Confiscation Blues

Confiscation Blues

by Darryl Hicks

I almost forgot the gun was in my shoulder bag. I picked up the gun at a party, after a drunk dropped it during a fight. The plan was to return it when the gun owner was sober.

The day after the party, I was thinking of renting a house. Doris drove me to her vacant rental property.

We got out of the car and walked towards the house. The low evening sun was blocked by dense trees. My sunglasses were too dark for the shade, so I rotated the lenses to the top of my head.

As we stepped up to the porch, my right hand was in my shoulder bag, trying to find the protective sleeve for the sunglasses. I felt my wallet and the gun, but the flat eyeglass case was elusive.

After opening the front door, Doris walked inside the house. She moved towards a lamp several feet away.

With my hand still in my shoulder bag, I followed Doris into the house. As I entered, I saw a man stalking Doris. The stalker was moments away from swinging a baseball bat at Doris's head.

I drew the pistol out of my bag and fired a shot. The bullet hit the back of the stalker's shoulder.

He was a big dude and the light punch of the .25 caliber bullet didn't drop him. He still managed a feeble swing at Doris, but she easily fended off the weak attack.

As Doris turned on the lamp, the wounded man dropped onto the couch. With a groan, he sat up and showed me his face. I knew him.

Carl looked at me and yelled, Eric, you motherfucker! You shot me with my own fucking gun!

Yes, the injured stalker was the drunk who dropped the gun at the party. It wasn't a good time to give him back his gun.

* * *

Six weeks earlier, I was traveling east on I-70, going from Denver to Kansas City. After driving fifty miles, hunger kicked in.

Exiting at Deer Trail, Colorado, I rolled into a small town. Deer Trail was famous for voting on a town ordinance that would sanction hunting licenses to shoot drone aircraft. The proposed ordinance was defeated, but Deer Trail was still the place to go for drone hunting paraphernalia.

At a diner, I fueled up on pancakes, eggs, sausage, and hash browns. Business was slow, the waitress hung around and chatted with me.

I asked, Are you a drone hunter?

She laughed, then said, No, but if you're interested, the gift shop next door sells drone hunting gear.

At the gift shop, I bought a bumper sticker depicting a rifle scope bulls-eye superimposed on a flying drone. Before I left town, I affixed the drone hunting bumper sticker to the rear bumper of my Honda Accord V6.

* * *

Shortly after crossing into Kansas, I noticed flashing lights behind me. In denial, I continued on a ways. But the flashing lights came closer, directly behind me. No denying it, the flashing lights were for me.

I pulled over, parked on the eastbound I-70 shoulder, and turned off my car. The police cruiser parked behind, with lights still flashing.

A uniformed man got out of the cruiser. He walked up to my driver's side door. As I buzzed down the driver's side window, I could see the man's name plate said 'Cooper'.

Cooper said, Driver's license, registration, and insurance.

Getting the registration from the glove compartment, and the other two things from my wallet, I handed the three requested documents through the window. Cooper took the documents, then he walked back and sat in his cruiser.

Cooper was taking awhile. I was bored, had a little time to kill. I took out my iPhone and unlocked it.

There was a text I hadn't seen, but it was just something from a department store, announcing a sale I didn't care about. I should've sent a 'stop', but instead I just deleted the text. Still bored, I proceeded to delete the rest of my texts. Feeling good about my spanking clean text screen, I went to my recent calls and deleted them too.

I heard a noise and looked up. Cooper was back.

Step out of the car, said Cooper.

Why? I asked.

Crooper drew his gun and yelled, Step out of the car! Now asshole!

Ok, ok, I'm stepping out.

Still holding my iPhone, I got out of the car. Cooper backed away towards his cruiser, keeping the gun out of my reach. I closed my car door and watched Cooper warily. Cooper was near his driver's side mirror, still pointing the pistol at me.

Cooper said, Drop the weapon.

It's not a weapon, it's a phone.

Drop it.

If I dropped it, I knew there was a good chance the screen would break. Defying Cooper, I stuffed my phone in a rear pocket.

Cooper said, Walk between the vehicles. Go around to the shoulder.

I walked toward the police cruiser, then turned and walked between the vehicles, stopping when I got to the shoulder. Seeing that the police cruiser hood had a county sheriff logo, I understood Cooper was a sheriff's deputy. Presumably, nearby CB radio conversations were talking about a county mountie with a customer. I was the customer.

Cooper commanded. I complied.

Walk beside my vehicle and face the back door, asshole.

I walked there, Cooper followed.

Hands on the top of the vehicle. Spread your legs.

When I did it, my face was inches above the top edge of the cruiser. A pause, then two hands searched my body. The search was fruitless, there were no weapons. Cooper confiscated my iPhone.

Cooper locked a handcuff onto my right wrist, then he wrenched my right arm behind my back. Next, Cooper grabbed my left wrist and my left arm was pulled behind too. In short order, my wrists were cuffed together behind my back.

My legs were still spread. Cooper pushed my head down, so that my forehead was pressed against the roof of the cruiser. There was a pause, then Cooper squeezed the fingers of my right hand, causing my fingertips and thumb to tightly grip a plastic cylinder.

What is that? I asked.

Shut up, asshole.

The plastic item was removed from my touch. It all happened behind my back. I never saw the plastic item. I realized Cooper was wearing gloves when he did what he did with the plastic cylinder.

Cooper grabbed my shirt collar and hauled me up off the cruiser. The cruiser's back door was opened and I was shoved down onto the back seat. I pulled my legs inside. The door slammed shut.

Cooper walked to my car, opened the rear passenger side door, and stuck his arms and upper torso into the rear of my car cabin. I was unable to see what he was doing in there. Getting out again, Cooper then stood on the shoulder and talked into his shoulder radio.

Deputy Cooper sat in the driver's seat of the cruiser. We waited awhile.

A K9 unit arrived. The dog and his handler went into the back seat area of my car, from the passenger side. Cooper went in from the driver's side, using an iPhone as a video camera.

More police cruisers arrived. I was transferred to the back seat of a newly arrived sheriff's cruiser.

When I was settled in the back seat of the other cruiser, the driver looked backward thru the wire mesh divider, and said, I'm Sergeant Dunlap. I'll be taking you in for booking.

Booking? I said.

You're under arrest for smuggling narcotics, replied Dunlap.

I have no narcotics.

A bag of weed was found in your vehicle.

There was no weed in my vehicle.

The deputies who searched your vehicle say otherwise.

This is bullshit.

No bull. This is real. You're under arrest for smuggling narcotics.

I need my cell phone. Deputy Cooper took it.

If you had your phone, what would you do with it?

First of all, I would've filmed the Deputy Cooper planting drugs in my car, but he took my phone before he did what he did.

Deputy Cooper is beyond reproach. Accusing him of this will not go well for you. If you had your phone right now, what would you do with it?

I'd search for a lawyer in this county.

I know a lawyer. He's sort of a scanner chaser, but he's pretty good.

Why should I trust your lawyer? I asked.

Would you rather be raped in county lockup tonight?

Say what?

You're going to court for narcotics smuggling, but court is over for today. The next court date is tomorrow morning. You will not leave Kansas until you have your initial court hearing on the drug charges. Now, you need to decide where you will spend the time until your court hearing starts. You can either sit in county lockup or get a local lawyer to bail you out into local house arrest.

Local house arrest? What does that mean?

If you choose to be bailed out, the conditions of the bailout will be that you're under house arrest until your court hearing. Your lawyer will let you stay at his house tonight and bring you to court tomorrow morning.

Or, I can choose anal rape at the county lockup?

Yes, and I'll personally select your dance partner, considering you are accusing our department of planting drugs in your vehicle.

Given that choice, your lawyer friend sounds fine.

I'll call him now.

Ok.

Sergeant Dunlap took out his cell phone and conducted a quick conversion. After he hung up, Dunlap said, The lawyer is driving to the station now. He'll meet you there.

* * *

At the cop shop, Sergeant Dunlap took me to a small room. There was a table and a few chairs. I sat in one of the chairs. Dunlap unlocked the cuff on my right wrist and relocked the cuff thru a metal ring bolted to the table. I flexed my right wrist to restore circulation.

My cuffed left hand rested on the table. It was uncomfortable, but at least my hands weren't cuffed behind my back now. Dunlap left the room.

Some time passed. I didn't have a watch or cell phone, so I didn't know exactly, but I estimated 20 minutes had passed when the door opened again.

A thin young man of average height entered. He said, I'm Frank Connolly, your lawyer.

Eric Murphy.

We shook hands.

Sergeant Dunlap said they found 2 ounces of weed in your car. It's more than an ounce, so it's a felony.

It's all a lie.

I saw the bag of weed, they showed it to me.

The weed wasn't in my car when I left Colorado.

Ok, let's back up a little. We need to discuss my fee and bail money. Can you get two thousand dollars off of your debit card?

No. My wallet was in my car, the last I saw it.

They released your debit card to me. Connolly laid my card on the table.

In that case, yes, I can get two thousand off my debit card, if I really need to.

You need to, like right now. I have a WiFi debit card reader in my briefcase.

Why two thousand?

A thousand is for my fee. The other thousand is for your bail.

Can't I just pay a hundred for ten percent of a bail bond?

Well, yes, theoretically, but the bail they're offering is contingent on you taking the house arrest bail deal and that precludes using a bail bondsman. If you can't come up with all of the bail money, you'll be taken to county jail, until tomorrow.

I sighed. I suppose that's better anyway. Then, I'll get the thousand back tomorrow.

Shaking his head, Frank said, You won't be getting the bail money back.

I don't understand. You show up for court, you get the bail back. It's that simple, right?

Normally yes, but in this scenario, the best case is me talking them into taking the thousand and cutting you loose.

And, if they don't cut me loose?

If you're indicted tomorrow, the bail will carry over until the trial.

And, if I show up at the trial?

Court costs, fines, a fee for a suspended sentence, they'll find a way to take your thousand dollars.

Is this bail or a bribe?

Don't ask.

Frank opened his briefcase, then pulled out a contract and the Wifi debit card reader. After signing the contract and paying the two thousand, I told Frank what occurred out on the highway.

* * *

Sergeant Dunlap and Deputy Cooper came into the room. Cooper was smiling with an obnoxious smirk. Dunlap turned on a video camera, in the corner of the room.

After the Miranda warning formalities, Dunlap said, We found two ounces of weed in Mr. Murphy's vehicle.

Connolly shook his head. My client says there was no weed in his car when he crossed the Kansas border.

Dunlap said, The search found weed. How do you explain that?

We only know the weed doesn't belong to my client, said Connolly.

Dunlap said, You mean like somebody else left the weed in your client's car, without his knowledge?

Yes, exactly like that, replied Connolly.

Realizing what he'd said, Dunlap quickly added, You mean like perhaps one of Mr Murphy's friends left the weed in the Honda, back in Denver?

Shaking his head, Connolly said, No, we're saying that weed was never in the Honda, in Colorado.

Dunlap glowered at Connolly. Cooper redirected the conversation.

Who were you selling the weed to? demanded Cooper.

My client wasn't selling weed to anybody, replied Connolly.

Cooper looked at me and said, We have your cell phone. Why did you delete your recents? You gotta admit that looks pretty suspicious.

I said, I don't know what you're talking about.

When I came up to your vehicle the second time, I saw you deleting your recent calls. Probably deleting your dealer and buyer calls, eh?

No, I was just bored waiting for you, so I decided to clean up my phone. But, there wasn't any dealer or buyer numbers, mostly just robo-calls.

Cooper said, We'll go through all of your phone contacts and figure out who your dealer and buyer are.

Good luck with that, I said.

Cooper laid the phone on the table and said, Unlock it.

Get a warrant, I replied.

Cooper said, Unlock the fucking phone.

No, I replied.

Dunlap said, Unlock the phone or bunk with Bubba.

I said, The judge has already approved bail. You can't rescind it now.

The bail requires a certain level of cooperation on your part, said Dunlap.

Connolly said, Unlock the phone, Eric.

But, they'll harass my family and friends, I moaned.

Only if they think they can sell them illegally confiscated electronics, replied Connolly.

Dunlap glowered at Connolly again. Clearly, Connolly was saying things that was making Dunlap unhappy. I unlocked my iPhone and turned off the security features.

Dunlap looked at Connolly and said, "Bottom line is we found weed in your client's vehicle.

Then Dunlap looked at me and said, Eric Murphy, you're under arrest for felony narcotics possession and drug smuggling.

My client will plead 'not guilty' in court, replied Connolly.

Dunlap said, This isn't a courtroom. Book 'em Cooper.

* * *

As Dunlap said, I was booked for two felonies, possessing two ounces of weed and drug smuggling. I gave them fingerprints and a urine sample.

Bail was set for a thousand dollars. Connolly paid the bail with a money transfer, then he walked me out of the cop shop.

* * *

The arrest and booking killed the afternoon. It was evening. Frank took me to dinner at Ruby's diner.

After the waitress took our order, I said, I heard court was done for today. Why do I already have bail?

The judge was in chambers, replied Frank.

I don't understand this house arrest bail thing. I mean like I'm grateful Bubba isn't doing me in the county jail tonight, but why am I here?

Frank sighed, then said, You're here because you paid gravy to the gravy train.

And, the gravy train is what?

A slush fund. If you take money from the slush fund, you're riding the gravy train.

Are you riding the gravy train? I asked.

I'm riding a razor blade to hell.

What's that mean?

It means there's going to be a lot of pissed off people when I do what I'm planning on doing.

The waitress was coming with the food. Frank held up a palm, indicating we should stop talking.

When the waitress left, I said, So, the thousand dollar bail was really a bribe.

Yes.

What happens now?

Frank said, After we eat, we go to my house. Some guys will come over. I will try to talk them into taking your thousand dollars and kicking you loose.

And, if they don't kick me loose?

They take you to court tomorrow and tell the judge you were using your Honda to smuggle weed into Kansas.

So, then they make me pay another thousand dollars?

No, then they confiscate your Honda.

* * *

It was late. Frank and I were in Frank's kitchen, discussing my situation. The doorbell rang. Frank went to answer the front door.

After awhile, Frank came back to the kitchen. He was holding some papers.

What's that stuff? I asked.

Paperwork from the prosecuting attorney, replied Frank. You tested positive for weed, on your urine test.

I wasn't high when I was driving.

Probably not, but they didn't test your THC level, anyway. They just did the basic urine test. After somebody gets high, the THC breaks down into metabolites that accumulate in body fat. These metabolites are slowly released from the body fat and this inactive THC residue commonly triggers positive urine tests, for like two weeks after weed consumption.

That's an unfair test, I didn't even smoke today.

Nonetheless, they're saying you tested positive for weed. Maybe it's from last weekend?

Yes, I ate some brownies and smoked some weed last weekend, back in my Denver apartment. But, that's legal in Colorado. It's unfair for Kansas to say I tested positive for weed, when they're really detecting legal weed consumption, from five days ago.

You're not in Colorado anymore.

I bet you Kansas people love to say that.

They can confiscate your car, because of the drug smuggling charge.

Alleged drug smuggling.

Alleged doesn't matter. Asset seizure is based on the arrest, not a guilty verdict. Since more than an ounce was found in your car, that's considered more than personal usage. That amount of weed makes it possession with the intent to sell. They're saying you used your car for drug smuggling.

They planted the weed.

We have no proof of that.

You don't believe me.

I believe these assholes are capable of doing anything, but to the judge, it'll be your word against the testimony of the arresting deputy.

I asked, Can they really confiscate my car?

Yes.

It seems so illegal.

Well yes, the weed planting was illegal, but the rest of it is totally legal. You will get a trial and perhaps we can get the charges dropped, but your car will be resold at auction before you ever go to trial.

I thought I was going to trial tomorrow.

That's just the initial hearing. They'll kick your actual trial out several months, until after they dispose of your assets. Regardless of whether you're eventually found innocent, that Honda won't be yours.

What else?

They're also seizing your iPhone and iPad, to look for drug contacts.

I just use the iPad as an eReader.

It has email capabilities.

What else?

They know where you work. They're serving your employer with a warrant tomorrow. They will search for drugs in your workspace.

It keeps getting better and better.

And the DEA is raiding your Denver apartment right now.

* * *

We were still in Frank's kitchen. We'd been kicking it around for awhile.

Frank said, Start again. Why did Deputy Cooper pull you over?

I shrugged. Don't know.

Were you speeding?

No.

Driving erratically?

No.

Were you young and male and driving out of Colorado?

Is that like 'driving while black'?

Yes, exactly, said Frank.

So, you're saying I was profiled for my age, sex, and because I was driving out of Colorado?

Happens all the time, lots of traffic stops for exactly that reason.

Is that valid probable cause?

No, but if a drug search finds weed, the end will justify the means.

That's circular logic, I said.

I've got another one for you. Cooper asked for your license, registration, and insurance, then he went off into his cruiser for awhile. Right?

Yes, he was in his cruiser for like forever.

When he came back to your vehicle, why did Cooper do what he did?

You mean like why did he toss me in his cruiser, plant evidence, and call in the K9 unit for a drug search?

Yes, said Frank, for the moment, let's go with that, let's say Cooper did exactly that.

Ok.

I've got one question, here. Why you?

What do you mean?

"I mean like Cooper has this two ounces of weed and he's going to plant it in the next suitable vehicle he stops. Cooper just spent a long time in his cruiser researching you, what made him decide you're the guy who gets the dirty