Leaving Emeryville, I swung around the tent city
settled under the freeway. Sensitive to several cop cars
huddled together, I slowed to eye the activity.
Perched on the corner of the sidewalk, surrounded by
two Emeryville policemen, was Lionel, a Black man.
I pulled over to pay witness.
Lionel sat on the curb, wrists cuffed. His head
hung low, staring through the ground.
The two police cars were parked at an angle as to
corner and trap Lionel into position.
As casual as two old buddies at a tailgate party
catching up on old times, two officers, who appeared to be white men, ever
so casually leaned against their vehicles.
Without choice, Lionel sat. And he sat.
Fifteen or twenty minutes later, two more cop cars
arrived tightening the angle of Lionel's cage. In foul arrogance, the
newly arriving white, male cops strolled over to join the
game.
Standing four strong, they towered over Lionel as a
lion does with their kill. One cop paced back and forth punching his
hands together as a fighter does in a ring before the big fight. A second
cop tauntingly leaned in and out of Lionel's face. Lionel appeared
dead. Still. Non-existent.
One cop reached for plastic gloves from his pocket,
sarcastically he pulled them on snapping them in threat. With a firm
gesture, he demanded Lionel stand for the raid. The hunt of his body.
Lionel could barely stand. His legs
wobbly. Finding humor in his fragility, the searching cop slowed the
violation prolonging Lionel's diminishing strength.
The 'good' cop 'only' paying
witness to this stunt, spots my prying eyes. He nodded to the bad cops informing them of my
entrance. All cop heads turned toward me. Tucked away in my car,
they cannot make out who I am.
I chose to step from my car, my phone's video
ready. The occupants of the tent city enduring this scandal, see me
rise. All of us uncertain of what help I could possibly give Lionel.
The cop peeled off his searching gloves, tossed them
to the ground and chuckled.
With ropes and chains in tow, Lionel was free to
go.
Lionel hopped on his bike and rode across the street
to his tent. I followed calling to him through his door.
I'm so sorry that happened to you, I said as he exited
his shelter. Lionel put out his hand introducing himself. We shook
hands tightly. A knowing.
Lionel explained he had been riding his bike down a
one-way street and was pulled over by Emeryville police. The
hunt started with one cop then quickly turned into four.
Lionel said the cops artificially asked permission to
search his body. He said, no. They proceeded to pull out the cuffs
and read him his rights. With a contrived, yes, they trespassed his Black
body. A sport.
I will see Lionel again.
I will see many Lionel's again.
(Shikira-May 2016)
