We were leaving the area when we noticed the headlights of another vehicle coming down the gravel road we’d entered on. The light was hazy, bouncing through the night, surrounded in a cloud of dust. The vehicle was moving very fast. I clenched my hands together and took a deep breath.
The pickup screeched to a halt 10 yards in front of us. Gary and I looked on dreadfully as a very obese black man slowly pried himself from behind the wheel of the truck. After each one of his high-top military combat boots was firmly planted on the road, he stood erect and adjusted the pants of his uniform. He then reached back in the truck, holstered a handgun and approached our car with a shotgun pointed toward the ground.
“Gimme ya driver’s license.” the officer snapped at Gary. His breath was labored and he looked frustrated. The patch on his shoulder clearly stated: “USP Leavenworth Kansas”.
The officer seemed to struggle as he examined the driver’s license. I thought I should try and explain myself to him.
“Sir… I am self-reporting here tomorrow, and we were just driving around to familiarize ourselves with…”
But he was in no mood for lame excuses, and cut me off. “Y’all, are trespassin’ on restricted government property. There’s a sign posted where y’all pulled in.”
“Oh… I didn’t see… I must’ve missed the sign, sir.” Gary said sheepishly when the officer handed him back his driver’s license.
“Don’t give me no more shit, boy. Just get the fuck off this property.” He craned his neck sideways and hurled a gob of spit from his chew to the side of the road. The officer looked more agitated now, wiping the dribble off the side of his mouth, then stood up taller, cradling the shotgun in his arms.
Excerpt from my book: Pay To Play http://www.paytoplaythebook.com