Seeing that I was no longer any risk of resisting the policeman stood up. Towering over me, he reached with his right hand across his upper torso to the mic of his radio located on his left shoulder and called for back-up, not that I was in a position too pose any threat. Pulling a set of cuffs from his belt, the policeman knelt down, rolled me over on my stomach, and cuffed my hands behind my back. He then angrily told me to get up lifting me by my bound hands at the same time. He walked me over to the cruiser, opened the back door, and roughly shoved me inside. I had caught my breath and, not daunted by my wounded pride and rough treatment, anger burned in my gut.
“Just stay where you are. No more bullshit from you,” he growled through the open door, “You’re under arrest.”
I was struck with incredulity at the injustice of the situation as I had done nothing but be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Indignation welled up in my throat.
“That’s absurd!” I exclaimed. “I was doing nothing but walking down the street minding my own business. I’ve done nothing! What’s the charge?”
“Obstruction of justice,” he spat venomously. “Now shut up!” and he slammed the door and stood beside it waiting. As the door closed I had wit enough to look through the window to see the name tag on his chest. It read Marshall or some such. I’ve forgotten. Through the years since I have come to refer to him affectionately as Constable Shithead. Innocent, I started to chirp in outrage at Constable Shithead through the closed window.
Moments after the door slammed shut a second cruiser arrived and pulled in behind the first at the curb. Back-up had arrived. A policeman exited the second cruiser and walked briskly towards Constable Shithead standing beside the closed back door of his cruiser in which I sat still chirping. The two exchanged a few words and then Constable Shithead bent down, opened the rear door, and yelled angrily at me, “Shut up or I will take you down town and book you on obstruction charges.”
Undaunted, I stopped chirping and thought about that for a second. I was guilty of nothing. I decided to raise the bet and call his bluff exclaiming,” You do that. I want you to book me so I get my day in court to stand before a judge to argue the charge and have you justify the use of force you predicated on me here tonight!”
Constable Shithead looked back over his shoulder at the other officer, turned back to me, scowled through the open door, and said nothing. Then he growled with clenched teeth and slammed the door shut. Apparently, I did not give him the response for which he was looking. Sometimes you just gotta use tough love.
The two officers stood outside the closed door and talked between themselves. I could not hear a word they were speaking. I sat quietly in the back of the cruiser wondering what would happen next. I must admit that while I was angry and outraged I was also a little fearful due the fact that I was convinced Constable Shithead was operating outside the law and, not knowing a thing about him, I was anxious at how far he would go with this. I sat looking through the closed window at the officers wondering what would become of me.
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Look for part 4 of this story in about 10 days. And do not forget to share this story with your friends on social media. To do so, click on the icons at the bottom of the story.