A ballad about a black biker in four parts with a preface and a postword.

There are a lot of stories on this site about “nonsense” American police officers. And I have a lot to say about it. And this is just one of those stories.

1st Bicycle

One evening, I ride a car on the city street of one of the southern states of America. Behind me was a black man on a motorcycle. He pursued me for a short time, crossed two, and then wrestled a syrene and turned on the flash beacons: the biker turned out to be a cop.
had to stop. In the car I was alone and sat humbly, putting my hands on the steering wheel. The police officer approached the car from the front door of the passenger. I lowered the glass.
Have you exceeded speed? Instead of a greeting, he asked me.
I answered almost honestly.
You have violated! The police officer did not agree with me.
But I was moving in the common stream with the same speed as everyone else!
This is not an excuse! He objected and demanded my driving license.

After receiving the documents, the motorcyclist approached his motorcycle and opened the box above the rear wheel, where there was a laptop and a portable printer. He quickly printed the paper on the printer and came back to me.
Here is your penalty receipt. – Solemnly said the cop, extending me the printed leaflet along with the driver’s license.
A speed penalty? I have clarified.
“No,” the police replied, “this is a fine for violating the traffic rules.
A fine for excess speed?
“This is a fine for violating the rules, not for speed,” the cop objected to me.
What have I broken? I asked again.
“The traffic rules,” the police officer replied.
Not the speed? I was surprised.
- You exceeded the speed, - did not agree with me cop.
Is it a speed penalty?
No is! The police officer started to get angry, you are fined for violating the PDD!

I asked again, then again: such a stupid dialogue lasted for forty minutes. It turned out that I simply broke the rules - without any specifics. On the paper was written only "failed to obey" - a violation of the rules.
The first was not able to withstand the motorcycle, he, walking back, began to move away from my car.
Oh officer, come back! I called him, we haven’t finished yet.
- If you have any questions, sir, you can ask them in court, - replied the cop and ran away.

2nd Office of Sheriff

The next morning I went to the head office of the local sheriff’s service.
What fucking thing is this? I asked the officer behind the glass, extending to him my penalty receipt.
It is not us! The officer said, looking at the paper.
And who? I was surprised.
“You have been fined by the city police,” he replied, adding, “they are all rare fools there.
Give me the address? I asked for.
“Of course,” he smiled and handed me a visiting card from the local police department.

Three Department of Police

In the police department, behind the glass, there was not a police officer on duty, but two civilian aunts, something very similar to Russian passports.
“We don’t know what this penalty is for,” one of them replied after a long study of my receipt.
Let’s ask someone, I suggested.
With whom? My aunt was surprised by the glass.
“You’re not alone in the building,” I replied, “is there someone else here?”
The sergeant? I guessed that.
Take the sergeant! I have agreed.

We had to wait a long time: thirty minutes. He came out to me in the hall of the building, and for the first time in two days I spoke to the police officer not through the window.
“I don’t know why you were fined,” he said, examining the penalty receipt.
And what shall we do? I asked.
- Pay the penalty, the sergeant advised me.
Why a fine? I have clarified.
“I don’t know,” he replied.

And we had the same stupid dialogue with him as we had with the police biker the day before. The captain had nowhere to retreat. He was on duty and therefore surrendered even faster than yesterday’s Negro.
"The officer could not write you a fine for excess speed because he measured your speed visually, not with the help of a radar.
Has he swallowed? I was angry.
- You are better, - did not agree with me the policeman, - on this receipt the fine is less than for excess speed.
We will meet him in court. I declared. Let the judge decide who is better.

4 is Lawyer

Everyone should do their own business, I decided and went to the internet to look for a lawyer. There were many proposals. I decided, in the case of other equals, to choose by geographical principle: who is closer. Half an hour later, I agreed with a guy for three hundred dollars for the whole case and went to him for a meeting.

Well, what to say, I learned a lot that day about the local police. In short, the corruption scheme is as follows: a patrol cop gets $40 per hour. If he began drawing up the minutes at the very end of his duty, then, according to the rules, another two hours of working time is automatically added to his working day. Moreover, these two hours are considered as “processing” and are paid in half a quarter. That is, this motorcyclist, starting my case at his laptop at 5:56 p.m., automatically receives an increase of $120 to his daily salary in any case and it doesn’t matter whether I’ll be fined in court or not.

A month later the trial took place. The fine was cancelled, and the black motorcyclist continued to patrol the streets of the city.