Wrongful arrest trip report as requested by P. Joker

Chump Change · #1 08-19-2006, 05:05 PM

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Man, i've got the mother of all trip reports about being wrongfully imprisoned. Two, actually, one about me and one about somebody I know.

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Um.... we're waiting.

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(This is a branch off from the other thread, concerning the teenage parents on trial for sexually assaulting their child.
I noticed in the middle of writing Joker requested the in-between length, and this seemed like it was getting long. I'm really getting a kick out of telling this story though, it's been awhile since I have. So I made it into two parts and if anybody is engaged enough after the first I guess they'll want to read the second. So,)

C'EST LA VIE

or

HOW I SPENT 2 DAYS IN SOLITARY, TWO DAYS IN THE COOK COUNTY JAIL, HAD A $50,000 BOND, SPENT 3 MONTHS ON HOUSE ARREST, AND SPENT 2 MONTHS ATTENDING DRUG COUNSELING FOR POSSESSING 2 PILLS OF TYLENOL

by C. Change

Disclaimer #1: I am a white boy, or white young man. I have long hair.

Disclaimer #2: A bit of backstory; I lived at a place with a few friends. We each had a 'random [censored] drawer' in the kitchen. Whenever somebody was cleaning up and there was something lying around, it would go into the person's drawer. When I moved out I dumped everything in my drawer into a book bag. The story starts a week after I move into my new place.

This was 2002, and I was 22 years old. It was a friday morning, and I took a bike ride to the grocer to get some fruit. I empty most of my bookbag to make room for the produce. This was in chicago and I had just moved to the Morgan Park neighborhood, around 107th and Wood. I was biking down Longwood avenue when it started drizzling, so I stopped into the park on 96th and Longwood to chill under the gazebo and get a drink of water.

As i'm chilling, I see a black and white pull into the park and start driving across the grass, making a beeline for where I was at. At this point in time, it had been so long since I had been on the wrong side of the law, or had any run-ins with cops, so it was simply a matter of curiosity and no real concern. The car stops and the cops get out. One of them asks me what I am doing.

"Waiting for the rain to stop so I can get to the store," I say.

The cop pauses and says, "It's not raining."

There is still the faintest of drizzles coming down, and I notice the car's windshield wipers are still on.

At this point it creeps into the back of my mind that this day, one way or the other, I am going to get [censored].

The officers approach me and one of them says, "We've had some reports of some drug activity in this park."

"I'm sorry to hear that, officer," I reply.

The two are upon me at this point; one of them throws me against the wall and begins searching my person while the other grabs my bag and begins searching it. My pockets are essentially empty save for my produce money. The cop finds it and asks me, "What are you doing with so much money?"

The amount in question was 55 US dollars.

At this point the thought of my impending [censored]-itude, creeping in the back of my mind, races to the front.

The other cop is going through all the random items in the bag, and keeps asking what all the different pills are.

"Vitamin C and E, officer," i'd reply.

Or, "Those are ibuprofen, officer."

Et cetera. I was a basketball player with some nagging injuries, as well as very health conscious and I always had vitamin C and a multivitamin and some ibuprofen on me, at least. I even had a broken hand at the time, actually. It was only wrapped in an ace bandage, however, for it was misdiagnosed as a sprain, another long story in itself. For some dramatic foreshadowing, my wrapped up appendage becomes a great source of amusement for a group of policemen later in this story.

The officer then pulls out a sandwich bag with two tiny pills in it, and again asks me. I don't recognize these pills as being mine, and curse myself for not checking the drawer, or my bag before I left. But I think, what could they possibly be. I look closer and notice a "3" on the pills and remember how I had a tylenol 3 prescription from about 4 years prior for a broken finger, though I found it hard to believe these were the same pills, floating around for years. A former roommate had tylenol 3 for bad knees as well, constantly kneeling in the course of his home renovation work, and his might've been accidentally put into my drawer. I felt very rusty, not having dealt with cops for awhile, and was unsure of the best play. A long and detailed story rings with more truth, but requires an empathetic or sympathetic listener. I tell the officer, "I'm not sure, either tylenol or tylenol 3. I always carry anti-inflammatories due to all the bike riding and basketball playing I do." I figure a little information to ease the suspicion will help.

"No they're not," the drug czar says with an edge of hostility. "These are ecstacy."

The trap springs shut.

They cuff me and throw me in the back of the car, while throwing my bike in the trunk. I begin pleading, seeing as I was knowledgable of the fact that ecstacy possesion recently had become a much more severe crime, that the pills are not ecstacy, if you have to arrest me do it for something other than that. I explain the story of the 'random [censored] drawers'.

Et cetera.

The officer driving then says, "We can settle this easily. We'll stop at the Walgreen's pharmacy around the corner." I think to myself, what a marvelous idea, and maybe I had it all wrong with these two cops. I was impressed.

We pull into the pharmacy and passenger cop gets out. I say something to the effect, shouldn't I go with him? I don't have a reply when he questions whether or not I possess a level of distrust for his fellow officer. The fellow exits the pharmacy, and upon getting getting back in asks me, "What did you say these pills are?"

"Tylenol 3," I reply.

"Well, that's exactly what they are."

A cool and refreshing wave of relief washes over me, relieving enough for me to not notice at first that maybe 45 seconds go by while the two are whispering to each other. I'm thinking, um, great, uh, let's get these cuffs off boys. Pharmacy cop then asks me, "You know tylenol 3 isn't an over-the-counter medication?"

"Yeah, it's a low grade painkiller, tylenol with a smidgen of codeine," I explain. "They hand it out for everthing, toothaches, sprained ankles. I had some years ago for a broken finger, those are the leftovers floating around."

I say this with a much firmer tone, an air of conviction, believing that my wrapped up hand and wrist will bolster the story.

"Do you have the prescription?" Pharmacy asks.

"Well, um, no, that was years ago."

Another bout of whispering breaks out in the front seat.

Driver cop asks, "You ever been to jail?"

"No."

As somebody or something is my witness, driver cop then, actually, says the following:

"Well, there's a first time for everthing," as he starts up the car and we drive off.

****

Part 2 to follow.

Quicksilvre · #2 08-19-2006, 05:12 PM

Cook County, Illinois?

Remind me to never ever visit Chicago.

-zero- · #3 08-19-2006, 05:13 PM

I guess they couldn't accept being wrong.

Chump Change · #4 08-19-2006, 05:17 PM

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Cook County, Illinois?

Remind me to never ever visit Chicago.

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Indeed, sir. Commonly known as one of the worst prisons in the country.