jail #5: 8-9 March 2005
i wake up to a torrent of water on my head & watering the bushes which i'm sleeping behind. just like yesterday, but this time i have the benefit of experience so i quickly throw plastic & my raincoat over my bags. a startled gardener appears on my side of the bushes & motions that i have to get out. as i walk out a security guard calls out from behind me, and after disregarding him from a distance while i stretch, i walk over & ask him to please just let me keep storing my stuff there until i find a new place to stash it. then i set off across the bridge to the Port of Miami for the second time (the first time i was stopped by cops & told to recross the long bridge on foot, lugging all of my bags back in failure). so this time i travel light, fill in an application with Royal Caribbean, and then set off for Maersk's building. en route i pass a sign warning me that this is a restricted area & that i'm subject to a search. fair enough. so i get to a checkpoint where a guard checks my ID, calls over a supervisor, and then it's a cop frisking me. next thing you know i'm in cuffs, and before long, we have about 20 or 25 officers in various uniforms on the scene - Miami-Dade police, Customs & Border Enforcement officials, Coast Guard people, Homeland Security officials, and at least one guy from the FBI. i explain that i'm there to apply for a crew position to return to Europe by sea. they tell me a woman complained that i jumped a fence. i jumped no fence. a cop drives me to jail, saying i trespassed but that it's no big deal & that i'll be out in 4 hours maximum. the time is circa 2 pm, and i soon discover that the soonest i'll be out is in 18-20 hours. ouch. but we get mattresses at least - first time i've slept on one of them in jail! when someone starts 'acting up' in the least, the "trustee" a.k.a. Uncle Tom inmate & up to two of his lackeys put on latex gloves to threaten that they will give said person a beating. incredible. sure enough, later in the morning we're ordered to stand in rank & file again so we can be counted - again. Uncle Tom vindictively jabs me and clarifies "hands out of yr pockets." i reply that i will remove them when the officers (to whom we apparently shall display our respect) arrive to count us. he intones "Now!" to which i reply "Or?" in less than a blink of a battered eye i'm staggering backwards from the crushing impact of his right fist to my eyebrow, blood streaming down my chest. i struggle to stay on my two feet and not pass out while the officers arrive and slowly and methodically do the roll call in both our cell and the next one over before they finally react in the slightest to my bloody self and lead me down to the infirmary. they suggest stitches, i say thanks but no thanks, sit through a mockery of a group trial complete with lore latex gloves, and i'm released. both from jail, and from the jail state, the so-called "swet land of liberty." yeah - my bloody eyebrow.
jail #3: 3 September 2004 (published in Ruru zine, issue #2)
I was arrested Friday, 3 September 2004 at around 1:30 am in New York City, on 8th ave. just next to 30th st. there were approximately 15 of us, 8 men and approximately 7 women. we were transported to Pier 57, and after several hours (the sun had risen) were once again transported to what is perhaps referred to as Central Booking, at 100 Centre st.
the excuse given for our arrest was that we were engaged in disorderly conduct. for the last night of the Republican National Convention (Thursday night), thousands of us convened at Union Square where we proceeded to stage a 'die-in' at 22:00 (10:00 pm) - our response to George W. Bush's 'nomination'-accepting speech. we lay down and played dead for several minutes until an aggressive male voice started yelling that we had received permission to march up 8th avenue to Madison Square Garden, the site of the convention.
we then proceeded to march triumphantly West along 15th st., turning right onto 8th avenue. en route, we were cheered on by countless well-wishers waving flags from their windows or waving to us from the sidewalks. i have never experienced anything like it demonstrating in the U$A... we continued to 29th st., i believe, where we were stopped by policemen & policewomen with their typical metal barriers for a good 15 to 20 minutes, i would say. they finally gave way and allowed us to merge with the protesters in the next block, and i zig- zagged my way as close as possible to MSG, namely the intersection with 30th st. continuing in the euphorically peaceful spirit of our die-in, some voices urged us to sit down in order to underline the actively non-violent nature of our demonstration. up to and perhaps more than one hundred of us closest to 'the final barrier' proceeded to do so, undeterred by the numerous photographers and video-camera- toting newspeople for whom our request fell on deaf ears.
as the minutes and hours passed, our numbers thinned from thousands to hundreds to dozens, and various suggestions as to whether to move our protest or not (and if so, where to) didn't exactly maintain our unity. despite efforts to honour the wisdom of "united we stand, divided we fail," our numbers decreased until there were the 15 of us or so left in the middle of 8th ave. the police opened up the metal barriers and several police vehicles and firetrucks proceeded to drive past us, turning right onto 30th st. from our vantage point, it seemed as if cement barriers prevented traffic from continuing up 8th ave. i inquired of each of us, one by one, what our concrete demands were in order for us to end the demonstration and go home satisfied. the consensus was clearly that a withdrawal of all U$ forces from Iraq would suffice (to end this particular sit-in at least), but just as i was double-checking this with the last of us, a priest sat down and requested our audience. he called on us to respect the fact that New Yorkers were "tired," and not to continue this protest out of personal pride. needless to say, it begged the question of whose interests he was there to represent.
suddenly an 'officer of the peace' (cop) informed us that we would be charged with disorderly conduct if we did not stand up and leave. i locked my right arm with the young man to my right and braced myself. a few seconds went by _at most_ before i was being violently wrenched backwards, whereupon i locked my left arm with my right so as to better remain there, seated peacefully, not blocking any traffic or pedestrians or anything. they wrenched me free, i felt a sharp pain in my neck, my left arm (which still hurts now 72 hours later), and my back, and they whirled me around muttering aggressively in my ear. i repeatedly stressed that this was a peaceful protest and urged them to calm down and relax, to no avail. my hands were thrust into a set of plastic handcuffs so tight that my fingers went numb. enter the paddywagon...
we were then given the royal run-around and i ended up being held for 20 hours. as i mentioned, the first part of our sojourn was spent at the now infamous Pier 57, where we were intentionally held in a chemically hazardous environment. "Chemical Warfare," as The Dead Kennedys sang many moons ago. at no point were we read our rights, and we were repeatedly lied to in order to extract information from us. i couldn't help but reflect on how unthinkably dire the treatment of prisoners at camps like Abu Ghurayb in Iraq and Guantanamo Bay in Cuba must be - if they treat their fellow Americans like this, imagine how they must treat so-called "others"...
when i finally was led into court, i was representated by the exemplary National Lawyers Guild, to whom i am very grateful. i was charged with Resisting Arrest (a misdemeanor) and two counts of Disorderly Conduct (violations). the court's 'plea bargain' was for me to plead guilty to one count of Disorderly Conduct, thereby forgetting about the other two 'offenses.' i did so and was ordered to pay a sum of $95 for my audacious behaviour... thank you to The Black Cross and the greeters outside 100 Centre st. who welcomed me back to "freedom" and did an amazing job helping folks out.
and thanks to all of you who kept me in your thoughts & hearts & hoped for a speedy release. thanks to my cousin Jeff for supplying me with a calling card code. and how can i neglect thanking the 14 courageous souls who had the inner power and outer cajones to link arms with me to pray for an end to this obscenely destructive administration.
God bless us all and forgive us for what we humans sow (and reap) in these dark days. as sung by The Fugees (i believe),
"forgive them Father for they know not what they do..."
jail #1: September 1993
see my trip times page.