An Adventure I Didn’t Ask For
Those of you who follow this blog may remember some of the adventures while on my Lewis and Clark roadtrip last fall. Specifically, you may remember my account of being turned away from Fort Leavenworth (which caused me to miss a major L&C exhibit that I had wanted to see). If you missed that little tale, you can find it here. (just scroll down to the subheading “Roadtripping in 2025/Control The Things You Can”). That story is relevant to the one I’m about to tell.
Crossing the Border (or trying to…)
I was happily minding my own business, driving home from a fun weekend with friends in Canada, singing along to some of my favorite music with my dog Sadie in the back seat. It was a beautiful late summer day. I had just crossed the new Gordie Howe bridge at Windsor between Canada and the U.S. and was in line for the customs booth to get back into the U.S. This is the same bridge whose grand opening was delayed by the Trump administration at the behest of the owner of the older, competing bridge (who is a big Trump donor). It may not be a coincidence that the very day I was crossing this bridge was the same day that Mark Carney walked out of the tariff negotiations and decided that Canada was not going to cave in to the U.S. government demands. Saturday, August 22.
All the lines were full of waiting cars inching forward. It was a busy morning at the border. I made my way slowly to the customs booth, which I have done many times over the years. Finally it was my turn. Routine, quick, right?
I rolled forward, stopped, and handed my passport to the young man in the booth. He punched some keys and I waited.
“Roll down your back window.” I did. Sadie popped her head out to see what was going on. I waited.
“Ma’am, do you have an outstanding warrant in Ann Arbor?”
“Definitely not.”
A few minutes pass. “Is there a problem?”
“Ma’am, I need you to turn your car off and hand me your keys and step out of the car.”
“What??” He repeats the command, adding, “Something got flagged. You need to step out and we are going to handcuff you and take you to the building over there until we can straighten this out.”
I hesitated, then turned off the car and handed him the keys. I saw a couple of uniformed men heading my way. I grabbed my purse as I opened the door. “Ma’am, leave that, you can’t take anything with you, just get out of the car.”
I stepped out of the car and saw that while I was talking to the guy in the booth several other uniformed men had approached from the rear. When I looked around my car was surrounded by about ten uniformed, armed customs officers, all men except for one. They were big and scary looking, stone-faced. I can’t imagine what the cars in the line behind mine were thinking as they held my arms and the one woman handcuffed me behind my back. “Did she murder someone?” “Glad they caught her!” “I wonder what she did??”
“Ma’am, we’re going to walk you over to that door and we’re going to search you.”
“What!! Now you’re scaring me. What’s going on? What about my dog?”
“Your dog will be fine. Is she friendly?”
“No.” As I was being led away by three officers, the woman officer called for another woman as backup so they could search me. I looked back at the car and could see the remaining officers around my car trying to figure out how they were going to move it with a vicious dog in the back seat. (side note: normally Sadie would fight to the death to protect me and my property from being invaded by strangers, but these guys were so intimidating that she just sat there, confused, wondering - like me - what was happening.)
Imagine this is me instead of an anonymous person.
We entered a side door of the customs building to a small waiting area with a few seats. “Sit there.”
“I’ll just stand.” I was going from being scared to being annoyed.
“Ma’am you need to sit. Now.” I sat. Because of the handcuffs I couldn’t lean back in the chair and had to scoot up to the edge so that my arms weren’t crushing painfully against the back of the seat.
The second woman officer arrived and I was taken into a small, square room with no furniture.
“We’re going to take your handcuffs off now and search you. Stand in the corner with your hands on each wall and spread your legs. Don’t move.”
They patted down every inch of my body.
Having proven to themselves that I was not a threat, they left the handcuffs off and led me to a larger waiting area with a bank of numbered windows and rows of chairs filled with families whose cars were being searched or whose paperwork was being questioned in some way. They were mostly nonwhite people. Not like me, an older white lady traveling alone, the poster child of white privilege. Is that relevant to anything? Couldn’t say, but for some reason I found it noteworthy.
There was a separate waiting area cordoned off that was empty. Pointing to the front row of chairs, the officer pointed and said, “Sit there.”
I sat. She walked away. The people sitting in the other section looked at me, wondering what I had done to deserve being escorted out of a back room and told to sit in a specific spot. I had no idea where my car was or where my dog was. The people behind the numbered windows were talking, walking back and forth, sometimes calling a name of one of the people waiting on the other side of the room, giving them an orange paper and sending them on their way. Behind the numbered windows was a big room with desks and work stations and people going back and forth. Occasionally another delayed traveler would walk in front of me on their way to the bathroom, which could only be accessed with permission and an agent unlocking the door. I could see a bunch of colored balloons somewhere deep in the room behind the windows. Someone celebrating a birthday, perhaps? Just another day at work.
I sat. Ignored. Invisible. No one looked at me or acknowledged my presence or my humanity. It occurred to me that I had no identity on me and could be disappeared without a trace. I had no means of communicating with anyone about my predicament. No one knew I was here. I had no power to change my situation. A bunch of people were coming to my house for a party on Sunday. What if I wasn’t there to greet them? How could I get word to someone, anyone, that this was happening?
So many questions. Was this about that damned speeding ticket again? Why did that result in my arrest and detention? It was a municipal, civil infraction. Not a federal offense, or even a state offense. My speeding ticket was not even a crime. Whatever was going on in the Delaware, Ohio court was between me and that court. What jurisdiction did the federal government have here? None, as far as I knew. What were my rights? Did I have any? How long were they going to leave me sitting here? An hour? Five hours? All day? Overnight? If I ask any questions or make any demands would that make things worse?
There was a wall of windows facing the parking area and I could see the lines of cars coming through the customs booths and a bunch of parked cars being searched nearby. I walked through the rows of chairs to have a look and to see if I could spot my car anywhere. Was Sadie ok?
“Ma’am, you need to go sit down.” I’ve already been searched and deemed not a threat, and now I can’t get up and stretch my legs? No one is allowed to look out of the floor-to-ceiling windows that line the back wall of the building? I sat, alternating between dispair and anger, anxiety and resolve, trying not to panic. I closed my eyes and did some deep breathing.
Over an hour passed before an officer called me to a window. She had my passport in her hand and handed me a piece of paper with the words “Delaware County Sherif” written on it (that’s right, the officer can’t spell). She told me that there was a traffic violation in Delaware, Ohio that had resulted in a warrant for my arrest, and offered to find me a phone number to call to get it straightened out.
“No, I’ll handle it myself.” I just wanted out of there.
“I need to document that we put our hands on you in case you make a complaint or something. I need you to tell me your home address.” Yes, you sure did put your hands on me, and now you are telling me that you can track down an obscure, ancient traffic violation in a small city in Ohio but you don’t know my current home address? That’s just bulls—-. But I went ahead and wrote my address on a scrap of paper for them, wondering what that was about…
They did not give me an orange slip of paper like they did all the other people who had been waiting while their cars were searched. Once I had my passport in hand, I asked her if I would be treated like this everytime I crossed the border from now on. She said that it would only happen on land crossings, not at airport crossings. Do I believe her? Not even a little bit. This was a completely unacceptable and unnecessary way to treat me or anyone and I told her there was absolutely no reason for the show of force, the intimidation, the fear, and the humiliation that I had suffered. She stood there. No apology. No defense of the forceful way I had been handled when I clearly posed no threat to anyone. No nothing. I walked out toward the bank of cars and approached an officer.
“I’m looking for my car. I have no idea where it is.”
“It’s right where you parked it when we told you to pull over.” His voice was a little too cheerful.
Seething… “I didn’t park it. You confiscated it and handcuffed me. I don’t know where you took it.”
“Oh, that’s you. It’s right over there,” pointing.
I got in my car. There was no indication that the car had been searched at all. The windows were cracked open and Sadie was waiting, still confused but very glad to see me. No one asked to see any documentation for her, which of course I had at my fingertips should it have been needed.
I drove straight home in silence, shaken, humiliated and feeling dirty. I took a shower as soon as I got in the house and didn’t go out of my house the rest of the day.
And Now, the Rest of the Story
That was Saturday, August 22. Sunday I hosted a fun craft party, still shaken but being around my friends and family was cathartic and exactly what I needed. First thing Monday morning at 8am I called the municipal court clerk in Delaware, Ohio, and asked what I needed to do to resolve this thing. She told me I had to appear in person in front of a judge because of the warrant and the outstanding $3000 bond. Wednesdays had “open arraignment” starting at 8. I drove the two and a half hours to Delaware Tuesday night.
Craft day was therapy day for me. The group painted bleach designs on fabric. We had a great time eating, communing, painting and experimenting with designs.
I lined up with the other scofflaws first thing Wednesday morning, wearing my frumpiest, dowdiest old lady outfit, hoping the judge would be merciful. Because of the age of my ticket, they had to go to the basement of the courthouse to retrieve my file. 2010. Sixteen years old. Speeding violation. They served me the arrest warrant (i.e. they officially arrested me) and then canceled it. (Yes I got documentation and will carry it with me from now on whenever I cross the border.)
I entered the courtroom and put my paper form with my plea on it in a basket for the bailiff to add it to the other cases coming before the judge that day. (I decided that pleading “no contest” would give the judge a chance to dismiss it if he felt so inclined. I did not want to come back for a trial date, although if I had pled not guilty and gone to trial the case probably would have been dismissed because the officer who issued the ticket would likely have been a no-show - but I just wanted all of this to be over.).
Assembly line justice. I was one of many that morning.
I waited as the cases ahead of mine were called. Several driving while impaired. One drunk and disorderly where apparently the young man (who was quite docile in the courtroom) had caused a ruckus at a local waterpark and when the officers arrived he continued to yell and fight and resist any attempts to calm him down. Most of the folks were unrepresented like me. Several pled not guilty and wanted to fight their cases, having nothing to lose by trying.
My turn finally came and I went to the table. It was over in five minutes. I explained that I had been on vacation and by the time I got home the original court date had passed and I had forgotten about the ticket and didn’t know a warrant had been issued. He wasn’t unkind but also wasn’t all that sympathetic. He found me guilty, fined me $50 and sent me on my way. With court costs and late fees added in the total came to $287.00, which I happily paid. I was back home in Ann Arbor by noon, no longer a fugitive from justice.
Lessons Learned
Whatever privilege you think you have, real or imagined, don’t take it for granted. That isn’t the world we live in.
Don’t ignore or let legal matters linger. No matter how small or insignificant, the long arm of the federal government, when in the wrong hands, can and will find you and they have the power to traumatize you for no reason whatsoever.
Don’t assume everything is ok just because it has been ok up to now. Circumstances can change in a heartbeat and suddenly you are powerless and anonymous and invisible.
Now I know. When faced with impenetrable power and authority, I crumple like a wet napkin. I do not rock the boat, preferring to just wait it out and not to make things any worse than they already are.
This election cycle is important. Do everything you can to make sure that people can get to the polls and vote, and do everything you can to help make sure that those votes count. This current administration needs checks and balances that mean something. We can make that happen in November.
I decided to salvage my day in court by taking a small detour on the way home to see this lovely, preserved covered bridge. I have passed the sign for it many, many times on my trips to and from Columbus. Glad that I finally checked it out. It sits in the middle of Ohio farmland, and there were no cars on the road for miles and miles (except for mine). Perfect day for my visit and it gave me a chance to reboot my soul.
Next Steps
I’m headed to Peru for three weeks beginning September 12. I’m definitely looking forward to happier adventures with my son and daughter-in-law. Stay tuned!
