I snapped another picture. The cops noticed this time. One of them strode directly over to me.From here, via skdadl at pogge.
“You can’t take pictures of this,” he said. His tone was aggressive.
I slid my camera back into its case.
“Okay,” I replied.
“Erase it,” he ordered me.
“I said ‘Erase it’!” he said, “I work undercover and I don’t want my picture anywhere.”
I really didn’t want to erase my picture. Not unless I had to. Besides, if he’s so concerned about keeping his undercover identity secret, he shouldn’t walk around in a police uniform.
“Do I have to?” I asked.
“I told you, I don’t want my picture anywhere.”
“Is it the law?” I asked.
“I asked you nicely,” he said, but he didn’t say it very nicely. It sounded threatening to me.
“Is it the law?” I repeated.
“I asked you nicely,” he said menacingly as he stared down at me, “Are you refusing?”
I looked at him. Maybe if we were in a dark alley with no witnesses, I would have deleted it. But here? In broad daylight, surrounded by witnesses, with a tiny, bleeding, unconscious, handcuffed woman lying on the street? He was probably in enough trouble already.
“Yes,” I said, “I’m refusing.”
“Real nice,” he said in disgust, “Thanks a lot.”
And he turned around and started to walk back to the knot of officers and the unconscious handcuffed woman.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Some folks don't like getting their pictures taken...
... like cops, for instance: