I had my very first run-in with the law when I was in the third grade. I had the full experience –a police interrogation, a tearful confession, and ultimately a day in court in which I had to sit on the witness stand and bare my soul to a room full of very stern and terrifying strangers. For my eight-year-old self it was certainly the most traumatic experience of my life so far. But in the end it worked out ok, because I got a dinosaur out of the deal.
It all began one morning when I was walking to school. We lived on a little cul-de-sac in Mountlake Terrace, Washington, less than four-tenths of a mile from Mountlake Terrace Elementary. This was in the mid-70’s,and I was certainly mature and responsible enough to walk to school on my own through this very save suburban neighborhood. There was one basic rule, though –I was always supposed to take the exact same route to and from school. Up to the top of our cul-de-sac, go left for two blocks, and then straight up the main road to the school. I knew where the Neighborhood Watch houses were if there were any emergencies (which there never were), and I was very proud of being all grown up and able to get to school on my own without needing my mommy.
But here’s the thing – there was a different route that I liked better. I absolutely knew I was not supposed to go that way, but I thought it was an excellent short-cut. Looking at the route now with the cold logic of an adult, the alternate route made no difference whatsoever in terms of distance. But to my child’s mind it was a much cooler route to take,possibly because it was explicitly forbidden.
So there I was, walking to school one morning and taking my sneaky short-cut up 53rd instead of 52nd, singing to myself and playfully swinging around a stick I had picked up for no particular reason. Being as it was Western Washington, there were plenty of mud puddles around for me to splash the stick in. I was making a game of it when I saw a car coming my way. I have no earthly idea why, but for some reason I thought it would be funny if I swung the stick and splashed some water on the car as it went by.
WHOOSH! SPLASH!
I was laughing at the fun I was having, until the driver slammed on his brakes and screeched to a halt. All of a sudden a very large and very angry man erupted from the driver’s side screaming, “You-a hit-a my-a carrr!” in a stereotypical Italian accent. I do wonder if that particular memory is just my brain playing tricks with me, but more than three decades later I can still vividly hear the voice in my head ranting like an enraged Chef Boy-Ar-Dee. For a moment I was transfixed, frozen on the spot and terrified to move. Then, as he rounded the car and began rushing towards me, my heart skipped a beat as my feet finally started to move.
Too little, too late, and all of a sudden this ogre of a man was right on top of me. He was still screaming as he came up behind me, and then clubbed my three times at the base of my neck with his open hand. I staggered under the impact, and suddenly I could smell the fierce odor of his perspiration has he grabbed my wrist in one hand and my ankle in another.
“You-a come-a with ME!!” he growled as I was lifted off the ground and hauled back towards his brown sedan. By then I was screaming, sobbing, begging for help. I was sure I was about to die. I knew what happened when strange men put little boys in their car and drove away, and worst of all my family would never find me because I had taken the wrong route to school.They would be looking for me on 52nd Avenue, and here I was a whole block away in a place I should never be. I was incoherent with terror, with the world spinning crazily around me as I dangled sideways from the hands of this inhuman beast.
“Hey!”
A woman’s voice, from across the street.
“You put him down RIGHT NOW!”
I craned my head to see my possible savior and there she was, one of the most formidable creatures on the planet – an angry mom. Sure,she wasn't my mom, but she was definitely somebody’s mom and she was NOT HAPPY.
“But he-a hit-a my car!” pleaded my attacker, to no avail. He wilted immediately beneath the furious gaze of this wonderful woman. Suddenly I was back on the ground and standing on my own two feet. My only thought was to get to safety, and I ran right over to my new-found protector.
She asked if I was alright, while giving me a complete once-over, and asked my name. Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off I suddenly realized that I was going to be late for school. Despite the horror of what had just happened moments before, I was genuinely afraid that I would get in trouble. I had gone the wrong way, taken the forbidden shortcut, and now I was going to be punished. The emotions swirled in my head leaving me almost giddy. I begged that I needed to get to school, and reluctantly she let me go. I spared one quick glance over my shoulder, seeing her march up to Mr. Boy-Ar-Dee, and then I rushed off to the safety and security of my grade school.
I thought I had escaped, sitting in my third grade classroom doing math problems, until a request came over the intercom – “Please send Ron Miles to the office….” A pit formed in my stomach, as my teacher directed me to the door. I slowly plodded my way to the office, knowing that I was in serious trouble. The tears began streaming down my cheeks while I tried to formulate some way to plead my innocence. I knew I had gone the wrong way. Please, I thought, I’ll never do it again…
My tears multiplied when I entered the school office and found a uniformed police officer waiting there for me. Up until then I had thought that I was going to be in trouble with my mom, or maybe even suspended at school. It had not occurred to me until that moment that I might actually go to JAIL for taking the wrong way to school. My life was over.
In retrospect I am sure the policeman was very kind and gentle with me, but in that moment I was scared witless. It is truly a wonder that I did not soil myself, I was so frightened. He asked me to describe what had happened, and so I told him. I have to admit now that I actually lied a little bit when I recounted my story. I didn't mention that I had deliberately swung the stick at the car, instead I told him that I was just walking along minding my own business and swinging a stick in the air. I had NO IDEA that I would be splashing that passing car, gosh no! But everything else I recounted to the best of my ability. I finished telling my story, and then begged him, “Please don’t tell my mom…”
Eventually I was sent back to my classroom, and spent the rest of the day in fear of what would happen when I got home. Would I be grounded forever? Would my mom take away my comic books? Would I never be allowed to walk to school ever again?
As it turns out, mostly what happened when I got home was lots of hugs. I wasn't in trouble at all, of course, not even the tiniest bit. All of the adults on my cul-de-sac were furious at this man who had assaulted me. I had no idea what “assault” was, but apparently it meant that I wasn’t going to be scolded for my choice of routes to get to school. I was very much relieved, and I thought that would be the end of it.
Of course it wasn't. I had no idea of comprehending at the time what was really happening, that there was a police investigation which ultimately led to a trial. Several months after that terrifying morning I found myself in a courtroom being asked to testify about what happened.
My mother had stressed to me just how important it was that I be completely honest when I was being asked questions that day. I remember having to place my hand on a bible and swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. As I sat in that tall chair I could see my mother at one table nodding at me with support and encouragement, while at another table I saw Mr. B sitting with his head down looking lost and forlorn. I told my story about swinging the stick, the three karate chops to my neck, and being hoisted up by one arm and one leg and carried towards that scary brown car. I even told the truth about swinging the stick on purpose, because I had SWORN to tell the whole truth. It was scary, but also a satisfying in a cathartic way. I was much too young to really understand, but after I left the witness stand it truly was like the proverbial weight being lifted from my shoulders.
I have no idea what the final judgment was. Heck, I don’t even know what the actual charges were (I assume assault and battery). But I do know that there were monetary damages awarded. I know this, because I got a hundred dollars!!! Holy cow, I had never imagined so much money in my entire life. What could you possibly buy with A HUNDRED DOLLARS? Actually, I’ll tell you precisely what I bought, at least with part of that money: an Aurora Prehistoric Scenes plastic dinosaur model of an Ankylosaurus. How cool is that?