I barely remember the ride to the station.
I barely remember the ride to the station.
The woman riding along with Officer M — not an officer herself, just someone tagging along, probably for a ride-along experience — was dropped off somewhere along the way. I remember her on the phone saying, “It’s been boring up until now.” That line stuck with me.
My fear, my panic, my pain — entertainment for someone on her lunch break. That’s what I had become. A sideshow. Not a person.
She was gone before we got to the station. No badge. No accountability. Just a bystander who sat silent while everything happened.
She was the whole reason he got behind me and pulled me over, he had to give her show, to impress her.
In the booking area
I told Officer M — calmly but directly — “You fucked with the wrong one.”
He smirked. That smug, arrogant smirk like I was nothing but another box to check on his shift, another problem to throw behind bars. He didn’t realize I knew my rights. He didn’t realize that I wasn’t going to let this go.
But I did realize something: every civil right I had was treated like an option, not a guarantee. He broke every one. And the system — designed to hold him accountable — did nothing to stop it.
The Trauma
In the weeks that followed, my body hurt — not just from the physical restraint, but from the emotional toll. I kept replaying every moment: the door being ripped open, the phone being snatched, the search, the look in his eyes when I dared to speak back.
I had trouble sleeping. I jumped at noises. I avoided the car. I avoided that street. Hell, I avoided mirrors because every time I looked in one, I saw someone who had been humiliated and violated by someone she was raised to believe would protect her.
The PTSD is real. It doesn’t just come from war zones. It comes from betrayal — when the people in power turn that power on you instead of using it to shield you.
The Aftermath
The charges? Inflated. The story? Twisted.
They towed my sister’s car — unlawfully — and it cost her hundreds to get it back. They entered and searched it without consent, without a warrant, and without probable cause. And yet, they walked away like it was just another Tuesday night.
No disciplinary action. No questions asked.
I started documenting everything, to report him and whoever else wanted to gaslight me and cover up the corruption in this town.