Posted by: Ed Chernoff
October 11, 2007
Topic: Brownsville, Part Dos

The deputies were following protocal. I knew it well. Most of my highway stop cases fit the same mold. They separate the passengers. Come up with some reason to have a conversation. See if the stories diverge in some way, and then ask permission to search. Somewhere along the way, they report extreme nervousness in the driver or "strange" movements from the passenger. Of course, none of that applied to Matt and I. The only thing strange about Matt was his complete detachment. I suppose they could have mistaken my curiosity for nervousness. In any case, there was nothing to discuss. I hadn't broken any traffic rules.

But Willacy County Sheriff Deputies were as well trained as Dallas debutantes. Even without a reason to converse, they knew their job was to maintain conversation. It was show time. The short one stared at my license like he was expecting an alien head to pop out. He mustered a perplexed look. "You know", he said, "your license address doesn't match your registriation address." He looked up at me like he expected an answer. I didn't give him one. He continued. "Your registration shows this car out of Atlanta". I had no response for this mystery. "Where you coming from?", he asked. Finally a question I could answer. "Why did you stop me?", I replied. He seemed taken aback by the change in script. He actually stammered. He said, "You changed lanes without signaling".

Maybe it was his change in tone that did it. Maybe it was all the stories my clients had told me about the cohersive stops that had resulted in searches and arrests. Maybe it was the injustice. I knew damn well I hadn't changed lanes. Whatever it was, I lit into the little guy. The initial diatribe went something like this: "You know that's bullshit! You were following me for two miles, and I wasn't about to change lanes. You can lie all you want out here, but up on the stand you had better be prepared to lie under oath. You know...so help you God? Maybe you will get by with it, but you and I will know its a lie. You really want to do that?" At that point, Deputy number two left his position at the back of the Navigator and slipped behind me, but I was on a roll. "I'm not one of those guys who is going to let this go! No, I'm not going to agree to a search! No, I don't give a Goddamn if you get a warrant! Or a dog! I hope you get a dog! I have a video camera in the car and I hope to God you get a dog, because I'm going to videotape every 'alert' your Fido makes!"

I stopped to get my breath. For some reason Deputy Number Two stepped in and he asked the second most interesting thing I had ever heard a cop say, "Who the hell are you?" I didn't know what to say at first. My adreneline was pumping. In fact, I WAS NERVOUS! I said, "I'm a lawyer, heading to Brownsville to try a drug case." The two Deputies turned to each other and the second one, face curiosly transformed, asked the the first most interesting thing I had ever had a cop ask.

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