Facts & Arguments is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at tgam.ca/essayguide.
We make thousands of choices every day. Many are made in good judgment, others not so much. And you only hope those are the ones that nobody notices. But once in a while, somebody does.
It was the last day of school for my four boys. I was squeezing in a final few kid-free errands before the summer holiday began. I had one final stop to make – at the neighbourhood paint store, just a stone's throw from my backyard.
I somehow convinced myself that I was so pressed for time, if I just drove the 200 metres I could shave off a precious minute or two. That should have been my first clue my irrational brain was in overdrive and I needed to put myself in neutral. My second clue? I decided to take an illegal shortcut – one that would save me a few measly seconds.
It seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. I would cut down the alley and turn up the wrong way on our one-way street. It was only 25 metres to my front door. I'd be there in a flash, no harm done. I took a quick look, saw no cars, no kids, so I went for it. Except I never made it. My escapade was cut short by the piercing scream of a police siren. In my rear-view mirror, I saw a motorcycle cop on a mission.
I took a deep breath, preparing myself for an embarrassing lecture and a stern warning, but I was wrong on both counts.
"Throw your keys out of the car!" the officer bellowed. "NOW!"
I immediately threw them on the ground. I knew from his tone that I'd crossed a line; I would not be walking away from this with a simple traffic ticket. In my mind, I'd made a foolish mistake, but from the way he was treating me, it seemed as if I'd robbed a bank. Perhaps he thought I had.
"Step out of the car!"
When I emerged, the officer came face-to-face with a fortysomething woman in cut-off jeans, a camisole, flip-flops and a bracelet of prayer beads. I reassured myself the situation would de-escalate: I was a frazzled mom, not Public Enemy No. 1.
He stared at me from behind his reflective sunglasses, dismounting a motorcycle that still had its red lights spinning. I felt small and vulnerable. If even one muscle in his body relaxed, he never showed it. This felt like a take-down.
“Do you have any weapons in your car?” he continued, as I stood meekly in the middle of the road, shaking my head. Weapons? On the passenger seat there was a small can of dark walnut stain and a rolled-up yoga mat.
The officer ordered me to sit down on my neighbour’s stone wall. He was angry, revved up, and I was terrified, my body shaking as I apologized profusely. He quietly radioed in my plate number. The tension was palpable. My face felt hot. I was on full display for all the neighbourhood to see. I was praying for a slap on the wrist and a manageable fine.
What came next was something I’d only ever seen in movies. In full view of my neighbours and other passersby, the officer read me my rights. “My duty is to inform you that you have the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay.”
I was stunned, aware that at any moment one of my boys could look out the living-room window and see his mother being detained by a cop. Through my tears, and there were many, I waived my right to a lawyer. The officer threatened to charge me with dangerous driving and take away my licence. The more he spoke, the more I apologized. Until it got personal – and that’s when I realized this had become more than a traffic violation.
“You are so entitled that you think your time and your family are more important than everyone else’s!” he thundered. And there began a lengthy reprimand that left me shaken beyond words, slumped, as a group of 12-year-old boys I knew walked by.
When he was finished, the officer walked back to his motorcycle to write up my ticket. I was charged with careless driving. A $490 ticket and six demerit points. I looked to the ground in disbelief. All this for an $8 can of paint.
I barely slept that night, rolling the details over in my mind. The lights. The officer’s face. His words. His aggression. Did his punishment fit my crime?
The next morning, I managed to find some perspective. I knew I deserved a ticket for my bad judgment call. I knew I needed to slow down, especially when behind the wheel. I learned that nothing is more important than my safety and the safety of everyone around me, and for that I am grateful.
But that’s not all. I also learned to be afraid of police officers, that officers don’t always stand down when they’ve been revved up. I learned about the power a police officer holds over a simple citizen and what can happen when you get a cop on a bad day.
So I decided to fight the charge. I went to an early-resolution meeting with a Crown prosecutor. I told her my story and watched as she raised her eyebrows and shook her head. She dropped my careless driving charge in favour of an unsafe turn, which carried an $85 fine and two demerit points.
So, lesson learned? Yes, absolutely. But it came at a price much greater than the cost of a traffic ticket.
Angela Yazbek lives in Toronto.