Volume 11: Part 1- Moenia Prima: Saturday, June 11th, 9:05 A.M.
Saturday, June 11th, 9:05 A.M.
I just got home after a long exhaustive night. We did not have fun. I’m not referring to the fact that Matthew and Aaron came with us. This was a whole different kind of bad.
Our night began with the party held at the cultural center. This actually was fun, remarkable given the kind of stuffy people who run it. There weren’t any kind of games or activities or any kind of formal structure behind this party. Just an open dance floor, food, drinks, and music, that’s all. Unlike the music at my birthday party, this music was actually good. I was shocked to hear the DJ play Moral Threat, yet alone Cryptochild, Klavier, and Hypodermic.
The party at the cultural center ended at about nine. The party didn’t end because we wanted it to end, they kicked us out so they could clean up and get the place ready for a wedding in the morning. Wanda had the idea of going to see/bother Sparra at work. So, the six of us, Jay, Matthew, Aaron, Delany, Wanda, and I started walking over there. We were about halfway there when Jay saw something in an alley we passed. It was one kind of old looking opfer being attacked by a trio of young looking verbrechers. The girls wanted to keep on going the way we were, but Aaron wanted to break up the situation. The boys, me included, thought this was a good idea because we’re young and there was four of us and we stupidly think we’re invincible.
The four of us fine opfers boys were walking down the alley, just about to get to the verbrecher trio, when the lights on one of the cars in the alley started flashing. These weren’t the flashing lights you see from a car alarm going off, these were the red and blue lights of a cop car. A cop car that had been sitting there the entire time the opfer was being attacked.
The cop came out of the car with his gun drawn and ordered the four of us to stop and put our hands in the air. We did. When he got to us, the officer shoved us against the wall and ordered us not to move. We didn’t. The officer then called for backup against what he called “an unruly violent street gang.” The backup the police officer called for showed up remarkably quickly, just in time to see the three verbrecher men run away from the scene. None of the police officers at the scene made any effort to go after the verbrecher men. Instead, they spent about half an hour harassing Delany and Wanda while they roughed up the rest of us, including the victim. Eventually they cuffed all seven of us, including the women who weren’t involved and the bleeding victim, shoved us in squad cars, and took us to the police station.
Once we got to the station house, we were put in holding. We weren’t told what we were being arrested for or what we were waiting for, we were just shoved in there. They placed us in two separate holding cells. Matthew, Aaron, and Jay were placed in one cell, while Delany, Wanda, the victim, and I were placed in the other. I don’t know why they did this, but I don’t understand a lot of what happened. I just know that what happened is really fucked up.
Delany spent the whole time in that holding cell crying on my shoulder. I don’t mean that figuratively. We sat together on the bench/bed/cold metal slab in that concrete echochamber not knowing when or if we were going to be released. I don’t blame Delany for crying. I would have cried as well, had I not been concerned for the health of the victim sitting in the corner, motionless, with blood still dripping from his wounds. I would have consoled Delany more had I not been handcuffed the whole time.
I don’t know how long we were in holding. I’ve tried figuring it out. As near as I can tell, the seven of us were in holding for about eight hours. Just long enough for a good night’s rest, if we could somehow get to sleep. At about five A.M. the guard came by, uncuffed us, and let us out. As I walked along down the hall, tired and hazy as shit, I heard names being called out. First Aaron, then Jay, Wanda, Delany, and Matthew. All these names were called out by the person there to pick them up. The only person who arrived at the police station to pick someone up who didn’t call out a name was my Dad. When I saw my Dad at the police station, he looked pissed.
The silence that I experienced while I was in holding made me angry. The silence I experienced in the car with my Dad made me anxious. I knew my Dad was angry, I could see that on his face. I felt as if I was looking at a bomb who's countdown had reached zero but had not yet exploded.
"Hato, the police told me what you did last night. They told me you and your friends and some homeless guy was smashing things in an alley behind a liquor store."
"They said that you were drunk, and about to knock over the liquor store."
"Dad, let me-"
"I don't believe them."
I did not expect my Dad to say that. "You don't?"
"No. Not only is that not anything close to anything you've done, but my experience has taught me that a policeman's word isn't worth shit." I did not expect my Dad to say that either. Not only because he swore, which he only does when he's emphasizing a point, but because of his open cynicism. I didn't know how to continue the conversation. Luckily, my Dad did. "Now, you are not to tell your mother you were in jail."
Suddenly, my joking nature came back to me. "That was jail?"
"Yes, that was jail, and you were never there. Also, you were not arrested. If your Mom asks, you spent the night partying with your friends, you got me?"
"Yeah." With the lie firmly in place, my Dad kept on driving home. Just as we passed by the place where I was arrested, I looked down at my hands and noticed something about them. "Dad, what if Mom notices that marks from the handcuffs I wore all night?"
Dad looked at my hands then thought for a moment. "Just tell her your and Delany were getting kinky. She'll understand."
I don't want to think about why my Mom would understand. I haven't run into her yet and I'm not really looking forward to it. Then again, any crap I get from her will be far easier to deal with than the cops. I think.