Justice For Eric Kleemeyer

Eric’s Story

Part Eight

Traffic Stop

   Some jerk pulled up on Eric’s rear bumper with their headlights reflecting off the mirror and right into his eyes with a blinding intensity. Approaching the last traffic light before his apartment Eric winced in pain and cursed the rude creep behind him that was forcing him to sequent in order to see through his windshield.

     Eric stopped in the left hand turn lane at <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Monroe Street and waited for the signal light to turn green.     Whoever was behind him was driving something really big and they had stopped within about two inches of the back of Eric’s car. It didn’t seem like the high beams were on but rather the large vehicle was so high off of the ground that the headlights were on an even level with his rearview mirror.

      Eric reached up and pushed the mirror up as far as it would go. The inside of his car was still lit up like high noon but at least it wasn’t shining directly into his eyes anymore.

      Eric looked over to his right and there was another man alone in a car waiting for the light to turn green. This guy seemed to be checking out Eric’s ride and after a good looking over gave a sort of admiring nod of approval. Eric couldn’t help thinking, just for a moment, that he now owned such a cool car.

     The light turned green and Eric made his left turn onto Monroe. The jerk stayed right on his tail but that wasn’t going to last long because Eric’s apartment was on the corner just two blocks ahead.

     When Eric reached up and readjusted his mirror he suddenly realized that this big unit behind him must be some sort of ambulance or fire engine because there, above the obnoxious glaring headlights flashed a bar of emergency lights stroking stark bursts of red, blue, and white beams into the night. They must have gotten an emergency call, somebody needed help and Eric was right in their way.

     This section of Monroe Avenue has only a single lane available in each direction so there was not enough room for the emergency vehicle to go around. Eric quickly looked to his right only to see that there was no place to pull over. The few existing parking spaces already had cars in them. If he just stopped his car he would only block the road making him an even bigger hindrance. Luckily it was a very short block. Instead of going straight ahead towards home as he had planned Eric diverted as soon as possible by turning right onto Normandy Street.

     The flashing lights did not go speeding off. They stayed right behind Eric trailing him around the corner. Eric thought he had screwed up. If only he had just kept going straight he would have been out of the way.

      There was no available parking on this street either so out of desperation Eric pulled all the way over to his right getting as close as possible to the parked cars. Hopefully this maneuver would give the flashing lights enough room to finally go on around him. There appeared to be ample room for passing but the big vehicle stopped right behind him instead, the multicolored bar of lights continuing to flash.

     For the first time Eric wondered if those lights were actually meant for him but that didn’t make any sense. He edged forward a couple of car lengths and brought the Dodge to a halt. The flashing lights slowly moved forward too and stopped, at little further back and at more of an angle. There was no doubt about it now. They were after him.

    Eric looked over his shoulder and waited. From this angle he could see it was a black sports utility vehicle, probably a Chevy Tahoe. In stark contrast to the ominous dark vehicle with the huge black metal ramming apparatus across its front was a bright white driver’s side door that had a large star prominently emblazed on its center. It was the police but why?

     Eric began to go over the last few minutes furiously trying to think what had he done wrong now. He hadn’t been speeding. He had stopped for the red light. He had used his signal. This car only came with lap belts do without a shoulder strap to go by it would be impossible to tell if he was buckled up or not. What could it possibly be? That would be just his luck to not get stopped when he should have like back at the bowling alley and then get stopped when he hadn’t done anything wrong at all. That’s when he remembered.

     His new license plates from recently purchasing his car had not come in yet from the DMV and the tags on the car were now expired. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all. The bill of sale was still in the glove compartment and he was only a block from his apartment. Just maybe he could show that he had paid the new registration that he was sorry because he must have left his wallet at home. With any luck that would be it. For the first time Eric was glad he hadn’t gotten any pot because that could have been some real trouble. A wasted trip is always preferable to a night in jail.

     Eric watched as the officer took some time before slowly getting out of the truck. There was something familiar about him as he stepped around the door. Suddenly the officer made a sharp snapping motion his wrist and some sort of baton or asp extended from his hand. Eric gasped, what the hell was he going to do with that thing?

     Whatever that thing in the cops hand was the unmistakable purpose of a thing like that was that it was definitely a thing used to hit other things with. Things like people and people like Eric. He instantly thought back to the previous beating or “lesson” he had taken from the police. He stared back to see if he recognized the approaching officer.

     Their eyes met just for a moment and the policeman abruptly stopped in his tracks. He then began cautiously stepping back behind the open door of his police vehicle. It looked like he was fumbling with the baton and may gave even dropped it but the next thing Eric knew for sure was that the policeman had stationed himself in the V shaped space between the door and the truck. His right hand, where the baton had just been, was now freed up so that he could pull his gun from its holster and point it directly at Eric’s head.

     “What the hell is this shit” thought Eric as he began to panic.

    The policeman yelled “Put your fXXXXXg hands up right now!”

     Eric couldn’t understand what was happening. This was nothing like the routine traffic stop that began with the policeman asking something along the lines of “excuse me sir, may I see your license and registration please?”  There was nothing routine going on here and Eric knew that “This was fucked up!”

     Eric looked up and down the street and realized they were alone. He wondered if somebody that looked like him just robbed a liquor store or raped somebody or something terrible. Why did a cop need a gun just for an expired registration? Something was terribly wrong here.

     Eric had only seconds to decide what he was going to do. He figured the cop had already intended to administer him a good beating otherwise why did he pull out that ass whipping. Now the cop had raised the stakes by escalating to a fucking gun so who knew what he had in mind to do with that thing.

     This was just like when he had faced the Asian gang and Eric had to defend himself against weapons with nothing but his fists and wits. That night his bravery had wound him up in the hospital and it had gotten Little Joe killed. He had learned that night that facing unbeatable opposition may be more ignorant that brave. Now as he sat on this isolated corner with so sign of some potential witnesses he knew he had no chance of coming out ahead tonight. Ever since he had lost Little Joe so needlessly he knew whenever facing insurmountable opposition and the opportunity is there getaway then you should takeit. There was shame…run!

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