In this case…real-life legal stories

FIRST-PERSON….I’m African-American. I come from a family that’s educated—we work hard and we never really blame society for anything. We do what we need to do and live quiet lives. But being a black male, I’m telling you, the police are just completely biased. It doesn’t matter if they’re black or white. I have been arrested numerous times. I couldn’t even count on my hands.

I got pulled over recently. I was driving my car from the shop, trying to get it registered here in DC. The tag didn’t have a sticker on it—I was a law student with no money. Of course I got pulled over on the way home. Earlier that day I had a beer after my civil procedure midterm—a beer and a half, two beers, around 1:00 in the afternoon. So at 9:00 at night the police are saying to me that I’m drunk, stinking of booze….I said, I’m not doing any of the field tests. You guys just leave me alone—arrest me, whatever, I don’t care.

I refuse everything. They take me down to the station and put me in a holding cell. The jailer is a jerk—he’s laughing at me and calling me names. I sit there until 2:00 in the morning. And then finally the police say they’re going to release me on my own recognizance. Then they come back out and tell me I’m not going anywhere because there’s a warrant for my arrest in Maryland and I’ll be going to federal court in the morning as a fugitive from justice.

What do I do? I’m sitting in jail. I have no phone call, nothing. So I sit there, I wait until 9:00 in the morning. They put shackles on me and take me to federal court, U.S. Marshals take over. I sit there all day. All day. They left the shackles on. No one says anything to me, no clocks on the wall, nothing like that. I never got to see a lawyer. Late in the afternoon they call my number and take me up in front of a judge, shackles still on… I put one foot in the courtroom and they hand me a paper saying that they dismissed the warrant. Then they send me back down to the holding cell.

I still have to go to Superior Court on the charges of drinking, driving, and failure to display tags. At about 6:00 in the evening I finally go up in front of a Superior Court judge. A court-appointed attorney stands next to me, I pledge not guilty, I walk out of the courtroom. This was almost 24 hours. I couldn’t believe it. Could not believe it.

I could have handled just an arrest and getting released at 2:00 in the morning. That’s standard procedure. But for them to hold me on an erroneous warrant, for like 15 extra hours, in a federal court? I mean, this warrant just vanished. And I called the next day and tried to found out what it was. No answers. Nothing. The number didn’t match anything.

At some point I want to communicate to the black community, especially the underprivileged and the poor people, that when you get arrested, you should shut up. Don’t tell the police anything because they will use it against you. But a 15, 16, 18-year old kid doesn’t know this. I think it’s an attention thing—a kid that gets in trouble a lot screams for attention. And then you got these cops, they want to talk to you, they want to hear it from you, your word. The kid feels important. For the cops, it’s simple. Next thing you know they got a story concocted and they got every word down. When you get arrested, don’t start telling these people everything you did. Shut up, sit there, wait to see a lawyer. That should be the golden rule in the black community.

Someone like me, I’m like no, I’m not going to say anything. They get mad when you don’t say anything. The cops at the station were jerks to me. And that was because, I think, I refused to submit to a blood-alcohol test. That’s why I think all this happened to me. Because I was quiet. I was like, I know my rights. I’m not going to say a thing.

“Casey” lives on Capitol Hill in Washington, D.C. He is a law student and works in politics; his name has been changed to protect his identity.