When is a choice not a choice?

Sometimes in life you are given a choice that isn’t really a choice. As I continue my story you’ll see that I had no real choice as events unfolded.

After arriving at the police station Good Cop went off to a corner where his desk was, and only occasionally came by to see how things were progressing. Bad Cop was busy going over his evidence and taking our mug shots and finger prints. He kept asking us if we were planning to sell the small stash of seeds we had, I guess he was hoping he could get us for dealing.

I had to go to the bathroom so Bad Cop had to stand over and watch as I urinated. I guess he wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to flush some evidence down the toilet.

Around 6 am he phoned up the local District Attorney to ask his legal advice. Together they plotted what the charges against us would be. They desperately wanted to come up with a felony, but seemed hard pressed with the given evidence.

Around 6:30 am Sunday morning the District Attorney showed up at the station. Together with Bad Cop they typed up formal charges against us. The DA could not understand why young men of the age 18 and 19 were traveling frivolously around the country when they should be holding down regular jobs or going to school. He just couldn’t fathom it.

Finally we were given our choice. They had two charges against each of us. Although the seeds had not undergo any kind of scientific verification, we were being charged with possession of something like 21 grams of marijuana. The ‘hippie pipe’ generated a charge of possession of a narcotic implement, though it too had not undergone any sort of scientific verification. Bad Cop explained to us that we could get a public defender to represent us in court, but he didn’t think there was anyone in town that would do that, and if we wanted to go that route we would have to wait in jail until Monday. Or we could go over to the Judge’s house and do the trail right now.

What kind of choice is that?? It was clear what Bad Cop wanted us to do. So far, we had been hanging around the station and had not seen a jail cell, all we wanted to do was get out of there as fast as we could. So the three of us got into the back of the squad car and Bad Cop and DA got in the front seat. On the way over to the Judge they stopped and picked up coffee and donuts for everyone, so I guess he wasn’t all bad.

We arrived at the Judge’s house and took our seats on his screened in back porch. There was a little judge’s desk facing us. It looked like the room was setup for these little ‘trials’. Judge came out to meet us and discuss things with his buddies, Bad Cop and DA. They all decided that they would go inside to confer and we were to wait out on the porch with our coffee and donuts. However, just before going inside they asked us how much money we had. Are you getting the idea there is some sort of scam going on here?

The money situation wasn’t very good for me. I only had $40 to my name, but between the three of us there was $300. That was probably lucky for us.

We waited anxiously on the porch for what seemed like a long time. Finally they all came out and Judge sat down behind his judging desk. We were handed carbon copies of the official charges that Judge was reading to us. After reading each charge we were given the choice to plead guilty. Then Judge pronounced the sentence. On the charge of the narcotic implement we were each fined $50. On the charge of the possession of marijuana, he explained that normally he and drugs didn’t mix and he’d just as soon put us away in jail for being involved in drugs. However, if we agreed to leave the county he would suspend the sentence for that charge.

Obviously the only thought on our minds at that point was to get the hell as far away from that county as we could. So that ended the court session; all that was left was for us to sign over $150 of our traveler’s checks to them. Hey, that’s exactly half of our money! I had to borrow $10 for my share of the fine leaving me penniless in a far away land.

After we paid up, Bad Cop and DA drove us back to our van, it was now about 9 am. We were in the process of battening down the hatches so we could get out of there, when our friend K. showed up with his 65 Mustang. What timing!

K. explained that he had arrived last night around 10 pm and found a little rest area just a couple of miles down the road from where we were. Had he gone the extra distance and found us last night, we were convinced that we would have left then and there, thus avoiding the unpleasant episode. I guess our guardian angel wanted us to go through that horrific ordeal.

It’s hard to explain the state of mind I was in at this point. Having no sleep that night, going through the arrest and trail, no money to my name and really no clear idea of what I was going to do with my life except to get out of that county.

It felt like I had really hit rock bottom, but I was to learn that there were even deeper depths to explore.