From My Drafts: Locked Up! or Rage Against The Machine

This post is from my drafts. I never posted it because it was pretty embarrassing to me. But I said I was gonna let out some secrets, so here is one. I've only told two people about this since it happened in April. Not even my family knows that I got locked up. I've made some minor edits to the post, but this is basically what I was thinking back in April. The anger is authentic, the language is vulgar, and the emotions reveal what I was going through. Oh yeah, its long as hell too. I remember that morning. I just sat down at the computer and started writing and here is what I came up with....

LOCKED UP! or RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE (I couldn't decide which title to use)

My name is Diamond, yep you guessed it
Ran a thousand schemes and I never been arrested
I guess I'm lucky cuz I'm young and I'm a Black man
And intelligent, so everything is relevant.

Diamond D "I Went For Mine" 1992

The quote comes from one of the most slept on hip hop albums of all time: Stunts, Blunts and Hip Hop by Diamond D. This used to describe me. That is until last night. Your boy got locked up. Arrested, put in the slammer. What the hell?

I always thought my first time in jail would be for something else. I've run more schemes than I can enumerate. In high school, I fashioned myself as the Racial Robin Hood, stealing from the privileged White kids and giving to the middle class me. It's bullshit, I know. I never wanted for anything, but what can I say? I had the necessities, but I wanted more. So I stole from people that let their guard down. It helped me have a little bit of loot to buy tapes (cuz CD's were just too damn expensive) and go check out a movie at the Tara Cinema right up the street from my house. St Patrick's Day in Savannah was also a prime payday. As drunk as the partiers got, it was easy pickings to "find" a wallet here or there. Sometimes, all I had to do is ask and they would give me their money. But as much dirt as I did, I never got caught.

Fast forward a few years. Me and my boys were deep into the weed scene. I never really smoked that much, in fact I intentionally never learned how to roll a blunt, but the spots we hung out in were 4:20 friendly. At anytime, the Savannah Police Department could have rolled up on us and found some bud in the car, in the crib, in our pockets. We were flagrant with it. It was almost like marijuana wasn't illegal. One time at Freaknik, I think it was 95 or 96, whenever the real lame one was, Kareem, Tori and I walked into a Marta train station passing a blunt back and forth. We also had sports bottles full of that Goldschlager. I mean we were twisted in public. The transit police stopped us and Tori threw the blunt on the train tracks. Luckily they weren't trying to be Super Cop and let us go after making us pour out our liquor. That was one of my closest brushes with the law. For all intents and purposes, I should have caught a case over a decade ago.

I'm not going to go on and list all my crimes, but needless to say, I have done my share of dirt. I made it through unscathed. As a 32 year old, I don't get down like I used to. I don't live my life in fear of the police because I know that I'm legal. No more driving on a suspended license or not having insurance on the whip. I even have current tags on it. So when I got pulled over in mothafuckin' Dalton, GA, I wasn't scared. I figured I would hand him my license and insurance, get my ticket (although I didn't think I was speeding) and be on my merry way. Yeah, it didn't go down like that.

The Whitfield County trooper pulled me over around 9 pm. I had all my information ready for him. He told me that I was going 82 in a 70mph. I wasn't. (EDIT: In fact I know I wasn't going that fast because with my bad tires on the car, it started shaking violently when I got up to 77 mph.) I learned a long time ago not to argue with police because its just a waste of time. It's not like he was gonna say "you know what? You're right, lets just forget the ticket" I signed for the ticket and was about to be on my way, but Officer Ihateniggers decided that I just might be a drug dealer. Get the fuck outta here. I had never in my life experienced that: a real like driving while Black.

Officer Ihateniggers wanted to search the car. I tried to remember from high school civics what would happen if I refused. I know there were no drugs in the car, but I just didn't want him to get away with that blatant racial profiling. He had no reason to believe I had anything to do with drugs. I told him that he couldn't search. He said he would call for a K9 unit to get probable cause. I told him go ahead. He said that I can lose my license for refusing his request. I said, I am willing to take that chance in court because I don't feel like he had any reason to search my car. He went back to his patrol car and presumably called for the K9 unit. I'm leaning on the side of my car, getting more and more pissed off. 30 minutes passed and I'm still on the side of the highway. I walk over to the police car to ask how long its gonna be. Officer Ihateniggers interpreted this as a threat and, with hand on his gun, told me to step back.

WTF? I'm just just trying to ask a question and he damn near pulled out his piece on me. Officer Ihateniggers said something about "making aggressive movements" and handcuffed me. I'm like WTF? I didn't do anything. He puts me in the back of the police car and proceeds to rifle through my car. Again, I know there ain't no drugs in it, so I'm talking a little shit. Saying stuff like "you gonna apologize when you don't find nothing?" and "I can't believe you don't have anything better to do than to harass me." (EDIT: In retrospect it was a pretty shitty idea to antagonize him, but I was indignant at the poor treatment) I was getting angry and time seemed to slow down. I don't know how long I was in the police car because my cell phone was in my car. It was hot and stuffy and smelled like feet and vomit in the back of the car. Needless to say, Officer Ihateniggers didn't come up with any narcotics in the car. But he did find something.

"I'm taking you in on suspicion of identity theft"
"WHAT???"
"Do you care to explain why you have someone else's drivers license in your car?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Alton Derrick (same last name), I'm sure he'll be real interested to know you have his driver's license."
"That's my father. He's been dead over 10 years"
"Stealing your dead father's identity. What kinda trash does that?"

I blacked out with rage. This mothafucka was talking too much shit and I knew I couldn't do anything about it. I attempted to explain that I carry that license as a reminder of my father. I don't really have too many pictures of him. The license has expired many years ago. I'm not using it to steal anyone's identity. Besides, I know we look alike, but he is obviously 15 years older than I am in that picture. My God, the more I started to talk, the more rage seethed within me. I couldn't get any words out and I started stuttering. I know that only made me look more suspicious. He called a tow truck and told them to come impound my car. After what seemed like an eternity, we were finally off to county lock up.

I didn't get the whole strip search experience, but another officer frisked me more carefully than they do at the booty club. I mean, he was all up under my sack. I felt violated. They took me to a little room and took my picture and later fingerprinted me. I don't remember ever being advised of my Miranda rights, but I can't say for sure because the rage made me a little unaware of my surroundings. They took the handcuffs off and placed me in a holding cell with a couple of Mexicans, about three Black dudes in white tees and a stinking drunk White guy. I wasn't scared at all, I figured if worse came to worse I could take at least 5 out of 6 of the other jailbirds in a fight. (EDIT: Yeah, right. I haven't been in a fight since 3rd grade. I woulda got my ass beat down. LOL) Mostly though, they just looked as blowed as I did at being in jail on a Thursday night. There were no clocks around so I didn't know what time it was as I was just sitting there on a bench cursing myself for drinking that big ass Mountain Dew and thinking how much I had to pee, but refusing to go in front of strangers. Sometime later, they took me out to question me.

I met with a guy I'll call Sergeant Commonsense. The conversation went a little like this:

"So, where were you going tonight?"
"I was on my way to Tennessee."
"What were you going to do?"
"I was going to see my goddaughter."
"Do you know it's illegal to carry another person's identification?"
"I do now. But I had no intent to break the law. I just held on to the license for sentimental reasons. It's all I have left of my father. I mean, it's not even a valid license."
"But you did break the law, you know? I can hold you until the morning for arraignment."
"Okay, can I call someone and let them know where I am?"
"That won't be necessary. You are free to go."
"Really?!?" (sarcasm overshadowed my relief)
"Yeah, I'll have someone take you to the impound yard to get your car. It's gonna be about $75 to get your car."
"Am I being charged?"
"Not at this time."
"I know its a lot to ask, but is there any chance I can get my father's license back? I don't have that many pictures of him"
"Yeah, I guess so. Just don't carry it in your wallet anymore. Leave it home"

A minor sense of relief crossed my brow at those words. Sergeant Commonsense did right by me. I wanted to tell him about Officer Ihateniggers, but thought it would be more prudent to get my ass out of jail first. I took another ride in a police cruiser, this time without handcuffs, down a dark and windy dirt road to the impound lot. It wasn't even affiliated with the police, just a tow yard in the middle of nowhere. According to the officer that drove me, it was now 4 AM. I had been dealing with this shit for 7 hours. I paid the impound fee and got my car and left. Instead of heading back north to Tennessee, I turned my Black ass around and went home. That experience had ruined my mood and I needed to be alone. (EDIT: And I stayed alone for a few weeks. This was my "don't answer the phone, sit around and brood period) Arrested for the first time in my life for some bullshit. All the wrong I've done and this is what gets me in the system. I'm furious that my fingerprints are now in the system. (EDIT: I forgot that since I work in the financial services industry, my prints are already on file.) I got home at about 6 in the morning and turned my phone off. I can't deal with talking about this. The rage keeps coming back. I'm not in the mood to hear platitudes or well intentioned empathy. I just want to be left the fuck alone. I can't fuckin' believe at age 32, I just became another statistic.