The Cops Just Laughed When they Took Me to Jail! (Pt. 1)

Beware of old boyfriends who pop up at your house unannounced. You might just find yourself riding in the back of an unmarked car, on your way to jail!

I kid you not. That is exactly what happened to me. But not before I was invited down to the station to have a talk, hauled into multiple interviews, and depositions, and ultimately, subpoenaed and ordered to appear in court. That's when I finally put my foot down and said enough is enough!

The day after two detectives hand delivered me a subpoena to come to court, I decided to disregard it and go to work instead.

Here's how it all started:

When I was 19 years old, there was a guy I dated for several months, and eventually broke up with because he drank a little too much for my taste. When he did, he turned into a rude drunk and was no fun to be around, so we parted ways, but remained on friendly terms.

I still saw him occasionally, because he used to frequent the Blueberry Hill, a disco club I worked at. Thanks to a fake I.D. and a girl who knew a guy, I landed a job there as a cocktail waitress (I mentioned it in my story about meeting famous people, and also the story where I accidentally hit the dog).

On one particular occasion, about six months after we split, he apparently came to the club. Since it was a packed Saturday night, I can't vouch for seeing him there (which is what I later told the cops).

Well, on that same night, or actually the next morning, I got off work at 5:00 am - when the club closed. I lived just three blocks from the club, in what we not so affectionately called "The Jungle".

It was almost light, and I walked the short distance home, unafraid and completely used to the neighborhood.

The first thing I saw when I unlocked the front door was this idiot - my ex. I'll call him Charles, but obviously that wasn't his name. He was sitting on the loveseat by the door.

Since we parted on decent terms and he was in good standing, my sister figured I wouldn't mind him coming in to wait for me. She left him sitting there and had gone off to bed. The household was dark, except for the early morning finally starting to creep in.

It was also quiet, and Charles looked like he had fallen asleep. I nudged his foot with mine, causing him to open his eyes and sit up. Then I sank down next to him, and fired off a round of questions, like:

Why he was there, who let him in, and where was his car?

On the walk home, I hadn't noticed the long flashy old model Cadillac he drove, at least not anywhere near my apartment building.

I expected him to say he couldn't find a parking spot, and had parked around the corner, but instead, he said he got dropped off.

I immediately took him to mean he had the audacity to have someone drop him at my home, just like we were still dating or something. The thought of how presumptuous it was of him instantly made me annoyed.

Even if he thought he might get lucky with a booty call (not that he would have), at least he should have drove himself, just in case I didn't let him in (no pun intended). This was just a reminder of how arrogant he was.

For context, let me tell you a little bit about this guy. I actually used to care for him a lot. He was a decent enough man, and we had fun together, as long as he wasn't drinking.

I know we all have our issues or demons, and we all handle them in different ways, so I guess drinking was his. I was young at the time, so I wasn't trying to hear or care about his issues and what made him behave like an ass.

Like I said, we all have our crap to deal with; just read any of my Hard Knocks stories. But that doesn't give people a license to crap on everybody else, which is what Charles would do when he got intoxicated.

He was the son of a preacher, so he had the influence of both parents in the home. He had nine or ten sisters, and he was the baby of the bunch. Needless to say, his sisters adored him. That was another part of why we broke up.

The Crappy Ex-Boyfriend

Charles and his family were tight knit, and those sisters treated their baby brother like he was precious gold, no matter how rude he behaved to them when he was drinking.

FOR INSTANCE:

I remember one time when we were together, we were driving home from the club early one morning; him, me, two of his sisters, and one of their male friends.

Charles was clearly too drunk to drive, and everyone told him so, including me. After he refused to let anyone drive his car, and since we had all rode with him there; everyone piled in the car and let this fool get behind the wheel.

Stupid? Hell yes! We only got two or three blocks away before everyone insisted in no uncertain terms, that he pull over and let someone else drive.

Thankfully, he did pull over. But he put everyone out the car except me. He wouldn't let any of them drive, and he refused to let them back into his car.

You're probably wondering why someone just didn't smack his butt and take the keys?

Because he was the golden child, remember?

I honestly don't know the answer to that. I didn't get it then, and I don't get it now. And no, I didn't stay in the car with him; well I did, but only after he agreed to let me drive.

He still refused to let the others get back in. So I actually had to leave them all out there, at about 4:00 in the morning, to find their own way home.

While I drove, I had to listen to his drunken tirade about what he thought of everyone he had just stranded. The worst part was, I barely knew how to drive, and I definitely didn't have a license.

How I got us home safely is anybody's guess. We almost would have been better off with him driving, but I wasn't about to let that happen.

Anyway - that was who Charles was, at least 40 -45% of the time. But to be fair, the other 55–60% of the time, he was a great guy.

He knew how to talk and behave respectfully towards people, and he even went to church on occasion. Overall, he had a friendly demeanor, even though he was definitely streetwise. But then again, so were his sisters; so were all of us. I met him through two of his sisters that also lived in The Jungle.

So we all grew up in South Central Los Angeles, and none of us were immune to the lessons that the street teaches you - whether you happen to know you're in class or not.

Charles knew the language of the streets, just as much as the next young black man out there trying to survive.

People actually seemed to love him, but only for that percentage of time that I mentioned. After awhile, I couldn't deal with those percentages any more; thus the break up.

The Night in Question

One more slightly relevant thing to know about Charles is that apparently, besides being an occasional a-hole, he had also cheated on me. I found that tidbit of information out a couple of months after we broke up.

It was too long ago to care anymore, especially since I stopped having feelings for him. I never even talked to him about it, but it did leave me with a salty attitude.

So back to the early morning in my living room.

I'm just getting off work after being up all night, standing on my feet, and fending off creeps.

I'm tired and irritated at this uninvited ex-lover who I found out had also been cheating on me when we were together.

And as far as I can tell, he wants to either engage me in idle chit chat at 5:30 in the morning, or get an early morning booty call, neither of which he's earned the right to.

The reason I laid it all out for you like that, is because I want you to understand why I wasn't more intuitive to what was going on with him that morning. Because too much was going on with me.

I remember, all I wanted to do was go crawl into my bed, and not with Charles. Basically, all I got out of him in the way of information were these three details:

• He'd been to the club.
• He wasn't in his car.
• He just stopped by, on his way to the bus stop.

My response was basically: "See you later," other than a bit of sympathy about him having to catch the bus home and telling him to be careful.

I don't recall for sure, but knowing me, I probably gave him a hug also.

The following Friday, I saw Charles again, but only briefly, and we didn't really discuss that night.

What happened the very next Friday, after our brief encounter, you won't believe. I still can't believe what this guy did, or the stupid way he went about doing it.

The Bogus Alibi

The entire week after I last talked to Charles, I didn't see or hear anything else from him or his sisters. So naturally I was stunned when him and two of L.A.'s finest showed up at my door the following week. They were detectives.

To make a long story short, they extended me an "invitation" to come to the police station on Monday and talk to them about the night Charles came to my house.

Based on the few questions they asked, they were specifically interested in that night, and what transpired when Charles came to see me.

I was young at the time, but smart enough to know that if two detectives were questioning me about something Charles may have been involved in, that he must have used me as an alibi.

Since the cops refused to go into any detail, and all Charles could do was stand there, looking dumb, I didn't know what to think. I wasn't even sure if he was officially in custody, or simply escorting them to where he claimed his alibi lived.

I took their business card and agreed to come to the station first thing Monday morning; which I did. All weekend long, I expected to hear from Charles or any one of his sisters (if not all nine), letting me know what was going on. Not!

No one contacted me and told me anything, including him.

I wondered if maybe they were afraid to contact me, for fear of being watched or recorded. My mind was racing, but I didn't call anyone. I knew things were serious, that's why I was afraid to try and reach out myself.

Of course, I didn't understand why it should have been left up to me to figure things out in the first place. I was the one being dragged into whatever was going on.

When I went and gave my statement that Monday, I still had no idea what I was walking into, but right away, I got a better sense of what was happening.

I discovered, that while Charles was not yet arrested, or in custody, they were looking at him for the murder of some man - no one I knew. They were trying to confirm his alibi for that night; me.

Under the circumstances, the snitch code aside, I told them everything I knew, which wasn't a whole lot, but it was the truth.

They asked questions about his arrival to my home, his demeanor, what he was wearing, what he talked about, and things like that.

If I hadn't been so tired and in my "I don't really give a crap" mood (like I laid out for you) I might have gotten a little more information out of Charles. that night

Instead I hadn't asked anymore than he volunteered, and frankly I didn't really want to hear that. And it's a good thing, because then, I would have been put in a position to definitely give him up.

For one thing, what idiot offers someone up as an alibi, but the person has no idea what you expect them to say?

Even if I would have wanted to lie for him (which I didn't), I wouldn't have known what to lie about.

As it turns out, he had ample time to warn me, if not enlighten me, before thrusting me in the middle of his crap. I doubt seriously if I would have lied for him, had he asked in advance.

We weren't together, we weren't really friends, and we weren't even screwing, not to mention, he cheated on me. If he had asked me to tell a lie for him, I'm pretty sure I would have taken a hard pass.

My visit to the station, and giving my statement that morning was only the beginning of my ordeal. The Prosecutor's office had their eye on me, to try to help make their case against Charles.

They had a deposition of my sworn statement. But they made me show up to court on more than one occasion.

Yep! I said court, as in Charles was eventually arrested and put on trial for murder, or some form of it (manslaughter, second degree, something).

Between going to court, and the other interviews they kept dragging me in for, I had to take time off off from work on multiple occasions.

I had a new job downtown at a jewelry company, and they weren't pleased with all the time I was taking off.They let me know I could be replaced, if need be.

Fortunately, the trial finally ended, only they had a hung jury, so that meant more than likely, they'd be doing it all over again.

Committing the Crime

When the detectives showed up to the new two bedroom house my sister and I had started renting, I don't remember how much time had passed since the trial. It had been a while.

Long enough for me to have forgotten all about Charles and his crazy siblings. Since I wasn't in the loop anymore, I didn't know for sure that a second trial had actually been planned.

I found out when the detectives came to my home and shoved a subpoena in my face (I don't remember if it was the original two or not).

They let me know the second trial had started, and told me I was due in court the very next morning.

The thought of the whole thing starting up again made me furious. How could I have gotten into such a mess, behind someone I could care less about? I toyed with the idea of ignoring the subpoena.

I remember contemplating the possibility of being sent to jail for such a minor infraction. I reasoned with myself how there were all kinds of laws that go unenforced.

I told myself, spitting on the sidewalk is against the law, but people do it all the time and nobody goes to jail for it.

I decided they wouldn't do anything to me if I played hooky from court. It just wouldn't happen. Maybe on a television crime show, but not in real life. Wrong!

The morning came and I got up and went to work as usual. In fact, I didn't even give it another thought. As far as I was concerned, it was just another Thursday. Wrong again!

I didn't think about court none that day, not until I got off work, stepped off the bus, and turned the corner to my house. A car was parked in front of my neighbors house two doors down.

Our house was the third one on the block, so I instantly noticed the unmarked car pull away from the curb and swoop into the empty spot in front of my house. They both hopped out.

It was the same two detectives from the day before, and they informed me that I was going with them. They more or less spoke in a jovial tone, so I was a little nervous, but not really worried.

They allowed me to go inside and let my sister know I was going with them, but I honestly didn't think they were taking me to jail.

In fact, for whatever twisted reason, not only did they put me in the back of the vehicle without handcuffs, they drove around my neighborhood for several minutes, as if stalling, or trying to give me the impression that the decision wasn't quite made.

They joked and asked me why I didn't come to court, and I tried to keep my tone light, like theirs was. I told them I needed my job, and I didn't understand why they just couldn't use all the testimony I already gave.

I'm not sure if my responses led them to believe that I might be a no-show again or what, but at some point, they must have silently agreed to go on and take me to jail.

The whole time they were driving, they continued to make cracks, basically poking fun at me about not going to court, and now suffering the consequences.

They were truly having a good old laugh at my expense, and the further they drove, the more nervous I became.

I new right away, the moment we actually left my neighborhood, and in the direction of Sybil Brand.

This real life place was a women's institute that later inspired a prison movie with a similar name. Before the California, Northridge earthquake, the jail reportedly housed up to 2,000 inmates. When I was a child, I even knew of a family member who spent some time there.

I was quite aware of the way to Sybil Brand, because it was located near City Terrace, not far from one of the Job Corps satellite classes I used to attend.

When I noticed us driving on a steady course, in the direction of the jail, that's how I knew that the little game of cat and mouse they'd been playing with me was over. They were actually taking me to jail.

The thing that sealed the deal, was driving up that long driveway, and eventually through the huge electrical gate that slammed like thunder behind us, when the vehicle went through it.

I was hustled into the prison, where I alternated between waiting in the holding area, and being strip searched, fingerprinted, made to change clothes, and eventually completely processed into the penal system.

During the course of all this, I kept my eyes and ears open, and stayed alert to every filthy mouth, dirty look, and disgusting smell that kept me company in the huge room they called holding.

Eventually, I landed in my cell, and was given a bottom bunk to crawl into for the night. It was late, long after the inmates dinner hour, not that it mattered. I wasn't hungry.

Shortly after I arrived in the cell, they called for lights out, and the cold dank cell became dark. But not before I got a chance to meet my cellmate - an old lady who appeared to be in maybe her late sixties, judging by the gray hair. I wondered what on earth she could have possibly done, but I didn't dare ask.

I didn't have to worry about making it clear to her that I didn't feel like talking. Maybe she didn't feel like talking herself, or maybe she understood how I felt, because she remembered her own first night.

Either way, she stayed in her bunk, and simply allowed me to get used to my new home which basically consisted of a small sink and the aluminum looking toilet that occupied a corner of the room.

The cell had three walls, and the iron bars - aka our front door - which faced a huge brick wall. The old lady instructed me we were to sleep with our heads toward the bars, so I did as she said when I finally laid down, but it was hours before I was able to fall asleep.

******************************************************

For the second part to this story, please watch for the title:

The Night I Spent in Jail for Disobeying a Subpoena

******************************************************

FOLLOW JUSTISS GOODE FOR MORE FICTIONS, TIPS, ADVICE, SELF HELP, AND HUMAN BEHAVIOR STORIES. HELP IMPROVE YOUR BODY & YOUR PSYCHE - Enjoy a little bit of Justiss every day 😄