Finding Momentum

The police come knock­ing one day on Belinda’s father’s door, look­ing for Mike. “I get a call from Belinda’s daddy, say­ing, ‘hey Mike, the police out here look­ing for you. You bet­ter get your­self over there and explain your­self.’ I say, ‘I didn’t do nothing!’”

Mike and I are stand­ing in front of the food court again. He looks hag­gard as he relays his story.

“They got me on jay­walk­ing charges. You know those cam­eras they put up on inter­sec­tions to catch red light run­ners? Two years ago they caught me jay­walk­ing at 3AM across an empty inter­sec­tion, no cars on either side. The other jay­walk­ing charges they say they have on me they don’t even have evi­dence for! Can you believe it?!”

Mike walked into the police sta­tion to see what the fuss was all about. They told him that he’d have to pay a $400 fine, or do 40 hours of com­mu­nity ser­vice. Incredible.

“Look, man,” Mike is weary. “They’re look­ing to get me on any­thing they can. First it’s for sit­tin’ on a milk crate, or play­ing my boom­box, and now this. You know what?” Mike low­ers his voice. “They’re doing a crack­down. They’re just try­ing to clean up, clean this place up before the holidays.”

Every semes­ter, the Berke­ley Police rounds up the home­less in Berke­ley and shuf­fles them out before par­ents pick­ing up their stu­dents can see them. It’s just how it works.

“I got a place, this church, where I know I can do my hours. But man! I can’t believe this. And my birthday’s com­ing up on the 23rd, right before Christ­mas. Hah!”