The Law, The Police, and YOU.
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- Hot for Teacher
- Posts: 3677
- Joined: Sat Sep 25, 2004 12:48 pm
- Pronouns: Dude or GURRRLLLL!
- Location: Charlotte, NC ... A big city on its first day at the new job.
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The Law, The Police, and YOU.
What do you think of the Police, be it local city, county, state?
It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Tampa, Florida and the city's Gasparilla Festival is in full swing. I'm walking down a street where there are considerably more people coming the opposite way and instead of trying to squeeze in and get by them I decide to use the sidewalk on the left even though its lined with city and county vehicles. The sidewalk was not closed and for the most part one could easily walk down it. EXCEPT there was the SWAT vehicle that had its back doors open and the one was zip tied to the fence on the right. This is where I made mistake #1. I had a drink or two in me and convinced myself there was enough room to get by. (having no idea that there were a about 10 SWAT team members sitting on the back of that truck. I did not successfully squeeze by and the tie broke. Please note that the door did NOT swing shut or anything...it simply hung there but was no longer tied to the fence.
I kind of laugh and start apologizing immediately and they are all pretty casual, being nobody 'jumped' or anything, they mostly just looked at me funny. EXCEPT one of the guys right there in the middle. He reacted with sarcasm and called out to me "hey genius!" and I'm caught a little off guard. I don't react right away so he says "HEY GENIUS!" again but louder. By now I have my bearings and I understand enough to react.
This is where I make mistake #2.
I laugh a little bit harder, point at him, and say "YOU'RE calling ME a genius?" sarcastically. Well, I guess he didn't think it was as funny as I did. He gets up and turns me around while twisting my arm upwards and starts asking me if I think sarcasm is funny now. I remind him very evenly that he was the one that started with the sarcasm. I didn't get the impression he cared who started it and he repeats himself. At this point, I get it. I'm supposed to say something that equates with 'uncle' and so I say "No Sir". He tells me not to come back up this street and asks me if I understand. Again I understand the game and say "Yes Sir" fighting the urge to have said "OH YES SIR" sarcastically. He then gives me a light shove out into the crowd while releasing me from his grip.
--
At first I thought this was pretty funny. I even started to grin directly afterwards. I told the story a couple of times and I didn't really have any problems with it for a couple of days. Then, I started to think about it. Really think about it. Now I'm starting to get really upset about the whole thing. He didn't hurt me and besides I have a pretty high threshold of pain so thats not what got me. What eventually got me was that he essentially bullied me. I thought, ok... I did something kind of stupid but what did I do that deserved that reaction.
I didn't violate any law, I wasn't acting suspicious, and I didn't even cuss or act confrontational. No physical threat, no verbal attack, and no threat of escalation. Yet *I* was physically addressed anyways. For what? For hurting his feelings? What lawfully gives this police officer the right to twist my arm behind my back and force me into his submission? Did my actions actually dictate disorder? Did my sarcastic words in reaction to his sarcastic words actually break any law or even make me enough of a threat to be subdued? Did he really need to do all of that to deescalate the situation?
I feel like I was basically bullied by some guy because he knew I couldn't do anything about it and now thats what burns me up. I've been reading A LOT about how cops are really becoming thugs. Prematurely using tasers instead of defusing situations in proper ways. I used to have a lot of respect for the police force but now I'm losing my faith. My last few run ins with the police have offered nothing but jerks, bullies, out right liars, and have been of no positive use when I have been in situations where I've needed them.
Whats going on? Is it really getting worse? If so, then where will it end?
It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Tampa, Florida and the city's Gasparilla Festival is in full swing. I'm walking down a street where there are considerably more people coming the opposite way and instead of trying to squeeze in and get by them I decide to use the sidewalk on the left even though its lined with city and county vehicles. The sidewalk was not closed and for the most part one could easily walk down it. EXCEPT there was the SWAT vehicle that had its back doors open and the one was zip tied to the fence on the right. This is where I made mistake #1. I had a drink or two in me and convinced myself there was enough room to get by. (having no idea that there were a about 10 SWAT team members sitting on the back of that truck. I did not successfully squeeze by and the tie broke. Please note that the door did NOT swing shut or anything...it simply hung there but was no longer tied to the fence.
I kind of laugh and start apologizing immediately and they are all pretty casual, being nobody 'jumped' or anything, they mostly just looked at me funny. EXCEPT one of the guys right there in the middle. He reacted with sarcasm and called out to me "hey genius!" and I'm caught a little off guard. I don't react right away so he says "HEY GENIUS!" again but louder. By now I have my bearings and I understand enough to react.
This is where I make mistake #2.
I laugh a little bit harder, point at him, and say "YOU'RE calling ME a genius?" sarcastically. Well, I guess he didn't think it was as funny as I did. He gets up and turns me around while twisting my arm upwards and starts asking me if I think sarcasm is funny now. I remind him very evenly that he was the one that started with the sarcasm. I didn't get the impression he cared who started it and he repeats himself. At this point, I get it. I'm supposed to say something that equates with 'uncle' and so I say "No Sir". He tells me not to come back up this street and asks me if I understand. Again I understand the game and say "Yes Sir" fighting the urge to have said "OH YES SIR" sarcastically. He then gives me a light shove out into the crowd while releasing me from his grip.
--
At first I thought this was pretty funny. I even started to grin directly afterwards. I told the story a couple of times and I didn't really have any problems with it for a couple of days. Then, I started to think about it. Really think about it. Now I'm starting to get really upset about the whole thing. He didn't hurt me and besides I have a pretty high threshold of pain so thats not what got me. What eventually got me was that he essentially bullied me. I thought, ok... I did something kind of stupid but what did I do that deserved that reaction.
I didn't violate any law, I wasn't acting suspicious, and I didn't even cuss or act confrontational. No physical threat, no verbal attack, and no threat of escalation. Yet *I* was physically addressed anyways. For what? For hurting his feelings? What lawfully gives this police officer the right to twist my arm behind my back and force me into his submission? Did my actions actually dictate disorder? Did my sarcastic words in reaction to his sarcastic words actually break any law or even make me enough of a threat to be subdued? Did he really need to do all of that to deescalate the situation?
I feel like I was basically bullied by some guy because he knew I couldn't do anything about it and now thats what burns me up. I've been reading A LOT about how cops are really becoming thugs. Prematurely using tasers instead of defusing situations in proper ways. I used to have a lot of respect for the police force but now I'm losing my faith. My last few run ins with the police have offered nothing but jerks, bullies, out right liars, and have been of no positive use when I have been in situations where I've needed them.
Whats going on? Is it really getting worse? If so, then where will it end?
- Billy's Little Trip
- Odie
- Posts: 12090
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The one thing a lot of people forget, is that cops are only human. Sure, they have rules to follow, but they might be having a bad day, caught his wife cheating with a guy that looks just like you, his dog died, etc etc.
Cops seem to be bossy pricks before they become cops. I have a few cop friends and one of them is on our softball team and is a huge prick. Him and I are always nip picking at each other because he's a sore loser and pretty much sucks. If he's playing a base and someone throws him the ball and he misses, he freaks out at the person throwing him the ball, etc. None are really close friends, but more like friends of friends, etc. We have a cop that plays in our weekly poker game every so often. That dude parties and is the furthest thing from pricks ville. He gets hammered and I pretty much rob him. Half the time his wife has to come pick him up. But I've also hooked him up on his pool issues, so we're cool.
So bottom line, the only difference between a cop and some average asshole on the street is that the cop can arrest you. So you have to look at it as, he has the upper hand before you even start. The same as if you were about to get into it with some asshole on the street, but he was holding a knife and you weren't. Choose your battles comes to mind.
Cops seem to be bossy pricks before they become cops. I have a few cop friends and one of them is on our softball team and is a huge prick. Him and I are always nip picking at each other because he's a sore loser and pretty much sucks. If he's playing a base and someone throws him the ball and he misses, he freaks out at the person throwing him the ball, etc. None are really close friends, but more like friends of friends, etc. We have a cop that plays in our weekly poker game every so often. That dude parties and is the furthest thing from pricks ville. He gets hammered and I pretty much rob him. Half the time his wife has to come pick him up. But I've also hooked him up on his pool issues, so we're cool.
So bottom line, the only difference between a cop and some average asshole on the street is that the cop can arrest you. So you have to look at it as, he has the upper hand before you even start. The same as if you were about to get into it with some asshole on the street, but he was holding a knife and you weren't. Choose your battles comes to mind.
Last edited by Billy's Little Trip on Tue Jan 29, 2008 11:08 am, edited 1 time in total.
- Rabid Garfunkel
- Jump
- Posts: 2468
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On the one hand... they're on their break, whilst still at full cop paranoia/attention level for all the people at the festival that they're responsible for the safety of, and you got their attention when they were trying to catch a breath.
On the other hand... contempt of cop should have an applicable and actionable counter, namely contempt of citizen.
On the other hand... contempt of cop should have an applicable and actionable counter, namely contempt of citizen.
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- Hot for Teacher
- Posts: 3677
- Joined: Sat Sep 25, 2004 12:48 pm
- Pronouns: Dude or GURRRLLLL!
- Location: Charlotte, NC ... A big city on its first day at the new job.
- Contact:
1. I realize this and this is what always gave them the benefit of the doubt. That and I've known a few cops and they were cool. I also realize that they have to be a little apprehensive when approaching a situation because of the potential for any situation to go bad, and they have to deal with this in high volume. But they have to be held to a standard no matter what. I can't cuss at a customer because I'm having a bad day and there is no excuse for a cop to be abusive to us.Billy's Little Trip wrote:1. The one thing a lot of people forget, is that cops are only human. Sure, they have rules to follow, but they might be having a bad day, caught his wife cheating with a guy that looks just like you, his dog died, etc etc.
2. So bottom line, the only difference between a cop and some average asshole on the street is that the cop can arrest you. So you have to look at it as, he has the upper hand before you even start. Choose your battles comes to mind.
2. The fact that a cop CAN arrest me should not be a reason for me to fear that consequence if I'm not doing anything suspicious or illegal. It should only enter the equation if I show potential for escalating a situation to that level. I'm sickened by the fact that I have to tip toe on eggshells around the police anymore. They have the upper hand but they don't need to flaunt it. You shouldn't have to 'choose your battles' unless you actually plan on battling. I'm not talking about yelling at a cop, all I'm saying is that he shouldn't be able to twist my arm behind my back for joking around. JOKING AROUND.
<font size="1">I'm not yelling at YOU BLT, I'm just counter pointing with opinion. I don't want you to take my post on personal level.</font>
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- Mean Street
- Posts: 590
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I've already written up the story of my brush with the law for a usenet post about a decade ago, and it's a fairly long story so rather than rewrite it I'm just going to cut and paste here:
For some reason, that I no longer recall, I found myself in the vicinity
of what used to be my 'local' pub. I hadn't been there for about 3 years,
and I had some time to kill, so I popped in to have a quick drink (coke,
as I was driving my motorbike that evening), and to see if any of the old
regulars were there.
The place hadn't changed too much, and it was all rather nostalgic. Anyway,
I bumped into an old friend from school, and we got chatting about life and
other meaningless things, as one does in these situations. After a short
while, it was suggested that we go back to my old friend's flat and get well
and truly smashed. So I decided to leave the bike in the pub carpark, go and
get drunk, and then retrieve it the following morning (or, more likely,
afternoon...). With my old schoolfriend was another person who I hadn't met
before, and he happened to have a car, so getting to the flat, and getting back
to my bike the next morning (the plan was for me to crash on the sofa) wouldn't
be a problem.
So there I am, in the back of this car, heading off to my old schoolfriend's
flat. I thought it was a bit odd when my friend asked me if I had been
following him on my bike earlier in the evening, but paid no real attention
to it. I didn't really notice, at the time, the worried tone in which he
asked this question. Strangely enough, I was also rather oblivious to events
when my friend said to the driver "Quick, turn left here. Now right again. Damn,
he's still there." and various other hastily-given directions.
About half way through a rather less than straightforward route the the flat,
I notice that we've stopped. This is rather strange, as we're on a dual
carriageway, and the road ahead is completely devoid of traffic. Whilst I'm
wondering about this, I notice that another car has stopped, on the right-hand
lane, exactly next to us. Inside this car are four rather well built gentlemen,
and one of these shouts "Right, get out of the car, >now<". I still haven't
much of a clue about what is going on, and the first thought that flashes
through what passes for my brain is 'Oh >shit<. They've obviously upset someone
they shouldn't have. Bye-bye kneecaps.'. The next thing I know, the car door
is flung open, I'm dragged out, and my head is slammed down on the boot of the
car. My arms are grabbed, thrust behind my back, and then <click!> I'm wearing
handcuffs. 'Oh, it's the police. Well, at least my kneecaps are safe then'.
I'm marched off to the side of the road, and the first thing the policeman
says to me is "So, have you got much form then, sonny ?". Honestly. Word-for-
word.
"Huh ?" qouth I, being my usual articulate self.
"Don't give me that. How long have you been doing this ?" says the cop.
"Doing what ? I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Yeah, of course you haven't." I don't think he was convinced.
"Honestly, you're making a mistake here. I haven't done anything !"
Anyway, PC Plod doesn't believe a word I'm saying, and the above conversation
continues along similar lines for about 5 minutes before he tells me than I'm
being arrested for suspicion of burglary. (What the fuck?).
A panda car pulls up, and carts me off to the police station. I'm searched
(I happened to have about 1/16th of an ounce of cannabis with me, for which
I later received a caution), and have my possesions confiscated (including
my belt, shoelaces ('What ? Like I could hang myself with those even if I
wanted to ?') and inhaler (I suffer, rather badly, from asthma). I object
to the removal of this last item from my person, as the chances were very
good that I would need it sometime during the night (I generally tend to
feel rather constricted whenever I wake up). But no, perhaps Sgt. Plod
thinks I'm gonna ram it down my throat and choke myself to death on it
or something, so I'm told that, if I need it, I will have to shout for it.
So I find myself locked up in a cell. Wonderful places, police cells. I
pass some time reading the graffiti, and wondering how anyone ever managed
to get a marker pen into the cell in the first place (before I notice that
all of the graffiti happens to be in the same brownish colour, and decide
not to spend too much time thinking about it's origins after that), before
finally deciding to get some sleep.
In the middle of the night, I wake up, and surprisingly enough I need my
inhaler. So I shout. And shout some more. And then run out of breath to
shout with (obviously, during an asthma attack, breath is at something
of a premium, and I decide that it would be more worthwhile using it to
continue breathing...). By this stage, I'm getting a little worried. So
I take off one of my shoes, grip the sole, and use the heel to hammer
repeatedly on the cell door. After about five minutes of this, with
not a peep from any of the plods, I need to stop to catch my breath
again. Now I'm getting more than a little worried. One hears of people
dying in police cells, but, y'know, it's not like it's going to happen to
you. Is it ?
After pausing for about 10 minutes to catch my breath, I resume hammering
on the door. And then have to stop to catch my breath again. This cycle
is repeated for at >least< one hour, with the time between hammering getting
longer and longer, and the time hammering getting shorter and shorter. And,
of course, with me starting to become convinced that I am, in fact, going
to die in here. Panic does not go far enough to describe it.
Finally, I hear a <stomp, stomp, stomp> down the corridor, and the panel on
the cell door is slammed open. Some very pissed off copper peers in and shouts
at me 'What the fuck is your problem ?'. 'Asphyxiation' (sp?) I reply, weakly.
'It does tend to put a downer on your day. Can I have my inhaler now, or would
you rather wait until I pass out ?'. So the copper goes back and fetchs me my
inhaler (rather begrudgingly, I believe). I take a couple of doses, and after
about 10 minutes, I'm breathing normally again (which is some considerable
relief, I can tell you). And (can you beleive it ?) the copper takes my
inhaler off me again ! I try explaining to him that, as he may have noticed,
I don't carry it around with me for fun, and I do in fact need it. But no, he
doesn't appear to give a monkey's about that : "If you need it, just shout
for it" he says. Deja-vu ! I explain to him that I'd already tried that and
it didn't seem to work too well the last time, but he just reassures me that
he will make sure that this time someone will be around to hear me, and tells
me not to worry.
Don't worry. Yeah, right. I don't get any more sleep that night . . .
Morning arrives, and with it something that the constable assures me is
breakfast, but I have my doubts. (Is this a sausage, or has someone laid
a nice fresh turd on my plate ?). I can hardly bear to smell it without
retching; eating it is not an option.
I use my one phone call to call into work. "Hi, I'm sorry, but I can't come
in today, because I've been arrested, and am currently being held at the
police station." When I do get back to work, I find that my monitor has
been covered by bars, and someone has left a cherry bakewell with a file
in it on my desk. Such wits !
After a while, I'm taken to an interview room. (Hey, it looks just like they
do on The Bill !). I'm asked all the obvious questions (How long have I known
the other two, do I know what they do for a living etc...), and somehow the
story emerges. Basically, my old friend from school, and the other guy (who,
if you can recall that far back !, was driving) have been making a living for
the past 3 or 4 years by breaking into people's houses and wandering off with
their belongings. Apparently, they'd been so good at their chosen career, that
the police had gone to the lengths of renting out the flat in between their
two flats, and listening in on their conversations for the past month !
They'd been followed all afternoon, and had broken into some house or other
before going to the pub. When I had left the pub with them, the police had
come the the conclusion that I was involved in it all somehow, and had decided
to arrest them (us) whilst in possesion of stolen goods (I assume there must
have been something in the car boot).
Great !, thinks I, now I know what this is all about, I can sort it out and
explain their mistake to them. I ask them if the burglaries generally took
place during the daytime, Monday to Friday, and they tell me that that is
indeed the case. So I tell them that, for probably any given day on which
a burglary occured, I can prove to them that I was at work.
But unfortunately, life is not so simple. I work for a credit reference
agency. The following conversation ensues :
"So, could you, like, find out the names and addresses of people who
have recently applied for credit ?"
"Yes." (I've woken up by now, and I can see where this is heading, and I
don't like the sound of it at all)
"And could you find out what that credit was for ? Like, for example, the
purchase of electrical goods ?"
"Yes."
"And, if you did this, would anyone be able to tell if you'd done it or not,
and be able to trace it back to you ?"
"Well, I don't know for sure, as I don't work in the security department."
"But hazard a guess . . ."
"Well, I guess if I really wanted to, I could to it without it being traced
back to me, yes."
Yup, they think that I've been getting names and addresses of people who have
just splashed out on new goods, and passing these on to the burglars. Oh joy !
I'm taken back to the cell. Time passes. Quite a lot of time, actually. I amuse
myself by thinking of various painful ways to kill the officer who took my
inhaler off me. It cheers me up somewhat. I assume that, whilst I'm locked
up in the cell, the officers are questioning the other two, to see if they can
get any confirmation of their theory. I guess they can't, or that they've run
out of time to hold me without charging me, because eventually I'm told that
I'm free to go.
But the story doesn't end there.
I get back home, and my flatmate tells me that a couple of cops turned up
at about 2am, and searched the flat (I must be the only person in history
who's had the police leave their room in a tidier state than they found
it - I'm such a slob !). Apparantly, they don't need a warrent for this; if
you've been arrested for suspicion of burglary, then they have a statutory
power under the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984, section 18(1) to
search your premises provided they get an inspector (or higher rank) to
authorise it. (Gee, guys, it was good of you to tell me you'd done that when
you let me go...).
And, whilst I was tidying things up about a month ago, I came across the form
that they give you, with a copy of the inspector's signature, and I happened
to notice that it was signed on the 13/2/92. My flat was searched on the
14/4/92. Hmmm.... I didn't realise they had clairvoyent inspectors; I'm
impressed.
Ever since then, I've been of the opinion that our police force are, on
the whole, a bunch of fucking wankers.
For some reason, that I no longer recall, I found myself in the vicinity
of what used to be my 'local' pub. I hadn't been there for about 3 years,
and I had some time to kill, so I popped in to have a quick drink (coke,
as I was driving my motorbike that evening), and to see if any of the old
regulars were there.
The place hadn't changed too much, and it was all rather nostalgic. Anyway,
I bumped into an old friend from school, and we got chatting about life and
other meaningless things, as one does in these situations. After a short
while, it was suggested that we go back to my old friend's flat and get well
and truly smashed. So I decided to leave the bike in the pub carpark, go and
get drunk, and then retrieve it the following morning (or, more likely,
afternoon...). With my old schoolfriend was another person who I hadn't met
before, and he happened to have a car, so getting to the flat, and getting back
to my bike the next morning (the plan was for me to crash on the sofa) wouldn't
be a problem.
So there I am, in the back of this car, heading off to my old schoolfriend's
flat. I thought it was a bit odd when my friend asked me if I had been
following him on my bike earlier in the evening, but paid no real attention
to it. I didn't really notice, at the time, the worried tone in which he
asked this question. Strangely enough, I was also rather oblivious to events
when my friend said to the driver "Quick, turn left here. Now right again. Damn,
he's still there." and various other hastily-given directions.
About half way through a rather less than straightforward route the the flat,
I notice that we've stopped. This is rather strange, as we're on a dual
carriageway, and the road ahead is completely devoid of traffic. Whilst I'm
wondering about this, I notice that another car has stopped, on the right-hand
lane, exactly next to us. Inside this car are four rather well built gentlemen,
and one of these shouts "Right, get out of the car, >now<". I still haven't
much of a clue about what is going on, and the first thought that flashes
through what passes for my brain is 'Oh >shit<. They've obviously upset someone
they shouldn't have. Bye-bye kneecaps.'. The next thing I know, the car door
is flung open, I'm dragged out, and my head is slammed down on the boot of the
car. My arms are grabbed, thrust behind my back, and then <click!> I'm wearing
handcuffs. 'Oh, it's the police. Well, at least my kneecaps are safe then'.
I'm marched off to the side of the road, and the first thing the policeman
says to me is "So, have you got much form then, sonny ?". Honestly. Word-for-
word.
"Huh ?" qouth I, being my usual articulate self.
"Don't give me that. How long have you been doing this ?" says the cop.
"Doing what ? I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Yeah, of course you haven't." I don't think he was convinced.
"Honestly, you're making a mistake here. I haven't done anything !"
Anyway, PC Plod doesn't believe a word I'm saying, and the above conversation
continues along similar lines for about 5 minutes before he tells me than I'm
being arrested for suspicion of burglary. (What the fuck?).
A panda car pulls up, and carts me off to the police station. I'm searched
(I happened to have about 1/16th of an ounce of cannabis with me, for which
I later received a caution), and have my possesions confiscated (including
my belt, shoelaces ('What ? Like I could hang myself with those even if I
wanted to ?') and inhaler (I suffer, rather badly, from asthma). I object
to the removal of this last item from my person, as the chances were very
good that I would need it sometime during the night (I generally tend to
feel rather constricted whenever I wake up). But no, perhaps Sgt. Plod
thinks I'm gonna ram it down my throat and choke myself to death on it
or something, so I'm told that, if I need it, I will have to shout for it.
So I find myself locked up in a cell. Wonderful places, police cells. I
pass some time reading the graffiti, and wondering how anyone ever managed
to get a marker pen into the cell in the first place (before I notice that
all of the graffiti happens to be in the same brownish colour, and decide
not to spend too much time thinking about it's origins after that), before
finally deciding to get some sleep.
In the middle of the night, I wake up, and surprisingly enough I need my
inhaler. So I shout. And shout some more. And then run out of breath to
shout with (obviously, during an asthma attack, breath is at something
of a premium, and I decide that it would be more worthwhile using it to
continue breathing...). By this stage, I'm getting a little worried. So
I take off one of my shoes, grip the sole, and use the heel to hammer
repeatedly on the cell door. After about five minutes of this, with
not a peep from any of the plods, I need to stop to catch my breath
again. Now I'm getting more than a little worried. One hears of people
dying in police cells, but, y'know, it's not like it's going to happen to
you. Is it ?
After pausing for about 10 minutes to catch my breath, I resume hammering
on the door. And then have to stop to catch my breath again. This cycle
is repeated for at >least< one hour, with the time between hammering getting
longer and longer, and the time hammering getting shorter and shorter. And,
of course, with me starting to become convinced that I am, in fact, going
to die in here. Panic does not go far enough to describe it.
Finally, I hear a <stomp, stomp, stomp> down the corridor, and the panel on
the cell door is slammed open. Some very pissed off copper peers in and shouts
at me 'What the fuck is your problem ?'. 'Asphyxiation' (sp?) I reply, weakly.
'It does tend to put a downer on your day. Can I have my inhaler now, or would
you rather wait until I pass out ?'. So the copper goes back and fetchs me my
inhaler (rather begrudgingly, I believe). I take a couple of doses, and after
about 10 minutes, I'm breathing normally again (which is some considerable
relief, I can tell you). And (can you beleive it ?) the copper takes my
inhaler off me again ! I try explaining to him that, as he may have noticed,
I don't carry it around with me for fun, and I do in fact need it. But no, he
doesn't appear to give a monkey's about that : "If you need it, just shout
for it" he says. Deja-vu ! I explain to him that I'd already tried that and
it didn't seem to work too well the last time, but he just reassures me that
he will make sure that this time someone will be around to hear me, and tells
me not to worry.
Don't worry. Yeah, right. I don't get any more sleep that night . . .
Morning arrives, and with it something that the constable assures me is
breakfast, but I have my doubts. (Is this a sausage, or has someone laid
a nice fresh turd on my plate ?). I can hardly bear to smell it without
retching; eating it is not an option.
I use my one phone call to call into work. "Hi, I'm sorry, but I can't come
in today, because I've been arrested, and am currently being held at the
police station." When I do get back to work, I find that my monitor has
been covered by bars, and someone has left a cherry bakewell with a file
in it on my desk. Such wits !
After a while, I'm taken to an interview room. (Hey, it looks just like they
do on The Bill !). I'm asked all the obvious questions (How long have I known
the other two, do I know what they do for a living etc...), and somehow the
story emerges. Basically, my old friend from school, and the other guy (who,
if you can recall that far back !, was driving) have been making a living for
the past 3 or 4 years by breaking into people's houses and wandering off with
their belongings. Apparently, they'd been so good at their chosen career, that
the police had gone to the lengths of renting out the flat in between their
two flats, and listening in on their conversations for the past month !
They'd been followed all afternoon, and had broken into some house or other
before going to the pub. When I had left the pub with them, the police had
come the the conclusion that I was involved in it all somehow, and had decided
to arrest them (us) whilst in possesion of stolen goods (I assume there must
have been something in the car boot).
Great !, thinks I, now I know what this is all about, I can sort it out and
explain their mistake to them. I ask them if the burglaries generally took
place during the daytime, Monday to Friday, and they tell me that that is
indeed the case. So I tell them that, for probably any given day on which
a burglary occured, I can prove to them that I was at work.
But unfortunately, life is not so simple. I work for a credit reference
agency. The following conversation ensues :
"So, could you, like, find out the names and addresses of people who
have recently applied for credit ?"
"Yes." (I've woken up by now, and I can see where this is heading, and I
don't like the sound of it at all)
"And could you find out what that credit was for ? Like, for example, the
purchase of electrical goods ?"
"Yes."
"And, if you did this, would anyone be able to tell if you'd done it or not,
and be able to trace it back to you ?"
"Well, I don't know for sure, as I don't work in the security department."
"But hazard a guess . . ."
"Well, I guess if I really wanted to, I could to it without it being traced
back to me, yes."
Yup, they think that I've been getting names and addresses of people who have
just splashed out on new goods, and passing these on to the burglars. Oh joy !
I'm taken back to the cell. Time passes. Quite a lot of time, actually. I amuse
myself by thinking of various painful ways to kill the officer who took my
inhaler off me. It cheers me up somewhat. I assume that, whilst I'm locked
up in the cell, the officers are questioning the other two, to see if they can
get any confirmation of their theory. I guess they can't, or that they've run
out of time to hold me without charging me, because eventually I'm told that
I'm free to go.
But the story doesn't end there.
I get back home, and my flatmate tells me that a couple of cops turned up
at about 2am, and searched the flat (I must be the only person in history
who's had the police leave their room in a tidier state than they found
it - I'm such a slob !). Apparantly, they don't need a warrent for this; if
you've been arrested for suspicion of burglary, then they have a statutory
power under the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984, section 18(1) to
search your premises provided they get an inspector (or higher rank) to
authorise it. (Gee, guys, it was good of you to tell me you'd done that when
you let me go...).
And, whilst I was tidying things up about a month ago, I came across the form
that they give you, with a copy of the inspector's signature, and I happened
to notice that it was signed on the 13/2/92. My flat was searched on the
14/4/92. Hmmm.... I didn't realise they had clairvoyent inspectors; I'm
impressed.
Ever since then, I've been of the opinion that our police force are, on
the whole, a bunch of fucking wankers.
obscurity.
"Only the great masters of style ever succeed in being obscure." - Oscar Wilde.
"Only the great masters of style ever succeed in being obscure." - Oscar Wilde.
- Billy's Little Trip
- Odie
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Hobz, first off, you never have to worry about whether or not you are offending me. I'm not LoO, and I don't take anything said to me on the introwebz, personally. I may react, but I don't get upset.
Second of all, the moment you pointed at him, and said "YOU'RE calling ME a genius?", you chose your battle.
Second of all, the moment you pointed at him, and said "YOU'RE calling ME a genius?", you chose your battle.
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But thats just it, I didn't. I simply reacted honestly and non violently. And while it may have offended him on a personal level, and being in a position of authority over fellow citizens he should have a thicker skin, I didn't do anything suspicious or illegal. I merely hurt his feelings (if that) and he reacted physically to me. Had I called him an offensive term directly, THAT would have been choosing a battle. HE picked this battle at every turn.Billy's Little Trip wrote:Second of all, the moment you pointed at him, and said "YOU'RE calling ME a genius?", you chose your battle.
He started calling me 'genius' sarcastically provoking ME into reacting which I did completely non-violently and whilst laughing light heartedly.
IF I picked this battle, it was when I made the stupid decision of going the wrong way around their truck and therefore accidentally snapping a $0.03 piece of plastic.
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Cops are only human, but you have to consider what kind of human is attracted to that sort of job. People who like to intimidate people with unfair odds, and like to use force to get thier way.
The cop who accosted hoblit was in no way protecting the community. he was out of line - and he got away with it infront of his peers- suggesting the cop culture accepts that kind of thing.
His behavior was intended to gratify his warped sense of manhood. and he is a normal cop.
The cop who accosted hoblit was in no way protecting the community. he was out of line - and he got away with it infront of his peers- suggesting the cop culture accepts that kind of thing.
His behavior was intended to gratify his warped sense of manhood. and he is a normal cop.
The good lord invented beer to keep me from taking over the world. -me
- roymond
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I hear you but, the way I see it there's no way in HELL I'd want his job so I don't fuck with it no matter. They are there to deal with whatever is dealt them. Who you are isn't in their game plan. It's not their job to have to decode your intentions and figure out whether you're not a real threat, to them or anyone else. Personally, I don't joke around them. Stay clear, stay cool, and if it seems appropriate offer an encouraging "thanks for watching our asses".Hoblit wrote:...all I'm saying is that he shouldn't be able to twist my arm behind my back for joking around. JOKING AROUND.</font>
That said, there are bad cops like anything else. I just don't think it's right to test the waters. I agree with the "pick your fights carefully" mantra and to think about what value it brings your life to fuck with things.
roymond.com | songfights | covers
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"Any more chromaticism and you'll have to change your last name to Wagner!" - Frankie Big Face
- jb
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Somebody tell me why Hoblit couldn't press charges against that cop for assault? Not that it would be a good idea, but it sounds to me, if events went down like Hoblit says (and I've no reason to believe otherwise, knowing Hoblit) like it was a classic case of assault.
Sue his ass, Hoblit! It's the American way!
Sue his ass, Hoblit! It's the American way!
blippity blop ya don’t stop heyyyyyyyyy
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1. IT IS THEIR JOB to decode and figure out who are a real threat and who is not! Are you kidding me? Thats EXACTLY their job!roymond wrote:1. They are there to deal with whatever is dealt them. Who you are isn't in their game plan. It's not their job to have to decode your intentions and figure out whether you're not a real threat, to them or anyone else.Hoblit wrote:...all I'm saying is that he shouldn't be able to twist my arm behind my back for joking around. JOKING AROUND.</font>
2. Personally, I don't joke around them. Stay clear, stay cool, and if it seems appropriate offer an encouraging "thanks for watching our asses".
3. I just don't think it's right to test the waters. I agree with the "pick your fights carefully" mantra and to think about what value it brings your life to fuck with things.
2. Personally, I don't think you should have to tip toe on those egg shells. Do you remember a time when you COULD talk to cops without fear? I do. Sad state of affairs these modern times are. I'm sure it'll get better right?
3. More egg shells. I totally agree with you, I don't think its right to test the waters. I don't want to put any more stress on these guys than they already have.
I promise I'm telling it like it exactly like it went down. Right down to it just being the one guy. NONE of the other guys ever said a word. NO "GET EM' DO0d!" or "You tell em' Bubba"... and I didn't kick, I didn't spit, I didn't even yell and everything that was said by either party is quoted in my first post. The other guys didn't even get up...nothing.jb wrote:Somebody tell me why Hoblit couldn't press charges against that cop for assault? Not that it would be a good idea, but it sounds to me, if events went down like Hoblit says (and I've no reason to believe otherwise, knowing Hoblit) like it was a classic case of assault.
Sue his ass, Hoblit! It's the American way!
In order to sue him I would have had to confront him... you know...get his name and badge number. He basically pushed me into the crowd and his tone while telling me not to come back this way was one of making sure I understood that if I did, things would really go south. A couple of egg shells were busted under my feet already, no sense in smashing the whole dozen and spending an otherwise pleasant day in Jail instead!
Like I said, when it was happening, it didn't hurt... to me it was funny. It wasn't until later that I kind of thought about it in more depth and only then did it become offensive.
Last edited by Hoblit on Tue Jan 29, 2008 2:55 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Oh, Joblito definitely has something brewin' on this one. It'll probably be called Thugs or 'Thug Something' or 'Something Thugs' and it may incorporate the larger problem as I see it and not necessarily ponder on my lone experience.obscurity wrote:You should write a song about it.
Or cover I Fought The Law
As far as covering 'I fought the law'... there was no fighting... if that guy wanted to F my A, I probably would have just politely asked him to be gentle.
- roymond
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Yeah, you're right. But you were adding noise to the process that wasn't necessary. I'm just being removed and totally objective about it. Of course they should be part of our community and all. But didn't you say SWAT? I'm thinking these guys are in a slightly different head than your neighborhood beat cop (no pun intended).Hoblit wrote:1. IT IS THEIR JOB to decode and figure out who are a real threat and who is not! Are you kidding me? Thats EXACTLY their job!
I like the song idea. Could turn into a rock opera about repressive force on the FL west coast.
roymond.com | songfights | covers
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"Any more chromaticism and you'll have to change your last name to Wagner!" - Frankie Big Face
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Yes, they were SWAT...but that doesn't alleviate any of their responsibility of properly assessing a situation and diffusing it appropriately. They should even be MORE skilled at figuring out who their targets SHOULD be.roymond wrote:Yeah, you're right. But you were adding noise to the process that wasn't necessary. I'm just being removed and totally objective about it. Of course they should be part of our community and all. But didn't you say SWAT? I'm thinking these guys are in a slightly different head than your neighborhood beat cop (no pun intended).Hoblit wrote:1. IT IS THEIR JOB to decode and figure out who are a real threat and who is not! Are you kidding me? Thats EXACTLY their job!
I like the song idea. Could turn into a rock opera about repressive force on the FL west coast.
I understand, you are outside looking in. I'm all fiery about it because it happened to ME... so my opinion is going to be biased while yours will be more objective. But it still amazes me that America has let it go this far. Just by reading your objective opinion it is telling me that I should fear the very people who are supposed to be protecting me. That DEEPLY concerns me.
My argument isn't that I didn't do something stupid. I in fact made a bad judgment call. I even use the word mistake & more than once. My concerns are just over the amount of fear, anxiety, force, domination, unfairness, and hypocrisy that occurred during this momentary misunderstanding.
- Billy's Little Trip
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Although I was answering the question about cops and pointing out that I agree with you on where you made your mistake, I'm no angel in these situations. I fight authority any chance I get, and it makes my life hell at time. I will say that I've smartened up through the years, but there was a time when "your situation" that you described, would have turned into me going to jail.
There was a girl that would pull me away when she saw me getting ready to go off. She helped me to start accepting responsibility for my actions, which was the turning point in my life.
By the way, that girl would later become my worst music critic.![Razz :P](./images/smilies/icon_razz.gif)
There was a girl that would pull me away when she saw me getting ready to go off. She helped me to start accepting responsibility for my actions, which was the turning point in my life.
By the way, that girl would later become my worst music critic.
![Razz :P](./images/smilies/icon_razz.gif)
- roymond
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Sorry if I sound like I'm not sympathetic! Problem with these boards is not knocking back the beers and getting steamed with friends over things like this. It would freak me the fuhk out! and you are righteous in your steamy state.
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"Any more chromaticism and you'll have to change your last name to Wagner!" - Frankie Big Face
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- Caravan Ray
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That was my first thought too. Don't you have an Ombudsman's Office or something over there that acts as a watchdog for the actions of public servants?. If that had have happened here I would have had his badge number and he would have been signing up for the dole queue that afternoon, with charges pending.jb wrote:Somebody tell me why Hoblit couldn't press charges against that cop for assault? Not that it would be a good idea, but it sounds to me, if events went down like Hoblit says (and I've no reason to believe otherwise, knowing Hoblit) like it was a classic case of assault.
Sue his ass, Hoblit! It's the American way!
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