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?
The first appearance of the notion of silence or lack of silence occurs at the first presence of the criminal justice system: the initial meeting with a police officer. During the War on Drugs, it became common for police officers to stop and frisk people, including those without suspicious behavior, in search of drug violations. Although, not against the law, the majority of people do not know that they have the option of declining such a search and refuse to answer any questions. Professor Tracey Maclin conducted a study regarding this phenomenon concluding, “the overwhelming majority of people who are confronted by police and asked questions respond, and when asked to be searched, they comply. This is the case even among those… who have every reason to resist these tactics because they actually have something to hide” (Alexander 66). Therefore, the finding suggests that only a few people do not fear a supposed consequence of not abiding by a police officer’s request. Hence, people remain silent and do n...
“Yes, sir. I live here and make this turn every day. I’m not sure what I did wrong this time,” I responded in my most innocent voice. All three times I had been pulled over prior to that day, I managed to get out of getting a ticket. This police officer, however, was not
At 2:30 pm in downtown Cleveland Ohio officer McFadden noticed 2 black males on a corner taking turns walking back and forth observing two stores. After 10 to 12 minutes a third man, white male, came by and talked with the other two. After a couple of minutes one man left and went west. Another couple of minutes later the other two left in the same direction. As the men walk around the corner the police officer follows. The officer approached the men and stated that he was an officer and asked their names. They mumbled something and at this point the officer reached out and spun terry around and patted him down. The officer felt what might have been the handle of a gun, so he tried to remove the gun but could not. The officer then took the coat off the man and retrieved the gun. He ordered all three in the store and told them they were under arrest and told the store personnel to “order the wagon”. Officer McFadden ordered the men against the wall when he other searched Chilton and found a revolver. He then searched Katz and found nothing.
Police brutality during interrogation is still happening, though some are lucky not to experience it. The power placed on the interrogators helps them not only physically, but mentally manipulate the suspect. The conditions of an interrogation room, small and dark, make it easy for the interrogators to get in one’s head. “He eventually confessed, but investigators had to ‘spoonfeed’ him the details”(Patrick). The suspects feel uncomfortable and scared of the interrogators; therefore, they feel the need to please the police, even if the idea did not come from them.
It is a troubling incident, because according to the dash cam footage from the police vehicle used in the initial arrest, the entire situation stemmed from a routine traffic stop, that escalated into something much more serious. The following research will delve into the arrest procedures and policies that are practiced in police administrations, and how we can better balance the welfare of the perpetrator, as well as managing the safety and security of the general public. The time gap between arrest and booking is too large to neglect any emotional or physical ailments that would be amplified by all the things that go along with being arrested. Injury or death in police custody can be avoided if there is a concerted effort among law enforcement officials to ensure that strides are being made to correct these issues.
SQUEEEKK! The police car skidded across the side of the road, leaving a swiveling trail of black marks in its tracks. “Stop right where you are!” A deep officer’s voice shouted out the car window. Melanie and Henry’s faces turned red as a tomato.
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
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
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.
I had survived the first half of the school year and finals week was here. I had projects from all classes, tests to study for, and essays to write. I wondered to myself, “How am I going to manage all of this?”. I was stressed out to the maximum. I had the urge to poison myself with bleach and escape this prison. I was so ready to just give up.
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.
Identity-“Ones personal qualities.”Identiy is something only he or she can fully define. My uncle says I am affectionate,cheerful, and calm. My grandmother sees me as slim, pretty and sweet. My dad described me as perky, cheerful and happy, my mom says beautiful, gentle, and self-conscious. These adjectives describe me accurately, yet they are only abstract versions of me. Adjectives cannot begin to describe me and I aknowlege these descriptions for what they are, a condensed translation from my outward self to the world. It is impossible for anyone to understand me completely because nobody has experienced the things I have. My mother has never cherished a raggedy doll named Katie and my father never spent hours upon hours making collages and scrap books for his future children. My uncle never hid in the back of a pick-up-truck and traveled four hours to New York and my grandmother has never walked hours in the rain looking for the Queen of England. My identity is something only I can define.
11:14 p.m.-I slowly ascend from my small wooden chair, and throw another blank sheet of paper on the already covered desk as I make my way to the door. Almost instantaneously I feel wiped of all energy and for a brief second that small bed, which I often complain of, looks homey and very welcoming. I shrug off the tiredness and sluggishly drag my feet behind me those few brief steps. Eyes blurry from weariness, I focus on a now bare area of my door which had previously been covered by a picture of something that was once funny or memorable, but now I can't seem to remember what it was. Either way, it's gone now and with pathetic intentions of finishing my homework I go to close the door. I take a peek down the hall just to assure myself one final time that there is nothing I would rather be doing and when there is nothing worth investigating, aside from a few laughs a couple rooms down, I continue to shut the door.
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.
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,