Police (Un) Protected

I was driving to meet a friend around 8:25pm when suddenly I saw blue lights behind me. At first I wondered if they were for me. I hadn’t made a turn or switched lanes, all of my outside lights work, my tags were current and I wasn’t speeding which is rare.

I pull over and put my flashers on. It takes a minute for the officers to get out of the car and I use the time to pull out my license and registration. I didn’t want to reach for it and have any assumptions made that I’m reaching for a gun. I don’t want to die.

When they get to my car, one stands at the driver’s side window, one stands at the passenger side window. The cop on my side introduces both of them and tells me that my tag, a sticker located on the bottom right hand corner of my license plate and no more than 2 inches by 2 inches in size, is partially obstructed by my license plate frame. He asked if I knew that was illegal. I tell him no.

He asked me to roll down my windows, including the back windows, so he can check the car. He shines a flashlight throughout the car then informs me I can roll my windows back up. The entire time his partner doesn’t speak but instead keeps a flashlight aimed at me directly.

Then I’m asked for my license. I had it over because I’m prepared and he asked me if the address on it is current for me. I tell him it’s an old mailing address and that I recently moved. Where do you live he says. Not too far from here I reply. He then tells me it’s illegal in Georgia to carry a license with an old address.

When did you move he says? I say, a couple of months ago. I inform him I tried to update it but the DMV site kept giving me an error message He nods, takes my license and walks away.

I use the time to quickly send my cousin a text message.

I’ve been pulled over. Let you know when I’m clear to leave.

If I’m going to die or disappear I at least want someone to know what happened in the moments before.

My cousin writes back

FaceTime if you got an iPhone or Duo me. If you feel unsafe.

The officer comes back and tells me he is letting me off with a warning. His partner is still shining a light into my car.

I say ok but I don’t move. I’m in disbelief that I’m allowed to drive on. That I get to live

I pull off, call my cousin and let him know I’m in the clear. The cops didn’t even follow me. I reach my friends place and ask if I can stay over. I don’t want to drive again tonight.

I cry. I share my story with my friend. I remember the women who didn’t make it to their destination. I shake with fear and with rage.

There’s no way I drive by you and you notice my little tag is under my license plate frame by a cm.

There’s no way you didn’t know that by searching my car, asking where I live, having me roll down the windows that you are purposefully attempting to intimidate me.

I hate that I had to call someone just in case something happens to me.

I hate that names like Sandra Bland ran through my head.

I hate wondering if I would be the next hashtag.

I hate that I’m not even being dramatic because we get killed for less.

It feels like such a small thing. I got pulled over by the cops. It took all of 5 minutes. But it’s not a small thing. It’s a big deal. This fear, this rage, this PTSD.

It all matters.

We matter.

Just not to you.

Author: Cherrón