Tour of Duty: Stories and Provocation (44 page)

That evening, we ran into two more guards. One young man, and a slender elderly lady with curly hair. These two people deserve thanks, promotions, and praise from the city, because they acted and treated us like human beings. They were genuinely embarrassed by the petty bullies around them, kept apologizing for them, and did their best to help us.

Let me reiterate: they did their jobs as required. That was unusual and worthy of note. I won’t give their names here in case their coworkers cause them trouble over it, but I will let the city know.

On missed court calls, they took our names and made inquiries. We got no answers from the system, but they did ask. A man who needed his medication, who had previously been told that the medics were “gone for the day,” was scheduled for sick call. They gave us the time. They explained procedures. They got us mattresses. They were treated exactly as they treated us—politely, and every request complied with without hassle.

The entire day, I didn’t see any violence. There was rudeness to the guards, after it was clear they were of no help. There was shouting and boisterousness to kill the boredom. There was a drug-dealing, fire-and-brimstone Gospel comedian who kept us laughing for half an hour, and even got cheers from the next block. But no violence. These people were human beings with problems and who were accused of mistakes that society finds unacceptable. That does not make them criminals. Only a court conviction makes one a criminal.

At 6, we were brought dinner. You guessed it—fake ham and soggy bread with stale cheese and corn chips and nasty cookies and orange juice. The man trying to exchange his sandwich for a drink had no luck again.

After 9, I called home again, to tell my wife I would be at least another day. She said, “Oh, you haven’t heard!” and my stomach flipped. This couldn’t be good. “All charges were dropped at 4 o’clock,” she said.

Five hours previously. I was a free man. Except that I was still on the wrong side of the bars, still being treated like refuse by all except for two of my custodians.

I was to be released at midnight. I felt so much better that I relaxed a little. I’d thought I was relaxed earlier, until I’d realized my pulse was around 90. I was actually calm now.

I stayed with my form. I ate leftover chips to keep up my strength, poured a bag of water to keep myself hydrated. Nodded to conversation but said nothing. Stayed with my bunk so my mattress wouldn’t be stolen, as I needed it and didn’t want a fight.

About 10, some fool who had smuggled marijuana and matches in past their search lit up. The guards made no attempt to find out who, they simply shut off the phones again. People who had been brought in at the same time I had, just now getting up to the cell after twenty-four hours, came in and had no way to call.

They still no way to call when I left at midnight.

My name was called on a roster, and I was first at the bars, having moved my mattress to a front bunk during an earlier lull. I lied and said I didn’t have a mattress, so someone else would have the use of it. The irony of me lying to a guard to give a prisoner something he needed and decency said he was entitled to was rather bitter.

We were marched downstairs, lined up, processed out in 10 minutes. I was never actually told that my charges were dropped. We weren’t actually told we were being processed out until another prisoner asked and was answered.

They opened the locked steel door, told me to go up to the first floor and through the door there. I did so, and was in the lobby of the police department. No warning, no nothing. Through that door and out of our hair, you. To be fair, the guards on this last leg were fairly decent, probably because they knew we were innocent.

Conclusion

Consider that about half
of those arrested will have the charges dropped. Consider that two thirds of the remainder will be acquitted. That means that five sixths of the incarcerees, more than eighty percent, are innocent. Of the remainder, most are only being held for minor or nonviolent charges, such as Public Intoxication or Driving Without a License. Yet these thugs treat each and every one of them, preemptively, as they would a murderer or rapist.

They planned to leave me in an extra day, to “teach me a lesson.” They held me incommunicado, causing suffering for my family, to “teach me a lesson.” Despite my cooperation, flawless manners and calm demeanor, they harassed me and threatened me, to “teach me a lesson.”

Lesson learned, COs (Correction Officers). I have learned that you are petty, gutless Fascists who are so pitiful as to find solace for your own wretched lives in bullying people with problems, helpless to resist you, until they turn into caged animals for your amusement. I have learned that on the evolutionary ladder, you rank somewhere between child molesters and the bacteria that thrive in septic tanks. I have learned that if I am ever called as a juror for a criminal accused of beating one of you within an inch of your worthless life, I’ll need to see some VERY convincing evidence before I’ll convict him.

How’s that for a lesson learned?

Afterword

Nothing ever came
of any police investigation, as they didn't really do one. About a month later, in response to a written complaint, the watch commander came out, and we talked a few minutes. He apologized briefly, though I don't think he had many options available for correcting the problem. I've had both positive and negative experiences with IPD, and it seems the only positive experiences were when I was the business owner, not a supplicating private citizen.

I still live in the area, but I'm unlikely to move back into Indy proper, and the police are certainly part of the reason.

Inappropriate Cocktails

Believe it or not, I sometimes do things just to mess with people, and see how they react. Let me mix you a drink and I’ll tell you all about it . . .

First came the Scots, who kept the Sabbath...and anything else we could bloody well get our hands on.

Then came the Welsh, who prayed on their knees on Sunday, and preyed on their neighbors the rest of the week.

Next came the Irish, who had no idea what they wanted, but were willing to fight to the death for it anyway.

Last of all came the English, claiming to be a self-made people, thereby demonstrating the horrors of unskilled labor, and relieving the Almighty of a DREADFUL responsibility.

The Challenger

2 oz Vodka with tang powder

In memory of the astronauts.

Drink seven of these and you’ll explode.

The Hubble Space Cocktai
l

3 oz Cuervo 1800

2 oz peach schnapps

2 oz orange juice

2 oz lemonade

Place on a coaster made of sandpaper

It’s very expensive, served in a hand-polished glass,

and when you’re finished, everything looks fuzzy.

Bonus points for freezing flat, lens-shaped ice.

The Hurricane Katrina

1 oz white rum

1 oz Jamaican dark rum

1 oz 151 rum

3 oz orange juice

3 oz unsweetened pineapple juice

1/2 oz grenadine syrup

Stir until frothy

Serve over crushed ice

Sprinkle shredded fruit and chocolate

on top of the icy froth for debris.

Fukushima # 1

3 oz melon liqueur

1 oz orange liqueur

1 oz lime juice

This base drink is called a

“Japanese Slipper.”

Add two shots of vodka.

Shake vigorously for six minutes

Pour as four big splashing dollops

Sprinkle shredded fruit and chocolate debris across the froth

Drop a 2” lightstick into the bottom for a cheery glow.

The Princess Di

1 oz Vodka

4 oz Orange juice

½ oz Galliano floated on top

Serve on the rocks

2 shot glasses of French brandy

A Harvey Wallbanger with a couple of chasers.

(This goes very well with a Paparazzi Pizza.)

It will give you tunnel vision, and if you drink two,

you’ll look back and turn into a pillar of concrete.

The Black Klansman

3 oz Kahlua

Float 2 oz 151 proof rum

Delicately create a cross in heavy or whipped cream

Light the rum

It should be served in a glass at least 8” tall

Place on a napkin with eye holes cut in it.

The Chappaquiddick

2 oz Irish whiskey

A splash of water

Serve in a glass with a toy car at bottom.

You can’t tell anyone you drank it until after noon the next day.

The Osama bin Laden

2 shots of Maker’s Mark

A splash of water

This will really make you feel light-headed.

The Baby Seal

Two shots of Canadian Club

Club Soda

Serve on the rocks.

Pour a pile of fluffy white coconut shavings.

Pour Grenadine into the shavings.

Serve with a wooden stirring stick.

Dealey Plaza