The Best White Helmet Story Ever

June 23, 2005 - 11:12 a.m.

For Father’s Day I drove to my brother’s house for a family cook-out, which means that I had to drive through the entire town of Belvidere, IL. Many years ago, I told my brother, “I’m sorry that you, your wife and child live here, but I am never visiting this back-asswards hick hole ever again.” I stuck to that for quite awhile, but eventually gave in so that I could see my niece. I rationalized that, since they lived just off the highway, it wasn’t like I was actually visiting the town.

Now, however, my brother has moved and he lives clear on the other side of town, and I have to drive through the whole goddamn thing at 20mph, stopping at every block for a cross walk. It takes two and a half hours to drive the four miles across town. I was unaware that my car was capable of going 20 mph without stalling out. First gear: zero, five, ten. Second gear: fifteen, glance in rearview mirror, eyes on the road, check side mirrors for any stray parts that may be falling from their rusted, screwless holes, THIRD GEAR FOURTH and now it’s 50mph.

I sent Belvidere, IL straight to hell in 1998 with a ‘fuck ya’ and a broken-off foot in its ass. You see, it all started when…and this is one of my 100% true, NO SHIT, non-embellished stories.

It all started when I took my first college Spring Break trip in March of 1998. Me and my girlfriends Julia and Audrey took a road trip from Chicago to Arizona, taking the Northern route, and then home again taking the Southern route. I had never been anywhere, seen anything, and it was quite the life experience for me. Along the way, I bought little souvenirs for my only niece, who was seven at the time.

A week after we got home, I went and visited my parents for the customary free laundry, ganked groceries, and filching of quarters out of their change jar. It was Sunday night around ten or eleven, and I left their house with a back seat full of Downy freshness and four dollar boxes of cereal. I had my little bag of souvenirs and decided to drop them off at my brother’s house, in his mailbox, because I knew the whole family would be sleeping by then.

He lived on a long, dark street where all the houses looked the same and were obscured by trees. I was driving slowly and squinting in the dark. Crap, I went too far. I turned down a side street and turned around in someone’s driveway. Back down the dark street again, damn. I passed it. Nosed into someone’s driveway and turned around, drove one block, and began pulling over in front of his house just as a cop flashed his lights at me.

I was like: Whoa. I didn’t do anything. The cop approaches my window and says, “I noticed you did a turn-around back there. Are you lost? Where are you headed?”

Me, innocently, “Hi! Nope, this is where I was headed! Just stopping at my brother’s house!”

“Uh-huh, right. And who exactly is your brother, and where exactly does he live?”

Me, still being friendly: “Right here! I’m right in front of his house! See that giant brass knocker on the front door? See the name engraved on it? It matches the last name on my license! That’s me, that’s him, that’s our name!”

“Uh-huh. Wait here please.”

He went back to his vehicle to check out my info and I start gathering together the gifts. I waited a long time, and knowing that I was totally innocent, I decided to get out of my car and go tell him that I was going to drop this bag off at the front door while I waited.

He jumped out, “WHOA-WHOA GET BACK IN THE CAR. TURN AROUND AND GET BACK IN THE CAR.”

Asshole. As if. Me, 21 year-old college white girl, totally normal looking with a ponytail and a brown Buick Century. Not a punk-rocker, not a hippie, and I had recently removed the two potentially incriminating bumper stickers off my car: “MY OTHER CAR IS A BROOM” and “UPPITY WOMEN UNITE”.

I waited a few minutes, and more police vehicles pulled up. Great. I guess he called all of his buddies away from Sparkle Donuts to come see this CRIMINAL.

Lights are flashing everywhere and I see neighbors coming out to investigate and peeking from behind their curtains. I’m thinking any moment now my brother will see these flashing lights coming into his bedroom window and he’ll come out and put this whole thing to rest.

Officer Friendly approaches my car with his fat friends in tow.

“Will you step out of the car please?”

I’m surrounded by cops, three local police, a state trooper, and a sheriff. They’re muttering to each other, looking at me, and laughing.

I’m thinking: “This is the part of the story where I get raped by five policemen, and the local law enforcement covers for them, and they strong arm me into silence, and I go home for Christmas and find my mama lynched in the front yard.”

I got out of my car and one of the cops said, “So. Why are you driving through Belvidere so late at night?”

“I’m a student, and I’m heading back to school. I was visiting my parents. See all the laundry and groceries in the back seat?”

He motioned towards my back window, to the lone sticker on my car, a small clear logo that said ‘University of Illinois - Chicago’ and said, “Oh, so you’re from the big city huh? Think you’re a big city hotshot huh?”

Me: *looking up and down the street for some indication that I had not mistakenly driven to Belvidere, MISSISSIPPI, circa 1954*

“No, I am not from Chicago, I am from the country, 20 miles from here. I’ve only lived in Chicago for a year.”

“Right. Uh-huh. I’m going to ask you to put your hands on the trunk of your car so I can pat you down. Do you have any drugs or weapons in your possession? Have you had anything to drink tonight?”

Now I am spread eagle across the back of my car, getting frisked, with five pigs encircling me and shouting questions and snide remarks at me. I tried to take my hands off the car to stand comfortably and each time one of them would yell KEEP YOUR HANDS ON THE CAR AND FACE THAT WAY.

Now the pigs are making fun of me and taunting me BECAUSE I GO TO COLLEGE.

“So smartypants. College girl, what are you studying? Are you gonna be a big shot city lawyer?”

Then Officer Friendly says, “We have reason to believe that you may be carrying illegal drugs in your car so I’m going to need to search it now.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, ma’am, you’re not going anywhere until we search your car.”

Now.

I am livid.

“Are you kidding me? You have no reasonable cause WHATSOEVER. You can’t even cite me for a traffic violation, you pulled me over for no reason, and I’ve done nothing to indicate that I have illegal substances. YOU. ARE NOT. TOUCHING MY CAR.”

Officer: “Yes, we have every right to do so. We don’t need your permission. Here you are, driving up and down this street suspiciously, making possible drug deliveries. That’s more than enough reason.”

“Do you think I’m stupid? Of course you can’t search my car. Drug deliveries? That’s my brother’s house RIGHT THERE. Go knock on the door and ask him if I am his sister, and he’ll tell you that I have every right to drive down the street, park in front of his house, and visit my own brother!”

“I don’t think so, miss. If he’s your brother, then why hasn’t he come out here? Wouldn’t he be looking out here if he were expecting you?”

Shit. Are they going to plant drugs in my car? Is this sheriff up for re-election? These fucking cops just pushed me too far. I was nice, I was respectful, and they just completely violated and humiliated me and I ain’t having it.

“Look, write me a ticket or let me go. I have class in the morning and I’m not sitting here arguing with you all night.”

“Miss, if you don’t consent to a vehicle search, I’ll have to call in the K-9 unit.”

Me, laughing like a crazy person: “OH REALLY??”

I turned to face all of the cops, and with my strongest, most self-assured 21 year-old voice I said:

“Go right ahead and call them. I’d rather have a dog in my car than a pig.”

(wait for applause)

And that. Is the best Shawna Mooney quote of the century.

Then the fun began. They called in the K-9 unit, but there is only one dog for all of Boone county, so they had to call and wake up the handler and it took over an hour.

Meanwhile, I stood there and ripped into those fucking hick pigs with no mercy. A few other cops stopped by and a few left.

I said, “So, BOYS, what kind of education does it take to become a BELVIDERE POLICE OFFICER? G.E.D.? Or just an eight-grade graduation?”

“Not just anyone can become a police officer. A college degree is required to even apply.”

“I don’t think so. You have a college degree? Where did you go to college?”

One pig said, “I went to ISU,” and another pig said, “me too.”

“And where exactly is ISU located again?”

“Macomb.”

Hah, you stupid fucking hick pigs, too stupid to even lie!

I said, “Really? Because I’ve been to Illinois State University, and it’s in Normal, which is 2 hours south of here. Macomb is where WESTERN ILLINOIS UNIVERSITY is, all the way over by the Iowa border.”

They tried to object, and stumbled over them selves.

“Looks like I just caught you in a fantastic ignorant LIE.”

This went on for some time, and finally the handler and canine arrived. It was a young guy with red hair who smiled at me sweetly, and the little girl inside of me was actually thrilled to see the German Shepherd and I wanted to run up and pet him.

The dog went all up in my car and my trunk and found SURPRISE!

Nothing.

Officer Friendly called it quits and told me I could go. It was after 1 a.m. I wasted three hours of my life standing on the street in front of my brother’s house, who by the way, never woke up through the whole incident. O.F. says, “I’m letting you off with a warning.”

“A warning of what? That small town cops are corrupt, bored, ignorant, unprofessional, wasting their time asserting their small-willy authority onto innocent college girls, while your local high school has the highest teen pregnancy rate in the state, and your sixth graders are huffing spray starch in the bathroom?”

I got in my car and waited for them to leave. None of them would leave. Shit. I still wanted to leave these gifts for my niece, but what if they find another reason to harass me? Fuck it.

I took the small sandwich bag that contained: Fools Gold from Missouri, tiny American Indian good luck dolls, a rock from the grand canyon, a Route 66 magnet, some kid jewelry, weird candy, and a homemade card with a pink bunny drawn on the front and the inside reading, “Hoppy Easter to my favorite niece! Love, Aunt Shawna.” I walked up to my brother’s front door and put the bag in his mailbox. They wouldn’t mess with my stuff would they? It’s illegal to tamper with people’s mail, right? And this is private property right?

I got in my car and left and one of the cops followed me on my tail all the way onto the highway until I was out of Boone County.

A few days went by and I hadn’t heard from my niece so I called her mom to inquire. “Did you guys get the presents I left in your mailbox Sunday?”

“No, what presents?”

“I left some toys and an Easter card in your mailbox late Sunday night.”

“Are you sure? Because I remember I checked the mail on Monday before the mailman had come and there was nothing in there. Besides, we know our mailman personally and he wouldn’t take anything out of there.”

I told my brother the whole story and he flew off the handle.

“Why didn’t you come get me?? We know all of the Belvidere cops, god, all you had to do was say [wife’s maiden name] and they know who we are! Her family has lived here for generations and everyone in this town knows the [Last name]’s! Was it Bob? Was it Jim? What were their names? The red-haired K-9 handler? That was JIM, HELLLO he was at our wedding, don’t you remember?? I would have gone out there and told them that you are my sister and they would have left you alone. You should have woken me up!”

“Yeah. Well. The pigs WOULDN’T LET ME and there were no large rocks lying around that I could throw through your bedroom window while I was bent over the trunk of my car.

“You need to move away from here, how can you live in this Deliverance town? I don’t want my niece raised here. I don’t want my niece going to their schools.”

(long pause)

“Did you really tell them that you’d rather have a dog in your car than a pig?”

“Yeah.”

“…My little sister is FUCKING AWESOME.”

Previous - Next

The Latest Babel

The Fast, Days 1-6
January 28, 2007