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I know at least one person has been waiting patiently for this story, so here's why I was in jail:
After I stepped into the ocean near Westerly, RI, as I walked back toward town, a cop stopped and asked me if I had seen some guy on crutches. The cop said there was a report that someone was stealing mail from mailboxes. Like always, I cooperated with the cop until he asked me for my ID. (When I get treated like a suspect for no reason, I respond how someone who's being treated like a suspect for no reason should respond: I stop cooperating and I assert my rights.)
Anyway, the cops took me down and cuffed me, never informing me that I was under arrest or why I was under arrest or that I had the right to remain silent (as required by law), which is all I was doing anyway. They roughed me up a little and put me in a cell at the Westerly police station, then wrote some bullshit report that I still haven't seen. Next day I went to court and pleaded not guilty to obstruction. Judge set my bail at $100 and set my next court date for 10/14. I had $44. I couldn't make any calls. I couldn't contact anyone.
When they took me to jail, all I could do was hope my mom would figure out that no blogging + no tweeting + no phone data usage = I'm in jail somewhere, instead of dead or a million other things. They would not let me call my mom to let her know that I wasn't dead; they exist just to fuck with people.
Eight days after I was "arrested," I received a piece of mail from Mom. I could finally exhale, knowing Mom wasn't freaking out, thinking I was dead. Just seeing the envelope with Mom's handwriting on it brought tears to my eyes because I finally knew she wasn't still in the dark.
I could have been out of jail after only one day if those piece-of-shit motherfuckers hadn't gone way out of their way to fuck with both me and my mom, breaking countless laws in the process just because they enjoy making people hurt.
By the time I received Mom's second letter, which informed me that I could post bail, I only had a couple days remaining until my court date. I decided to just wait it out.
So much more to it than that. Wait till you find out what happened only three days before I was put in jail. I originally was not going to write about it, but things changed, and now I think it's a very relevant story.
Oh yeah, and the walk is over. I have no need for any more of this kind of bullshit. (You now know about 10 percent of the story.)
I've been hanging out in Manhattan the last five days. (You would have known that five days ago if you followed me on Twitter.)
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2 comments:
You're not telling us about your court appearance on 10-14.
What was the outcome of this cop nuttiness?
Wow. Your mom wasn't the only one worrying, although I'm sure she was the one worrying the most. Isn't everyone arrested entitled to one phone call? Or is that just in the movies?
You should do another walk, but this time bring a camera and make a documentary about this kind of thing. I bet it would make an eye-opening film.
Seems to me that crimes happen (or appear to be happening) all over the place, all the time, and when you walk, it's only a matter of time before you wander into an actual (or perceived) crime scene. It could be you that triggered the perceived crime, like last year when you were arrested, or that you just find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time. In any case, the circumstances seem to make the cops think they are justified in demanding your identification. Crazy.
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