wandering around new orleans. talking. joel and i. we sit to talk to shorty
for a while. his mother just died. he sits with some other punks. spare
changing. drinking. he looks a mess. unshaven. i give him a hug. talking.
then. cop walks down the street with a man and a woman. the man points at
shorty. everyone up against the wall. the man is saying shorty stole the
bottle of wine from his store. shorty keeps saying a man on a bike drove by.
gave him the bottle. more cops. everyone up against the wall. one gutter
punk tries to walk away. running after him. grab him. force him back. hands
against the wall. feet back. i want your feet so far back youd fall if you
took your hands off that wall.
theyre arresting the one guy for resisting arrest. cuff him. in the car. they
dump out everything in my bag. start patting people down. reaching into my
pockets. pulling everything out. they dont even ask for id. they just reach
in and grab it. they start hassling joel for having bank cards he found on
the ground in his pocket. old. expired. they go through every piece of paper
in his wallet. no ability to protest. when i try to turn around to see what
is happening to joel they make me put one arm behind my back. one on my
head. up against the wall. legs spread.
slowly they let people go. they arrest shorty for stealing the wine. let the
rest of us go. scrambling to pick up my shit. thrown on the ground beneath
me. my bag dumped out. no one consented to a search. but the fucking vieux
carre cops dont give a damn. more corrupt than the people they arrest. fuck
them all. all we were doing. talking to a friend. they didnt need to do all
that shit. except to satisfy their sadistic pleasure.