Years ago, I read the story of a young man
from Orem, Utah, who called the police to report the theft of a quarter pound
of marijuana. Responding to the man’s
call, the officers did a thorough search of his home, finding more drugs. When they eventually caught the thief, they
asked the “victim” to come to the station to see if he could identify the weed
that the cops found on the defendant. After
he identified the weed as his, the police arrested him, too. At the time, I remember thinking that the
young man was really stupid. Little did
I know that I would one day find myself in a similar situation.
I had
been overjoyed to arrive home safely after a long drive from Atlanta. However, when I approached the front door, I
could hear a siren and see that the burglar alarm was flashing. Someone had broken into the house. Law enforcement was on the way and my alarm
box instructed me not to enter the house.
Hoping that this was a false alarm, I
decided to look around outside to see whether I could find any evidence of a
break-in. I soon discovered that the
crook had kicked in a bathroom window.
Also, the back door to the house was wide open.
I went back to my car and waited for the
cavalry to arrive. About fifteen minutes later, two of Orange County’s finest
showed up. They instructed me to stay in
my car while they “secured the premises.”
It seemed like hours before they came back
outside. They looked angry and told me
that there was something they needed to ask me about. They led me to the closet in my room. “What exactly is this?” demanded the officer
in charge. He held out a woman’s police
uniform. I saw that I had forgotten to
take off the shiny badge after I had last worn it.
After
a moment’s confusion, I realized that these guys had found their criminal. It was me!
They were going to arrest me for impersonating a police officer! I tried to recall the exact language of N.C.
General Statute 14-277. I remembered that it prohibits “displaying a
badge” that is designed to identify you as a law-enforcement officer. Here we all stood looking at a shiny badge
that identified me as “POLICE.” Case
closed.
I had a good reason for owning that
outfit. Earlier that summer, I had been
in a regional amateur ballroom dance competition. My routine involved me
pretending to be a cop as my partner and I danced to Elvis singing “Jailhouse
Rock.” It had been a big hit with the
crowd in part because the competition was in Memphis.
Initially, the deputies weren’t buying my
dance story. Then, I pointed out that
the badge didn’t reference any particular police force. Also, the fabric of the “uniform” was flimsy
and clearly not regulation. It had no pockets,
no belt loops, no name tag and no buttons.
It zipped up the front. No self-respecting police woman would be seen
in such an outfit.
In the end, the deputies probably
realized that my claim to have worn the outfit at a dance competition was the
only evidence they had of my “displaying” the badge. That probably wasn’t going to justify any
charges they could file. As they stormed
off, I was relieved that I didn’t have to play the tape of the dance routine
for them. Although we scored well with
the judges, I didn’t think these guys were into ballroom dancing.
My nerves were shot by the time the ordeal
was over. I figured that being arrested
for impersonating a police officer would attract the attention of the State
Bar. If I escaped disbarment, my
colleagues would have a great time sneaking up behind me in court yelling, “Stick
‘em up!”
After the break-in, I’m
not so quick to judge other people. Many
of us are conditioned to call law enforcement when we have a problem. But like the fellow from Orem, I assure you
that I won’t be doing that again any time soon. I’ve also packed up that silly
uniform and hidden it in the attic. I’ve
decided that I’ll dress up as a penguin for our next competition. We can do a tap routine to Happy Feet©!
