monogodo

Here's the story of the time I got arrested in Dallas...

I moved to Dallas in April of 1989. I hadn't even been here a week, and my brother and some co-workers from Athletic Supply were going to go out after work. It was the birthday of one of our co-workers, so we were going to celebrate. I only had $8, so my brother, Tim, said he'd cover me.

The four of us, Tim, Dave, Birthday Girl, and I, all went to Garmo y Lido's, a little Mexican restaurant in the Knox-Henderson area of Dallas. Since it was early April, and the weather was beautiful, we sat on the patio. We had some chips & salsa and a couple of beers, then we switched to margaritas.

I'd never had tequila before. The drinks were rather strong and I hadn't eaten much, so before long I was trashed. At around 9pm or so we decided to head out. The check came and it was rather large. Dave suggested that we skip the check. Birthday Girl said no, and gave Tim her part of the tab and left. Tim was willing to make a run for it. I told them that I was in no shape to run, but that I'd go out to my truck and wait for them. So I did.

The next thing I saw was about 6 or 7 waiters running out of the restaurant. They ran past me, and then headed back to the restaurant. I got scared, and slid over behind the wheel and started the truck up and tried to drive off. As drunk as I was, I couldn't focus on anything beyond the dashboard. I was barely able to pull out of the parking lot and park on the side of the street, about half a block away. I then shut off the truck, and got out and crawled under the truck to hide.

Well, the staff saw me there and came after me. They dragged me from under the truck, and hauled me back to the restaurant. Then they called the police....

After talking amongst them selves, the officers told me that I had three choices:

1. Pay the bill.

2. Arrange to pay the bill.

3. Go "Downtown"

I wanted to arrange to pay the bill. I knew if they let me sit on the patio, and I were to yell "Tim" at the top of my lungs, he'd come forward and pay the bill. I got as far as "I'd like..." when the officer said, "You're going downtown." He then grabbed my right wrist and stood me up. Both officers were behind me, and I put my left hand up in a kind of "stop" gesture and said, "Wait." They told me to put my arm down. I again said, "Wait." They told me to drop my left arm or they'd break my right arm. I said "ok" and dropped my left arm. They then handcuffed me, patted me down for weapons, and sat me back down. At this point, the couple I mentioned earlier started giving me shit. I told them to shut up, that they didn't know what they were talking about. They told me to be quiet, that I was under arrest and wasn't allowed to talk. I turned to the cop and asked if that was true. He told me I could say what ever I wanted to. I turned back to the couple and said, with all sincerity, "Fuck You." They ignored me after that.

Apparently, because I was willing to pay what I owed even though I didn't have the means to do it, the restaurant decided to not press charges against me. The officers talked it over and said they could let me go, but if I were to get in my truck and drive, I'd be DUI. So they went ahead and arrested me. As they were walking me out to the cruiser, I yelled as loud as I could for Tim, saying that I was being arrested. If he heard, he never came....

The officers patted me down and put me in the back of the police car. So I'm sitting there, pissed at my brother for getting me into this situation, and pissed at myself for allowing myself to listen to him in the first place. The officers began taking down my information. The conversation went like this:

Police Officer: "What's your home address?"

monogodo: "I don't know."

PO: "What do you mean you don't know? Don't you know where you live?"

mono: "I know where I live, I just don't know the address yet, I just moved here last weekend."

PO: "What's your phone number."

mono: "We don't have a phone."

PO: "Ok, where do you work?"

mono: "Athletic Supply"

PO: "What is your work address?"

dD: "I don't know."

PO: "You don't know your work address? How do you get to work?"

mono: "I know how to get from home to work, and from work to home, I just don't know the address."

PO: "What's your work phone number?"

mono: (you guessed it) "I don't know."

PO: "You don't know your work phone number? What if you have to call work?"

mono: "I don't have a phone. I can't call work."

As you might imagine, the Police Officers were rather peeved by this.

They then drove me to the Lew Sterrett Justice Center just outside of Downtown Dallas. We pulled into the parking lot in the basement and parked well away from all the other cars. They got me out of the car, and went to frisk me a third time. This time they asked me if I had any sharp objects on me that they should be aware of. I replied, "Other than my wit, no." The officer that was observing found that to be funny, while the other one didn't think so. This is when I think they decided to teach me a lesson....

So they patted me down, booked me, and put me in the initial holding cell. I was still trashed off my ass, but was hiding it well (at least I thought so). I was wondering what the hell I was going to do -- I didn't know anyone but my brother and co-workers, and I didn't know any phone numbers. Fifteen minutes later, my brother walked into the cell. He told me he got caught and paid the bill. After a while, some guards came in and started calling out names of prisoners to go before the night judge. Tim got called, but not me. About 20 minutes later, he came back and told me that he was charged with public intoxication, and that he pleaded no contest, and the judge sentenced him to time served. In Dallas, if you're processed before midnight, and see the judge after midnight, they consider that to be having spent 2 days in jail, even if you were booked at 11:59pm and saw the judge at 12:01am. He told me to plead no contest, and I'd be let out fairly quickly. Well, 30 minutes later, he was released, and I still hadn't been called.

At this point, we didn't know that I'd also been charged with resisting arrest. When he got out, he went back for my truck, and found out from the court what the delay was with me. He went and posted bond for me. By this time, I had been put in another cell with about 15-20 other guys. The cell's stated capacity was 10. All of us had on wrist bands, like they give you at a hospital. Mine was white. Everyone else's were varying shades ranging from yellow to dark blue. I later found out that's how they designate which county prison you go to, the lighter the color, the less violent the crime, and the lower security the jail. The inverse is also true. Navy blue was pretty bad. I didn't ask what they did. I also didn't divulge what I had done, because I figured it'd make me a target. Remember, I didn't know about the resisting charge. I still thought I was there because I drank too much.

Anyway, just as they were getting ready to have us strip down and shower and get changed into those fashionable prison outfits, my bail caught up with me. I was pulled out of the group and put into a large cell by myself. I took the moment of privacy to "drop the kids off at the pool", if you know what I mean. Then they gave me my watch, wallet and keys back and transferred me to the city side of the jail.

I was put in a huge cell with about 30 or 40 other people. It was one big community room, with small sleeping cells off of 2 walls. I sat down at a table and watched TV with them. Someone then noticed that I had a watch on. I became the coolest guy in the place, because I knew what time it was. It got so bad it was almost like driving in a car with a little kid: every other minute, someone would ask, "what time is it?" (and not like Morris Day). Over and over and over. After a while, I went into a cell and crawled onto a foam rubber pad and curled up with my keys in my pocket and my back to the wall. After about 2 minutes, this big black man came into the cell and told me to "git up." I complied, keeping my fist clenched around the keys in my pocket, ready for the attack. He just stepped past me and took the mattress and left. I then laid back down on the ceramic tile bed and curled up and went to sleep.

By this time it was Sunday night. I'd been arrested Saturday night. When they transferred me to the city side, they informed me that I had just missed dinner, and also the last night court judge. The next morning, they called a whole bunch of us out and lined us up, shackled us together and marched us to court. I plead no contest to public intoxication, and was "served out." (One Hispanic dude plead guilty and wanted work release, but was given time served. He tried to turn it down. The bailiff had to explain to him that he was free.) They then marched us back to the cell, just in time to miss breakfast, so we could wait for our paperwork to be processed. Finally, around 11am, I was released. I found a pay phone, looked up my work number, and called my brother to come pick me up.

About a month later, I started receiving letters from lawyers regarding the resisting charge. I called one who advertised free consultations. He asked me about "The Incident." I told him what happened. He asked if I at any time touched one of the officers. I said only where their hands were holding my wrists. He told me to not bother going to court, that the charges would be dropped, and that you had to be hitting on a cop pretty hard for them to get resisting charges to stick. I played it safe and went anyway, and he was right, the charges had been dropped.

So, the lesson I learned that weekend was this: Be nice to the police. They can fuck your world if you're not. If I hadn't been such a smart ass, I probably would have been let go at the restaurant. I'd have stumbled to my truck and passed out in the cab.

The good news about the whole thing is that it didn't keep me from becoming a Notary Public for the State of Texas. (I've since let my commission expire.)