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Two Days Ago, I Feared for My Life
He had a gun—and a nightstick, and a badge
We’ve all found ourselves a dark street in an unfamiliar place and wondered if the stranger approaching us had a gun. I had been through it before. Except this time the street wasn’t dark, the place wasn’t unfamiliar, and I knew the stranger approaching me had a gun.
And a nightstick. And a badge.
Two days ago, I feared for my life. Really.
I was leaving court, where I feel invincible, impervious to guns and nightsticks and badges. I cross-examine officers mercilessly when they lie or exaggerate or embellish, as they so often do. I humiliate them. I leave them seething with rage because they are helpless. As long as they are on the witness stand, they are alone and they are mine. And that tends not to be fun — for them, at least. But two days ago, I sat in my car—a twisted version of the witness stand—and I was alone and I was his.
As he called me to the stand by turning on his blue lights, my mind began to race. Was it Spacey, the officer I mocked for being inept, obtuse, or a liar during a recent possession-with-intent acquittal? Was it Kelby, the officer I mocked for being inept, obtuse, or a liar during a recent trafficking acquittal? Was it Fender, the officer I mocked for being inept, obtuse, or a liar…
