Bad Boys and Bad Cops

Pablo chuckled and mumbled something in Spanish, but his voice was too low for me to make out what it was.

"How about you shut your fucking mouth?" the other trooper said as the stocky one pulled Pablo away.

There were sounds of crunching gravel as Javier and Pablo were led away, but I didn't dare turn around. Instead, I continued to squint against the blinding flashlights of the two troopers still standing next to the car.

Several moments passed before I heard crunching footsteps approaching. The trooper on the driver's side stepped toward the rear door and tapped on the roof of the car. "You're next. Unlock the door and open it from the outside, then step out. Slowly."

The black trooper reappeared at the door as Diego did as the first trooper had instructed. Like he had done with Javier, the black trooper seized his arm and pulled him out of the car and dragged him off into the night.

As he did, the stocky trooper reappeared at the rear passenger door on the passenger side. He gave the door handle a yank, and when it didn't open, he reached through the window and grabbed Enrique by the front of the shirt. "Why'd you lock the door, boy?"

"But I didn't—"

"You people just don't know when to keep your mouths shut, do you?" the other trooper said.

The stocky trooper let go of Enrique's shirt and unlocked the door from inside. After getting the door open, he reached in with both hands and grabbed Enrique by the front of the shirt, not even giving him a chance to get to his feet. Enrique fell and stumbled out of the door and was already being pulled along the side of the road back to wherever the other guys had gone.

My palms were damp, and I wiped them on the front of my dress.

"Why so nervous, darlin'?" the trooper on the driver's side said. "We ain't gonna hurt ya."

I wasn't completely convinced.

The trooper on the passenger side switched off his light. When he did, I saw that he had a fairly plain appearance and was short. Clearly, he overcompensated for it with all of his barking. In that way, he wasn't unlike my grandmother's chihuahua.

I suppressed a grin as I pictured a chihuahua wearing a little trooper uniform.

"Something funny?" the short trooper growled. I shook my head. "Get the fuck out of there."

Unlike he had done with the boys, he gestured at me with a 'come hither' motion of his hand. I slid along the seat to the door and cringed when he reached for me. His grip was strong, but he allowed me to get out of the car under my own power. I swung my legs out into the night's warm air and stood up, surprised to find that we were nearly the same height. He immediately began walking me away from the car back towards the headlights and flashing red and blue lights of the police cars.

As we got closer, I could see all four of the guys sitting on the ground with their hands underneath them and their legs crossed. Enrique had his head down. Diego, Pablo, and Javier watched as I approached. The black trooper was standing on one end of the row, and the stocky one was at the opposite end. Both had their thumbs tucked into their gun belts.

I drifted in their direction, but the yappy chihuahua trooper walking with me gave my arm a rough tug. "Over here." He shoved me toward the front of one of the trooper's cars and pointed. "Stay there." He let go of my arm, and I leaned back against the side of the car. He turned toward the guys and pointed his index finger at them. "Nobody fucking says anything." He turned around on his heels and started walking back toward our car. A female voice suddenly called out from somewhere to the rear of the car I was leaning against.

"Did you already search her?"

The short trooper turned around while continuing to walk backwards. "Nope. All yours." He grinned before turning back around and continuing toward our car.

The female voice called out to him. "Y'all gonna start doing your own searches. I'm tired of touching these dirty skanks." Footsteps approached, and I turned to see a female trooper approaching. She looked to be middle-aged and was fairly round. Her uniform was ill-fitting and looked as though it may have been the one she was originally issued when she entered the police academy—back when she was several sizes smaller. "Let's go," she said, taking me by the arm and leading me away from the car. "Johnson, you come cover me." The black trooper took his thumbs out of his gun belt and walked toward us.

We walked back until we passed two more trooper's cars and stopped on the passenger side of another one. It was angled toward the side of the road and blocked my view of the guys. Trooper Johnson stood facing back in that direction.

The woman let go of my arm. "Go ahead and put your hands on top of your head."

I put my palms on my head and interlaced my fingers without having to be told. I was familiar with the procedure. The female trooper grabbed my hands and squeezed them together until I winced in pain from the pressure of my knuckles being pressed against each other. She took her free hand and turned it sideways so that the edge of her hand was aimed at my chest and then placed it against my skin just above my breasts. She ran it down the front of my dress between them, checking for contraband.

"So, where y'all coming from?" the woman said.

I'd been in this situation enough times before and had been taught by Diego, his brother, and his friends to not respond to questions from the police. Nothing good ever came from talking to the police. But between this large woman, Trooper Johnson lurking nearby, and me being out of sight from the guys, I was feeling vulnerable.

"My boyfriend's house," I said. My voice was barely a whisper.

The woman leaned in close to my ear. "Speak up. I can't hear you." Her breath smelled like cigarettes.

"My boyfriend's house," I repeated louder.

"Your boyfriend's house?" she said. "All five of you? What were they doing? Running a train on you?"

I pursed my lips and stared off into the distance. I would've liked nothing more than to spit in her face. The anger and shame quickly gave way to panic as she continued her search. She ran the back of her hand beneath one of my breasts, the one that wasn't hiding the packets. She followed the curve of my breast, checking for contraband.

My heart was racing. I could feel the blood pulsing through my temples.

The trooper shifted her hand and repeated her search along my other breast. I held my breath as she went. After what felt like an eternity, she dropped her hand. She let go of my hands and took a couple steps back.

"Ok, shake out your bra," she said, putting her hands on her hips.

"Do what?" I said. I knew exactly what she was asking but played dumb.

Hiding stuff along the band of my bra worked for most searches. I was rarely searched as it was, and when I was, it was usually by a male police officer who was too afraid of getting a complaint to do a proper search. Female officers did a better job and would also sometimes ask that I grab the band of my bra, pull it away from my chest, and shake it so that anything hidden in my bra would fall out. But with practice, I'd gotten good at beating that too.

"You know what the hell I'm talking about," she said. "I know this ain't your first rodeo. Shake it out." I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Reaching into the top of my dress, I gripped the band of my bra. "No, no, no." she said. "You think I was born yesterday? Lower the front of your dress."

"But what about him?" I motioned with my thumb over my shoulder towards Trooper Johnson behind me.

"He can't see anything back there. Quit stalling. Drop it down to your waist."

This woman was definitely no rookie.

I tugged on my dress straps and pulled my arms through them. I peeled down my dress until it was at my waist. I took a deep breath and tried to steal my nerves so that my hands wouldn't tremble. I curled my fingers as I reached for the band of my bra, letting my pinky and ring fingers drift in further than the others. As I grabbed the band, I slipped my ring and pinky fingers inside and pressed the packets against the band as I pulled it out with my other fingers. I gently shook my bra, desperately trying to keep the drug packets from slipping free.

"Harder," the female trooper said.

Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I gave my bra a harder shake while tightening my grip on the packets.

"I said, harder."

I gave it a slightly harder shake.

"Harder!"

Any harder and I risked either l dropping the packets or her noticing I was trying to hide something. "I can't do it any harder," I said, trying to make my voice sound strained.

"You want to play games, huh? Fine, I'll play games." She took two quick steps towards me, which made me take a step back. As I did, she grabbed the top of my bra and yanked it down, exposing my breasts and drawing a shriek from me.

I tried to pull away from her and cover myself, which turned out to be a bad idea. As I leaned back, the trooper continued to hold onto my bra which caused me to lose my grip on the packets. I flailed at them, trying to catch them in midair, but they smacked against my wrist and forearm and flew behind me. I whipped around to try to grab them, managing to pull free from the trooper's grip. I bent over to grab them, two in each hand, and stood back up. Trooper Johnson was staring at me. I tightened my grip on the packets, my vision focused off to the side of the road, even though there was no way both troopers could've missed what just happened.

Still, I remained motionless. Neither trooper moved. A cool breeze washed over my chest. My naked chest.

I reached up and pulled the cups back up and got my dress back over my shoulders and shut my eyes. God, who hadn't seen my tits in the past several days?

There were several more moments of silence before I heard shifting gravels and the female trooper stepped up next to me. When I opened my eyes, she stuck out her open hand but said nothing. I dropped the packets into her hand and shut my eyes again. She grabbed me by the arm and began leading me back toward the guys.

The air was thick around them as we approached. A dark mood had clearly settled in. My heart skipped a beat when I realized that instead of sitting on their hands, the guys were all in handcuffs. The stocky trooper was still standing at one end of the group, and the short, yappy trooper was at the other end. Another trooper with two stripes on his sleeve was standing nearby with his arms folded. I was pretty sure that made him a "corporal." I assumed he was the one with the southern drawl that had been at the driver's door of our car.

"What do we got?" he said as we approached.

The female trooper raised the packets in the air like hidden treasure she'd found. "Looks like they had a good night planned."

"Oh no she didn't," the short trooper said with a fake black urban accent.

"Well, that's not good." The corporal said. He walked over and took them from the female trooper. "Where were these?"

"In her bra, of course," the female trooper said as if she knew it the whole time. She pushed me up against the side of one of trooper's cars. "Don't move." Trooper Johnson, who had been trailing us on the walk back, came and stood near me as if to emphasize her order.

The corporal went and stood at the front of the car I was leaning against. "Well, folks, we have a really big problem here. We have drugs," he dropped the packets onto the car, "...and a gun."

Hearing him say the word 'gun' hit me with so much force that I almost fell over, and I had to take a step to keep from falling. Trooper Johnson took a step closer to me. I don't know if it was to catch me in case I fell, or if it was because he thought I might make a run for it.

Somehow, I found the words to speak. "What gun?"

The corporal thumped the hood of the car with his knuckles. When I turned to look over my shoulder and down at the hood, a black and white handgun was lying in the middle of it. The magazine was removed from it and was lying next to it. A sliver of light bounced off of the copper bullet at the top of the magazine.

"Now, imagine our surprise when we began searchin' your car and found this wedged through the rear seat cushions." He pointed at me. "Right where you were sittin'."

This time, I had to put my hands on the car to keep from falling over. "That's not mine!"

"Yeah, well, that would've been my guess, but none of these gentlemen seem to have any idea whose gun it is. They each claim it isn't theirs."

I turned and looked at Diego. He wouldn't meet my eye. None of them would look at me except for Javier. And his eyes were dark. I'd seen that look before but never directed at me. It made my blood run cold and made me immediately avert my eyes. I rubbed my arms and folded them across my chest.

Headlights fanned across us as yet another vehicle came to a stop at the end of the line of trooper cars. Because of its position and lights, I couldn't see anyone approaching, but after several moments, I heard footsteps approaching from the driver's side of the line of cars. I assumed it was the corporal's supervisor. Maybe a sergeant or captain or something.

I felt equal parts relief and puzzlement when the person came around the nearest car and walked into view. It was a Hispanic man in jeans and wearing a black vest that looked like something detectives in movies wore when they went on raids. He had a white t-shirt underneath it and had long, dark hair that was combed back over his head and came to rest at his collar. His cheeks and chin were covered in a dark, closely cut beard. He swaggered up to us like a cowboy walking into a saloon.

The corporal walked over and shook his hand. "Thanks for coming out." The corporal made some kind of sign with his hands and then pointed at the guys, who were still sitting on the ground. I recognized the sign as one I'd seen Diego, Javier, and their friends make from time to time and assumed it was a gang sign but never asked.

The new officer clicked his tongue and shook his head. He looked at us and then leaned in close to the corporal and whispered something. The corporal looked at us and then nodded at the officer. The officer hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans and strolled over to us. He stopped next to me while facing the guys. He said something to them in broken Spanish that sounded like, "Good evening, my little gangsters."

All of them kept their eyes averted from him except for Javier who was staring him down and looked like he was about to spit.

The officer turned around to face me. "These friends of yours?"

I glanced at the group. Javier's dark eyes pierced through me. I nodded quickly at the officer. "Yes, I know them."

"Well, I didn't ask if you knew them. I asked if they were friends of yours."

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "Yes, we're friends."

"They're a lot more than that, if you ask me," the female trooper shouted from somewhere behind us.

The new officer nodded toward the group. "Your boyfriend?" I assumed he was referring to Javier.

I shook my head and pointed toward Diego who had his head down.

The officer turned and looked. "Uh huh. And the others?"

"His brother and friends."

"And they're all willing to let you take the heat for the gun and drugs. That's a shame." He stepped away from where I was standing and walked a few steps toward the group. "I'd never do that. I'd be a man about it. I'd handle my business. But...I have balls." He paused for a moment, waiting to see if any of them took the bait. They continued to sit silently. "Ok," he said quietly.

He walked back to me and reached to the back of his waist. I cringed when he produced a shining pair of silver handcuffs.

"Diego!" I shouted. He wouldn't lift his head. I looked at Javier who stared back and shook his head back and forth.

"Turn around and put your hands behind your back, señorita."

"Diego!" I shouted again as the officer and the corporal grabbed my arms and pulled them behind my back. As soon as the cold metal touched my wrists, I tried pulling away.

"Don't do it," the corporal said, "don't make things worse than they already are."

How could things be any worse? I was being arrested for a gun that wasn't mine, and my boyfriend was sitting there letting it happen.

I shouted for Diego once again as the two police officers marched me along the side of the road past the parked cars, each one holding one of my arms.

Tears flooded my eyes and started running down my face. This couldn't be happening. I couldn't go to jail. I was supposed to be going to college in the fall. My life was ruined!

We continued walking until we reached a black Chevy Suburban. Its chrome trim shined in the light from the other vehicles, and its dark tinted windows looked like openings into the dark lair of some horrible beast.

The new officer reached out and opened the rear passenger side door and gestured inside. "Have a seat."

The corporal let go of my arm and stepped to the rear side of the door, presumably to block my path in case I ran. I was seriously considering it. But there was no way I was getting far with my hands cuffed behind my back, so I reluctantly climbed in with the new officer's assistance and sat back on the seat.

The officer positioned himself at the door. "I apologize. I didn't introduce myself before. I'm Special Agent Flores. I'm with the Drug Enforcement Agency."

My blood went ice cold.

"And you are?" Agent Flores asked.

I couldn't speak. It felt like the weight of the U.S. Government was pressing down on me and pushing the air out of my lungs and preventing me from breathing, much less speaking.

"Not gonna tell me?" he asked. "No matter. I brought you back here to tell you two things. One, you're going to spend the next 8 and a half years in federal prison. Two, by the time you get out of prison, your boyfriend will have four kids by three different women. You will be forgotten." He paused and stared at me for a moment to let it sink in. "Give me a moment." He stepped back and shut the door.

When the door slammed shut, the sound of it echoed through my skull. It conjured an image in my head of a heavy, steel door slamming on my jail cell. And who would visit me? My mom? She'd be so disappointed in me. And Diego? He'd come visit me, wouldn't he?

The tears started flowing again.

The Suburban's door suddenly opened, and Agent Flores stuck his head in. "Oh, no. Shh...shh. It'll be alright."

"I can't go to jail! I just can't!"

Agent Flores stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him. "Shh...shh." He brushed a hand along my cheek, wiping away my tears.

But I couldn't keep quiet. "But I don't want to go to jail! Please don't take me to jail!" I shrieked. Agent Flores' calmness was making me hysterical.

He turned and looked out the side window and then moved closer to me on the seat. "Listen, I'm not a bad guy. I'm not here to make you go to jail. I don't want you to go to jail at all." He glanced out the window again. "But these guys," he gestured at the corporal with his thumb, "they don't have any sympathy. A nice, pretty girl like you...they'd lock you up and throw away the key without giving it a second thought."

"No! Please don't let them lock me up!"

Agent Flores gestured with his hands for me to lower my voice. "I can help, but I gotta have something in return."

There it was. I should've known. He wasn't in here to help me. He just wanted to take advantage of me.

I managed to turn and scowl at him through my tears. "I'm not doing that."

Agent Flores chuckled and slapped his thigh. "No, that's not what I mean, as tempting as you are. No, I need information from you."

I blinked my eyes in confusion. "Information? What information?"