| Who'll account for those cops big mouths; who's responsible for our press repeating lies instead of reporting facts; how do White folks stop this irresistible inclination, and how do Brown folks avoid our consequent bitterness? |
| White women and Brown boys: The Jennifer Wilbanks story |
| By Ronault 'Polo' Catalani |
| One count of lying to an earnest cop, and one count of making up a stupid police report. That’s what Jennifer Wilbanks got last week. The charges were filed against Georgia's darling "runaway bride" by Gwinnett County District Attorney Danny Porter, according to Daniel Yee of the Associated Press. She wasn't actually prosecuted or adjudicated. But if she had been, a grumpy judge could've slapped Jennifer with a max of six years in the slammer for it all. For all those cops' wasted time, for all that TV news coverage, for all the dopes like me glued to our Mitsubishi big screens during her three-day disappearance. Anyway, she said she was sorry. Jennifer's excellent adventure According to CNN, Ms. Wilbanks was well into her regular evening jog when she was suddenly overcome by an understandable case of cold feet about her lavish 600-guest wedding the very next day. So she bolted. Well, no; factually, she bussed. She hopped a cross-country Greyhound to Las Vegas. Normal. Guys do it all the time. Nip on over to Sin City for some last-minute monkey business. Before tying the knot, so to speak. Typical. But then Jennifer jumped aboard another bus, this one bound for Albuquerque, N. M. There she checked into another motel, so goes her story, and was wandering around, wondering what to do next. That's when she used a 7-Eleven pay phone to call John. That's the guy anxiously waiting back home. At the altar.    John said, "I was crying, I was laughing," which is understandable too, poor tolol. "I was trying to stay calm,”"John went on to say, I talk to her, to keep her calm." Just like what you'd expect from a good man, John kept her on the horn so the cops could trace her location -- like they do on all good cop shows.   CNN then reported that according to the police, Jennifer said that she didn't really know where on earth she actually was. Which is what you'd say if you suddenly surfaced like a rudderless submarine 1,000 miles from home. Sure, anybody would. The news also said cops said that she said that the bad kidnapper, without a word of explanation, cut her hair short just before he cut her loose. In a well-lit 7-Eleven parking lot.    Jennifer said he was Hispanic. Her abductor. Of course she did. And he assaulted her sexually. Of course he would. Now those cops, because they're good cops, did not feel so good about Jennifer's story. Most distressed, just-freed victims dial 911. Immediately. Dopey boy friends do not get first calls. Nunca. And not a lot of sexnappers do their captive's hair and then drop them off at 7-Eleven phone booths.  In the end, it was Jennifer facing the heat. Cops don't like it, lying to them. Those natty news guys and their pretty late- night anchor girls all felt a bit used, too. But by week's end, everyone was pretty OK by it. Everybody went on to bigger crimes, better stories, bulkier defendants. In America, things move on. White folks forget. Tentu.    In America, Brown folks don't forget. America won't let you.  Nickelodeon's ugly shooting Almost 25 years ago, Silverton, Colo.'s, newspaper, The Appeal Tribune, reported that eager cops said that a distressed husband said that his mortally wounded wife said "Mexicans "! one slim moment before she fell into a dark, dark coma. The tragic couple had recently come from California to try small town life. They remodeled a cozy Silverton café and called it The Nickelodeon. He bought a big life- insurance policy. I drove down there Saturday mornings to buy a paper and downtown's only good cup of coffee. Strong stuff. I heard the creak-creaking of thick leather gun belts and the unmistakable unsnap-snapping of side- arm straps. When I swiveled left on my barstool, three cops -- one old, two young, all large -- loomed over me. They asked me to come to the station. I thanked them for the invitation but said no. I had just started law school and sincerely believed in the U.S. Constitution. Besides, I was not Mexican. With all respect due mis hermanos, I still am not today. Of course, the whole thing unraveled when Mrs. Nickelodeon woke up from her coma. The paper then said that the police said that she had said nothing about no Mexicans. But she had a lot to say about her husband. And, so the story goes, not long after that the cops got theirs, the court got him, he got prison, and everyone got to go on with their American lives. Almost everyone. Naturally, none of us "Mexicans" caught up in Mrs. Nickelodeon's shooting went on with our lives, like normal. In fact, I'll bet 50 bucks that every one of us -- some of us actually from Mother Mexico, some of us born no more than 50 miles away, and the rest of us basically Brown boys from other parts of our precious blue planet -- has retold this stupid story around an elder auntie's kitchen table at least once. I'll bet you another 50 that at least one crazy cousin from each of those fellas' family get-togethers has told at least one other angry Brown boy already simmering from something, another thing, just like our Nickelodeon story. Just like our Runaway Bride story. Just like the Carol Stuart (pregnant wife shot) story. Just like the Susan Smith (baby boys stolen and drowned) story.  For her cold feet, Jennifer Wilbanks got probation. For shooting their wives, those ugly husbands got theirs. For drowning her pretty babies, Mrs. Smith will sorrow eternally. Fine. But who'll account for those cops' big mouths; who's responsible for our press repeating lies instead of reporting facts; how do White folks stop this irresistible inclination, and how do Brown folks avoid our consequent bitterness?   The AsianWiz's Expanding American lexicon DA: District Attorney, also called the county prosecutor. In America, each county elects its own chief law-enforcement official to ensure the DA's responsiveness to local culture. mis hermanos (Spanish): my brothers nunca (Spanish): never tentu (Bahasa): certainly; of course tolol (Indo patois): dope; woodenhead Nota: Albuquerque Police Report, Case No. 05-058776, the Runaway Bride's interracial ménageà trois sort-of sexual assault story is purportedly published at the Smoking gun.com website: www.thesmokinggun. com/archive/0513051wilbanks3.html Ronault "Polo" Catalani is a lawyer, writer, and activist. He is a law partner with Community Legal Services in Madison and specializes in immigration issues. He can be reached at commlegalserv@aol.com.                                                               |
