Blog 15 Final Draft 1- Justice (revised)

Justice (revised) By: Stephen Mesa
When they showed up at my house they asked me if I knew what they were there for. A trick cops always try to play when they pull you over or interrogate you. They try to get you to admit what you did wrong and incriminate yourself because they actually know little. But I knew better than that. So I said no, though I actually knew exactly why they were there, but the thing is I didn’t know how much they actually knew, and I wasn’t about to tell them anymore.
“We just want to ask you some questions about your phone. How bout’ you come down to the police station with us and we’ll talk.”
You see about a week earlier I had dropped my phone by accident at the bar that I had been working at, at that time, and I must not have noticed. But an off duty cop, who frequented the bar, certainly did, and he picked it up. I spent the rest of my shift searching the bar for my phone. I made an announcement over the P.A. that it was missing, and asked everyone at the bar if they had seen a phone, including him. But instead of doing what most people would do and returning the lost property to rightful owner he decided to open it up and look through my pictures, totally unwarranted, and invading my privacy. That is when he discovered several pictures of graffiti and decided to turn my phone off, because I was calling it, of course, to try and find it. After that he got in his car like he did every night after drinking at the bar and drove it over to the police station to brag to the other boys about what he had “found.” I’m sure he tried to justify his actions in his own mind by telling himself that I am a criminal and I deserve to be prosecuted. I’m sure in his mind he considered it bringing me to justice, not stealing my phone. But what is justice? Some define it as fairness. A wise woman once said to me that if you expect any sort of fairness in this world you are just going to end up really disappointed.
“Before you guys ask me any questions shouldn’t I have a lawyer present?” I didn’t want to answer any questions or tell them anything. I knew my rights and I certainly wasn’t going to. “And also can I have my phone back? I’m pretty sure you guys aren’t allowed to just take my phone like that. I’m going to call a lawyer and find out and get it back” were all the things that I told them.
It was at this point they got really aggravated and went from good cop to bad cop mode because I wasn’t cooperating with them. “Oh you wanna be a wise guy, huh? You wanna play hardball? We can play hardball too. Fine go get a lawyer and well get a search warrant for your phone your house and your car and were officially opening up an investigation on you. I’m sure we’ll see you very soon” were all things that they said.
So they went through my phone and questioned my friends, but not before I got in contact with them and told them what was going down. Not only did I tell them the cops took my phone, and came to my house and tried to coerce me into talking about the pictures of graffiti on it, most of which were done by them. I also gave them advice on how to handle it when the cops came and questioned them. I told my friends not to talk to the cops and that they didn’t have to tell them anything besides their names without having a lawyer present. Just decline to be interviewed I told them.
The first person they interviewed was my friend Dan. He told me that he didn’t tell them anything but he also told me that he was in the interrogation room for 3 whole hours. He told me that they brought him to the point of tears. Though he said that he didn’t rat on me he told me that he did tell them he knew I was into graffiti and painted sometimes at art shows but didn’t know if I did it on the streets or not. Up to that point they didn’t even know I painted, they just knew I had pictures of it on my phone and wanted to find out why. So after Dan they had their leads to go upon, and they did.
The next person they interrogated was his friend, a graffiti writer who used to write “meows.” He always had this queer obsession with cats. He swears that he never told them anything but the police report says “a good citizen informant who chose to remain anonymous because of his friendship with me” gave them information.
After that the interrogations stopped.
They came and got one day after I was leaving band practice with the very same kids I just spoke of. They pulled me over and when I asked why they said there was a warrant out for my arrest. They searched me, cuffed me, impounded my car, and took me to the police station. They never read me my rights, guess they figured I already knew them.
When at the police station they laid out 27 documents on a table in front of me. “Do you know what those are?” they asked rhetorically. “Those are the charges you’re facing, all 27 of them.” They smiled smugly as they told me and were even more elated, it seemed, to tell me the amount of my bail, twenty seven thousand dollars, a thousand for each account. “Are you sure you still don’t want to talk” they asked me but I just shook my head no like I did every time they asked me a question.
And that’s when they told me “Did you tell him the best news of all yet?” I remember one pompous officer asking the other. See cops have a way of trying to belittle you when you get arrested, I don’t know if it’s to try and make you feel worse or to make themselves feel better. But the news was that they had also arrested my friend Mike earlier that day, he was running around writing cryptic phrases that began with the word “because” so that became what they referred to him as. He was the big fish that they were really trying to catch because his graffiti was unsightly, anti-social, and causing quite a stir in our quiet little suburban town.
They booked me and brought me to Middlesex County Jail, all the while teasing me about how I was going to get raped. I spent the night in a cell no bigger than a closet with two other men. They occupied the bunk beds so I slept on the cold, hard concrete floor. Other than the bunk beds in the room there was nothing but a toilet. No clock, no calendar, no television, no windows, no phone, no pencil and paper. Nothing to do except sit around and wonder what time it was, or what day it was, or what everyone you loved was doing outside of that cell. It was mental torture. Thankfully my parents came and bailed me out in the morning before I had to spend 23 out of 24 hours a day in that cell as they do. I honestly don’t know how they pass the time in there but it was enough for me to know that I never want to go back to find out.
It was after this that I got a lawyer, a very expensive, reputable one at that. Maybe too high class for this case as I look back on it now, at the time I thought it was a good idea to get a high priced lawyer because I thought that the more you pay the better they are but I soon learned that that was not the case at all. My lawyer had better things to do than worry about this petty little graffiti case. I wanted to fight it; he did not by any means. All he wanted to do was settle for a plea bargain. I told him about the illegal search and seizure of my phone and all he kept saying was that it was their word against mine and its best that I just don’t try and fight it because I will not win. But it was not my job to fight it, it was his and he just did not want to do it. Up until a day or two before the trial it seemed like there was little to no real evidence against me. For the longest time all I knew they had was a phone with pictures of graffiti and I still didn’t understand how they were able to arrest me for that. But before the trial they have to give your lawyer something that is called a “discovery” which is all the evidence they have against you so that the lawyer can prepare your defense. It was in this discovery that I found my friend Mike ratted on me. He had been my friend since 5 yrs old. We used to play soccer together, we grew up skateboarding together, and we were in a band together. He was like a brother to me. And I could have easily ratted on him to save my own tail because he was the one that they really wanted but I didn’t.
When it came to trial he didn’t even end up saving his own tail. He admitted that he did graffiti and that was the “because” artist and that I was “Meds” and because of his cooperation he really didn’t get off any easier than I did. We both got the same charges, fines and community service when we went to court and they only difference is he didn’t have to spend that night in jail and make bail because of that deal he cut with the police. So that’s what he got, he saved 2700 in bail money but he lost a friend.
So in the end I’m sure that everyone thinks that justice was served. I’m sure that cop thinks that taking my phone and turning it in was the right thing to do. I’m sure that Mike somehow tries to justify snitching on me in his head by saying that he just couldn’t go to jail or he just couldn’t afford that money, which is what the apology letter he wrote to me said. And I’m sure that my lawyer thinks that justice was served because I actually did the crime and I was convicted of it and he got his money and everyone was happy. I guess I got what I deserved, I did the crime and did the time but I still haven’t seen these other criminals and crooks get what they deserve and I fail to see the justice and or fairness in that.