Wrongfully arrested
I was loading my groceries into the car when a patrol car suddenly pulled up in front of me. At first, I assumed it was my husband stopping by for a quick chat. But as the officer stepped out, I realized it wasn’t him—it was a young, white police officer. Without hesitation, he began questioning me as though I were a criminal. Before I could process what was happening, he accused me of theft and placed me in handcuffs. I tried to explain, but he refused to listen. Remaining calm, I decided to cooperate, fully aware that my husband—who happens to be the sheriff—was about to make this rookie officer regret his mistake.
Wrongfully Arrested
Because I’m black?
As I sat in the back of his patrol car, I met his gaze directly. “Did you arrest me because I’m Black?” I asked, my tone steady but resolute. He smirked, a hint of arrogance in his expression. “Playing the race card, huh?” he said dismissively, his words laced with condescension. I leaned back, silently registering the derision in his voice. The air in the car was thick with tension, an unshakable sense that something about this situation was deeply wrong.
Because I’m Black
