I drove over to Charlie’s Truck Stop this past week to fill up with gas and to get a bag of dog food. Jake came bustling out to fill my tank. He was sniffling and his voice was raspy. When I asked, he said he had picked up a cold and could not seem to shake it. Jake is hardly ever sick and it is unusual to find him under the weather. I paid for the gas and dog food and told Jake I had to run as I was late on a tight deadline for a project to show a client in Corinth. I drove home in a steady rain and Mutt met me in the drive with his usual enthusiasm. He watched me unload the bag of dog food and stood around expectantly as I opened it and scooped out a cup full for his food dish. I sat the food down and Mutt dug in. I fixed a sandwich and switched on my computer. As is usual, Mutt wanted to have my full attention and kept trying to distract me as I sat at the computer. Finally I told him firmly to go lay on his rug and he went to the rug by the couch and lay down. I got down to some serious work and had the job completed by a little before midnight.

I was tired and ready for bed. I thought of taking a hot shower and was walking toward the bathroom when the phone rang. I picked it up and Charlotte was on the other end. Charlotte lives in North Carolina but she had come down and was in Jackson, Tennessee, where she was visiting her brother’s wife who was in the hospital. She would be in Selmer a couple days to help take care of her sister in law who was expected to be released from the hospital the following morning. I suggested having dinner together if she had the time and she said she thought she could pencil me into her schedule. We agreed on the night before she left to go back home.

Then she asked about the jailbird comment I had made back last January in the Luna City Charlie’s report. While waiting at the hospital, Charlotte had been reading some of the old Charlie’s reports on the Tandra site and had come across this one. I had promised to tell the full story later, but she could find nothing from a later posting. So I related the incident to her.

On January 16, 2004, I was driving to Corinth from Pickwick when I came to where Highway Patrol Officers had an eighteen wheeler pulled over on the roadside. Patrol cars were parked beside the eighteen wheeler with lights flashing as is customary. I slowed down and pulled out my license in case an officer wanted to check it. As I pulled even with the truck, a uniformed officer standing off the road motioned me on. Before I had the chance to press the accelerator, the cop yelled for me to stop, which I did promptly. The cop came strutting up accusing me of attempting to run him over and generally smarting off. I should obviously have been more subservient. After all, it is never wise to provoke a man with a gun. But I have seen my share of wise ass cops and his attitude was clearly one of intimidation. Still holding my license to the open window, I told him to just read the damn’ license. It was, of course, the wrong thing to say as it only fired his attitude.

He snapped the license out of my hand and went back to his car. I saw him in my rear view mirror writing a ticket and knew I had made a mistake in my response to his smart mouth. I was wondering why he had changed his mind after motioning me to move on. Maybe I had a tail light out or the date sticker on my license plate had fallen off. When he came back with the ticket, I asked him what was the problem. Again I had said the wrong thing. Perhaps there was nothing I could have said that would not have fired him off. He said I was going to jail and I should get out of the car. I was beginning to wonder what kind of psycho I was dealing with. He was clearly out of control. His face was red with anger. I have seen local street cops, the big beer belly kind, pull kids from their cars and beat them to the ground, young drivers who look like they might weigh in at one ten soaking wet. I was not eager to jump out of my automobile into this crazed cop’s questionable embrace. When I did not move quickly enough to please this thug in uniform, he opened the car door and dragged me out of my car and slammed me on the pavement, bouncing my head off the road surface.

The next thing I remember is standing with my hands cuffed. My glasses were lying on the pavement broken and the other cop was picking them up to toss into the seat of my car. True to his word, the uniformed thug took me to jail where I went through the admission procedure. This was a small town jail, but the people there were in no way uncivilized. It was while I was changing from my clothes into prison garb I noticed that my sore shoulder was scraped and bleeding. My elbow was also severely bruised from being slammed on the pavement. Had I not been wearing a padded winter coat, this was in January, I should have had severe damage to my left arm. I had a mug shot, fingerprinting, the full routine criminal procedure, then I was locked in the drunk tank. I was not in the tank because I had been drinking. I had not. The place was just crowded and there was no place else for new admissions. After several hours, the people at the jail grew tired of holding me and told me I could go home if I could provide $45.

My first course was to seek legal council. I phoned my family attorney out of courtesy, but he is not licensed for Mississippi as I suspected. Then I contacted lawyers in Mississippi. One attorney promised to get me off because he is in with the Good Ol' Boys club in Corinth and he knows how to talk with the right people. I passed on his offer because I was interested in having the offending officer answer for assault charges. As it happened, every attorney I contacted admitted my experience was typical for victims of the local law enforcement community but, if they took the case, they would be put out of business by the officers who have taken an oath to uphold the law. The situation is the lawyers in the area depend upon their survival with business generated by the Mississippi Highway Patrol and, if that business is withdrawn, the lawyers have no option other than to close their doors. In the end I was unable to find a lawyer with the courage to face the uniformed intimidation of the cops. The council I eventually hired was willing to do some polite negotioatin with the judge, but said he could not risk offending the Patrol with an accusation of brutality. I was charged with traffic violation and paid a fine. I also paid the lawyer a legal fee of $500. I understand the lawyer's position under conditions in Northeast Mississippi. I have since talked with any number of people with similar experience. A man in nearby Crump, Tennessee, was beaten so brutally by a gang of law officers over a minor traffic violation and to settle a personal grudge that he was treated at the local hospital before being taken to jail. It strikes me as odd somehow that men and women are dying in a campaign to bring democracy to Iraq while rogue law enforcement officers in this country are assaulting citizens in this country just to show what tough macho studs they can be.

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