The New Carrolton police officers carefully eyed the two husky men, each weighing around 300 pounds, as the pair walked through the police training session.
For the previous hour, the officers had been in a mandatory class about autism, armed only with trays of doughnuts and a box of coffee. They sat with arms crossed and blank stares. Only a few asked questions.
Then the two burly men, both in their mid-30s, spoke. Their voices sounded high and reedy, like that of preteen boys. The conversation turned to professional wrestling and superhero movies, until a veteran sergeant leaned forward and asked them a crucial question: “What’s your favorite Pokémon character?”
Eyes softened.
Arms uncrossed.
Curiosity increased.
The Benjamin brothers had done it again.
The curriculum is the centerpiece of the nonprofit’s mission: training area law enforcement officers and educating family caregivers or others who may encounter a person with autism. They’ve trained more than 15,000 people through online and in-person courses.
Kenny and Brad Benjamin liken their work to a comic book legend and head of the X-Men.
“Just like professor Charles Xavier is trying to get people to understand about mutants … not to be a threat to mankind but a part of it,” Kenny Benjamin said.
What the brothers don’t realize is that as their parents approach retirement, time may be running out for their superhero vision of making Maryland safer for people like them.
Retired plastic surgeon James Benjamin and his wife, Joyce, launched the nonprofit in 2014 after reading about a case in Richmond in which an African American autistic man was convicted of hurting a police officer during an emergency call and faced a prison sentence.
Immediately, James and Joyce Benjamin recognized that police officers might view their sons as a threat in an emergency — two biracial, bulky men who are as immature as middle-schoolers.
“They are kids in men’s bodies,” James Benjamin said.
So, the couple immersed their family — and $250,000 of their savings — into trying to make a difference.
The nonprofit’s headquarters overtakes their split-level home in Bowie, Md., which once served as a home office where the Benjamins would prepare patients for tummy-tucks and other procedures.
Now, shelves lining their basement walls are filled with merchandise such as backpacks; T-shirts; and identification cards, bracelets and USB cards that download personal info to help authorities reunite lost family members.
Brad and Kenny sit at computers and help Joyce Benjamin fulfill requests from clients and brand merchandise with logos via a heat-press machine.
Kenny Benjamin is resolute: “We’re going to do this as long as we want until the whole world learns about autism and Asperger’s,” he says.
But AutismFYI is threatened by the passage of time.
Years of performing operations led to crippling back problems for James Benjamin, 78. His wife, who is 68, just wants to relax.
“I did my best,” Joyce Benjamin said. “We put training out online for free … but at that point you can’t do everything for the world. Hopefully someone else would just take up the cause.”
The couple give themselves two more years for their curriculum to be absorbed by a larger autism group or to find the money to hire their replacement.
“I don’t see it ending. I see it as too necessary in every state, every country,” Joyce Benjamin says. “But it takes a lot of people. Can’t just be me.”
AutismFYI lecturer and retired Prince George’s County Police Sgt. Michelle Grimes translated medical jargon during the training session.
She clicked through PowerPoint slides:
“Autism is a neuro-development disorder that may or may not present obvious symptoms.”
Some people “may become non verbal when stressed.”
Officers were warned that unwanted touching could easily trigger some people. Avoidance of eye contact is typical.
The Benjamin brothers’ presence loosened up the room as the questions flowed:
Would the lights and sirens trigger them?
Can a person with autism follow commands?
“Time, patience and distance are the three things,” Grimes said.
How well do you take direction?
Give one directive at a time, Joyce Benjamin suggested.
“Yeah, one step at a time,” Kenny said.
Before his sons even arrived, James Benjamin made a personal plea:
“We’re asking a lot of you, and I want you take care of my kid.”
