Code Pink Journals CodePINK Journals

Work 4 Peace,Hold All Life Sacred,Eliminate Violence! For now, I’ve returned from my Joiyssey to participate in the "revolution":I’ve been at many Occupy sites across the country:1st in D.C. Freedom Plaza I faced & challenged racism/white supremacy, sexism/patriarchy, classism, heterosexism & eventually was kicked off the island; then I offered workshops as I drove to CA:“Anti-Racism Geared for White Occupiers”; “NO DRONES” "Successes and Pitfalls of OWS"

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Protecting our rights... to be continued

This blog will be about my 2nd experience jailed at Clark County Detention Center:

I wonder several times outloud how devastated the ex-military police working there in the jail must feel about my being arrested for attempting to practice the freedoms that they went overseas to protect by killing people and occupying their country.

If Monday was the day for arresting j-walkers, today was the day for arresting women attempting to support themselves selling their bodies, or women attempting to defend themselves from batterers - and ending up in jail!

Laura - 24 years old, angry, prostitute, smart, passionate, scared facing 4 years in jail

Joy - 27 years old, tough, smart, wise, business woman, prostitute

Sheila - 35, 3 children, domestic violence

Maria - 22, 3 children, domestic violence

Brenda - young, bi-polar, ptsd, childhood sexual abuse, drug addict, prostitute

Ortega - transsexual male to female

tb test not

potc or ptco - pissing off the cops charge!

You hate America?

This blog will be about the ride to jail.

Training, arresting me for something they're are supposed to be protecting by killing people in other countries, security, asian and middle east, national guard

Creech-stone cops... to be continued

Creechstone Cops

It’s a crisp beautiful morning, the outer circle of the top of the sun barely seeping over the mountains as the earliest pink-orange light leaks into the star-less horizon. Ann and I are on our way to meet Toby and Marie for our last Creech NO DRONES vigil.

As we approach the base, neither Toby nor Marie are visible. What we do see is not unlike an old-time movie panorama where the white men dressed as Indians have suddenly appeared along the cliff. It is a whole a whole battalion of police - cars lined up along one side of the side street into the base, officers roaming among those cars and still more officers on the gravel side, ‘our’ side, of street.

Plus FOUR mounted police on horses, silhouetted like the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse (Candace dubs them later).

The thought that possibly something dreadful and unrelated to us has happened vies ever so briefly with my amused astonishment that this huge display of might and force is meant for US: the four anti-drone, anti-war, pro-peace, pro-love older women of CodePINK – two of whom whose bodies and vehicle are disconcertingly no where in sight.

I ask Ann to make a u-turn to travel northbound on 95 in order to try to find Toby and Marie, maybe they were delayed coming, hopefully they were not in custody.

As we pass the brigade of dark blue, sterile sand, and even bright yellow uniforms with black guns and various other instruments of bullying and death, we are relieved to see Toby and Marie standing near the entrance gate into the base. Ann grins and honks, I hang out the window and mime shout ‘we’re coming back’.

Ann makes the first u-turn she can and returns to park her car across the highway where we normally park, making sure she uses her blinkers. We grab our posters and cross the street.

As we approached the gravel area on ‘our side’ of the side street, the police began to advance on us like the night of the dead zombies. I see a lone white male in redneck hunter rags waving an American flag, a large maybe 4’x8’ sign, standing just off the edge of the asphalt.

The commanding officer barks out we are to be separated from each other today: “He’s over here, you’re over there” he punctuates his directions with stiff arm movements.

I smile politely as I hear Ann greet Phil. Reaching Phil first I offer him my hand, introducing myself and inquiring what his sign says. Ann also approaches him and they shake.

I peer around the sign, careful not to step on the asphalt – which I assume is still an arrestable offence (for anti-war protestors that is) and ask if he minds if I take a picture.

“DRONES save American lives!” his sign declares. He nods as the police tell me the restrictions for us are still enforced.

The same commanding officer – they have tiny badges that cannot be read with the human eye (at least 59 year old human eyes) – barks out he’s had enough, we need to start moving immediately.

We comply as I smile regretfully over my shoulder waving at Phil – I was looking forward to dialoguing with him – and thank him for caring enough to join us as we all practice those pesky democratic responsibilities. A mounted police makes his mount prance and dance in nudging escort. I think to politely ask if he’s perhaps training the animal – or himself maybe. I get the overwhelming suspicion that this must be some kind of training exercise for these three or four branches of ‘law enforcement’ visible here.

We join Marie and Toby at the fence by the gate, hold up our signs, and begin to interact with the soldiers in their cars entering the base. Yet another police truck arrives, the occupant quickly jumping out to confer with the commander.

I am so pleased this morning to see several soldiers responding positively, waving back, a couple even give the peace symbol. A tractor trailer driver, hauling a new rectangular heavy maybe drone-proof glass gate, lets out a low, long tugboat rumble of support as he grins and flashes the peace symbol.

Out the corner of my eye, I see the newly arrived officer approaching. He passes me, surprising me even more as he singles out Ann motioning for her to come with him to her car. He informs her he is going to cite her.

They walk across the gravel to the highway, transversing the asphalt double lanes, and end up at her car. I get the camera and tell Marie and Toby I’ll do cop watch. I walk to the edge of the asphalt myself shooting pics as I feel the cops once again do that night of the living dead thing, approaching me.

I am informed that I am not on my side of the line. I am confused. I heard about no line. I let them know I didn’t realize there was a demarcation line. One of the dismounted police officers indicates a police truck that is parked at least 30 feet behind us. He draws an imaginary line from the truck to the road.

I step over to ‘our’ side of the imaginary line, trying to keep my focus on watching what is happening across the street. I hope Ann knows she has the right to refuse to allow searching of her car.

Before I know it, the female mounted officer has directed her horse in between me and the road, telling me to get off the highway. I point out to her that I am at least 4 feet from the asphalt, obviously as she has placed her mount in between the asphalt and me, successfully blocking me from filming the police action across the street.

I am very aware of horse hooves stirring up desert dust, and movement all around me. I hear the commanding officer shout as he is scurrying to get out his police vehicle parked behind us on the other side of the entrance road.

He is encouraging the others to arrest me. He bellows he’s warned me to stay on my side. He insists I need no further warning.

I turn my back to the horse, facing the other horses and police. I am sure my incredulousness emanates brighter than the early morning desert sun.

“You’re going to arrest me for crossing an imaginary line you never indicated to me?”

They seem temporarily arrested in their approach. I take advantage of the lull to return to our little protest group, emp

Ann also approaches, telling us she was given a citation for honking her horn. We burst into disbelieving yet amused laughter.

It is true. We see the citation with our own eyes!

The police break up from their huddle and approach me. I am under arrest. I ask them for what? They do not answer.

To be continued….

Jailed in Las Vegas - to be continued

This evening, 7 deeply concerned anti-war activists attempted to speak with the commanding officer at Creech AFB, where U.S. troops sit behind computer consoles, grab their joysticks and order DRONES to spy on, track, and murder human beings 7 thousand miles away.

As we slowly walked down the roadway to the gate, a state police officer and two airmen black-booted and armed with automatic rifles, guns, and several other weapons, stood to block our way.

...details later.

We were arrested and taken to the Las Vegas Clark County Detention Center where we were booked and jailed.

I have been in many jails more recently than not, and this has been one of the MOST challenging, intense incarcerations to date.

I don't have time now to write much - we are headed back to the AFB to greet the soldiers this morning - but there were two reasons making this so difficult.

First, this was the first time I've been arrested and have been unable to find police officers or staff that was in solidarity with our actions and anti-war. Even in those places where officers couldn't overtly support us, they would always manage to let us know many of the police were on our side.

In this jail, the staff and police officers were so very pro-war, so very violent and cold in their stance, it was more chilling than the freezing air of the jail.

The predominant attitude expressed frequently and with much righteousness and passion ... of 'christ' ... was that we should bomb the hell out of everyone in the mid-east, Afghanistan, Pakistan with impunity - that even if there just happened to be civilians, they were obviously hiding terrorists because they were allowing terrorists to walk amongst the people, not turning them over to U.S. troops, giving us more than enough reason to eliminate them as well.

The other reason is that I felt I was in a microcosm of war in this jail. The general police action and driving force was so power-tripping and controlling at best, at worse torturing, oppressing and cruel to many, their actions reflected the amplified actions of a military occupying force.

There is no excuse to bully and perpetrate violence upon another human being but Las Vegas police embraced this treatment of other human beings - who have merely been arrested, not even tried and convicted yet.

I witnessed and heard many acts of cruelty and unnecessary force and was helpless to do anything.

More later - off to Creech