The bald-headed one returned, whispered to his partner, and then both glanced in my direction. It was no ordinary look. I recognized the expression. It was the same expression officers gave criminals on the hit television series Cops before the inevitable happened (the chase or takedown). An intense fear rushed through my body. A sensation of numbness spread like poison from my chest; I was immobile, like a deer caught in headlights. With a single look, all sense of freedom drained from the body. To them, I am guilty. To them, I am a criminal. “STAND UP and TURN AROUND," bellowed the officer. The raspy voice sliced through the air and penetrated the silent room. I breathed out cautiously, so as not to challenge my innocence--if such a concept even existed. Slowly, I stood up. Slowly, I turned around. It was Wednesday, possibly; technically, the middle of the week, except the days had oddly morphed into a week. In my fatigued and sleep-crazed state, I had a distorted sense of time. Still, I sensed an end to the madness as I approached more closely to a dimly lit building. My pace quickened as the building stood taller before me. The bottoms of my feet stomped the ground beneath--each step heavier than the last. Repeatedly, I swiped my hand across the air to get the flurries out of my face, but they remained. I was outnumbered from every direction .The sweeping back and forth motion exhausted my arm. So, reluctantly, I allowed them to collide violently with my stiff body while I continued in the footsteps marked by the student in front of me. In an almost zombie-like manner, I shuffled my feet through the side door of the Chemistry building and narrowly avoided a collision with another student. My mind was fixat... ... middle of paper ... ... storm was moving south. I have debated this incident in my mind many times. I have questioned the actions of the officers many times. Often, I conclude that their actions were extreme, and many people who hear this story agree on my innocence (including the prosecutor who dropped the charges on the following day). But I have not been able to reach that conclusion myself. Stripped of my freedom, liberty, and rights, I anticipated that at any moment guilt would encompass me. I sat nervously in the backseat of the police jeep and waited. I waited for the feelings of regret and wishes that I could turn back the clock. I waited in that alert state for what seemed like hours. But the feelings never came. Guilt did not daunt upon me. Rage did not blind me. Still I knew I had faulted. The A.M radio screeched in the background. Am I innocent, I still wonder today?
Tom was not “interrogated” even though he was restrained. The officer’s best interest was that of the victim; therefore, he called an ambulance to seek medical attention for the victim and proceeded to get the bat Tom threw over the fence. Who is to say that someone else could have been involved with the assault of the woman? That would mean the public and the officer himself may have been in danger (Hall, 2015). As stated by Hall (2015), “The relatively rigid Miranda rules are relaxed when there is a public safety exigency that was the impetus of a brief and limited interrogation designed to meet the exigency” (p. 479). Needless to say, the officer proceeded to ask an involuntary question to Tom regarding his “motive”, at which time he should have read his rights to him. Although Tom claims that the bat as well as his statement should be an exclusionary fruit, he will be charged for the assault of the victim and possession of the bat (Hall, 2015) As stated by Hall (2015), “First, volunteered statements are not the product of interrogation. The Miranda decision explicitly states that officers are under no duty to interrupt a volunteered confession in order to read a confessor his or
My life intersects with Into The Wild because I never had a good relationship with my mom or stepfather Dan who was 21 years older than my mother. So I “escaped” to Columbia much like Chris did from his own reality. Dan would drink every day; you would rarely see him without a drink in his hand. His drink of choice would be either whiskey or beer depending on what he could afford. You could always tell when he was smashed and when he was I was the person he wanted to tear down with his words the most. I remember one night after my grandma just had surgery and she was staying with us my mom asked me to cook. I told her I would. I then went outside to check what I was grilling and I knew Dan was out there intoxicated.
I hurt everywhere. I try to slowly open my eyes but it is so hard, the blinding light hurts my head, I slowly peel my eyes open to find myself in a strange bathroom. Everything is old and dirty looking and I don’t mean dirty like “when my mom told me to clean my bathroom and there was only a ponytail on the sink and a few boy pins, dirty,” I mean it looked as if nobody had cleaned this bathroom in 15 years and still people used it. Once I establish myself, my eyes begin to wander, I am in a stained tub with all of my clothes still on me.
How would I feel I someone I loved died? It is not a question that most people ask themselves frequently, but it is one that often comes up when they read or hear about a notable person that has passed or was killed, or even just a news story about a woman who lost her son. I had the unfortunate experience of discovering what that felt like firsthand.
I completely agree with you on the ridiculousness of these newer rules. As a baseball player, I can most certainly connect to what you are thinking. When, I was an eight year old baseball player and running to second base, I was going to slide hard and late into second base. I was not intending to hurt another player, but this is just what I was taught. As for other situations, during my early childhood I would love watching the collisions between a runner and a catcher at home plate. That in my mind was one of the most intense plays that could occur in a baseball game. Then, going back to what you stated with the new development of the rules regarding sliding into second base and collisions at home plate, these are not needed. The major
Maybe it’s the fact that I tend to stay in my room all weekend, which leads to people thinking I’m studying when in reality I am probably binge watching a TV show or maybe it’s my glasses, but most people who don’t know me too well assume that I am smart. Now that is a great thing for me because I don’t have to try as hard to impress them, but I end up finding myself in a bit of a problem. The problem is that everyone thinks I enjoy admiring school textbooks. But the truth is I’m usually admiring my Justin Bieber poster on my bedroom wall. Ever since I was in sixth grade I’ve been a huge fan of Bieber. His music always brought a feeling of calmness and back in the day his “never say never” motto, was what I lived by. I might still be living by that motto because I’ve decided to write this essay
Personal Narrative: The World The world is a messed up place and we are all stuck here until our lives are through, or until we choose to leave. It's strange that I go along with everything everyone tells me, such as that I should wear certain clothes or listen to certain songs. I often wonder why I do the things I do, but then I just realize that's who I am. People are confused about why they are here, and they don't understand what life is supposed to be about.
A thin, brown stick glows. From its tip exudes a discreet swirling trail of smoke, as if from a genie’s lamp. The subtle spice of incense tingles my nose, and triggers an intense feeling of dromomania, the desire and longing for travel. My mind wanders off, and I find myself back in Vietnam, at the sacred Thien Mu Pagoda, where a field of bright orange incense sticks, set in a large bronze basin, glow against the hazy, muggy dusk. About me are Buddhist monks, some perched amidst the lush, green gardens; and others in a group over in a tiled, rectangular courtyard, immersing themselves in an intense, but friendly, game of soccer. The vision fades, and my nose transports me to the bustling streets of the Old Quarter of Hanoi where the sweet and
It’s September of 2009, the semi-truck is sitting outside with all of our belongings in it, like an airplane waiting to take us away. Today is gloomy and raining as usual, but I know I’m going to miss it. The sun has started going down; we all get into the vehicles we’re designated. Me, my Dad, and Jade our Boxer into the truck, Mom Jaycee and the other animals into the car, and my Aunt Tina and Grandma into their suburban. It’s bitter sweet, I am so excited to go to a new city, new state, new everything, but I’m leaving behind everyone I grew up with. My closest friends who thought I was funny, not weird. Who I consider my brother, Daniel, and my mom’s side of the family all left behind. We begin driving, the truck brakes releasing
I believe in nothing. However, my lack of beliefs should not to be confused with pessimism. I was raised in a household that most would consider to be dysfunctional. For as long as I can remember, I was expected to believe that if I stayed optimistic and held my head up high, things would turn around. This never seemed to be the case. I’ve never found that blind faith in beliefs are enough to change life for the better. People should be motivated by strengthening their own self-worth, and following through with the tough decisions that they need to make a change.
It was just over three months ago when World War Three ended. America is torn apart. Never to be the same again. The world has began to crumble beneath my feet. Every step I take, another inch falls. The earth is getting very cold. It is very gloomy now. I began to find shelter and sleep for the night, where I would be gone by daylight.
“Have you ever wondered what a human life is worth? That morning, My brother’s was worth a pocket watch.” When people have their basic rights removed they all react differently, some fight, some do nothing and some find ways around it. My beliefs are that people should have the right to freedom of speech, freedom from unjustified arrest, no interference with privacy, home or family, the right to life liberty, and personal security, and freedom from mistreatment or torture.
As I sat in the police station, I thought about unfair the whole situation. I was taken under arrest because I slightly tore and smudged a bill. I was considering my options when I heard one of the officer’s open the door to where I was waiting and told me that the jury was ready to put me on trial.
Flexibility- Being raised with my 2 little brothers and a single mother is hard. More when I was 15 and my brothers were 12 and 11. Something I learned quickly is you never got what you asked for right away. It was hard for my mom to raise 3 kids. Where I had to be flexible is where when me and my brothers all wanted to go to a friend house at different times. Well that wasn't possible with only one parent who could drive. Most of the time I would never go to my friends house at the time I wanted to go at. I either had to wait for my mom to get home from work or go super early. Something if I wanted to go out and do some active, I couldn't if my mom couldn't find a babysitter to watch my little brothers. A lot of the time I couldn't just go out and do whatever I wanted my mom needed me to help around the house. It really helped me out today to be more calm and flexible with my schedule and others in my life.
It was dark that night, I was nervous that this dreadful day was going to get worse. Sunday, October 23, 1998 I wanted to start writing this to tell about the weird things i’m starting to see in this new neighborhood. Gradually I keep seeing pots and pans on the sink suddenly move to the floor. I would ask my sister but she is out with my mom and dad getting the Halloween costumes. When they got home I didn’t tell them what I saw because i've seen Halloween movies and I have to have dissimulation otherwise the ghost will come out and get me first. October 24, 1998 I think I got a little nervous yesterday with the whole ghost thing. 12:32pm, Went to eat lunch with the family today and I go to get my coat. I heard the words furious and madness,