Column: Corruption, cooperation and credibility, experience with GA police
My father turned 44 on Oct. 20. For his birthday, I offered to make a trip to Gray, GA to see him Oct. 25. Objectively, my father is a recovering methamphetamine addict who is on probation for the next three years for a crime he committed in 2016. He and I have not remained in close contact, so I have only seen him a few times since we’d became estranged in 2013 or 2014. This visit was not as pleasant as the others.
When I arrived at the Star Motel, also known as the Sonrise Inn, my father’s girlfriend left to take her children to the park and allow my father and I time to catch up. Only about 20 minutes later, she called my father. She was completely shaken up by a police officer who had stopped her for going under the speed limit in the left lane and searched her car. Her probationary status is unknown to me, although likely, therefore the search was probably justified.
At approximately 2:08 p.m., my father and I departed in my car to eat lunch together: my treat. I turned right onto Gray Highway when traffic was clear and almost immediately got into the left-hand turn lane to make a u-turn. A Jones County police car was parked in the striped white lines of the turn lane facing me. I made the u-turn when traffic was clear.
I remember making a comment about my fear for police to my father, and he told me that, “There’s nothing to be worried about if you’re not doing anything wrong,” but the police car pulled out into traffic shortly after I had gone by. I stayed in the right lane, following another car going under the speed limit. The police car made its way behind me and followed me for a while. After about two minutes of following close behind me into Bibb County, the police car’s lights filled up my rearview mirror at 2:15 p.m.
Let me address the condition of my car. I have a 2004 Mazda 3 that has major hood and fender damage due to a collision I came into back in November. After the accident, my hood slammed into my windshield because the latch was damaged in the accident. For this reason, I replaced a core piece of the car to include the latch months ago, and haven’t had any problems with it since.
I had my license ready for the officer by the time he made it to my window, which was already rolled down. He introduced himself as Officer Turner and asked me if I knew why he pulled me over and explained that my headlights were defective and that I can’t drive on the road with defective equipment. My headlights weren’t even on, because, may I remind you, it was the middle of the afternoon. I assured him that my headlights worked and that I would be more than happy to prove it to him.
He went back to his car to run my license. Some time passed before he came back to my window to ask, “Who’s your passenger?” I told him my father’s name and relation. He asked for my father’s license, which I passed to Turner. He asked, “Who’s this car registered to?” I told him my mother’s name and explained why her last name is different from mine.
Turner went back to his car to run my father’s license, which took much longer than mine. Another officer pulled up next to the first officer’s car. The two exchanged words before Turner came back over to my window to ask me to step out of the vehicle so that he could show me what he was talking about with my car.
I did as he asked, but when he saw that my headlights were intact, he started talking about my lack of a grill. I explained my accident to him, the repairs I did, and demonstrated that it was safely latched. My car might be an eyesore, but that isn’t enough legal obligation to prompt a traffic stop.
Turner asked me to follow him to the back of my car. The second cop, whose name neither my father nor I could recall, started talking to me. He asked me why I was in Gray if I live in Hephzibah, how long I’d been there, how long my father had been staying at the motel, where I was going to school, etc. Turner took this opportunity to ask my father to step out of the vehicle to interrogate him simultaneously.
When Turner finished questioning my father, Turner told him that he was going to search my father. They didn’t mention searching me the entire time. My father kept his hands in front of him while the officer dug his hands into my father’s pockets. He didn’t find anything until he came to the right cargo pocket. He pulled out a pack of Camel Menthol cigarettes and put them on the hood with the knife my father kept in a sheath outside of his pants. At least 30 more seconds went by while the officer dug into my father’s pocket in a way that kept it out of sight from the both of us.
Turner pulled out a clean needle. I started crying. My father said that he didn’t know that the needle was in there, that he just bought the pants he was wearing yesterday and didn’t check the pockets in response to the officer’s leading questions. Turner turned to me and told me that he had a K-9 and that they were going to do a sniff of the car. I agreed, although I’m not sure it was much of a decision.
I calmed down a bit as I watched the dog sniff around my car in my peripheral vision while the second officer distracted my father and I with menial conversation. I saw Turner pull the dog’s collar to get it to sit after sniffing the passenger side door where my father was sitting. After Turner put the dog back in the car, he told us that the dog hit on the passenger side door and that they were going to conduct a search of my car.
Turner asked my father if he would find anything in the car to which he replied, “No.” When the officers turned to me and asked the same question, providing the list of illegal drugs I might have in the car as they do, I started crying harder. They thought that this was some kind of admission of guilt and asked me quickly if I had ever smoked weed in the car or if there was any weed in the car. I shook my head and tried to force words out, but I was sobbing, unable to catch my breath at the very idea that I was going to have to tell a police officer that I didn’t know if my recovering father had drugs in my car. Eventually, I was able to tell them that he is a recovering addict and that I didn’t know the answer to their question.
The second officer opted to do the search. He gently touched my back as he passed me on the way to my car while I was crying hysterically and said, “Calm down, hun.” He haphazardly searched my car. Turner asked us whose bag was in the back seat. My father claimed it, Turner passed that information on to the second officer, and the second officer tore through my father’s bag. He didn’t look through the pile of trash I have neglected in my center console. He didn’t look in the trunk or back seat aside from my father’s backpack.
He didn’t find anything in my car, but instead of telling me that, he told me to get back into my car when he finished the search. The three men stood there and talked for a while before my father joined me in my car. The second officer left, and Turner came back over to my car to return our licenses and then some.
He handed me a ticket through the window and asked me to sign it, but explained that it was merely a warning. Where the officer was supposed to write the offense, he wrote, “40-8-7 headlight broken hood.” Where he was supposed to write where the stop took place, he wrote a different road in Jones county, presumably to cover his tracks of pulling someone over outside of his jurisdiction.
Turner also stated that I needed to get my license switched to Class D when I turn eighteen so police officers in the future wouldn’t have to familiarize themselves with the rules surrounding a Class C license. Despite knowing the answer, I asked him if I could drive alone. He gave me the wrong answer, stating that I needed to have a licensed driver in the car at all times (which is true of a learner’s permit, not a driver’s license).
The officer came to my father’s side of the car to hand him back his license and Turner’s card with the words, “Wednesday at 12 o’clock.” My father accepted them and said nothing. I pulled off and asked him what they said. He wouldn’t respond at first, but I got him to walk me through everything that happened from his perspective.
After I’d gone back to the car, the two officers surrounded him. They questioned him further, asking why he had so many lighters (despite the cigarettes that were in his pocket), if he normally brought a backpack to lunch, who told him about the motel, how long he’d been staying there, why I was coming to visit, etc. They even mentioned his job as a firefighter, which neither of us mentioned to either officer.
Turner indicated to the second police officer to turn off their cameras, and they both did so. Turner informed my father that they had been monitoring the Star Motel/Sonrise Inn for a while from going undercover as dealers, buyers, and Arian Nation members.
Turner said, “I’m no fool to that place.” He told my father that he could have put a cotton ball and testing agent to determine what was in the needle, but that they didn’t want to take him to jail in front of his daughter and that the whole thing would go away if he cooperated.
He told my father to call him every Wednesday, whether he has information or not.
To believe what my father told me the police said implies that I believe in his recovery. One condition of probation in Georgia is random drug testing, so I don’t think it is possible that he is under the influence of drugs. Although I cannot fully speak to my father’s credibility beyond that, I assert that two basic violations occurred during that stop:
Firstly, there was no definitive reason to have pulled me over. Secondly, the K-9 falsely suggested that there were drugs in my vehicle.
