I will never forget that day for as long as I live. I’ll remember it, in vivid, tragic detail as if it were yesterday for the rest of my life. I will always see the players, cast in their roles that only God could have given them, in a wickedly truthful and still somewhat haunting Shakespearean play. I do not mean to over-dramatize the truth, but who’s better to tell the truth than the one who experiences it. However, the memory of December 26, 2007 will always serve as a reminder of the day that I understood in full totality that being a Black man in America will always come with a heavy cross to bear. For that was the day that I was arrested for a crime I never committed. That was the day racial profiling went too far.
On December 26, 2007, I was at Columbus State Community College (in Columbus, Ohio), one of two students left inside the computer lab checking and replying to emails. I had just turned twenty-seven years old only a few weeks prior and had also found out that I had a child on the way. I had recently moved back from Chicago, IL and returned back to Columbus a few days before Christmas. Upon returning back to Columbus, I decided to go to Columbus State, where I had previously taken a few classes, to check my emails since at the time I had no home computer. I carried with me a book bag, as well as my coat, gloves, hat and scarf. The other student, a young Asian male sat across the computer lab, and was busily working on whatever project that occupied his time and attention. We never crossed paths or spoke. His position in the computer lab was critical to the events that were soon to transpire, even while he was the only witness to what was soon to occur. He sat very close to the entrance of the lab, while I was further away, again using the computers. No one else entered the lab, perhaps due to the school somewhat being closed due to Christmas break. The lab, of course was still open for those who were students which allowed me to have access to it until it was time to close.
Suddenly, as if on cue in the play of life, three uniformed police officers entered the computer lab. I saw them out of the corner of my eye and noticed they were walking directly toward me, almost making a B-line in my direction. I glanced at the clock on the computer screen, noticing the time. It was close to closing time and I naturally assumed they were coming in to to tell myself and the Asian student it was time to make our ways home. Yet, they never stopped to speak with him, instead they promptly walked toward me, almost determinedly, as if they were looking for something.
When they finally reached me, I stopped what I was doing and looked directly at one of the officers (two male, one female, all white). The other two were now encircling the computer lab, perhaps looking to see who else was inside. I said nothing, just looked. A few awkward seconds went by and finally one of the male officers spoke. He asked me with a stern and disgusted attitude what I was doing. I calmly replied that I was checking my emails. I said, “it must be time to go. I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was that late”. Closing time was around 4 pm and it was around 10 minutes till. As I stood up, the officer quickly snapped that he wanted to see my ID. I retorted by asking him why. He said because he asked for it. I replied, “that’s not a good enough reason to ask to see my ID. I haven’t done anything except sit here and check my emails.” The officer’s face began to turn red. He snapped back at me, “I want to make sure you’re a student here and not just some kid coming in here to use our computers.” My eyes perked up at the term “our computers”, as if to imply that in some way, my Black self was not allowed to be at this school, let alone use these computers. To stave off a confrontation, I complied with his wishes and handed him my ID. I was thinking, “if I’m not a student, then how would I have access to the lab or be able to log onto the computers?” However, I stayed quiet. The officer got on his radio and read to the other officers my name and address. He also read them my Student ID number and finally handed it back to me. “You stay here.” He said. I waited. Soon the other two police officers strolled over to our location.
By the time they arrived, I already had put on my coat, hat, gloves and scarf and gathered my belongings. The police officer up to this point never noticed that I had my book bag underneath the desk since I never got a chance to actually grab it. He handed me back my ID and watched as I began to walk away. Then he saw me sling my book bag across my shoulder. I was heading to the door, in the same direction where the Asian student, whom they never approached, was still sitting. I was irritated and just wanted to leave. I said nothing, just tried to walk away. Suddenly, I felt this hand grab my shoulder and I instinctively pulled away. I had no idea who had just grabbed me and I began to jar myself away, unsure exactly what was going on. As I swung around to see who had grabbed me, it was the officer who started the harassment. He grabbed at my shoulder, trying to get to my book bag. I pulled away swiftly. He took this to indicate I was becoming confrontational and the other two police officers swooped in to take his side. He picked me up and slammed me face first on the floor. I began yelling in protest, demanding to know why he was doing this. I stiffened up my body as he and the other male police officer attempted to grab my wrist to apply handcuffs. I still had no idea what I had done. I said nothing to them on my way to the door and I had been compliant in everything he asked of me. Finally, the second male police officer pulled out his gun, placing it to the back of my head. I had never been that close to a gun before and began to fear that I was going to be shot to death. I didn’t cry, but my heart raced a thousand beats a minute. This seemed to have gone on for hours, however it was only a matter of a minute or two. I relented and finally allowed the police officer to handcuff me, still unsure as to why I was being arrested.
In the process of all that had occurred, my book bag managed to fall off my shoulder and was lying on the floor. The female officer walked over to pick it up, unzip it and look inside. I could see her from the corner of my eye. I was still on my stomach on the floor while these three white police officers rifled through my belongings. “What were they looking for?” I thought. I don’t smoke, drink or do drugs. And I don’t own a gun. I had never even fired a gun in my life. I didn’t have any property I had stolen. I was a Black man, at school, checking my emails and there I was, being arrested for something and I had no idea as to why.
Finally I was stood up and I could see the hatred and evil in the arresting officer’s eyes. I could see that while he didn’t know me, he hated me. Because I was Black. He looked at me with the most clear disdain imaginable, as if to say if this were 1955, he’d have taken me somewhere and lynched me. I finally spoke up. I said, “what did I do? Nothing. You’re going to arrest an innocent man without telling him why? Give me a reason why these handcuffs are on me.” His reason, I resisted arrest and assaulted a police officer. What? How? When? I was minding my own business when these racist pigs came to bother me. I never assaulted anybody and I could have an eyewitness. Except my eyewitness was no longer to be found. The Asian student had suddenly disappeared and I was all alone with my three white police captors.
The arresting officer began to tell me that my bag looked suspicious and that when had asked to see everything I had, I had hidden my bag. I interrupted and reminded him that he never asked to see my belongings. Only my ID, which I willingly showed him. And suspicious? What’s suspicious about a student having a book bag? He told me to shut up and then said that when he tried to take my book bag off my shoulder as I was leaving, I yanked away, swung around and punched him in his chest. That was a lie! Yes, I yanked away, out of fear for my safety. But I never punched him, and told him he was a liar and was making it all up. The other officers, obviously, took his side and agreed with his assessment of what happened. Needless to say, I was being charged with 1 count Resisting Arrest, 1 Count Assault and 1 Count Attempted Assault. The assault charge was key, I would come to find out later, because that was a felony offense.
I was taken to a holding area that was still on campus and held for an hour, handcuffed to a table. The three white police officers were in another room deliberating on what they wanted to do with me. The second male police officer came in to say that things had gone too far but that I would be going home. He left. A few minutes later, the white woman came in and told me the opposite. She said I would be going downtown and charged. I was floored, and scared. I had never been that scared before in my life and I never have been since. I wanted to cry but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Finally I was handcuffed to back and led to the police car and driven downtown. Subsequently I was charged and found guilty on the resisting arrest charge and the attempted assault, which were misdemeanors. I was found not guilty on the assault charge. I was handed a Public Defender who selfishly convinced me to take a plea deal instead of opting to defend myself in front of a judge. I served 10 days in jail and was given a year and a half of probation.
My life began to unravel. I tried to keep it together as best as I could. But I was kicked out of school, disallowed to attend other schools, was unable to find steady employment and was denied some housing. I felt like the world had caved in on me. In July of 2008 my daughter was born in Chicago. I hated those police officers and thought about suing them as well as Columbus State but finally decided against it. I never had been racially profiled like that before and to know it could go that far was a shocking realization I never thought I’d have to experience.
And so, to know Trayvon Martin’s story, and the stories of hundreds, if not thousands of young Black men who have been racially profiled, arrested or tragically murdered all for being Black shows the sad reality and racial caste system in America. I mentor now, as well as teach young Black children. I stress to them to watch out, for somebody’s watching them. To always be aware of who they are and to stand up for who they are, no matter what. I hope this story inspires or at least opens the eyes of those who reads this. I was a student, at school and was arrested just for being a Black man in a school. I never knew what happened to those officers. A part of me hopes that karma caught up to them, if it hasn’t already. But in the end, I know that it all happened for a reason. And I was (almost) Trayvon Martin.