Status: One-shot. Finito.
Run-In
Run-In.
Cool wind rushed past our faces.
Ollie,
kickflip,
rail-slide,
great shot guys.
Everyone has their signature.
Tony
with his shortboard and out-there tricks.
Devin
came up from Kansas just for the weekend to hang out and show off his new deck.
I've got the loaner-longboard and a fisheye camera.
The day couldn't be more perfect. Kick-push faster; time for a race.
"Last one to Gene Leahy buys lunch!" We're off.
The boys don't stand a chance against my longboard. Kick-push, kick-push, carve up a hill and hit 30 at the bottom. Ignore traffic, look back once and laugh. Get to the park first; turn around just in time to get some footage of Tony's intense face as he flips his deck up onto a bench. I can hear Devin whoop as Tony pulls a Method Air off the back of the bench, landing with a triumphant shout. I grin, holding up the camera. “This is perfect footage for youtube tonight!” We slap hands and ride off, the boys pulling tricks while I film.
Suddenly, a loud shout from behind.
"Hey, you kids! What the hell are you doing!"
We look at each other, flashes of fear across our faces. A very fit-looking police officer runs toward us, nightstick in hand. Split-second decision; we run. Tony can't grab his board fast enough and gets knocked to the ground by the officer. A strangled yell reaches our ears just as Devin rounds the corner, and I look back to see Tony being put into a choke-hold by the cop. Fury replaces fear as I watch tears spring to Tony's eyes. He's in pain, and the cop doesn't seem to care. Flipping the camera on, I ride back towards the struggling pair. Tony's gasping for air. His face is swiftly turning purple. I try and pull him away but the officer slaps my hand.
"You'll stay away from this if you're not stupid," he growls.
"But you're hurting him!" The camera is still rolling.
The officer flips Tony on his stomach and puts him in handcuffs. “I said stay away!” he yells. Tony cries out as the cuffs tighten around his wrists. “Quit struggling young man, you’re only hurting yourself.”
“Why are you arresting him? He didn’t do anything wrong! This is completely unprovoked!” I push the camera toward Tony to record his distressed face.
The officer looks up at me and spots the camera. “Hey—hey! Get that camera out of here!” He tries to grab it from me, but I pull it away.
I take a few steps back.
“You can’t take this camera legally.”
He gets up, fury written across his features. “Give me that camera,” he says slowly. I back up further, still filming. “Hey! I said GIVE ME THAT CAMERA!” He grabs onto my arm and wrenches it from my grasp. I keep my grip on the strap, determined to not let go.
A sharp pain goes through my arm. He squeezes tighter and I feel my fingers lose feeling as he jerks the strap from my hand. He twists my arm behind my back and I feel like it might break. Cold metal wraps around my wrists and I’m stuck.
Click.
Click.
Click.
I bite my lip to keep from yelling insults.
Tears fall onto my cheeks.
This can’t be fair.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Tony moans from the sidewalk.
Bystanders stare, helpless in their silence.
I’m forced next to Tony, sitting Indian-style. My knee touches his back; I try to offer comfort.
Tears won’t stop falling.
My camera lays broken on the ground. Fish eyed-glass reflects the sunlight.
500 dollars in pieces on the concrete.
My hands shake in anger at the injustice.
This can’t be fair.
The officer steps away, calling in a report on his radio. Words jump out at me.
“Two suspects.”
“Resisting arrest.”
“Assaulting an officer.”
Devin’s nowhere to be found. I can’t help but stiffen at the thought; the feeling of abandonment pulls at my stomach.
“One suspect missing.”
“Call their parents.”
Tony shifts uncomfortably beside me. A group has gathered to watch. It’s entertainment.
His eyes dart from face-to-face, looking for sympathy. Not one encouraging visage in the crowd.
The younger ones take out cell phones, hoping to get a picture of him.
He’s a delinquent. Someone to reject. An animal in a cage.
Time passes slowly. My heart won’t stop racing.
Tony grows quiet, but his submission is loud and undeniable.
Wrists rubbed raw by insensitive steel and the mocking gazes of strangers bite into our chests and tug at our heartstrings. I feel sick. I can’t stand the waiting.
The cop walks toward us. I flinch involuntarily as he draws nearer. He pulls me up by my arm and I wince as the handcuffs pull on my inflamed flesh. Another click and my wrists are free. I look at him in confusion and he just shrugs. “You’ve got a warning. If I see you skating down here again I will arrest you.”
He pulls Tony up and I expect him to set Tony free, but it doesn’t happen.
Tony’s look of relief turns to one of alarm as he is shoved toward a waiting police car.
“You are under arrest for assaulting an officer and resisting arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”
Devin steps out of the crowd and pulls me away from the scene.
My shouts of protest die on unhearing ears. I feel so helpless.
Tony’s crying again as the door shuts on his freedom.
This can’t be right.
This isn’t fair.
Ollie,
kickflip,
rail-slide,
great shot guys.
Everyone has their signature.
Tony
with his shortboard and out-there tricks.
Devin
came up from Kansas just for the weekend to hang out and show off his new deck.
I've got the loaner-longboard and a fisheye camera.
The day couldn't be more perfect. Kick-push faster; time for a race.
"Last one to Gene Leahy buys lunch!" We're off.
The boys don't stand a chance against my longboard. Kick-push, kick-push, carve up a hill and hit 30 at the bottom. Ignore traffic, look back once and laugh. Get to the park first; turn around just in time to get some footage of Tony's intense face as he flips his deck up onto a bench. I can hear Devin whoop as Tony pulls a Method Air off the back of the bench, landing with a triumphant shout. I grin, holding up the camera. “This is perfect footage for youtube tonight!” We slap hands and ride off, the boys pulling tricks while I film.
Suddenly, a loud shout from behind.
"Hey, you kids! What the hell are you doing!"
We look at each other, flashes of fear across our faces. A very fit-looking police officer runs toward us, nightstick in hand. Split-second decision; we run. Tony can't grab his board fast enough and gets knocked to the ground by the officer. A strangled yell reaches our ears just as Devin rounds the corner, and I look back to see Tony being put into a choke-hold by the cop. Fury replaces fear as I watch tears spring to Tony's eyes. He's in pain, and the cop doesn't seem to care. Flipping the camera on, I ride back towards the struggling pair. Tony's gasping for air. His face is swiftly turning purple. I try and pull him away but the officer slaps my hand.
"You'll stay away from this if you're not stupid," he growls.
"But you're hurting him!" The camera is still rolling.
The officer flips Tony on his stomach and puts him in handcuffs. “I said stay away!” he yells. Tony cries out as the cuffs tighten around his wrists. “Quit struggling young man, you’re only hurting yourself.”
“Why are you arresting him? He didn’t do anything wrong! This is completely unprovoked!” I push the camera toward Tony to record his distressed face.
The officer looks up at me and spots the camera. “Hey—hey! Get that camera out of here!” He tries to grab it from me, but I pull it away.
I take a few steps back.
“You can’t take this camera legally.”
He gets up, fury written across his features. “Give me that camera,” he says slowly. I back up further, still filming. “Hey! I said GIVE ME THAT CAMERA!” He grabs onto my arm and wrenches it from my grasp. I keep my grip on the strap, determined to not let go.
A sharp pain goes through my arm. He squeezes tighter and I feel my fingers lose feeling as he jerks the strap from my hand. He twists my arm behind my back and I feel like it might break. Cold metal wraps around my wrists and I’m stuck.
Click.
Click.
Click.
I bite my lip to keep from yelling insults.
Tears fall onto my cheeks.
This can’t be fair.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Tony moans from the sidewalk.
Bystanders stare, helpless in their silence.
I’m forced next to Tony, sitting Indian-style. My knee touches his back; I try to offer comfort.
Tears won’t stop falling.
My camera lays broken on the ground. Fish eyed-glass reflects the sunlight.
500 dollars in pieces on the concrete.
My hands shake in anger at the injustice.
This can’t be fair.
The officer steps away, calling in a report on his radio. Words jump out at me.
“Two suspects.”
“Resisting arrest.”
“Assaulting an officer.”
Devin’s nowhere to be found. I can’t help but stiffen at the thought; the feeling of abandonment pulls at my stomach.
“One suspect missing.”
“Call their parents.”
Tony shifts uncomfortably beside me. A group has gathered to watch. It’s entertainment.
His eyes dart from face-to-face, looking for sympathy. Not one encouraging visage in the crowd.
The younger ones take out cell phones, hoping to get a picture of him.
He’s a delinquent. Someone to reject. An animal in a cage.
Time passes slowly. My heart won’t stop racing.
Tony grows quiet, but his submission is loud and undeniable.
Wrists rubbed raw by insensitive steel and the mocking gazes of strangers bite into our chests and tug at our heartstrings. I feel sick. I can’t stand the waiting.
The cop walks toward us. I flinch involuntarily as he draws nearer. He pulls me up by my arm and I wince as the handcuffs pull on my inflamed flesh. Another click and my wrists are free. I look at him in confusion and he just shrugs. “You’ve got a warning. If I see you skating down here again I will arrest you.”
He pulls Tony up and I expect him to set Tony free, but it doesn’t happen.
Tony’s look of relief turns to one of alarm as he is shoved toward a waiting police car.
“You are under arrest for assaulting an officer and resisting arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”
Devin steps out of the crowd and pulls me away from the scene.
My shouts of protest die on unhearing ears. I feel so helpless.
Tony’s crying again as the door shuts on his freedom.
This can’t be right.
This isn’t fair.