As I stood in my cell, I considered myself lucky. As I now write these words, I thank God, I sowed my young and wild oats before my beloved country began turning into a police state. But still, back then, I wanted to complain.
"Oh law enforcement officer Poole, are you aware that THERE'S A FOOT OF WATER IN MY CELL?" I yelled at the top of my lungs.
For some reason, I thought my question to Sergeant Poole was so hilarious I could hardly stop laughing. But as soon as I could stop laughing, I'd yell out the question again and again, laughing the whole time.
The cops never said a word to me, but the other prisoners in the block began yelling with threats of death, unless I shut up. This really threw me into fits of laughter, followed by more yells to Sergeant Poole.
In time, I curled up on my concrete bed of dirty water and fell fast asleep.
It was a dreamless and short sleep I spent at taxpayer's expense at the Jacksonville Beach jail, as I was all too quickly awakened by a jocular cop. In fact, all of the cops at the station that morning seemed to be jolly fellows.
"You guys smell like a couple of sewer rats," joked one cop. "I'm sure you'll both make quite an impression in the courtroom this morning."
It was on a front bench, in the courtroom, that Tony and I soon found ourselves, without breakfast or any chance to clean up, I may add.
We must have looked like convicts: Tony, with his 2" forehead, buzz-cut, and tattoos covering one of his arms, (that looked for all the world like he must have inflicted them on himself), sat stoically and sullenly; while I sat nervously and looked around the courtroom, my hair uncombed and face badly in need of a shave.
I had never been in a courtroom and was surprised by how many people were in attendance. Were most of the people officials or merely retirees seeking foreboding entertainment, laden with evil portent?
At any rate, I was impressed with the majesty of the room and the seriousness that filled the air. Then HE appeared, the man above other men, who would decide the fate of a couple of second-rate college football players " The Judge.
The judge had a solemn demeanor. He walked with a proud bearing that seemed to say he'd countenance no foolishness.
I had never felt threatened by the judges in black robes I'd seen in TV courtroom dramas, but this was my life, and this judge was not an actor in a pretended story. This was a real life drama; and, I would have preferred to see the judge robed in white.
After all, Tony and I could possibly be charged with the attempted murder of a police officer by strangulation, and I had destroyed government property. Would they also charge me with resisting arrest?
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