highly humiliating ways in which you were handled by a police

What are some highly humiliating ways in which you were handled by a police?


I’m going anonymous here because I hate this story,  it’s embarrassing as hell.

So back in 1999, I was in my early 20s. I was working full time, attending college full time. I lived with my then-husband and my eldest brother, both of whom stayed home during the day, taking care of my son and my house. And, apparently, hustling dope.

So I came home from work early one day to study for a big exam the next morning. About 10 minutes after I get there, the police show up. They don’t have a warrant, but they know more than I do about what’s been going on there, they’re looking for things that will allow them to get their warrant. A little chaos ensued,  and we ended up sitting in the house ‘secured for warrant’. Basically, everyone in the house (about half a dozen friends, plus us) had to sit on the couch and wait, while uniformed officers babysat us, all of us waiting for the warrant to come through. This went on for hours.

Remember, I’d just gotten home from work. I was still wearing a suit (the kind with a pencil skirt), hadn’t been to the restroom. I really had to pee. Here comes the bad part.

Before coming in, the officers had killed power and water to the house. This was Phoenix AZ, it was HOT. A well-meaning officer handed around some gatorade, we sucked it down thirstily. The pressure on my bladder increased. I asked to use the bathroom, but there was no female officer there, so that was a “no”.

Time passed. The young uniformed officer who was supervising us called again and again for a female officer to stop by, so I could pee. I’m guessing because my brother hassled the police when they arrived, no female officer ever appeared.

After 3 or 4 hours having to go, drinking gatorade to try and combat the heat, my bladder was gonna let go. I knew it, I needed to save my suit. I shimmied out of my panty hose, I was actually in tears, appealing to the officer to please let me leave the room. The answer was no.

Desperate, I picked up a toy bucket. Up the skirt it went, while I tried to be as discreet as possible while urinating in the same room with my husband, brother, a few male friends, and now all of the sudden, several male officers. I failed badly. I went all over myself, ruined my suit, and probably turned actually purple as all these men laughed. All but my husband and the original officer. Husband got quiet, officer was obviously mortified, looked like he might cry.

Once I’d had the “accident”, I said the hell with it, I wasn’t sitting there in my ruined skirt. I took it off in front if everyone while my husband whipped a baby blanket over me. And then, since I still wasn’t allowed to leave the room, the original officer asked me where he’d find a towel and a pair of shorts.

My husband stayed quiet but obviously angry; the crowd of male officers were kinda wound up though. They made a lot of inappropriate comments, and eventually my husband smarted off. He never made a physical move at all, just called them all indecent perverts. They took him outside and beat him up.

So in 1999, I went to jail in half a suit and a pair of shorts, reeking of pee. My husband went too, with blood running down his face and plenty of lumps.

After we were gone, these guys searched my house so thoroughly. They went as far as cutting open mattresses, emptying pillows, dropping glassware. When I was released, I couldn’t even walk in my house. Everything I owned was destroyed, knee deep mess all through the house.

I have to say, this was a very singular experience. I’ve dealt with police, both as an alleged criminal and as a victim, plenty of times since; I’ve never had anything like that kind of experience again. I’m a small, neat, quiet white woman, not intimidating or provoking.


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