Never too young to get them started

Over at The Freeman, Wendy McElroy provides some useful advice about what to do, and—maybe more importantly—what not to do if the police come to question your child. The column was prompted by the recent arrest of an 11-year-old boy for a picture he drew in school. The kid’s parents made the mistake of letting him talk to the police without first contacting a lawyer.

This story reminds me of an encounter I had with the police when I was a kid, maybe 8 or 9 years old. There was a special announcement in school that day warning us about some lick-and-stick tattoos, with pictures of Mickey Mouse or some such image on them, that were allegedly laced with LSD and being peddled to children. I have no idea if this was actually happening or if it was just one of those false rumors that causes a few easily frightened dipshits to make a big stink, but on the way home from school that day, my cousin, who lived across the street, and I went up to every kid we passed and asked them if they wanted some Mickey Mouse tattoos (of course we did; isn’t that what any normal kids would do?). We had a few laughs over our deviousness, no doubt, then parted ways for the night.

Later on, a cop showed up at my house and told me that a kid in the neighborhood said that I tried to sell him drugs. I recall standing on the front porch, with (I think) my dad standing next to me, while the cop asked me if I had any drugs. I told him no, that we had just been told about these Mickey Mouse things at school that day and I had done it as a joke. I don’t recall much else. I’m pretty sure the cop realized he was dealing with nothing more nefarious than a stupid prank and left.

This was in 1979 or so, though, before “zero tolerance” became all the rage. If it had happened today, I probably would have wound up getting cuffed and stuffed and taken down to the local doughnut station and charged with pretending to sell drugs.

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One thought on “Never too young to get them started

  1. I’ve had many interxns w/ coppers. Two have been positive, the rest… not. The first was when I was 13 and riding my Kawasaki 90 dirt bike on a neighborhood street, a coppet tried to pull me over, I ran… took a shortcut between streets and lost him for about 10 mins, but he drove like a banshe through this particular neighborhood and finally caught me as I was nearing my home. He came to the door with me and gave my grandparents a lecture on the “dangers” of my riding, which he judged solely from the fact of my KX 90 being a dirt-only bike. No assessment of my riding skill, just “by the books, ma’am.” That set the stage for me.

    They’ll lie, they’ll entice, they’ll do whatever they need to, to feel authoritative, in control, and dominant. I hate ’em. If ever there were wild revolution in America, I know who I’d attack first. Them boys in blue.

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