Arrest in Washington
October 18, 2002
Dear Friends,
I am writing this to all of you, my friends, my family, my pagan spiritual companions, and my peace circle to tell you what happened in Washington the last weekend in September when I went there to protest the International Monetary Fund meeting. This was a meeting of the biggest CEO’s and economists and politicians who control most of the world’s economy. They are the people who move American manufacturing jobs from high wage areas to low wage areas and the ones who are buying up the world’s water supplies and generally running thing-s through the power of their ability to lend money to developing countries who impoverished and indebted, must meet IMF mandates. The IMF hates unions, environmental laws, local control and in general despises democratic rights. They are rich and powerful, have no flag, no loyalty, no principles except profit. Most are white Americans and Europeans and they are wrecking the world.
I went with my friends to protest the IMF and focus attention on its economic imperialism. I had no plans to be arrested, although I knew it was possible and was more or less ready if that happened, or so I thought. I flew down to Baltimore and took the train over to Washington on Thursday and met up with my friends. We settled in at E and M’s house. We planned to sleep on the floor on mats and sleeping bags. It was all a pleasant lark; we talked about eating out one night, Indian maybe.
That afternoon I got very sick with some stomach bug or food poisoning from the train station food. So I crashed and slept from three through to the next morning except for trips to the bathroom. Yech! It was that restless feverish sleep that leaves you exhausted in the end. Everyone was kind and caring but mostly I just slept through it unsure if I would even go to the demonstration.
Friday morning came early. I felt much better; it convinced me it was probably something bad that I ate. I was determined anyway to give it a try. We went to meet with other pagans from the Reclaiming Collective. It was a rainy day but not too bad, mostly just misty. I took a pack with clothes and a little bit of trail mix and water, we left behind our identification and wallets, I took one hundred dollars for bail, just in case.
We met at Dupont Circle and dressed ourselves in bandanas, tree limbs and face paint and colorful cloth, we were after all are pagans and we were here to demonstrate on behalf of the earth. There was a small police presence, every street corner of the circle had four or five officers in full battle gear, you know the Darth Vader look: tinted visor helmets, padded chest and back plates, arm guards and full leg protectors, thick gloves, gas masks and a large riot stick. Later I learned there were forty-seven thousand police officers on the streets. They were not threatening and we paid them little attention. There were only about 60 of us. People were meeting all over the city in small groups to try and make their way into the area where the IMF was meeting. After a while a sergeant came over in an ordinary street uniform and had some discussions about what we were going to be doing. Everything seemed pleasant and low key, he hung around with us and joked for a while. We then did a ritual and cast a circle around the whole city for protection of everyone that day including the police. And so we started around Dupont circle and off and down a main boulevard. We walked in the streets and the police didn’t seem to have any problem with that. They made no effort to stop us. A captain in an unmarked car followed us closely and sometimes barked an order from a megaphone, which we mostly obeyed. We went along writing in chalk on the sidewalks, sticking up impeach Bush stickers and stringing yarn from parking meters and sign posts. He ordered us to take down the yarn but we ignored him and kept moving, we ran out of yarn quickly. He ordered us not to put up stickers so we did it sneakily but mostly we sang and passed out leaflets. He ordered us out of the streets so we moved to the sidewalk.
We came to the first intersection and we went around in the pedestrian crossing lane from sidewalk to sidewalk. By the time we had made a full circle and were back to the first side we started from, the police captain was out of his car screaming orders at his men and running around in the intersection. We never blocked the intersection. The police who were trying to set up some sort of line to control us did. The captain was clearly confused about how to control the situation; it probably wasn’t in the training manuals. He screamed right in the face of one of his officers, “Keep them on the side walk stupid.” Then we started out down the street again, on the sidewalk, a wide one with a lot of pedestrians. The last order I heard was to get on the sidewalk, which we had already done. By now the number of police along the way had doubled or tripled but nothing seemed threatening.
Then out of nowhere a wall of police two and three deep and 15 wide blocked the whole sidewalk. They stood in front of us pushing pedestrians back into us, and then a second wall of police appeared on the street side. It felt like they had stepped out of the lobby of a building in front and waiting vans on the street side. I am really not sure, it happened so fast. It was clearly a planned and practiced move. They pinned us against a building and another wall of blue and black closed in behind us, by this time I was moving back towards them and I asked to be let out, telling them I did not want to be arrested. They answered with a shove of the nightsticks, now held out front and horizontal across their chest. Get back they said and they pushed us into a small circle in against the building facade. They were aggressive and the once friendly captain was barking orders. A particularly aggressive cop was in front of me. I asked him to take it easy I told him we had no armor, no stick and there was no call for his actions. His response was to push hard into me with the butt of his stick. I called to a sergeant behind the line and told him to pull the man who was obviously out of control. The man behind the aggressive cop said to me, “You don’t want me to move up because I am going to be worse than him.” These guys really didn’t scare me yet but I began to think this was more than what we had bargained for.
There were several people including a women-having trouble breathing, and a young girl crying who didn’t want to be arrested so one of the pagan women started negotiating with the captain for their release. He ordered those who didn’t want to be arrested over against the building and it looked like they were going to let out six or eight of us. Then L began negotiating for all of us to be released. She said we would just go to the park and drum and chant and stay off the streets. He laughed but started to consider it. Then several police cars pulled up and men who where clearly high-ranking officers came over on the street side of the circle. They called the captain out and he went to talk to them. It turned out it was the Chief of Police and he gave the order to arrest us all. The captain came back and said, “ Its out of my hands. Everyone is going to be arrested.” They immediately started arresting us pulling us up off the ground, synching plastic tie handcuffs on our wrists behind our backs. They carried the first few roughly, we loudly objected and assured them we would cooperate. They now had a large crowd of people watching the whole process, so we came to a stiff cooperation to make it easier on them and us.
And so we found ourselves on a Metro bus, 41 of us in all, our hands handcuffed behind our back. We sang and chanted and our friends who were still outside joined us. It was loud and we were spirited. As quick as that we were riding though DC. The streets were lined with police and sirens were blaring everywhere. They took us out and across the river to the Police Academy. There we found three-bus loads ahead of us waiting for processing. It was now maybe 10 am. Three of the arresting officers were with us and would guard us for the day. We sat and waited uncomfortable but okay. Hours went by and one bus left empty but it didn’t seem as if any of us would be getting off soon. By now we were talking and joking among ourselves and even with the police. By afternoon we needed water and a trip to the bathroom. So we started demanding it with chants of we want to pee and we want water. One woman R who had just been walking by to check on her niece and who was then heading to see her senator had cuffs on so tight they cut off her circulation we demanded they be loosened. After a while a black female officer complied and they took R away then brought her back with cuffs she could get out of, they also started taking us to the bathroom. I went early and a young officer escorted me to the porta-toilets. I talked with him the whole way about why we were demonstrating and the arrests. It was a friendly easy conversation. He cut my cuffs off so I could go to the bathroom It had been three or four hours now and it felt good to have my arms free from behind my back. I sat in the toilet for a while and rubbed my wrists. When I came out he put new cuffs on me but as he did he said, “ I am sticking two fingers in there, that should be loose enough.” It was, it wasn’t near as uncomfortable and when I got back on the bus I discovered I could squeeze one hand out. By the time they had taken us all to the bathroom the majority of us were out of cuffs. We sat and talked and ate up what ever we had to eat, a little fruit and granola and candy. We drank and shared a few bottles of water we had. The day wore on and our bus moved up once. By now there were nine buses behind us. We demanded food and water to no avail. The officers had a meal and gator aid but we just sat, we sang and talked and napped and some with cell phones called out to the world.
Some time in the late afternoon they took us all off the bus and transferred us to another bus, a coach with real cloth seats instead of the hard plastic metro seats and a bathroom. After a short while the bus took us from the Academy back down town to the DC jail over in “Judiciary Square”. Here we had another bus in front of us and we sat and waited. By now we are hungry and thirsty, we ignored their orders to stay in our seats and moved around to use the bathroom and talk and just plain stretch. Supper passed and the officers ate and we were out of any snacks we might split up. A lieutenant came on the bus and told us we would be processed in time and he would see what he could do to get us food and water. He went away and the officers guarding us kept yelling at us to sit down. They were getting irritable. All of them were on overtime and many had 14 to 16 hour days under their belts. We tried to be compassionate in our dealings with them.
Some of our friends, B, C, and L appeared out on the street. They strolled by singing and miming, they couldn’t see us through the tint windows but knew we were there. It was great to know people knew where we were. So far none us had been allowed to call a lawyer by the police despite our asking for that right. Thank god for cell phones. The lieutenant came back on the bus pissed that we wouldn’t stay in our seats and angry that most of us had gotten out of the cuffs. He came through and tightened them. I managed to make mine feel tight when he pulled on them and he was tricked; others did the same so many of us were still loose when he left. They brought on a few bottles of water for 41 people. Then they brought on a box of peanut butter granola bars and gave us each one. It’s now seven or so. I am really hungry having been sick and not eaten the day before. But I went to sleep and slept on and off for a few hours. They brought us a third of a day old sandwich around 8 or 9 pm. We see no progress in getting off the bus and start to believe we might be here all night. I try to sleep at some time around 11 they start taking us off in groups of 6. I was at the back of the bus, so it was a long time before I went. It was a relief to be out in the night air for a few minutes. Then we went to the basement, down a long stairway wet from the rain. The stairwell was covered by grates overhead. It wasn’t really outside but it was good to stand in the damp air. We sang and talked quietly as we waited. I tried to bum a cigarette from a cop who told me he’d loose his job if he gave it to me.
Those who had identification and bail money could post and forfeit, and a few did. This got them out without having to return. Only a few had that option, most either didn’t have 100 dollars or didn’t have an ID. I wished I could do that but I had no Id and I had lent 20 dollars to L so I only had 80. I kept wondering why I didn’t have an ID.. Most of us went in as John or Jane Does. I had decided to give my name and had some one bringing me an ID in the morning. All I had to do was spend the night and maybe pay one hundred dollars, no big deal. I was the last one processed and I told them my name John B Hopkins, I decided I needed to make sure I was out Saturday. When I had told them my name the woman at the computer typed away, but when I told her I weighed 200 lbs she looked at me and said “ yah sure”. I do, having weighed myself the day before. I didn’t think anything of it until after I was photographed and they searched me and took my pack and personal belongings, when they handed me the receipt to sign it said John Doe I said to the officer that’s not right I gave up my name. She showed me the computer report and it said John Doe. I objected but it didn’t mean anything they were on their way home and the jailhouse guards were in charge.
The jail was in a majestic old building, courthouse above ground and an aging jail below ground. There four large cells with a wide hallway in font of them full of desks and tables for processing and finger printing. The walls of the cells were steel plate or brick and floor to ceiling bars separated the hall from the cell. The women were in the first two cells side by side and then the men were in two more further down the hall separated by an interrogation room I only know it was that because I was taken into it. We were put into the cell and there were about 30 of us in there, the 6 men I was arrested with and a lot of young men who had been scooped up in Freedom Park playing drums and dancing, a very criminal activity. Realize that we still have no charges against us, no call to lawyers. After a bit as we started to settle in, sleep was on our minds and everyone began to stake out a little section of the dirty concrete floor.
An officer came to the cell and called my number. We all had a wrist band with a number written on it. He asked me if I was going to give up my name and I told him I already had. I really needed to make sure I was out for work. He took me out and into the interrogation room and sat at a computer on the other side of the wire cage and immediately found me in the computer he asked me the same questions as before. I was relieved that I was no longer a John Doe. I went back to the cell and found enough place on the cement floor to sleep. The floor was taken up completely with exhausted bodies. I had gotten a sweatshirt in so I laid it out and took off my t-shirt for a pillow. The cell was hot and the floor cold, it was hard and uncomfortable but exhaustion carried me right off to sleep. L slept next to me, his shoes for a pillow. It didn’t matter that this was a filthy concrete floor in the basement of an old building. There was space to stretch out, a cool floor, and the comfort of sleep. And the certainty of knowing this is where we were for the night.
All was okay till 4 am when they brought in a busload from the Academy who had been processed out there but the police had decided to move into the city. They weren’t John Does and had been promised they could post and forfeit and get out. It made sleeping impossible for most of us. L and I moved into the toilet area behind a half wall partition. The toilet didn’t work. I sat on the toilet and L sprawled on the floor. We talked and sang softly and tried to bear up. We told each other that paradise is relative. The hard concrete floor in the next cell, where there were half as many men, now looked good to us. How quick your standards of reference change. It would be another 6 hours or so before we moved again. It was a long wait. Uncomfortable and uncertain.
There was a man sitting on the floor who looked out of place. He had on a white shirt, dress pants and wingtip shoes. I said to him “Those are strange clothes for a demonstration”. He told me he wasn’t a demonstrator that he and a friend who was in the other holding area at the Police Academy had gone out from work for a cup of coffee and had wandered into Freedom Park. They had been scooped up in the ring of police and dragged in with the demonstrators. I told him that was a bummer and he said no it was a real eye opener and a learning experience.
In the morning we discovered that one of the young men brought in the middle of the night had his ribs broken. He was having difficulty breathing. We asked for a medic politely from one of the guards and nothing happened 15 – 20 minutes went by and we asked again and nothing happened so we started chanting “ 1 2 3 4, we want a medic 5 6 7 8, we want a medic” banging on the steel cell walls and generally making a racket. The women down the hall joined us. We only went on five minutes or so and they appeared all upset at our noisy behavior but we had medics and they took him away to the hospital. He was clearly in pain and having difficulty breathing.
They brought us breakfast, our first meal in almost 24 hours, a baloney and mayonnaise sandwich, two little cookies and a juice box in a little brown bag. It was better than nothing at that point and I ate it with relish. I asked the guards to go to the bathroom and three of us were taken into an open room with five or six toilets. I took my first crap in two days with two other guys, something I haven’t done since the army in 1968. All part of the depersonalization process I guess.
Around 10 am they came in an identified us by photos and took us five at a time to an armored bus waiting outside. We were being transferred to the Federal Court house. It was eleven or so and all of us had in mind that the court was going to close at 2:30 because that’s what we were told. L and I ended up sitting together, both tightly handcuffed behind our backs again. We were giddy with hunger and exhaustion, and uncertainty .We sat and sang and then L started making up a song about our adventures. I helped him and we sang the verses together as we made them up. The young men liked it but never really found their voices. The song went like this. We actually worked on it all day adding new verses at each phase of the adventure in the hands of the US Marshals. It went like this:
.
The Armored Schoolbus
(vaguely to the tune of "St. James Infirmary)
.
Refrain:
.
We're ridin' on the Armored Schoolbus
Goin' to the courthouse now
There ain't no books on this bus
But we ain't gonna learn anyhow!
.
It was a beautiful day in September
I slept real good in the jail
We had a good long time to remember
That the po-lice are gonna fail.
.
(refrain)
.
When we got to the Courthouse
They said: you gotta give us your name
I said: My name is John Doe, man
And my brother here is the same.
.
(Refrain)
.
Talking to the U.S. Marshals
They said you gotta take it all off
Drop yer pants and undies
And give us a squat and cough!
.
(Refrain)
.
We love our pro bono lawyer
But he don't listen too well
He says we'll be out 'round 8 P.M.
But we think we're goin' straight to hell.
.
(Refrain)
.
We sat on the bus for a long time, the clock we knew was ticking away with a base line fear that court would close and we would be held over into Sunday and probably Monday. Finally they rode us around the block and into the basement of the courthouse. We sang all the way loudly “WE ALL LIVE IN A MILITARY STATE, A MILITARY STATE! A military STATE! WE ALL LIVE IN A MILITARY STATE, A MILITARY STATE! A military STATE! “ to the tune of A Yellow Submarine by the Beatles. The young men were loud and boisterous. As we went down into the subterranean receiving area of the Federal Courthouse one of the black gate guards, not a Marshall gave us a black power salute. He was an older gentleman and it buoyed me.
And now our real adventure began. We were in a subterranean world of concrete and cement block and angry faces and dark blue uniforms and the infamous star on the chests of all the US Marshals. We were led off the bus single file still handcuffed and into a line of police; a gauntlet is more appropriate term. There were 6 or 8 officers on each side. All shouting and pushing. They frisked us roughly. The man smacked my balls when he searched between my legs. Then they led us up into a wire cage where a single female guard pulled us and pushed us to pack us in like sardines. She was the keeper of the gate to the underworld. I wanted to look for a sign to see if it said, “None who enter here shall return” She was angry and aggressive. The _expression on her face was fear and hatred. She was as violent as any man I have ever seen. I knew we were going into a hell. Next three officers took us in smaller groups into an elevator. They watched us sternly. And took us up. I think it was up but I don’t know. There were no windows, no daylight, no points of reference from this point on. And I was too exhausted to be aware of much beyond watching the guards for any sign of them lashing out. Trying not to make eye contact but not take my eyes off them. Watching for clues to their behavior.
When got to where we were going they pushed and pulled us into a steel barred cage open front and back with a sliding steel door on each side. There were more officers on each side. Yelling and screaming at us and pushing us into the cage These were all angry young men in their twenties and thirties, 200 to 220 pounds, muscular, pumped up on steroids and authority. Their pupils’ were dilated and nostrils flaring. As each elevator came up more of us were pushed into the cage. It was like being in a sandwich between two angry slices of police. I actually felt a little protected in the cage glad not to be out on either side. We were mostly quiet taking in the new scenery.
The control booth was in front of us, an officer seemed to be opening and closing gates and doors and watching monitors from a big glass walled booth. A big sergeant was angrily ordering guards around. The whole place was an angry beehive.
Some women were led by and we yipped and hollered glad to see them. L was a leader among the women was walking with her hands behind her back like the rest of the women, only not far enough back for the female guards. One yelled at her to get her hands back and L protested that they were. A female guard grabbed her and yelled get them back L put them back but again not enough for the guard who screamed are you fuckin with me? I said get them back. Two guards roughly grabbed L and pushed her into the doorframe as she passed through it. The men were yelling to no avail to leave her alone.
We started singing we all live in the military state which incited this big guard who yelled and banged on the bars. “There will be no fuckin singing. This is my jail and I don’t allow no singing.” His tone and body language was so threatening and was backed up by the other guards, it shocked us. We quieted down. Two young men said something back. I don’t recall what but the big guard just turned and pointed at a young man and said, “Get that one!” then he spun and pointed at another, “Get that one”. The heavy steel bar door slid open and two phalanxes of three cops each lunged into the jam packed cell and grabbed two men. They were out in seconds and being dragged down the corridor being roughed up. We were stunned. All around us the pumped up guards were screaming and taking threatening stances. We were intimidated into silence while the guard lectured us on the fact that in his jail this is how it was. This was probably the low point of our spirits and solidarity. We let them take those young men off and intimidate us. I felt scared and alone.
They started taking us out in groups of five or six. They took us into a small room with ten or twelve cops in it. Two paired up on each of us. The guard who searched me pushed me up against the wall and roughly started patting me down while he held one arm pressing my head against the steel wall. Another guard stood just behind, I guess in case I did anything. He demanded to know if I had anything in my pockets and I said I didn’t think so, we had been searched three times already. When he patted my right pants pocket he screamed in my ear what’s that. I said I don’t know and he demanded I get it out. It was a piece of toilet paper rolled up for emergency. Then he said, “Are you fucking with me”. I said “No I just am too tired to think.” He roughly searched my groin with an effort to hurt. Then he patted my left side and again found something in my pocket. It was my receipt for my pack and money from the DC police he took it and threw it away. I told him what it was, but he didn’t care and continued to roughly search me. I said in a calm firm tone. “Show some respect.” It did no good. Then he demanded I drop my pants and underwear. And he ordered me to squat and cough. My first thought was you got to be kidding, my second was please god don’t let me shit on the floor. After two days of diarrhea this was a real strong prospect and I knew I would get beat up for it or humiliated in some fashion. After the search they wrote on the back of my hand in magic marker P85. I was a number now. They jammed us in a steel cage at the end of the room. As more men were searched they pushed them into the cell.
While we were in there as our numbers increased in the cell we began to object to the treatment some were getting during the search. The big cop who appeared to be in charge came in and threatened us again. He said “You need to get one thing straight if we have to come in there and lay our hands on you, you are going to have serious charges added to what you got already.” In other words if we have to beat you up we are going to charge you with assaulting us. We were much less intimidated; I could see it was their fear that ruled not ours.
After the search was completed they moved us all down the hall into two larger holding cells. We all sat a little stunned and quiet for a while. Talking quietly among ourselves. Some collapsed on the floor to sleep. We were not sure what our status was now. We knew it was noon or after and the court we believed closed at 2:30, although we didn’t believe they could get away with not charging us. Everyone becomes a jailhouse lawyer quickly. So we held out hope to each other of getting out still that day. After some time and several visits from the guards who we asked to see our lawyer to no avail, a man appeared in a suit and called out the numbers between 61 and 70.We had no idea who this guy was and he started telling the ten men that in order to get out they first needed to give their names and then it would probably be best if they just posted and forfeited. Give the court some money and don’t contest this illegal arrest in other words. This was the first of the court appointed lawyers. We listened but protested we wanted our lawyer from the DC defense team. Then another lawyer showed up and called out ten more numbers and started talking. And then a third. It was quite confusing at first, all three talking and people asking questions but it became clear that they said the same thing, give it up, don’t fight and you can get out. It was tempting, many of us just wanted out. That’s all they had wanted from the beginning. These lawyers kept saying you might be here for seven days. This is was the same thing the police had told us. And they kept saying this is your last and best chance. Finally some of the men started demanding to see our lawyer, that we didn’t want to talk them. We told them to go away. The whole tone changed and we started to stand together we knew if we didn’t stand together many of us might not get out that day and also that it was the only way to deal, to gain some power, from the group not the individual. It was the point that changed the whole day.
We sent the lawyers back out to tell the court that we wanted to see our lawyer whose name was Jamie Smith. Some time went by and nothing happened then our lawyer showed up only it wasn’t Jamie. It was a man named Mark and he had already seen the women who had apparently demanded to see him before we did. He told us he only had ten minutes that he had already seen the women who had decided to demand that everyone be processed and released today, that everyone would plead innocent and the court would give us group trials and that these trials would take place within seven days. Mark answered questions from us and then said we had ten minutes to decide to support the women’s demands or not. The guards took him back out. We then held a meeting among the men in each cell. Each of had a quick say and we came to consensus, an amazing feat for 40 men in such a short time. There were concerns about prior arrests and warrants and immigration status and the juveniles. I think we added that the juveniles be included in this deal because we didn’t know where they were or how many there were. The lawyer, Mark came back and got our answer, then disappeared again.
And we sat and waited again. We had no idea what would happen. Then the guards came and moved us all out of the cells and down the halls through several turns and we came to four small holding cells, which they packed us into. It was uncomfortable, there were17 men in my cell I could touch both walls with my hands one way and the other was only about two feet longer. It was probably meant to hold two to four people. It was hot and hard to breathe. We had to rotate up to the bars to get some air from the cooler hallway. But at least we believed we were just outside the court. We could feel how close it was.
The lawyer came again and told us the court wasn’t making any deals and then told us what they would do. If we gave up our names they would process us all that day and give us trials from two up to eighteen people but not guarantee trials in seven days, more likely thirty days. It sounded like our demand but modified around the date of trials. He said we had five minutes to decide and left. We had four cells to meet separately and then a representative from each to meet through the bars. We were exhausted and not able to think very clearly but it did seem to us that the courts gave us most of what we wanted. Our discussion went quickly, we accepted it. It felt like we might get out. So we started singing and being a little rowdy and joyous.
Immediately officers came through the steel door and just rushed into a cell and seized randomly a young man who they roughed up and disappeared with. This time we weren’t taking it. We quickly talked amongst ourselves. We decided no deal with the court until they brought him back and we saw he was okay. When our lawyer returned he asked what our decision was and C who was our spokesman said what about the man they took? Mark said he was being held else where? And asked us again what our decision was. C said we have decided that nothing happens until he is returned to his cell. The lawyer said there was nothing he could do about that. We said he had to because we were going nowhere otherwise. He realized we were serious and left to see what he could do. Right away they brought the young man back and we saw he was okay. The lawyer came back and we told him we accepted the deal. It looked hopeful.
The court lawyers came back and started taking our names, addresses and social security numbers. We were going to get out. Now we were just anxious to do it. It’s 7 at night and we still haven’t eaten, we are hot, tired and dirty. We want out. I am thinking of a hot shower, and a cold drink and some food.
After the lawyers were done they came and took some of us to the back cells, the one we were in before, to relieve the crowding I guess. I think our lawyer complained about the crowding. I went with my friends back to the old cell, so far we had all managed to stay together except one of us. Back in the cell we waited and finally they came and called out two or three numbers and every so often they came again the numbers were random and we spent a lot of energy trying to figure out if there was a pattern to tell when it might be our turn. And so it went until there were only twenty or thirty of us between the cells. Then they came and moved us all up to two holding cells near the command station where we had first come in. And again they came and got a few. Then it stopped and they didn’t come.
L and I did yoga to pass the time; it was really the first chance all day we had any space to move. It took our minds off worrying about getting out. L got called and went out. I thought soon it would be me. But then they brought him back, the only one they had done that to. We didn’t like it and for a long time they didn’t come again. Then a half dozen officers came; they had a stack of papers and photos and they called out numbers and lined people up in the hall. They took ten or twelve at once, I think they just released these people to the streets; no court no charges, no record.
And still ten or fifteen of us remained waiting for them to come back and they didn’t. We waited what seemed a long time. Then an officer came and we heard that our records were lost. We were real nervous then. What would they do with us? After awhile they came and called three numbers, mine was one. I was relieved and anxious at the same time. The marshals took the three of us away and down the hall. I didn’t know where I was going; I feared I was going to a small cell for the night.
As we went we passed a cell with the women in it. There were only ten or so in there. I only saw J’s face looking threw the bars and felt horror seeing my friend’s face there behind bars. They kept me moving but I called out to her.
Going down the hall an officer opened a steel door and we were ushered into a giant imperial courtroom. The hushed muted gray walls and the lush dark wood of the judges and clerks benches, the quiet respectful tone and the robed judge sitting high above it all was a shock. It was like stepping between two worlds. I was going to be arraigned was the only thought I had. I tried to think as quick as could, what would I say to the judge. I wanted to not just say not guilty I wanted to say something political.
The judge, a woman in black robes who sat a good eight feet higher than everyone else was in the center of two rings of paneled wood holding two rings of clerks. There were a good dozen of them. Everyone looked at us as the guards guided us up to the docket. I was dazed. I heard the clerk say Your honor we have three John Does and someone whispered whose going first so I held out my wrists, my only identification “P85”. I tried to think about what I would say, and lost in thought I missed what ever happened. Next thing I knew two guards where escorting me down the center isle towards the back doors. Out in the hall a legal aide came up and walked along side us. She said do you know what just happened and I said no. She told me I had been released as a John Doe and that I had no charges, no record and I didn’t have to come back to court. The officers escorted me out to the street and the legal aid came along and guided me to the group of my friends and other demonstrators who had been outside the court all day protesting and demanding our release. I needed hugs and water and food in that order and was given them, C and B and E and M and people I hadn’t seen in other cells all day. The women prisoners, we hugged and cried and laughed. I drank water, and wolfed down some tuna casserole.
And so as soon as the last person was released the police swept the park clear of us deviants, reprobates and criminals. Washington was safe for democracy once again.
What I took away for days was a deep anger on the one hand and a deep sorrow on the other. Even today weeks later as I finish this, tears can still come to my eyes from the sadness in my heart at a world so violent. Imagine being in their hands for months or years. We had a little taste. The black men we saw in manacles face this as a way of life. It is a breeding ground of violence.
But if they thought they would intimidate the people who came to protest the IMF they made a big mistake. While I have no desire to be arrested again, if the only way I can speak out is to have that happen then I will. I think they have given a boost of resolve to all of us. If this is what our country is about it’s time to change it.
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Love and respect to you all
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John Hopkins
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