Jailed for a crime, I wasn't alone

         

Luke Greenleaf

Jailed for a crime I didn’t commit:

         The door burst open with men shouting, “Hands in the air, this is the NYPD!”  Our group of college students was so taken aback that we had barely anytime to react.  Ralwin, a very dexterous and agile athlete, was able to escape in a surreptitious manner.  The rest of us however were fettered quickly and we were being watched over by 2 cops as the rest went to gather up the others.

         We were being taken downtown and it was just then I realized that we had transgressed the law and more then likely our actions were irrevocable.  In the most affable tone I could muster I asked the officer driving, “Where are you taking us?” 

         He responded coldly, “We have confiscated your contraband and we are bring each of you up on charges for your actions.”  They aggrandized our actions so much to the point that The Inquirer could not publish a piece if a journalist wrote about what they thought happened for its absurdity.  We were taken out of the car forcefully and thrown into our new home which they on the outside refer to as “holding”. 

         We were each taken out one at a time to go into a windowless room and talk with an old, sleazy looking police officer.  One at a time I watched them be taken out of “holding” and brought into this room and then afterwards would walk out and leave right through the front door.  All of my friends had now gone into the interrogation room except for me and I watched as my last friend Paul walked out however right before he left he turned and said to me, “It wasn’t my idea and I didn’t have much of a choice.”  With that he walked out towards freedom something I wish I was lucky to have right about now. 

         Two police officers came in, grabbed me, and brought me into the interrogation room.  They forcefully threw me into the chair that was situated directly across another chair and a table in the middle. They walked out as the old, sleazy looking cop came strolling in with an aura surrounding him.  As he sat down I felt a knot form in my stomach and I thought to myself this man seems to have quite a propensity to the art of interrogation.  He began his scathing line of questioning and soon I realized what Paul was ascribing to with his last words to me.  I tried to repudiate the accusations however they had all pinned it onto me and it was my word against all them.  The old man seemed to be flouting me and I wanted to extricate myself so that I could reach across the table and teach him some manners.  They removed me from the interrogation room after telling me I will be tried with numerous felonies and placed me back into “holding”.

         I began to think what will happen and why would my friends think so salutary for themselves and totally disregard my well being in their decision.  A young man that appeared old because of his uncleanliness and that crazed look in his eye was telling me for hours, ”You must get over the bridge before you may enter the tunnel.”  He was obviously off his rocker so I tried to tune him out and think happy thoughts. 

         Minutes turned into hours and hours into days and finally two police officers say, “Jack it is time.”  So I followed them into the car and we arrived at the court house at 11:00 for 11:05 court date.  As I scurried down the halls I found my court room and found my seat.  My lawyer walked in and it was none other than the sleazy, old police officer.  He was going to try remonstrate me from having to face punishment.  He appeared to be a straightlaced lawyer who seemed he knew he may not transgress certain rules and regulations.  I felt a small wave of comfort flow through me as he took his seat however quickly left as the equitable judge walked in.  We all sat in unison after the judge sat down and we would begin discussing my case.

         The judge sat through all the evidence presenting and the case development and seemed to keep an open mind which was great because my greatest fear was to get an insular judge.  The judge seemed to have been so open-minded as to appear as if his views were transmutable.  The jury however seemed to think they had a sinecure.  I do not think it matter how good the old man tried to disabuse the jury they were just immutable. 

         They were sent to make their decision and came back in only 10 minutes.  This was absurd and bizarre however the old man thought that this is actually a good sign.  This is not the case as I got charged with all the vicarious felonies and would be sentenced to 7 years in jail concurrent terms.  This decision was not based off the judge’s personal autonomy rather by the castigating precepts of the court.  It was a day which marks the beginning of my constant sepulchral mood.