False Arrest

FOLDER

Short Stories  (E) My short story collection #2106456 by Chris Breva

When I was young I often set off to see America. I didn't know at the time but I have bi-polar disorder, a mental illness that results in deep depression and manic highs. I didn't know that the manic highs were what drove me to to hitchhike like I did but I saw several states by doing so. I usually also saw their state hospital because I wound up being committed there.

One day as I passed through a small town in northwest West Virginia I was stopped by a deputy sheriff. He asked to see my ID, which I presented and then he started to leave. Suddenly he stopped the car, jumped out, and leveled a shotgun over the car aiming at me. "Get on your knees.."

I knelt down to the ground. I remember it had cinders all over the place and it tore my knees up! The deputy then placed the shotgun in the seat and moved toward me telling me not to breathe wrong or he'd shoot. I knew I had done some things wrong and possibly had an active warrant that I was unaware of but his behavior seemed very strange for a misdemeanor crime. I knew I had not committed anything felonious except for the weed I was carrying. I knew it was found before he even searched me. Search me he did and found my stash. "Look what we have here. You just keep piling charges on don' t you?"

"I don't know what your talking about. I was doing nothing wrong and there are no wants or warrants for me. You're going to have to release me or I'll have my lawyer sue you."

"Sue away," he replied. "You won't win. Besides you're wanted on four counts of armed robbery."

"I'm what? Somebody is crazy and this time it isn't me!"

"Your name is Timothy Rinehart, age 22, 5'10" 119 pounds, brown hair, blue eyes. That's you."

"Look at the warrant again," I replied. "There's another man whom I've never met that has a similar last name and similar description."

"We'll sort this out at the jail," he said.

We drove to the jail a few blocks away. Once there he had me placed in a holding cell. Fifteen minutes later he walked up, unlocked the cell and said "You're free to go. You were right. It wasn't you and I'm sorry this happened. Is there anything I can do to make it right?"

"Yes, you can give me back my illegally confiscated weed, feed me lunch, and take me back to where you found me."

He actually gave me my marijuana back since he knew he had no legal grounds to take it. He then took me to a drive through and bought ny lunch. He also drove me to my destination ten miles north saying he could not drop me off to hitchhike for he felt it was dangerous. So all worked out well in the end.