I was arrested for running from the cops once. This is for you liberal-atheist.
Intro: Alright, so yesterday I posted a story about a situation where a biker I encountered on the road popped a wheelie at the request of an unmarked police officer who then pulled him over. In Florida, where I live, the laws for that kind of thing comes with very, very punitive punishments. Several people commented on how such laws might encourage some bikers to run from the police. I mentioned in a few replies that I had in fact run from the police many times and had gotten caught the last time. Some of you wanted to know the story so here it is. Feel free to ask any questions about it; I have nothing to hide.
Story: First I’ll state that I learned to ride on a GSXR 750. It was my first bike and I got comfortable with its size and power pretty quickly. I had just moved to Orlando and knew literally no one. The first person I met was another biker in the MSF course and he and I started riding together and hanging out regularly. He was bit of a fuck up and he introduced me to the concept of running from the cops on the highway. We used to run the tolls on the highways here and the way we would avoid the cameras was to pop a wheelie while going through the tolls so our plates were facing down to the ground. Occasionally a cop might see this and we’d just book it. It became so routine that I almost forgot how totally illegal it is. Also, as a new rider with little exposure to the rest of the community I had little understanding of how my actions made the rest of the biking community look.
Now, we usually stuck to running from the cops just on the highways. For obvious reasons it is a terrible idea to run from the cops on local roads with traffic lights, homes, and lots of side streets for people to turn off of. The night I got caught I ran on a local road near the University of Central Florida. Earlier that day I had been at a pool party with some of my richer friends who I planned to meet later that night. We had some drugs, I wont say which but they were the kind rich people do. I left with some of the drugs – quite a lot actually – and went about running errands for the rest of the evening. I had dinner with some other friends and we went out for drinks near the University.
When we left the bar I was a little drunk and stupidly decided to get on the bike. While riding home a UCF police officer rolled up behind me. I didn’t think anything of it. My tags were in order, I had never been in trouble before, and so far on this ride I hadn’t been speeding. But for some reason, I never found out why, he flipped his lights on. Immediately I remembered the drugs. I am drunk and I have enough drugs in my backpack to get in some very, very serious trouble. I knew that if I stopped I would definitely be arrested for a DUI upon which the officer would discover the drugs. I was terrified and made the split second decision to run. I was about a quarter mile from the next light, which was green. I lived very near to that light and went through it every day. I knew it never stayed green for long so I dropped down a gear and rolled back on the throttle. I pulled away from the cop very quickly and made it through the light as it turned red. He slowed down for the light and continued after me. As I approached the next major road another officer pulled out from a dentist’s office and followed. I was able to make it onto the nearest highway where I reached speeds I had never done before.
Very soon there was no one behind me. I got off near downtown Orlando where I ditched my backpack at a friend’s house. I then proceeded to go to another friend’s house where I was originally headed. Now, I figured the cop had gotten my tags. He was right behind me. I knew I hadn’t really gotten away. That was probably a major factor in why it was so easy that particular night to get away. The trouble here was that my bike was registered at my father’s house who I had been living with when I first moved to Orlando. He called at about 4 am to tell me the police were at the house looking for me. I spoke to them on the phone and made arrangements to meet them at their station. I left my bike in a friend’s garage and got a ride down there.
The officer I met was the one who first attempted to pull me over. He was my age, 25, but looked younger. He was very cool. When I arrived he and his commanding officer looked surprised to see me. The commanding officer said that he didn’t think I’d show. Apparently they had a friendly bet between the two of them and the result was I was somehow the winner. By showing up the decided to only charge me with something called ‘flee to elude’ and not all the other things he witnessed: reckless driving, excessive speed, running a red light. They didn’t even notify the Orange County Sheriff’s office, who was the other officer I ran from.
Ultimately, I spent the weekend in jail. I lost my license for 1 year. I had 1 year of probation (which was the worst part if you ask me). And I had to complete 25 hours of community service. This was originally 50 hours but I spoke to the prosecutor myself about what a hardship it would be to complete 50 hours when I had no transportation living in Central Florida. She agreed and reduced it to 25. The cops that night, my lawyer, the judge, people at the jail, my family, and some of my friends all asked why I ran. I always just said I was scared. Only my girlfriend and one other friend knew why. I had never been in trouble before and frankly I was very embarrassed and ashamed.
So that’s the story. Any questions?
EDIT: FUN FACT: Today is Friday the 13th. This occurred on Friday the 13th in August of 2010. Though technically by time I had my run in with the police it was just after midnight so it had become the 14th.
EDIT2: For the record: 'flee to elude' is a 3rd degree felony in Florida. Because I completed my probation without incident the case was treated as non-adjudicated and so I can say I was not convicted of a felony. However, if I am every asked if I have been charged with a felony I have to say yes. It is nice being able to vote still and have the right to own a gun (I dont want a gun).
