last known [address]. The next time they
come looking for you, they not just going to your uncle’s, they definitely going to
be through there [his mother’s house].
In this case, their counsel proved correct. Mike returned to the halfway house a few
days later and discovered that the guards there were conducting alcohol tests. He
left before they could test him, assuming he would test positive and spend another
year upstate for the violation. He planned to live on the run for some time, but three
days later the police found him at his mother’s house and took him into custody. We
had been playing video games, and he had gone across the street to change his clothes
at the Laundromat. Two unmarked cars pulled up, and three officers got out and started
chasing him. He ran for two blocks before they threw him down on the pavement. Later,
he mentioned that their knowledge of his mother’s new address must have come from
the time he reported the robbery, and he bemoaned his thoughtlessness in calling them.
Young men also learn to see the courts as dangerous. A year after Chuck came home
from the assault case, he enrolled in a job training program for young men who have
not completed high school, hoping to earn his high school diploma and gain a certificate
in construction. He proudly graduated at twenty-two and found a job apprenticing on
a construction crew. Around this time he had been arguing with his baby-mom, and she
stopped allowing him to see their two daughters, ages one and a half and six months.
After considerable hesitation, Chuck took her to family court to file for partial
custody. He said it tore at him to let a white man into his family affairs, but what
could he do? He needed to see his kids. At the time, Chuck was also sending thirty-five
dollars per month to the city toward payment on tickets he had received for driving
without a license or registration; he hoped to get into good standing and become qualified
to apply for a driver’s license. The judge said that if Chuck did not meet his payments
on time every month, he would issue a bench warrant for his arrest. 4 Then Chuck could work off the traffic tickets he owed in county jail (fines and fees
can be deducted for every day spent in custody).
Five months into his case for partial custody in family court, Chuck lost his construction
job and stopped making the payments to the cityfor the traffic tickets. He said he wasn’t sure if he had actually been issued a warrant,
and unsuccessfully attempted to discover this. He went to court for the child custody
case anyway the next month, and when his baby-mom mentioned that he was a drug dealer
and unfit to get partial custody of their children, the judge immediately ran his
name in the database to see if any warrants came up. They did not. As we walked out
of the courthouse, Chuck said to me and to his mother:
I wanted to run [when the clerk ran his name], but it was no way I was getting out
of there—it was too many cops and guards. But my shit came back clean, so I guess
if they’re going to give me a warrant for the tickets, they ain’t get around to it
yet.
The judge ruled in Chuck’s favor and granted him visitation on Sundays at a court-supervised
day-care site. These visits, Chuck said, made him anxious: “Every time I walk in the
door I wonder, like, is it today? Are they going to come grab me, like, right out
of the day care? I can just see [my daughter’s] face, like, ‘Daddy, where you going?’”
After a month, the conditions of his custody allowed Chuck to go to his baby-mom’s
house on the weekends to pick up his daughters. He appeared thrilled with these visits,
because he could see his children without having to interact with the courts and risk
any warrant that might come up.
. . .
If, in the past, residents of poor Black communities could not turn to the police
to protect themselves or
come looking for you, they not just going to your uncle’s, they definitely going to
be through there [his mother’s house].
In this case, their counsel proved correct. Mike returned to the halfway house a few
days later and discovered that the guards there were conducting alcohol tests. He
left before they could test him, assuming he would test positive and spend another
year upstate for the violation. He planned to live on the run for some time, but three
days later the police found him at his mother’s house and took him into custody. We
had been playing video games, and he had gone across the street to change his clothes
at the Laundromat. Two unmarked cars pulled up, and three officers got out and started
chasing him. He ran for two blocks before they threw him down on the pavement. Later,
he mentioned that their knowledge of his mother’s new address must have come from
the time he reported the robbery, and he bemoaned his thoughtlessness in calling them.
Young men also learn to see the courts as dangerous. A year after Chuck came home
from the assault case, he enrolled in a job training program for young men who have
not completed high school, hoping to earn his high school diploma and gain a certificate
in construction. He proudly graduated at twenty-two and found a job apprenticing on
a construction crew. Around this time he had been arguing with his baby-mom, and she
stopped allowing him to see their two daughters, ages one and a half and six months.
After considerable hesitation, Chuck took her to family court to file for partial
custody. He said it tore at him to let a white man into his family affairs, but what
could he do? He needed to see his kids. At the time, Chuck was also sending thirty-five
dollars per month to the city toward payment on tickets he had received for driving
without a license or registration; he hoped to get into good standing and become qualified
to apply for a driver’s license. The judge said that if Chuck did not meet his payments
on time every month, he would issue a bench warrant for his arrest. 4 Then Chuck could work off the traffic tickets he owed in county jail (fines and fees
can be deducted for every day spent in custody).
Five months into his case for partial custody in family court, Chuck lost his construction
job and stopped making the payments to the cityfor the traffic tickets. He said he wasn’t sure if he had actually been issued a warrant,
and unsuccessfully attempted to discover this. He went to court for the child custody
case anyway the next month, and when his baby-mom mentioned that he was a drug dealer
and unfit to get partial custody of their children, the judge immediately ran his
name in the database to see if any warrants came up. They did not. As we walked out
of the courthouse, Chuck said to me and to his mother:
I wanted to run [when the clerk ran his name], but it was no way I was getting out
of there—it was too many cops and guards. But my shit came back clean, so I guess
if they’re going to give me a warrant for the tickets, they ain’t get around to it
yet.
The judge ruled in Chuck’s favor and granted him visitation on Sundays at a court-supervised
day-care site. These visits, Chuck said, made him anxious: “Every time I walk in the
door I wonder, like, is it today? Are they going to come grab me, like, right out
of the day care? I can just see [my daughter’s] face, like, ‘Daddy, where you going?’”
After a month, the conditions of his custody allowed Chuck to go to his baby-mom’s
house on the weekends to pick up his daughters. He appeared thrilled with these visits,
because he could see his children without having to interact with the courts and risk
any warrant that might come up.
. . .
If, in the past, residents of poor Black communities could not turn to the police
to protect themselves or
Similar Books
