This all happened back in 1994. I had an exceptionally powerful subwoofer in the trunk of my car at the time and I was driving along, more or less obeying the speed limit and listening to some rocking beats. I was headed to the theater to meet some homies. Just then I noticed, in my rearview mirror, that there was a police officer behind me who was signaling for me to pull over.
At this point I realized that I had two options: first, I could pull over like a good citizen and inquire what the problem was—after all, I wasn’t sure what it was that the police officer wanted. My other option was to go crazy and to take off posthaste, beginning a high speed pursuit. While such an adventure sounded really neat, I didn’t really want to be in a highway chase; too dangerous! Anyway, my parents were pretty rich, so if I needed to go to court and fight any unjust ticketing, I could afford to do so.
So I pulled over to the side of the road. The police officer came up to the window and said, “Son, do you know what I’m stopping you for?”
I was a bit annoyed, since I was likely going to miss the beginning of the 3:30 matinee of “The Mask” thanks to this incident. So I got a little cheeky. I said, “Perhaps because I’m a black youth wearing a low-hanging hat brim that is causing you to racially profile, sir? I’m not telepathic! Perhaps you should either arrest me or tell me why you pulled me over! Or should I continue guessing? Huh?”
The officer gave me a look that said he wasn’t happy with my response. “You were going 55 miles per hour in a 54 mile per hour zone,” he said. (Nevermind that all speed limits end in a five or a zero!) “License and registration, please, young man. And step out of the car. Are you carrying any concealed weapons on your person at this time? I know a lot of you youths think that’s cool to do.” He pushed his reflective aviator glasses further up his nose.
“With all due respect, officer,” I replied, “I am not compelled by law to leave my car for something as simple as a speeding ticket. I believe my papers are in order, so I won’t be getting out.”
I could see the ire in him rising. His lip trembled at my insolence. “Well, do you mind if I look around the car a little bit?” he asked, clearly insisting rather than inquiring.
I was not to be toyed with, however. “I’m sorry officer,” I replied curtly. “But my glove compartment is locked up, as is my trunk in the back. I’m aware of my rights as a motorist, and I believe you need a warrant to perform any such search of my vehicle!”
“Well, you’re just sharp as a tack,” he replied, continuing to scribble on his pad. “What are you, a lawyer or something? Someone important?”
I laughed. “Certainly I haven’t passed the BAR exam quite yet,” I said. “I’m only in high school! My father is a lawyer, however, and he made sure that I know a little bit about my rights so that nobody will illegally search through my belongings in a situation such as this.”
The officer was clearly very angry now. “You’re a clever kid,” he said. “But we’ll see how smart you are when I have my K-9 unit here to sniff around a bit. I sense that you’re up to something. I'll be seeing you again sometime.” With that, he put away the pad and went back to his car. I didn’t even end up getting a ticket!
It just goes to show that you should know your vehicular laws top to bottom to avoid illegal search by the police.
Cliffnotes:
- I have 99 problems
- A bitch isn’t one of them
- Hit me





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