If we hadn’t been stopped at the light, we probably would have missed it: a smallish, handwritten sign tacked up to a pole at the corner of Carlisle and Central in Albuquerque’s Nob Hill. Someone had printed the words in black marker on something tougher than paper, a remnant of plastic unlikely to yield too much even when beset by the desert winds. ‘The police will kill you,’ the sign said, its words rendered in careful capitals. Roy read the message aloud as we rolled past. “What does it mean?” he demanded, scandalized and nearly breathless. ‘What does it mean?” That was two months ago. Since Roy and I read that sign together, the Albuquerque Police Department has found itself in the uncomfortable position…