Blogging for Freedom

Clanging steel doors, the smell of antiseptic, uniformed cops, deputies, clerks, all with latex gloves, busy bustling inmates in and out.  Stand here, sit there, wait in the corner, smile for your mugshot, hold out your fingers to be printed.  Pretty much what I anticipated.  The authorities who processed me were nice enough, detached, professional.  I was booked into the County Jail and booked out on my Own Recognizance within an hour.

While I was waiting, I watched.  One young woman was released and, as she hit the doors to the outside, she jumped into the air, whooping and hollering, so grateful not to be inside anymore.  A street kid came out after her.  He sat down on the jail lobby floor, put all his jewelry back into his piercings,  freshened up with deodorant, grabbed a bag of granola snacks out of his backpack, and headed out quietly, but not disgracefully, down his same road.

A couple in their 40's maybe sat holding each other, draped around each other, not really speaking.  I noticed she was barefoot when she stepped up to the window before me and said, "I'm so-and-so and I'm here to turn myself in."  The clerk looked at her papers and asked "Eight months?"  Yes. I wonder, of course, what she did to get eight months in jail.  Will it help her if she goes to jail? Will it help society, her family, our community if she, and people like her, are locked up?

Do we even know what people in our country are being incarcerated for anymore?  The people I saw today in jail and yesterday in court are sad, poor folks with very little money, resources, education or even an adequate awareness of their legal and civil rights. Cogs in the Wheels of the System.

While I waited yet again, a woman in jail dress and slippers sat across from me fidgeting. She was probably being booked out and the process to her seemed never-ending.

As they paraded a 20's something kid past, I overheard his booking charge: "3rd degree misdemeanor possession of controlled property"  What? The kid was in jail for having a marijuana pipe in his possession?  No drugs, they confirmed, just "controlled property." He probably hadn't even had the chance to use it yet.  Lucky for him.

I like this charge I heard yesterday: "Conspiracy to Attempt to Possess Drug Paraphernalia".  So, this person is being prosecuted for thinking about buying a marijuana pipe? Or, maybe they put some time into him for some reason and needed to charge him with something, anything in order to justify their own jobs. And, pay their bills for new cop toys and military gadgetry through the seizure and confiscation racket.

This is what our our judicial system has become. Drug Police. 

** GC note - that's me up there getting ready to go get booked.  I'm standing by my front door bulletin board where I've kept track of US troops killed and wounded in this (illegal, immoral) Iraq War, along with tributes to peace and notices to law enforcement. Can't see my T-shirt but it reads "War, What Is It Good For?"

"Absolutely NOTHING!"

They may think they have me, but they don't.  People have been fighting the evil kingdom forever.  The task that I have been given - fighting my charges and championing civil rights - is small compared with the many.  I'm not facing Abu Ghraib, I keep telling P.  I'm not going to be kidnapped off the street and rendered to Egypt for torture.  I'm not going to have Shiite death squads or Sunni militias slaughter me and my family.

I'm not even fighting for justice in the raw, excruciating and public way that someone like Cindy Sheehan is.  She lost a child to the Iraq war and the crimes of the Bush administration.  Nothing I face can compare. 

My fight is with the DEA.  They came into my home.  They went into each and every room, drawer, closet, box, container, cupboard in my home.  They desecrated my sacred space and defiled my belongings.  They blasphemed my spirit and my religion.  They ridiculed my faith.  They caused suffering - and they took pleasure in it. They destroyed the precious medicine.  They killed my Mothers.

It's personal now.   

Traffic, noise all night, garbage piling up, car prowlings, gang graffiti - like Bush bombing Baghdad, overnight we had a crank house dropped into our quiet little neighborhood.

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In my medium-sized city we have a police force that is getting progressively out of control.  Although we have been experiencing increased assaults and violence, gang activity and random property crimes due to meth and crack cocaine, our  police force continues to focus on busting marijuana.

With the help of federal DEA agents and Homeland Security $$$ and resources, police now prowl our neighborhoods looking for suspicious wiring or plumbing or odor or ... whatever.  I know this to be true because I saw it.

Last week, a city police patrol car crawled through my alley, stopping at an empty fenced-in building two doors down from my home.  I could hear them joke as they circled the property on foot. "Yeah, sure as hell looks like a grow-op to me." one said.  Within seconds they broke through the locked gate and began looking in the windows and rattling the doors.

Uhhh...private property?  They didn't give a shit.  Probable cause?  Due process?  They'll worry about that later.  Real crime that causes real harm?  Too busy and allegedly under-funded to even be able to respond to all 911 calls.

That's right.  A city official recently acknowledged that they were unable to respond to every 911 call that comes in.  In one single day, he reported, four domestic violence calls went unheeded. Under-staffed, not enough money were the reasons cited for our county Crime Check number being discontinued.  Unless it's a life or death matter, you may have to wait until regular business hours Monday through Friday for help.

Another disturbing trend in our fair city is the number of suspects, detainees, arrestees and jail inmates who turn up dead in police custody. Otto Zehm, a mildly disabled citizen who stopped at a local Zips for a soda, was questioned after someone reported he was "acting suspiciously".  Somehow, Zehm resisted or argued or copped an attitude because it turned into a deadly struggle with the cops tasering him at least twice. Then they hobbled him (tied his ankles to his wrists behind his back) and laid him face down on the concrete for God only knows how long.  The coroner said this position contributed to Zehm's heart failure and ruled his death a homicide.

Less than a month later our brave police tasered a run-away cow five times until it dropped dead from sheer panic and fear.  Apparently, they couldn't wait the 15 extra minutes it would have taken the owner to capture the poor thing.  Alive.

Another example to consider - some years ago a troubled student at Lewis & Clark High brought a loaded gun to school.  Everyone safely evacuated - there's always been a question as to whether he meant to harm anyone except himself - and he isolated himself in one classroom.  The SWAT team arrived and took position behind protective barricades, but before they could even start talking with him to calm the situation down  - guess what? -  they shot him in the face.  End of seige. End of problem. End of story.

Well, not quite. This 15-year old screwed-up kid is going to be grossly disfigured for life. I'll always remember him and wonder why - if the sharpshooters on the SWAT team are so god-damned sharp then why couldn't they have aimed for the hand holding the gun, or his arm, or his leg.

No, instead they had to deliver the kill shot to the head.  It's a miracle the kid lived (I wish him peace and well-being).

Those who dance are considered insane by those who can't hear the music. -- George Carlin

Of course, one the most bizarre examples of the United States government's War on Drugs is the July 2005 arrest of the Prince of Pot, Vansterdam's-own, Marc Emory.   Read about his case here: http://www.cannabisculture.com/