Many moons ago I was parked on the side of the road, crying beside my friend. He was trying to comfort me because I was upset about my family. I was 17 and focused on my small world.
At one point, we sat on my hunk of metal Ford Taurus. The car was Black and we left footprints on the trunk. When the cop cars pulled up, it had gotten dark and we were back in the front seat. I thought the cop wanted to see if we were okay.
I rolled down my window and yelled, “We’re okay.”
Then I couldn’t see much because 3 cop cars were now flashing their lights in our direction. Not 1, or 2, but 3. We were in a small town. 3 cop cars may have all the cars patrolling that night.
I lived behind the 7/11 in town. This meant that I almost immediately recognized one of the cops because I crossed him getting coffee once a week. I was a polite young lady and always smiled and waved. That didn’t really matter though because his partner was mad. They asked me for my license and registration. Ever forgetful, all I had was my old school ID. I was wearing jean cut off’s, snot, and a t-shirt. When the officer walked up, my hair fell out of its bun.
The designated leader ordered my friend and I to get out of the car. He asked us to stand up against the fence by the side of the road. He took my keys and opened the trunk. I was sort of living out of my car at this point and 3 officers went through my clothes. When one inadvertently held up a pair of my underwear, I cried when I saw the outline in the headlights and when I started to cry again, my friend moved to comfort me. It was at this point the officer told him to stand back and asked him what was in his pocket. Mike always carried a yellow comb. It was hard not to laugh when he looked at the officer and said, “My comb,” as he removed it from him pocket.
They dug through the cab of my car too. There were stuffed animals, underwear, and schoolwork, but nothing nefarious.
Three police officers approached and said, “We received multiple calls that you were stealing avocados. You shouldn’t climb on your car in the dark.”
To which my friend pointed and said, “I live on that Avocado Ranch and thieves don’t show up in a Taurus to steal avocados. They show up in Trucks, with Barrels, and with people tall enough to get over the barbed wire fence.”
The cops left. I went home.
I’ve loved telling this story since I got over the original fear of it happening. It’s a little outrageous to be pulled over by 3 cop cars for stealing Avocados in a Ford Taurus, even in California.
But then I read, “The Hate You Give,” by Angie Thomas. In the book, a 17-year-old High School girl witnesses her best friend die from a police gunshot. The officer claimed that he mistook a hairbrush for a gun.
So now? Now my story doesn’t make me laugh.
1. Officers had what they thought was reasonable cause of trespassing and high dollar theft.
2. I literally waved my hand out the window and waved the officers on.
3. I didn’t have proper identification.
4. My friend had what looked like a weapon in his pocket.
5. My friend made somewhat sudden movements close to the Officers.
While having my car searched was unnerving, I wasn’t scared for my life because we weren’t doing anything wrong.
And I don’t think the difference was that there was a comb and not a brush in my friend’s pocket.
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Previously published on medium
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Photo credit: iStock