The worst experience of my life occurred in 1991. It is every teacher's (and person's) worst nightmare: to be accused of a terrible crime. How do you prove that you did not do something?! Luckily, I had a good lawyer and hired a good investigator. He got a lot of written evidence and a tape recording from the student's best friend, and only witness (?), proving, absolutely, I could not have committed the crime.

But I had to spend one night in jail. Here is what I wrote about that night.

ARRESTED

On Thursday, April 29, 1991, at 12:00 noon, I met my attorney at the 48th Police Precinct in the Bronx. I was to turn myself in to the police to be arrested; a student in my school filed a criminal complaint against me.

We sat in the lobby and waited for the detective. After 20 minutes, a female detective came and brought us upstairs to the detectives' room. She told my attorney he would have to leave as he was not allowed inside. I was told to take off my belt and my shoelaces and I was thoroughly searched. I was then taken into a larger office where there was a holding cell. I was told to go inside it and wait. This was the first time in my life that I was locked up. It was a terrible feeling to know I was not free, I could not leave.

I sat there for a long time. There were several detectives in the room, all laughing and joking with each other. I sat there with no one paying any attention to me. It was as though I didn't exist. Eventually, the detective came and read me my Miranda rights. Later, another female detective took my fingerprints. She took five sets of fingerprints, which were sent to the State, the FBI, and who knows where else. After I washed the ink off my fingers, I was handcuffed, and a Polaroid picture was taken of me.

The first female detective and a male detective then took me to Central Booking in the Criminal Court Building in the Bronx. I was led out of the building, handcuffed, with no shoelaces, and with the female detective holding my arm, so I wouldn't run away. Why would I run if I had just turned myself in? To where would I run?

At Central Booking, we entered through a side door. Inside was a small area containing four large holding cells. There must have been 30-40 prisoners inside, all Black or Hispanic, many looking spaced out on drugs, and many filthy beyond description. I arrived at about 4:00 PM and was put in one of these cells. There was a lot of talking between prisoners and police, and between prisoners in one cell and prisoners in other cells, as many of them seemed to know each other. Being here for many of them seemed to be a not so unusual occurrence. The way they were talking, for most of them this was not a first time event.

We were to wait at Central Booking while they processed our paperwork, waited for our fingerprints to be checked, and put together our files. When all of that was completed, they would notify our attorneys, who would notify our families, and we would be brought before a judge for a bail hearing. This normally takes at least a day (I was told by many there). It is so crowded there, with more and more prisoners being brought in all the time, that prisoners have to be sent to other police precincts in the Bronx until all their paperwork is completed.

At about 7:00 PM, eleven names, including mine, were called to come out. We were handcuffed together, six in one line and five in another, and were led outside, like herded animals, to a waiting police paddy wagon. It was difficult to walk, as all of our movements were dictated by the person in front of us. Also, the handcuffs were tight, and dug into our wrists. We were put inside and the door was locked behind us. There were no windows and no lights. The only light was from a cigarette, which was passed back and forth. I was asked why I was there, and I answered that I couldn't talk about it. I wasn't questioned further, but I felt very uncomfortable sitting back there with them in almost total darkness. If there were a problem or a fight, the police up front probably wouldn't hear it, or couldn't stop it quickly if they did.

We were taken to the 50th Police Precinct, where we were told we would spend the night. We were brought to a room with six or seven very small cells. They took the handcuffs off and called us one at a time to come forward. We were again searched and put into a cell. I believe most detainees were put two in a cell, but I was put in a cell by myself, probably because I was white and the officers were white. I was glad I was alone.

The room was dark and gray, with one small window high in the corner. The cell was about six feet wide by nine feet deep. If I put my arms out I could touch both walls. There was a wooden bench, and a toilet and sink. The toilet worked, but the sink did not. It was dark and gray. People had carved and scraped their names on the walls and bench. I wondered how they did it, as we had been searched so many times, and everything had been taken away from us.

After a while, they brought us dinner. Dinner consisted of a roll with one slice of bologna and one slice of American cheese, and a cup of coffee. I don't drink coffee, so, because the sink faucet did not work, I had nothing to drink. After dinner, I tried to sleep, but I couldn't. I tried to tire myself out by doing pushups. I did two hundred pushups, but it didn't help. I could not sleep.

At about 10:00 PM, they told us to get up, that we were going back to Central Booking, and that most of us would go before the judge that night. We were again handcuffed and put back in a paddy wagon. The ride back was in near total darkness, with many of the prisoners complaining and cursing.

We were again put in one of the holding cells and we waited. Eventually, they called my name, along with several others. We were led upstairs and again searched. One officer gave us instructions: if we talked or otherwise displeased him, he would 'lose our papers' and would have to wait until Monday before seeing the judge. Some of the prisoners said he could do that, and he had done that in the past. The prisoners are treated, and spoken to, like animals.

Upstairs, in "The Bullpen," which is just outside the courtroom, we were put in another holding cell. There must have been twenty men in my cell, all waiting to see the judge. Many of the men were filthy and smelled like garbage. Their clothes were torn and a mess. Some were stretched out on the floor, sleeping like babies. One prisoner, a troublemaker, laughed that they were sleeping like dogs on the floor. Later, he too slept on the floor. Others slept on a bench. Tempers were hot; several times I thought a fight might break out. Men tried to scrounge around for a piece of a cigarette.

As we were sitting there, every so often a Legal Aid lawyer would come up to the cell and call someone's name. They would then go to a separate area and talk about their case. The prisoners were all unhappy with their lawyers, and felt the lawyers were on the side of the D.A. They felt their lawyers all felt they were guilty, and they did not try to get them "R o R" ("released on own recognizance"). Many of them made fun of me when my lawyer came up to the cell, calling me by my first name. But they were clearly jealous of me for having a private attorney who would look out for my interests. Many said they were going to get private attorneys in the future. (I doubt that very much!)

I went in a side area with my attorney where we spoke for a few minutes. He told me my family was on its way to the Court and he was waiting for them before we went before the judge. He told me the D.A. was going to ask for $75,000 bail.

I then went back to the holding cell and he went back to the courtroom. I sat and waited. Other men came back, cursing about their lawyers and about the judge. Although their bail was mostly in the range of $300 to $1500, no one intended to pay it. They said they would stay in jail until they returned to court in two or three days, and then the bail would be reduced or they would be "R o R". They all felt they would be back on the streets again in a few days. This was no big deal for them. None of them had any family members present in the court.

Twenty minutes later, five names were called to go to the court. We lined up by the door to the court and waited our turn. When the door opened, I could see inside the courtroom, and I could see my family. I felt so down, and had a terribly sickening feeling in my stomach.

In five minutes, my turn came. I was led into the courtroom, told to face the judge, and to put my hands behind my back. The district attorney then read the complaint which was apparently written by the student. He then asked bail to be set at $50,000. My attorney then spoke. He spoke pretty well, saying how ridiculous the whole thing was. He said five and one-half months had gone by with no evidence of anything ever happening. He related information about me, my twenty-three and one-half years with the Board of Education, my family (which was present), and my standing in the community. He stated that bail of $5000 would not be too much of a hardship for my family. The judge then set bail at $2500 (less than what my attorney had asked!).

My attorney had told me a few days earlier that I could bring a check because his bail bondsman would accept it. My wife had her checkbook with her, but the bail bondsman was not there. My attorney said it was late, so he couldn't come. When we spoke previously, we knew it probably would be at night, and he said he would get the bail bondsman, or his representative, there.

Since my wife did not have the $2500 with her, I could not make bail and had to stay in jail until she brought the money. I was put back in the holding cell with others who could not, or would not, make bail. We were kept there until court ended for the night. We were then handcuffed and led into a police bus, where we were taken to the Bronx House of Detention.

In the downstairs holding area, we were lined up, photographed, and any possessions we had were put in envelopes for safekeeping. The police screamed and cursed at anyone who did not follow their orders to the letter. As we finished, we were taken to a side room where we had to strip and take a shower. This had to be the first shower that some of these men had taken in a year. A policeman searched our clothing thoroughly. Looking through some of the torn and ragged clothing, the cop remarked to me that he didn't understand how people could live this way. He, and some of the others, spoke to me probably because I was white, and didn't seem to fit in with the other prisoners.

We were then put in one of the holding cells. There were about twenty of us in the cell. In it were two benches, about 15 feet long, and a filthy, disgusting toilet. It was about 3:00 AM and prisoners were sleeping everywhere. A few stretched out on the benches, and the rest slept on the floor. There was no room to move. I sat there and tried to sleep, but I couldn't.

Before we could be sent upstairs to the main jail where the dormitories were located, we had to be examined by the doctor. When I was called to the doctor's room, I had to wait in the "pig pen" (a small fenced-in area next to the doctor's office) until it was my turn. They took my temperature, blood pressure, height, weight, and a blood sample. I was given a tuberculosis test and a shot against measles. The doctor was decent to me and allowed me to use a telephone to call my wife. I told him she did not know how to get the bail money. I spoke with her for a few minutes, and she told me she would get the money first thing in the morning, and get me out as soon as possible. Hearing her, and speaking to her, almost made me cry. The criticalness of the situation overwhelmed me. At that point, the guards noticed I was on the phone and started yelling at me to hang up. I told them the doctor gave me permission, they said he didn't have the authority, and I was forced to hang up.

Breakfast was served at about 5:00 AM. It consisted of a package of shredded wheat cereal, a container of milk, two slices of bread, and a spoonful of jelly. One of the prisoners, with whom I became somewhat friendly, obtained two extra slices of bread for me. Prisoners were almost fighting to get any leftovers. After breakfast, they went back to sleep.

I don't know how anyone can sleep under those circumstances. For many of the detainees, this was almost an everyday occurrence, nothing unusual, just an occupational risk. For the first-timer (and hopefully last), this was a tremendously frightening experience. Other prisoners tell of the fights and problems which occur upstairs in the dorms where there are about thirty prisoners in a room; you picture yourself there, the only white person among hundreds of Blacks and Hispanics. You relive the horror scenes of every movie and book you have seen or read. I was praying my wife would get here with the bail money before they sent me upstairs.

At about 11:30 AM, they called my name and told me I was being released. As I signed out, they gave me a packet about AIDS and how to prevent it. I was so happy when I saw my wife, I didn't know what to do first.

I was locked up, in jail, incarcerated, for twenty-three and one-half hours. I went through a truly dehumanizing and degrading experience. I felt so sorry for those who have to go through this, almost as a way of life. Many of these seemed to be good people who, because of whatever reason, were arrested. Some of them might even have been innocent, but, when one is there, one is guilty until proven innocent! They now have to go through hell, and when they get out they will be worse off than before they went in. In my last holding cell, containing about twenty prisoners, all except one had been through this before.

There must be a better way. There must!

(I was eventually exonerated and returned to teaching. The student later told teachers to tell me she was sorry about the whole thing. The person who put her up to making the accusation was eventually dismissed from the Board of Education.)