pleading the fifth

Another encounter with the police. I was ready for them this time. I was ready to tell them I wasn't telling them anything, to foil their questioning right there, to be dragged off, given a lawyer, only to find there is nothing wrong with my story, nothing suspicious about me. I was ready to waste the state's time and money, to infuriate the police. I was ready for it.

They stopped me for walking late at night, mostly, but more specifically walking in the wrong place at night. Suspicious activities. I didn't want to be too confrontational right away. He challenged me--"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Just walking," I said, slowing. I could feel the adrenaline. The confrontation was coming. I could taste it.

He shone his light on me, looked me up and down, looked up and down the street. He was sizing me up. Did he need backup? Was I going to resist? What was I going to do? He didn't know, and he had to make a snap judgment. He pursed his lips, shone the light in my face again--I winced, but stood strong--and nodded his head.

"All right, kid, stay out of trouble."