THE TWINKLING

CHAPTER 2 BUT WAIT?AM I BEING ARRESTED?

I checked his nameplate because I like knowing names. I also wanted to be well aware of whom I would be suing, because racial profiling was becoming a mantra in my head. His nameplate read, B. Buffalo. I almost burst out laughing in his face! But since this was no laughing matter, I restrained myself by looking up at the sky instead. Officer Buffalo then asked me for the keys to the car. The high-speed chase thing quickly ran through my mind again. If O.J. could do it, so could I. But, I handed Officer Buffalo the keys while I chanted once again, “Is there a problem, Officer?”

“Well, there might be; we’re checking things out now.” Then, he asked, “Do you have any weapons, drugs or drug paraphernalia in the car with you?”

Losing my temper, I answered, “Look Officer, I don’t know what this is all about, but I can assure you I neither carry nor do drugs of any kind. And for the record sir, if I had a weapon I would have used it by now!” So angry, I had begun to sweat, I thought, ‘Just give me the freaking ticket, so I can be on my way!’

Again, he looked at me with that, I’m so shrewd I could be Sherlock Holmes way, and asked, “Are you threatening me, Ms. Stillwater? You trying to tell me if there’s a weapon in this car you’ll use it on me?”

Shaking my head, I answered wisely, “No. Actually, Officer, if I had a weapon I would gladly turn it on myself, just to get away from all of you. Even death has to be better than this waiting!” With that said; I gave a sigh and looked out the opposite window. Another thirty minutes went by with me composing a small operetta in my mind. In other words, I was bored.

Officer A. O’Brien finally showed her face again. I thought she was hiding she had been in her car for so long. She approached my driver’s side asking, “Ms. Stillwater, could you get out of the vehicle and sit on the sidewalk, please?”

I opened the door, got out of the car; then I stared at her really hard! My eyes, they’re gray . . . dove gray when I’m trying to play pretty and steel gray when I’m mad as hell. You wouldn’t need a Quija board to know which color was representing at that moment. Out of patience, I said to her in a very low voice, “I’m out of the car, but I won’t be sitting on anyone’s sidewalk. I’d like to end this day free of disease, if possible. Whatever you have to say to me, I can hear standing just as well as sitting. This ticket thing has gone on long enough. Do you people have any idea how long I’ve been waiting?”

O’Brien blinked a couple of times before saying, “Ms. Stillwater, we have a problem here. When I ran your license and birthday it brought up a warrant for the arrest of someone fitting your description in Raleigh, North Carolina. We have conferred with the Raleigh police and they’re not sure if it’s you or not; but we’ve got enough to hold you until we can verify your information.”

Very calmly folding my arms, I asked, “You’re arresting me because you think I might be someone other than whom my official Pennsylvania State license says I am? Is that correct, Officer? That is an official Pennsylvania State license I gave you, isn’t it?”

O’Brien went blank for a second, and I thought, ‘Goodness, this girl is dumb! What are they feeding cops these days, stupidity Alpo?’

She finally drifted back into this reality stating, “Again, Ms. Stillwater, we have conferred with the Raleigh police and the D.A. here in West Chester and they feel the description provides probable cause to hold you.”

I was in never-never land by then, okay. Giving Barry White a run for his money in voice octaves, I asked, “What is it about me that exactly fits the description of this person and what are the charges against her?”

Officer O’Brien looked around at her fellow officers for a second and then blurted out, “We have forgery, car-jacking and gun running.”

Allowing my thoughts to stray momentarily, I pondered, ‘What the hell is gun running? I mean do you literally run down the street yelling, I’ve got a gun, I’ve got a gun!’ I focused again on Officer O’Brien who was saying, “Identity theft, well the list goes on and on. But again, Ms. Stillwater, we can and will be holding you.”

I was beyond stunned and getting frightened, until she said, “Oh! And about the description, everything fits except the eyes. Are those your real eyes? I mean . . . you don’t see too many black people with gray eyes. You know what I mean?” With that said, she gave a little laugh for her fellow officers. After all, no harm done, right? Everyone on her side had a gun. Besides, she was just doing her job, facing down another criminal; same crap, different day . . . right? Until I grew larger!

No, I did not have an inkling of what was to come. But all of my life, I have hated prejudice in any form. As I said earlier, my temper had been somewhat volatile over the past couple of months. Officer O’Brien was pushing me, really pushing me! My head was pounding and my clothes felt much too small; my jeans were suddenly too short. I grew larger!

I let the rage take me when I stepped very close to her saying, “For the record, Officer, my name is Jade Marie Stillwater. All of my family is golden-skinned and light of eye, and I’m extremely proud of my ancestry. If you say anything like that again I’ll take it as an insult to them and may God have mercy on you then! Do we understand each other . . . Officer?”

I can truly say A. O’Brien was at a loss for words, she looked as if she had pissed her pants. Peripherally, I saw three of the officers had drawn their weapons. I guess you don’t see people grow larger every day, huh? I kept staring at O’Brien because I didn’t care at that point. I really wanted her to say something, anything, and I would have torn out her throat before I felt the first bullet.

Fortunately for both of us, Officer B. Buffalo walked up very calmly and said, “Jade.” He called me by my first name, I was sure he had taken some psych courses somewhere. “Jade,” he said again. I was still waiting on my good friend, O’Brien. “Jade, please don’t do anything everyone here will be sorry for. When we did the NCIS search, the name came up Janine Scott; your description matches . . . everything but the eyes, just like she said. We called Raleigh and they want us to hold you on a fugitive warrant. They’re still checking everything out there. We’ll be checking your information here as well. Please calm down and come with us quietly. Okay, Jade? Jade, look at me, please!”

I did, because he had said please, and it was gone . . . just like that! I was back to normal. Well, what I considered normal anyway. Then, it was to prison I would go, hi-ho the cherry-o, a prison I would go!

Actually, I did not go directly to prison; I was taken to a West Chester police station where I was asked one-hundred-and-one questions about my personal and private life. Officer Buffalo read me the Miranda.

I asked to make a phone call. I had to call my mother, Louise Boyd Stillwater, who had grown up in a small town in Virginia called Suffolk. She is the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter from a family with eighteen children. My mother and her sisters are all very close; they dote on their brothers and feel they can do no wrong. Never make the mistake of speaking rudely to, or about, one of them within the hearing distance of another. You will soon find as they say in the streets, “That’s your ass.”

My mother is very strong-willed and mule stubborn, but when she loves you, you own her heart and you know it. She loves all of her children—all nine of us. There’s nothing she would not sacrifice for any of us, including her own life. She’s not a doting mother, if we’re wrong she is the first to tell us. However, no one should ever try telling her we did something she knew we would never do! She would absolutely refuse to believe any of her children would be involved in drugs, guns or anything on that side of the law. She knows that we fear her a lot more than any prison. I called her because I knew I was innocent, had I been guilty I would have called my sister.

My mother’s phone rang about four times; I was beginning to fear she wasn’t home. Since my dad died and she retired, she had been spending a lot of time with my Aunt Charlene. On the fifth ring she finally answered, “Hello?”

“Mommy? Mom, it’s Jade.”

“Hi baby, where are you? Did you have lunch with Anna? Did you—”

I had to cut her off, not knowing how long they gave you for one of those calls. I was sure it wouldn’t be long enough. Once my mom gets started it’s really hard to stop her. So, I said quickly, “Mommy! Mom, please listen to me! I’m at the police station. They think I’ve committed some crimes in