Journal Entry: Measure for Measure – Act 3

I returned from the meeting with the two Hanover police officers with a great sense of sadness and melancholy. I herald and champion truth, compassion, understanding, ownership, civic duty and open-minded communication, yet not one of these prevailed this evening. The officers, who’s identities I had not even known, until this very evening, sat unyielding, unmoved and unrepentent.

They adamantly refused to acknowledge that there could be some understanding or new knowledge to be gleaned. They steadfastly refused to admit they falsified their report, putting untrue words in my mouth and in their account of the situation. The one officer, a man of 38-years denied, denied quite emphatically that he had said, “She’s nobody.” to a bystander who asked me my name. Who could forget a statement like that? I’ll remember it and the circumstances under which it was said until the day I die.

I went through the report, pointing out every inconsistency and falsehood. I spoke of the fork in the road, to just shrug and forget the trauma, or to press charges of which I have witnesses and an illegal act stated in the report by their own admission. I explained the third tine. My efforts were wasted.

The bystander, who had inquired my name, also witnessed that same officer threaten to ‘spray’ me. I was unaware that these are the tactics that can be applied to a person taken into ‘protective custody’. I stated, “I did not once feel ‘protected’ but threatened and assaulted.” All my words fell on deaf ears.

The ‘older’ and ‘more experienced’ officer rolled his eyes, berated me for interupting him and then spoke over me several times unashamedly. The other officer, clearly reluctant to speak of his own accord, could not or maybe did not know how, to have a voice of his own. He simply parroted the words of the other.

It fills me with fear for others, who may encounter these two, when they are on duty together. They will believe and act upon hearsay, go in ‘guns shooting’, then refuse to realize, they never bothered to ask any questions. They will create their own story, add in details to justify the ends to their means. They will never ever admit they ever did anything wrong, made a mistake, because to do so would mean they would have to apologize. And it became clear to me, that as officers of the so-called law, and as the brash officer had stated in the police vehicle to me, “We can do whatever we want when you are in our custody.”

My heart is sad for these two. I feel a great sorrow and sympathy for their souls. I wonder how they will treat their next ‘victim’ and I ardently hope it is without anger from this meeting. I worry that this fear, will come to be. I wonder if they realize, I was giving them every opportunity to do the right thing, and at the very least, apologize. I am assured, in spite of my warning at the beginning of the conversation, the officers will not think beyond, nor take anything I said as it was meant…sound advice and a sign.

I asked for three things, understanding of the difference between an anxiety attack and intoxication, so as to prevent mistaking one for the other. I asked the false statement they claimed I had made, to be rescinded and struck from the report. I asked an apology for their ‘nobody’ statement, for to say such a thing is to deny I am a human being on this planet, a citizen of this country, having a name and deserving of respect.

I pity them. I pity them the circumstances that have made them this way. I pity the path they are choosing and their lot, for simply put…their ‘reasoning is of common clay’.

Journal Entry: Measure for Measure Act 2

I went to the Hanover police station to obtain a copy of the police report as advised by several lawyers. A fee is involved. I laugh about it’s absurdity. It’s a public record and yet, to have a copy costs you.
I fill out the paperwork and pay the fee. I ask if the Chief of Police is in and am invited to sit in his office to speak with him.
I will not recount the conversation. I will say, I have a great deal of respect for this man. I appreciate the time he took to sit and talk with me, even our agreement that we may never agree on several points.
He asked questions, listened, spoke his mind and let me return it in kind. He proposed a meeting with the two officers to discuss the inaccuracies of that evening and to address them.
We promised each other nothing, in regards to the outcome of such a meeting. We shook hands, smiled, and he walked me to the door.

"Blind Wonder" photographed by Nichole Hastings

Photo Memory: “False Idol” photographed by Nichole Hastings

"False Idol" photographed by Nichole Hastings

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My Rastafarian friend hidden behind this religious artifact

at the Metropolitan Museum in New York City, New York.

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Journal Entry: July 7, 2010 – An Unexpected Delight

Last night, I had a lovely evening, dinner wine excellent conversation, with a good friend. I got back to the domes to an unexpected delight. A hot air balloon frolicking in the sky. I stood on the rail, eyes fixated, hand waving ‘hello’. The two people aboard waved back. They made their way from the backside of the domes, along the river and then quite precisely landed in the small parking area at the end of Old Bridge Road.
Some cars had pulled in and parked, lights flashing, doors left ajar. Maxwell and I ran down to join the other people captivated by the sight of the balloon. Strangers and friends, of the two men alike, worked together in releasing the hot air and gathering the balloon. A marvelous sight.
Many who had stopped to see the flight, left, their faces flush with happiness, their eyes a-glow. A man called out my name in a gentle greeting. A gentlemann from Tanzania, a friend of the balloonist was coiling up the annchor line.
I was invited to join in the celebratory champagne and toast, a toast to another successful flight and landing.
We stood in a small intimate circle, sharing ourselves and some stories. Two of the group were fellow hikers. One of whom had hiked the 100 Mile in her youth, another a travel writer for the Valley News. They invited me to join their hiking expedition of the Schemin, this September. I shared my plans to continue hiking on to Springer Mountain in Georgia, hopefully reaching it in mid-November. We exchanged our names and information and went our separate ways. A fortuitous and happy meeting of old and new friends.