Criminal Justice, Texas Style – Marijuana DWI While Sober- Part 3/7

Then he asked about what I call “My Vapey”. I stole the name from one of my very adorable friends, just couldn’t help it. I use it to get nicotine. I’m not all super into it, I think blowing “clouds” is douchey as fuck. Mainly, because that’s the precise reason and time frame people started to ban them indoors. Because of dumbasses unable to be fucking discreet. End rant. He asked, “What do you smoke outta this, huh?”

“Just nicotine.”

“So you’re tellin’ me you don’t smoke marijuana out of this?” I hate it when they act like they know way more than they do. All kindsa smug, thinking “GOTCHA!!!” at every ignorant turn.

“I honestly don’t think you can with that tank… Sir… Unless you know of something I don’t?” I’m all about learning, you see.

He nodded his head, and said “Ok,” as he looked away, as if he were quizzing me just then, and he “won.” The combination of ignorance and arrogance has always made my blood boil. It’s a pretty unhealthy reaction that was wired into my brain as a child. I was literally raised on this combination, but that doesn’t mean I’m anywhere immune to it. I think it disgusts me more than your average Joe, but, who knows…

At a time or two, I specifically remember saying something to the effect of, “You’re not going to find anything in the car, please don’t let me have to explain this to people for the rest of my life…” I was clearly in the “bargaining stage”, but he made me confident, for whatever-fucking-reason. “Please don’t let this ruin my life…” “My dad is a retired Montgomery County Sheriff, and me going to jail for anything, at all, would completely devastate and embarrass him…”

So the asshole I’ve been dealing with this whole time goes back to search my car. While they’re rooting around in what may as well have been my entire winter closet, I remembered I may have had a vape pen from Colorado buried in my purse. At this time, only CO, WA, OR, and DC had legalized cannabis recreationally, and 25 of 50 states had it medicinally. Texas wasn’t one of them (shocker). However, in Harris County (my residence, and 5 exits up from where all of this is taking place), as of 1/1/16, they basically decrimilized having less than 2oz on you. Which basically translates to: they don’t take you to jail, just a ticket, and you just have to take some class, that I’m assuming ‘Reefer Madness’ is required viewing. Either way, I wouldn’t have had to swallow it five exits up, which is also my residence… or did I mention that, already…? #NotBitter 😂🙄

When I realize the “Colorado vape pen” thing, in cuffs, as the Rookie is searching thru my purse, I turn into turbo ‘Honest Abe’ on steroids, and literally yell, cuz they’re that far away from me, “HEY! I might have a vape pen from Colorado in my purse, but it might be on my bed, instead – I’m really not sure…” Rookie guy looked at me like I was batshit, cuz he was the one going thru my purse at the time. So, in my own defense, I said, “He said it’d be easier if I were honest, and I don’t wanna seem like I’m holding anything back, so I really am telling you everything…” still screaming so they can hear me, mind you. In case you’re wondering, the Colorado vape pen was still in my purse later. That would’ve been a felony by itself, because any concentrates are considered “hash” (I think that’s how they’re trying to frame it, anyway), and good ol’ boys ‘round here don’t take that shit lightly, ya hear?

On the video, I heard a lot more than I did that night, but it was still spotty as hell, unfortunately. So when they’ve basically reached the “end of my car” (“end of my winter wardrobe”… close to what the “end of the internet” might possibly resemble), you can make out the original asshole (I only know, because the other poor Rookie asshole didn’t even have a mic, or he turned it off) saying, verbatim, “Well, I mean, that’s ‘Tampering,’ tho, right?” The felony they charged me with (Get it yet? Creative, huh?) was literally a fucking afterthought to this asshole. Granted, the same crooked bullshit they’re pulling, is the same crooked bullshit that “got me out of it” 13 years ago, but for some reason that didn’t help my frustration with the total fuckery, as a whole. I was told by several people, including a DWI lawyer in Austin, who I went to boarding school with, that if I had a court appointed attorney, I’d just most likely have to plea to both, and just be a felon with a DWI, for the rest of my life. Even though I was sober, and ‘Tampering with Evidence’ was literally the only thing they could try to get me with… Well, that, and of course my license plate lights being out, since that’s what started this whole journey to the official beginning (and end – I just knocked on wood) of my criminal career, while almost perimenopausal. My DWI lawyer friend (from boarding school) in Austin told me they always “over-charge, so you’ll end up hanging for one thing or another”. Good business plan. Too bad it’s people’s freaking lives they’re ruining with no regard.

After looking at the video, my lawyer had this response, almost verbatim: “They pulled you over, you told them you were in Dallas one night to visit a friend, they probably don’t know what Hedonism III is, but may think it sounds too fun for their liking, they see your hair (blue and purple highlights, professionally done, of course), and he thinks he’s gonna find 200 hits of Ecstasy. Then, not only is that not the case, but he comes up absolutely dry. He’s not only pissed, but embarrassed about all of it in front of the poor guy he’s supposed to be training. He profiled you, and he was wrong…. Look! Now you can tell he’s huffing and puffing… LOOK how PISSED he is!!!”

I’m a white woman, whose father is a retired cop, and this is happening to me.  Not that I should be “exempt” because of this… but if I’m being put thru this hell, all because they pulled me over for having a burned out license plate light, I cannot imagine having a different color skin, and the shit they come up with, from reasons to search you, to felony fucking charges they’re just slingin’ out, all willy-nilly like. End rant (because if I don’t, the topic of this story will change with a quickness). Again.

Next thing I know, Rookie, a stout 6’2″ish and actually really good looking, starts talking about my Santa Cruz Skateboards sticker. “Ya know, when I was in the 8th grade, my first skateboard was a Santa Cruz!” all smiling and charming. I’ve always loved skater boys, and hated “posers” (I was once hella-hip.  Now I’m completely lame, but still snobby and judgy as hell). This was a cop, so he was a poser. No true skate-rat has ANY aspirations to become a Texas State Fucking Trooper. I know I really have no idea either way, just my opinion based on nothing, of course. I just kind of looked at him and said, straight-faced, “I bet you were amazing, idano much about skateboarding… I just picked that sticker up in the town we spread most of my dead mother in… She actually died a year ago this month.” The dead mother’s ashes thing was also totally true. When I said it, I had a dead-pan Wednesday Addams stare on him.

*Blank stare back* Then he walks away. “Thank fucking god – got outta that convo…” I thought to myself. They reassess at the rear of their car – I’m still at their hood. Turned out, they were trying to figure out whether they can give me a field sobriety test for driving under the influence of marijuana. I never heard that, but that’s what my lawyer said he heard. He also said they can’t, btw. The only thing I could clearly decipher was “PCP”. Still want that video stripped down.

I get that driving while stoned is NOT for everyone. Just like pot isn’t for everyone. Just like I don’t like alcohol. I know I’m fine, if not better (more relaxed, not in such an antsy hurry and rear-ending people) after a couple of puffs. There have been countless studies that show it in no way impairs you like alcohol impairs 100% of people. I trust me, and that’s good enough, cuz I got nothin’ else.

Original asshole comes up to me, turns me around facing the cop car, and releases one cuff at a time. I’m so grateful, I can’t stand it. “Thank you, omigod, thank you…” As I’m getting lumpy throated and my eyes are starting to sweat, the moment is inturrupted:

“Hold on, we aren’t done yet. I’m gonna give you a field sobriety test.”

“OK!” Surely I’ll pass this. My friend who was a cop has given me plenty of these as a party trick. We’d have after parties after we closed down the bar sometimes, and I usually passed, somehow. Another bar had a breathalyzer on the way out. One night I did it when I was TRASHED (I thought), and I blew a .07. So, I would’ve been “OK to drive” by law… but not by my standards!!! No clue what that’s about, but again, “I trust me,” so I won’t be driving like that whether it’s legal or not. So basically, just let them go thru their little motions, so I can get home to my bed (and my Colorado vape pen!), right?! “I got nothin’ to hide…” (anymore).

He starts out with the Drill Sergeant-like dictations, “I need you to stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, with your hands at your side, and follow my finger from side to side, with your eyes only. Do not move your head, your body, not a thing but your eyes. Do you understand your instructions, ma’am?”

“Yes sir.”

Fine. He starts with his finger, staring me in the eyes like his life depended on it, and then, it just basically never fucking stops. It felt like 5 minutes, so I’m gonna say, to be safe, it was an easy 2:30. A couple of times I broke my stare on his finger, and looked passed it right into his eyes, with a “Seriously, dude?” look on my face. Didn’t seem to phase him. Not really sure why I thought it would – could very well be why he claimed I failed (“spoiler…”). I just remember standing “normal” was fucking HARD! I was *still* shaking like a leaf, but since I was still, my entire body was tensed up because of it, and it was pretty damn uncomfy.

After that, it’s the “heel to toe walk a straight line” thing. This is it. This is my “in”. As I’ve mentioned, my dad was a higher-up of some sort of the jail in this county 14 years prior, so in high school, I’d get away with more than my fair share (those stories are everything – and will be coming, if interested). He was actually Internal Affairs for a while in high school, and also right after I graduated, in that same county.

When I was really little, my mom had gotten a ticket for me standing up in the front seat, backwards. I don’t know how old I was, but I was hugging the headrest of the front seat, fully standing up and backwards. Calm down, it was the late 70’s/early 80’s, back when we were ALL hardcore. Before you gluten-free, helmet-loving, Paleo-pussy, Keto-kunts took over. Apparently, my mom was following my dad, my dad didn’t notice and didn’t pull over with her. Once we got home, it was a BIG deal to her. “Well HOW was I supposed to get out of it if you weren’t there?!” She screamed (as usual). When she asked, I perked up and paid attention (this is completely true), because even at that age, I knew it would most likely come in handy at least ONE day of my life. He said, “Just tell ’em your husband’s a cop, and he’ll kill ya if ya get a ticket!” Granted, I was honestly probably 3 or 4 years old (if that), but I locked that shit in the memory bank to use at a future date(s). All thru high school, definitely. They’d of course ask questions like what department, etc. I never knew much anything but, “It’s ‘Internal Something’, I can’t remember…” (and I honestly couldn’t remember, because I didn’t give a shit.)

“Internal Affairs?”

“Yeah! That’s it!” Having NO idea what Internal Affairs was, at all.

If anyone is annoyed (or even notices) my inconsistency in posting, lemme know…

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