these conclusions. They would just come to you, blink. If you
were to approach a one-year-old child who sits playing on the
floor and do something a little bit puzzling, such as cupping
your hands over hers, the child would immediately look up into
your eyes. Why? Because what you have done requires
explanation, and the child knows that she can find an answer on
your face. This practice of inferring the motivations and
intentions of others is classic thin-slicing. It is picking up on
subtle, fleeting cues in order to read someone’s mind — and
there is almost no other impulse so basic and so automatic and
at which, most of the time, we so effortlessly excel. In the early
hours of February 4, 1999, however, the four officers cruising
down Wheeler Avenue failed at this most fundamental task.
They did not read Diallo’s mind.
First, Sean Carroll saw Diallo and said to the others in the
car, “What’s that guy doing there?” The answer was that Diallo
was getting some air. But Carroll sized him up and in that
instant decided he looked suspicious. That was mistake number
one. Then they backed the car up, and Diallo didn’t move.
Carroll later said that “amazed” him: How brazen was this man,
who didn’t run at the sight ofthe police? Diallo wasn’t brazen. He
was curious. That was mistake number two. Then Carroll and