We were having an interesting chat about about the changing roles of communities vis a vis law enforcement at another diary, and thought I’d share this, for (what it’s worth...).
After about 25 years in the NYC metropolitan area, I recently returned home to where I grew up in south Jersey. My stepfather had passed away last October, and my 88 year-old mother didn’t want to leave the house she had lived in for over 50 years. So, my two older sisters and myself decided (for various reasons) I should at least give it a try.
One beautiful autumn day, I decided to take a walk around the old neighborhood. As I did, I noticed the children at the elementary school I had attended almost 50 years ago, were at recess. This naturally brought back memories, and I was particularly struck by how they were still playing the same games I recalled so vividly: kickball, hula-hoop, etc. I was so struck by nostalgia, et al, that I decided to take a little break, and sat down beneath a tree, that was well beyond from the playground, but still within clear view of the school. As I sat there a little while (musing on all sorts of things), I noticed two policemen appear to my immediate right.
At first, I thought absolutely nothing of it. After all, this was the neighborhood I had grown up in, and had attended this very same school in. So, I was polite, and assumed their presence had something to do with something (or someone) other than me. One policemen then said, “Were you using that tennis court?” There was, in fact, a tennis court not far from where I was sitting, which was not part of the school grounds, and was, indeed, often in use by older members of the community (which was one of the reasons I didn’t really think twice about sitting there.) I replied, “No. Why are you looking for someone?” And the cop said, “Yeah, you.”
At this point, three or four more policemen arrived in another car, and came towards me.
I said, “Me?” and one of them replied, “Yeah. Do you have any identification?” At this point I was becoming a bit confused and flustered. So, while I went (a little nervously) through my wallet looking for my driver’s licence, I explained who I was, and why I was there. But, the policemen to my immediate right just looked at the t-shirt I was wearing and asked if I was hiding anything under it. And, as I was having a bit of trouble locating my driver’s license, one of the policemen took my wallet, and went through it quite thoroughly for me. Removing every picture and what not, before giving it back.
As this was in process, another police car stopped, and a few more cops came towards me to join the interrogation. The policemen to my right continued to ply me with questions, and I did my best to answer. Soon a third (and maybe fourth, I couldn’t see all of the cars, just the police) arrived with even more of them. At this point all I could do was laugh and say “You’ve got to be kidding!” I think I must mention that this is a very middle-upper middle-class neighborhood (Muhammad Ali once lived there, along with several prominent Mafiosi families...), and is kinda close knit. I even happened to have gone to high school with the current Mayor (which, thinking back, I perhaps should have mentioned at some point).
I asked them if it was illegal to sit where I was sitting (which it apparently wasn’t. There were no signs and were even several benches not far away. I had been sitting on one, just prior to moving to the tree, which was even further away from the school.) They (of course) said yes it was.
Now I realize I’m sounding a bit perhaps impudent about this. And I did think it all a rather absurd bit of drama and overkill considering the actual situation. But who could entirely (or at all) blame them? After all, someone from the school had contacted them about some stranger “loitering around the schoolyard during recess.” One of the cops even said to me, “Don’t you watch the news?”
That was when it all started to get interesting. One of the cops (I believe he was the highest ranking one) the one who had led the last brigade in, kept smiling at me and was trying be, if not apologetic, at least friendly, since he pretty well knew I wasn’t a child molester. But they had to keep me there until they checked out my story. So we chatted.
The top cop shared with me that even they (the police), now had to get “clearance” whenever they entered any building, even while they were in uniform. As I was a bit, genuinely, taken aback by this, I let slip, “Because they are afraid you might turn some child’s chair upside down?” Since I really wasn’t trying to be abusive or smart alecky (and that was obvious, I was just quite surprised to hear this), one of the other cops started muttering something I couldn’t quite make out…
While we all hung out waiting for my freedom to be granted, I also said, ironically and (in as good-natured pseudo-exasperation as I could muster): “Well, I’ll certainly never do this again!” Which seemed to reassure all concerned. At least enough for them to not even feel obliged to give me a warning. After they assured me that they wouldn’t be dropping by my house, and giving my mother a wholly undeserved heart attack, they dispersed.
The first thing that occurred to me afterwards was: if this could (and did) happen to me, in this idyllic, don’t-even-need-garages-on-mischief-night neighborhood, what could life possibly be like in an inner-city neighborhood? And are we really a nation of laws, or now just of Youtube & Twitter?
I realize this little episode wasn’t exactly the storming of the Bastille, and a relatively pathetic, middle-class/middle-aged, pseudo “crime scene” at that. And yes: I shouldn’t have been there to begin with. But there seems to me something I’m just missing and can’t quite put my finger on, that I should have learned from this bit of silliness.
You’re an awfully bright bunch of people. Do you know?