Yesterday was my birthday. The day before was my arraignment.
I want to write about the arraignment process - I know you're all waiting for the more scintillating arrest story, just not sure if I can do that, yet - and I'll write about what I want for my birthday.
Getting to Court
The day of arraignment started a bit nerve-wracking for me. I'm on pain meds and moving rather gingerly, so I was slow getting out the door. Then we hit some bad rush-hour traffic. There was no way I'd get to the court house at the appointed 8:30. The traffic was so clogged, that I ended up being dropped at a Green Line T station. Bostonians will know that, especially given my back injury, the Green Line is not the slickest of trains. It was sheer torture. A lot of rattling around, stopping and going and rush hour crowding. I was ready to turn around and go to bed just minutes into the ride. Still, I didn't have a choice. I made my way in tears and arrived at about 9am and then waited in line to enter the court house. No one from our group had been called into the judge, yet, so I was okay.
I do wish they had a line specifically for those who will actually be standing in front of the judge.
I had been told to go to the second floor and check in, but when I got there, I was informed that they weren't doing it and I should just go up to our court room. Luckily, other people I knew were around and I could just follow them. I was already in a haze.
Pre-Arraignment Drama
Of the 46 of us who were arrested on Saturday, 25 of us were being arraigned yesterday. Of the 25 who arrived, only one of us had "resisting arrest" as a charge on our blue sheets from when were booked. Yet, our attorneys - whom we met for the first time that morning - informed us that 30 of the 46 arrestees were charged with "resisting arrest". Clearly, more than one of us must have this charge. We realized then that charges had been added since our release.
It was difficult for people to make decisions about how they would plead since we didn't know what charges we were actually pleading to. This feels like a failure of due process to me. People need to make informed, considered decisions about their plea. Trying to take in all the ramifications of your plea whilst standing in a public hallway, knowing that you can be called into court at any moment is intimidating, which seems to be the point to the entire process of being involved with law enforcement and the court.
The Intimidation Game
Take the plea "deal" that the District Attorney offered, for instance.
In October, there were Occupy Boston arrests when we tried to expand our encampment to a second section of the Greenway. All of the over 140 people arrested were offered the opportunity to have their criminal charges reduced to civil ones, where they only had to pay a fine and no criminal convictions would be on their records and the whole process would be done for them. (Many still opted to plead "not guilty" and go to trial, but for those who could not do this, they had this offer.)
That was not on the table this time. The only "deal" was a "continuance" with terms. That is, if you didn't violate any more laws, including marching or protesting without a permit, and didn't step a foot into Dewey Square, your charges would be dropped. The continuance time for those without "resisting arrest" was six months. For those with "resisting arrest" it was one year. If during that time, you did get caught in Dewey Square or you did get caught in political civil disobedience, your charges would be reactivated. There was no option to accept a punishment - which some of us philosophically believed in because we were knowingly disobedient and felt obligated to be punished for - and just move on with our lives.
As none of the charges were really serious, what is the motivation for the changing the standard operating procedure for those who commit civil disobedience as a political act? Only one person who was arrested in the first round was also arrested this time. Was this some kind of weird collective punishment, where we were treated as though we were repeat offenders because other Occupy participants had already been arrested? The very particular stipulation that we not step foot in Dewey Square and the DA noting that it would be problematic if were to engage in protests without permits suggests that this was political intimidation. They're trying to do all they can to frighten us out of protesting.
And Then There's Misogyny
So, we're learning about the plea deals while we're waiting to find out who has charges they aren't aware of. Finally, one of our attorneys returns from the clerk's office and reads off names and associated charges. You might find this interesting:
all of the men in our group were given the added charge of "resisting arrest" and none of the women were.
That is, I had my arms linked with a man sitting next to me on one side and a woman on the other side. He got "resisting arrest", though I watched him agree to go quite peacefully and neither of us did. How does that work?
Meanwhile, the police had gone to great lengths to sell their PR story of how peacefully the whole eviction process had gone:
"Boston police said 46 people had been arrested during what the city’s police commissioner, Edward Davis, said was “by and large” a peaceful eviction."
...
"“They shined a much needed light, still needed, on growing economic inequality in this country. In the end, they also acted with restraint, I thank them for that,” Mr. Menino said."
So, if it was all so peaceful and we acted with restraint, how is that 30 of us are retroactively charged with "resisting arrest". Why only men, when we sat in a mixed group?
I will add this: when I was being booked, the two detectives (who had not been at the scene of the arrests) announced my charges - trespassing and risking arrest. In my first act of civil disobedience, I broke a cardinal rule, stupidly, and reacted, "risking arrest?! How can I get that when asked the officers to help me up because I wasn't resisting, I just have a neurological disorder and couldn't stand on my own?!"
The detectives responded, "we weren't there, we're just telling you what the arresting officer wrote down." A few minutes later, they returned and said, "you're too meek to resist, so we removed that charge."
Now, I certainly appreciate that they were trying to be kind. Many individual officers along the way were. I really got the sense that there are complex feelings about what went down. Several of them were extra considerate of me with my medical needs. I want to thank them.
At the same time, how random is that?! Is that how our system works? What if I had gotten stomach pains and I was really grumpy? Would they not have liked me so much and then left the charge on there? Are men ever "too meek"? I was kind of laughing at the idea of me being meek. In retrospect, though, I had just suffered a serious back injury, so it's likely that my usual energy level was internally focused and I did seem meek. I'm a white female and I seemed to get a benefit from that. Would a black male be treated the same, even if his behaviors were exactly as mine were? When we got to court and all the men had the charge added, it fueled my concern about gender inequities.
Plea Choices
Anyway, once we all knew what our charges were and what our plea choices were, we each had to make our own personal decisions. It was actually quite fun to speak about our philosphical viewpoints, our political considerations and our personal circumstances. I had a great appreciation for different perspectives on whether to "validate" a corrupt system by even trying to get a fair hearing in a trial and how people defined the purpose and boundaries of civil disobedience. Mostly, it was beautiful to see how we were all able to honor each other's positions and support each other's choices.
My only charge was trespassing. I decided to plead "not guilty". I don't accept that I can trespass on land on which I am a part owner. I also don't accept that this can be used as justification for stifling my freedom of speech or assembly. I plan to fight this as both a battle about the primacy of human rights but, also to make the point that repressing our rights is one of the tools the oppressive owner class uses to keep us under their thumbs. I didn't stand in Dewey Square, facilitating General Assemblies and helping to create a place for civic education, discourse and protest, just so I could get arrested and say, "my bad. Slap me on the wrist." I was out there because I believe we have the right to be out there and ordinances are being created just so that the 1% can tell the police to use those as justification for denying us our rights.
As as I know, 8 out of the 25 of us pled "not guilty". Twenty-one more people were arraigned today and 7 or 8 of them pled "not guilty", too. We will all be represented by the National Lawyer's Guild. I look forward to the process. Or rather, I look forward to what we can spotlight in the process.
The Glitch
One other thing about the arraignment process itself. The whole "deal" thing was something our lawyers negotiated for the group. Those who accepted the deal did so with the understanding that every single one of us would have access to it. We had decided early on that, in the name of solidarity, no one would take a deal if it was available to everyone. Alas, the final person to be arraigned, was told he could not have the deal. Those who stayed in the courtroom and had accepted the deal felt betrayed by the DA and heartsick over what happened to one of our brothers.
Now, let me say, that brother did create a scene. When they first tried to arraign him, he insisted on speaking to the judge, even though it was clear that this was not the place for that. He was angry that he could not make a personal declaration about his plea. (Really, how big of a deal can this be. Let him speak his peace and move on.) They removed him from the court room and he had to return later to complete his arraignment. What we don't know is whether that incident prompted the DA to take the deal off the table for him or they had already known that they wouldn't offer it to him. It was a different DA after lunch and he claimed that our brother could not have this option because he had prior arrests. (from 2002 or so.) I was delirious with pain at this point and I don't know what he ended up pleading. It was a very disheartening end to the court process for the day.
Then, there's the Press
We came out of the court room one by one, as we were arraigned. There were a few cameras and several reporters on hand. Please note: they only interviewed men. It also appeared that they only interviewed people who had accepted the deal. I was standing next to two different men being interviewed and it was as if I didn't exist. I saw the same for other women.
Later that day, a Globe reporter tweeted a link to his story covering the arraignment:
@globe_guilfoil John Guilfoil
Most #occupyboston protesters arrested over the weekend get probation bo.st/uVVaXn
13 Dec via TweetDeck
If you go to his story, you might note that he doesn't mention women. He only quotes men. He also only talks about the probation deal and doesn't mention that 1/3 of the people plead 'not guilty' nor ask any of them why they would do this.
When I pointed this out to him by replying to his tweet, his persistent response was that we need to send people to him if we want that story told. He accused us of avoiding the press. I told him I was standing right there and was ignored. I also told him that a real journalist would dig for the scoop. It's a matter of public record that many people did not take the probation deal. An inquiring mind or a journalist who had any interest in actually informing the public would seek out at least one of those people and get the story. His continued retort:
globe_guilfoil 4:07pm via Web
@OccupationAlly @UnaSpenser We're out there every day. You have a story to tell, tell it to us.
That's the state of journalism today. He takes no responsibility for not fully informing the public about what happened. He treats our plea stance as a PR stunt, wherein it was our responsibility to find reporters and tell our story. I didn't realize the news was my personal storytelling microphone. Perhaps, since "they're out there every day", I should just show up 'there' every day and tell a reporter whatever story I have in mind. Or perhaps, a journalist ought to look at the court records, see that many people plead not guilty and find out why some would opt out of the probation deal.
In the end, I let him know that I would not be seeking out reporters. If a real journalist wanted to get the scoop, she could find one of us. I have venues for storytelling, thank you.
And, so my day of arraignment came to a close.
My Birthday Wishes
At 12:05pm yesterday, I turned 49. Seems like I've been wishing for world peace since I was about 7 or eight years old. (I used to watch those Save the Children telethons on PBS for hours on end and cry and cry about all those beautiful kids.)
What I wish for more particularly, right now, is for more people in the United States to wake up to what's really going on. Leave your -isms behind, stop listening to the mouthpieces of the 1% and start talking to your fellow citizens. Find out how many of us have been placed in unsustainable hardship while the few at the top keep getting richer. Talk about whether it is moral to have privately owned prisons where it's in somebody's financial interest to convict and incarcerate people.
Stop participating in a corrupt system. Barter with your friends and neighbors, as much as possible. Take your money out of big banks and put them in cooperatives or credit unions. Put signs up in your windows or your car, on your cubicle, your jacket, your purse. Make it known that you want the income and justice disparity to end. Demand accountability, humanity and a sustainable society.
If they can come up with $1 million previously unbudgeted dollars to repress peaceful protesters, then Boston shouldn't be closing schools. If we can keep spending billions of dollars on wars, then we don't have a debt crisis, we have a values crisis. If we taxed the rich proportionate to how much of the country's wealth they hoard, we could provide decent education for all, rebuild our country's infrastructure, provide universal healthcare and reset everyone's home costs so that they are affordable. If we stopped funding a racist and socially destructive prison industrial complex, we could invest in community building and job training.
What I want for my birthday is for everyone to commit to standing up. Today, I interrupted a police officer demanding an ID from a scruffy-looking black man. I did it in a friendly, but insistent manner. I wanted my fellow citizen to know that someone was bearing witness and cared how he was treated. I want everyone to do this.
Stand up for our rights. We're losing them daily.
Please, everyone, stand up. On my 50th, I'd love to have a universal day of standing up. At 12:05pm, December 14th, 2012, let's all stand up wherever we are and make a statement. Hold a sign, speak into a bullhorn, chalk the sidewalk, link arms with people on the street. Stand for solidarity and human rights for all.
In my wildest dreams, there would be a worldwide, global strike. We'd all let the owner class know that they're nothing, they've got nothing, without us.
That's what I want for my birthday.