness as that which controls chaos in the multicultural streets of Farmington, at the same time exposing the hierarchy of worth placed on citizens, which informs enactments of justice within and beyond the constrictions of the law.