The detective pulled into the station driveway and stopped. The whole station had a large fence around it. Everybody had to go through a security gate. It was two stories high with big tinted windows. There was a small box with a numerical pad next to the gate. The detective punched a code in and the gate opened. As he drove in I felt the feeling of drowning. I knew my mother and father would be worried. He drove toward the back of the building to a garage door. The large door slowly lifted up as we drove inside. I turned to see the door come down behind us.
Sir Dyno's book "midst of my confusion"
- Thread starter datfrenchmane
- Start date
The detective stepped out and opened the back door. I stepped out and looked around. It was a cold garage made of solid brick and concrete. The bricks were painted white with names carved into them. I quickly read some of my homies names. We were buzzed in through a big metal door. My cuffs were taken off and he walked me inside. We walked down a brightly lit hallway to a small cell. I stepped into the cell and heard the large heavy door slam and lock. It was cold and I noticed the walls were also painted white. It had a sink and a toilet with no toilet paper. I laughed to myself thinking ‘I’m glad I don’t gotta go.’ There was a concrete bench next to the door with gang carvings. I laid down and closed my eyes. I rubbed my wrists because it felt as if the cuffs were still on me. Before I knew it I fell asleep.
“Joaquin, come out,” said an officer. I quickly woke up confused. I had forgotten where I was at. I stood up and walked out.
“Joaquin, come out,” said an officer. I quickly woke up confused. I had forgotten where I was at. I stood up and walked out.
“Follow me,” he said as we walked down a long hallway. I was taken into a small room and fingerprinted. Prints were taken of each finger and thumb. The officer didn’t say a word to me the entire time. He had an annoyed look on his face. After the prints were done the officer handed me a tissue so I could wipe the excess ink from my hands. Then I had to stand as he took a picture of me.
The detective that arrested me walked in.
“Did you see if he had any tattoos?” he asked the officer.
“No, I didn’t get to that yet.” he answered.
“Oh, ok. Well you can go, I’ll take it from here,” he said.
Then the officer finished filling out a paper and walked out.
He had me empty my pockets and checked my shoes, I guess to make sure I wasn’t concealing anything.
The detective that arrested me walked in.
“Did you see if he had any tattoos?” he asked the officer.
“No, I didn’t get to that yet.” he answered.
“Oh, ok. Well you can go, I’ll take it from here,” he said.
Then the officer finished filling out a paper and walked out.
He had me empty my pockets and checked my shoes, I guess to make sure I wasn’t concealing anything.
“So, do you have any tattoo’s?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered as I lifted my shirt. He wrote it down on a form and asked,”Is that all you have?”
“Yeah, that’s all I need,” I answered.
He looked at me as if for the last time.
“My name is detective Robert. I’ve been following your gang for sometime now. I know about your best friend Vince.”
I looked away from him. What the hell did he mean, following my gang around? He had the nerve to bring Vince up.
“Can I ask you something?” asked the detective. He motioned me to sit down on a small bench.
“Yeah, I guess,” I answered as I took the seat.
“Why do you do this? What fun is there in hurting others all of the time? Your still young. If you keep this up, you’ll end up in prison. Your not a juvenile anymore. And believe me, it’s no fun in prison.”
“Yeah,” I answered as I lifted my shirt. He wrote it down on a form and asked,”Is that all you have?”
“Yeah, that’s all I need,” I answered.
He looked at me as if for the last time.
“My name is detective Robert. I’ve been following your gang for sometime now. I know about your best friend Vince.”
I looked away from him. What the hell did he mean, following my gang around? He had the nerve to bring Vince up.
“Can I ask you something?” asked the detective. He motioned me to sit down on a small bench.
“Yeah, I guess,” I answered as I took the seat.
“Why do you do this? What fun is there in hurting others all of the time? Your still young. If you keep this up, you’ll end up in prison. Your not a juvenile anymore. And believe me, it’s no fun in prison.”
“What do you care. I do what I do. Just like you do what you do. That’s just life, “ I answered. I looked at this detective. I wondered what his angle was. Why the hell did he care if I went to prison or not?
“It doesn’t have to be that way. You don’t have to be involved in gangs. Why do you want to hurt others just because they’re from the other side of town?”
I couldn’t believe this idiot. How could he sit there and tell me about gangbanging? If he knew Vince was my best friend, then he should understand my hatred towards VSL. Just like when a cop gets killed, no matter what, cops are going to carry hate toward the killer. They won’t rest until the killer is rotting behind bars. But I can’t put Vince’s killers behind bars. I don’t own a jail. So my justice for Vince’s death is through fights, stabbing and murder.
“Am I under arrest or what? If not then let me go,” I said looking at the detective up and down.
The detective looked at me and shook his head. He didn’t understand me. And I didn’t understand him. What did I care about this pig? He never did anything for me.
“It doesn’t have to be that way. You don’t have to be involved in gangs. Why do you want to hurt others just because they’re from the other side of town?”
I couldn’t believe this idiot. How could he sit there and tell me about gangbanging? If he knew Vince was my best friend, then he should understand my hatred towards VSL. Just like when a cop gets killed, no matter what, cops are going to carry hate toward the killer. They won’t rest until the killer is rotting behind bars. But I can’t put Vince’s killers behind bars. I don’t own a jail. So my justice for Vince’s death is through fights, stabbing and murder.
“Am I under arrest or what? If not then let me go,” I said looking at the detective up and down.
The detective looked at me and shook his head. He didn’t understand me. And I didn’t understand him. What did I care about this pig? He never did anything for me.
“Yes, you are under arrest,” he said.
“For what? What he hell did I do!” I yelled.
“We’re linking you to the shooting within city limits and possession of a firearm. Your lucky you didn’t hit anybody,” he said.
“Your crazy. You know that I didn’t have no gun. I’ll be out as soon as I go to court,” I said.
I couldn’t believe it. Taking me to jail with no proof. I didn’t care anyways. They would have to release me in court. The detective read me my rights and put me back into the cell. I wished there was a way to call home. I knew that the cops were going to search my house. They wanted to find the gun badly. I hoped my mother and father wouldn’t worry about me too much. I hated breaking their hearts all of the time. My father had such high expectations for me, and now I was just another cholo acting crazy.
“For what? What he hell did I do!” I yelled.
“We’re linking you to the shooting within city limits and possession of a firearm. Your lucky you didn’t hit anybody,” he said.
“Your crazy. You know that I didn’t have no gun. I’ll be out as soon as I go to court,” I said.
I couldn’t believe it. Taking me to jail with no proof. I didn’t care anyways. They would have to release me in court. The detective read me my rights and put me back into the cell. I wished there was a way to call home. I knew that the cops were going to search my house. They wanted to find the gun badly. I hoped my mother and father wouldn’t worry about me too much. I hated breaking their hearts all of the time. My father had such high expectations for me, and now I was just another cholo acting crazy.
“Two hours later and I heard an officer unlocking the door.
Time to go to county jail,” said the officer. “Turn around so I can cuff you,” said the voice of a woman.
I was cuffed and walked back down the hallway. A door was opened leading back into the garage. The female officer carried a plastic bag with my property, all the things in my pockets, money, papers and a small cross. I was put into the small cramped back seat again. The large door and gate were opened and closed once again as the vehicle moved forward. I was being transported to the county jail, which was located in the next city some twenty minutes away.
Time to go to county jail,” said the officer. “Turn around so I can cuff you,” said the voice of a woman.
I was cuffed and walked back down the hallway. A door was opened leading back into the garage. The female officer carried a plastic bag with my property, all the things in my pockets, money, papers and a small cross. I was put into the small cramped back seat again. The large door and gate were opened and closed once again as the vehicle moved forward. I was being transported to the county jail, which was located in the next city some twenty minutes away.
Chapter 6
The drive to county jail was the longest twenty minutes of my life. It was night time. I looked around from the back seat of the patrol car as we drove on the freeway. I could see people in passing cars trying to look in to see who was arrested. I remembered always doing that myself. It seemed funny that now I was in this car, cuffed. The officer had the radio on a country station, playing at a low volume. I wondered if detectives in suits had already searched my house, I could already imagine my mothers face when the detectives knocked. She’d probably freak out, thinking I had been shot or was dead.
The drive to county jail was the longest twenty minutes of my life. It was night time. I looked around from the back seat of the patrol car as we drove on the freeway. I could see people in passing cars trying to look in to see who was arrested. I remembered always doing that myself. It seemed funny that now I was in this car, cuffed. The officer had the radio on a country station, playing at a low volume. I wondered if detectives in suits had already searched my house, I could already imagine my mothers face when the detectives knocked. She’d probably freak out, thinking I had been shot or was dead.
