My night in jail
Mar. 1st, 2003 11:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ambitious_wenchOn February 24, the Providence Journal ran an article entitled "Prisoner of Peace". Katherine Brown was among 95 arrested for trespass during a protest at the former and infamous "School of Americas", Fort Bennings, GA on November 17th, 2002. Because she plead "Not Guilty", she was sentanced to 3 months in jail.
What initially caught my attention was the picture that accompanied the article: A handsome woman sits in a kitchen, a pot of daffodils past their prime at her elbow, face cradled in one hand. She had short gray hair, and wore a plaid flannel shirt. The plaid reminded me of the "Black Watch" pattern. Burnt umber dishes could be seen sitting on a shelf behind her head. A white bowl of red apples sits at the edge of the shot. What caught me were her eyes, and smile. Wise eyes, thoughtful, direct. She smiles like the Mona Lisa.
She's noble. She's a role model. She's intelligent, and thoughtful. I think of my one night in jail, and I wonder if I could do the same thing.
I lived in West Warwick, the town where we recently had a tragic fire at a night club. Techi and I were asleep, and there came a battering at the front door. Not polite knocking, but fast, hard beating. The dogs immediately went nuts barking.
Techi got up and answered the door. I followed, putting on my bathrobe, rubbing sleep from my eyes. When she opened the door, there were three cops outside, two men, and a woman. I remember they asked if the building was an apartment building--not sure why. We said no, and then they asked which of us was Edith Howe. I said I was. "Come with us, you are under arrest."
"What for?"
Failure to pay a fine, it seems. I'd been stopped because my registration had expired, and fined. I had forgotten to pay the fine.
It was 3 AM. It was a weeknight. I was wearing only my bathrobe, and my feet were cold. I asked if I could get dressed. They said yes, but be quick.
I put on bluejeans, a light sweatshirt, and my Ugg boots, thinking that I would be warm enough with my coat as well.
They handcuffed me with my hands behind my back, and I will never forget the sound of the cuffs ratcheting closed. The whole time, the female police officer was silent. She never said one word. The two males flanked me, and lead my by the elbows to the waiting patrol car, and put me in the back seat. I am 5' 5", and at the time weighed maybe 108 pounds. There was no room to put my feet on the floor, the backseat was pushed forward somehow, right to the front seat. I had to lay on on my hands. I rolled to my side. The female went to her car, and followed us to the police station. They said nothing to me the whole ride there. She disappeared when I was taken inside.
They took me into the back of the police station, a little unmarked door. It lead down a brightly lit hall to a window before a room. My name and address were asked of me, DOB. They removed the handcuffs , then searched me. A male police officer took my coat, handed it to one of the other police, and patted the entire length of my body. To his credit, it was not done with any perceivable pleasure. He was quick about it, professional. They took away my boots, and I stood barefoot in that hallway on the concrete floor. I shivered from the cold. They lead me to a cell. They did not photograph me, or take fingerprints. This wasn't a criminal offense, merely a traffic violation. I was not allowed a call for the same reason.
The cell was small, with bars across the front, concrete brick walls painted grey. There was a camera pointed into the cell outside. It had a red light under the lens. There were lockers on that wall, and they put my coat and boots into one of them, and locked it.
The cell had a metal platform bed bolted to the wall--it looked like something you would see in a morgue. Concrete floors. There was a toilet on the other side of the cell in the corner, about 3 feet from the head of the "bed". That toilet was in plain view of the camera. No blanket, no pillow. I was barefoot and had only a light sweatshirt and bluejeans. No socks. No underwear. If I had worn socks, they would have taken them. "Remove your shoes and socks" was what they had said.
It was cold. It was brightly lit. And that camera was on the whole time. I could not bring myself to relieve my bladder because of it. At about 6 am, they came around with cold black coffee, and stale donuts. One cup of the coffee, and one donut. The coffee was the worst I have ever had in my life--and I was in the Navy for 9 years, and have tasted some pretty nasty brew. I could not drink the stuff. Nor would I have tried, my bladder was already screaming for relief.
At 8 they gave me my boots and coat, and lead me and the others out into the main hallway. All night they had broght others in--men and women, about 8 of us if I recall. The handcuffed us together in pairs. "Now you two are going steady" the police officer said as he cuffed me to another woman. I looked at her and said "I'm sorry." I have no clue why.
They took us to the county courthouse. Tech was there with the money to pay the fine, and I was set free even before seeing the judge. My first act as a free woman was to find a toilet. And then I had to go to work, and explain why I was late to my supervisor.
I have tried to tell this account as objectively as I could. I have left out the feelings I experienced. Even writing this is painful to do. I think I said to Bill Peltz later in IM conversation "a Liberal is a Conservative who's had to spend a night in jail".
What initially caught my attention was the picture that accompanied the article: A handsome woman sits in a kitchen, a pot of daffodils past their prime at her elbow, face cradled in one hand. She had short gray hair, and wore a plaid flannel shirt. The plaid reminded me of the "Black Watch" pattern. Burnt umber dishes could be seen sitting on a shelf behind her head. A white bowl of red apples sits at the edge of the shot. What caught me were her eyes, and smile. Wise eyes, thoughtful, direct. She smiles like the Mona Lisa.
She's noble. She's a role model. She's intelligent, and thoughtful. I think of my one night in jail, and I wonder if I could do the same thing.
I lived in West Warwick, the town where we recently had a tragic fire at a night club. Techi and I were asleep, and there came a battering at the front door. Not polite knocking, but fast, hard beating. The dogs immediately went nuts barking.
Techi got up and answered the door. I followed, putting on my bathrobe, rubbing sleep from my eyes. When she opened the door, there were three cops outside, two men, and a woman. I remember they asked if the building was an apartment building--not sure why. We said no, and then they asked which of us was Edith Howe. I said I was. "Come with us, you are under arrest."
"What for?"
Failure to pay a fine, it seems. I'd been stopped because my registration had expired, and fined. I had forgotten to pay the fine.
It was 3 AM. It was a weeknight. I was wearing only my bathrobe, and my feet were cold. I asked if I could get dressed. They said yes, but be quick.
I put on bluejeans, a light sweatshirt, and my Ugg boots, thinking that I would be warm enough with my coat as well.
They handcuffed me with my hands behind my back, and I will never forget the sound of the cuffs ratcheting closed. The whole time, the female police officer was silent. She never said one word. The two males flanked me, and lead my by the elbows to the waiting patrol car, and put me in the back seat. I am 5' 5", and at the time weighed maybe 108 pounds. There was no room to put my feet on the floor, the backseat was pushed forward somehow, right to the front seat. I had to lay on on my hands. I rolled to my side. The female went to her car, and followed us to the police station. They said nothing to me the whole ride there. She disappeared when I was taken inside.
They took me into the back of the police station, a little unmarked door. It lead down a brightly lit hall to a window before a room. My name and address were asked of me, DOB. They removed the handcuffs , then searched me. A male police officer took my coat, handed it to one of the other police, and patted the entire length of my body. To his credit, it was not done with any perceivable pleasure. He was quick about it, professional. They took away my boots, and I stood barefoot in that hallway on the concrete floor. I shivered from the cold. They lead me to a cell. They did not photograph me, or take fingerprints. This wasn't a criminal offense, merely a traffic violation. I was not allowed a call for the same reason.
The cell was small, with bars across the front, concrete brick walls painted grey. There was a camera pointed into the cell outside. It had a red light under the lens. There were lockers on that wall, and they put my coat and boots into one of them, and locked it.
The cell had a metal platform bed bolted to the wall--it looked like something you would see in a morgue. Concrete floors. There was a toilet on the other side of the cell in the corner, about 3 feet from the head of the "bed". That toilet was in plain view of the camera. No blanket, no pillow. I was barefoot and had only a light sweatshirt and bluejeans. No socks. No underwear. If I had worn socks, they would have taken them. "Remove your shoes and socks" was what they had said.
It was cold. It was brightly lit. And that camera was on the whole time. I could not bring myself to relieve my bladder because of it. At about 6 am, they came around with cold black coffee, and stale donuts. One cup of the coffee, and one donut. The coffee was the worst I have ever had in my life--and I was in the Navy for 9 years, and have tasted some pretty nasty brew. I could not drink the stuff. Nor would I have tried, my bladder was already screaming for relief.
At 8 they gave me my boots and coat, and lead me and the others out into the main hallway. All night they had broght others in--men and women, about 8 of us if I recall. The handcuffed us together in pairs. "Now you two are going steady" the police officer said as he cuffed me to another woman. I looked at her and said "I'm sorry." I have no clue why.
They took us to the county courthouse. Tech was there with the money to pay the fine, and I was set free even before seeing the judge. My first act as a free woman was to find a toilet. And then I had to go to work, and explain why I was late to my supervisor.
I have tried to tell this account as objectively as I could. I have left out the feelings I experienced. Even writing this is painful to do. I think I said to Bill Peltz later in IM conversation "a Liberal is a Conservative who's had to spend a night in jail".