As I write these words, my mind is on my brothers, nephews, and cousins, all in the workforce, some even serving in the military. They can simply step into their cars to go somewhere and, like the old folks say, “wake up dead”!  

I acknowledge that my situation could have been graver, as they were seeking a valid reason. Thankfully, I managed to make it to the back of a police car, a feat that some people never made it!

Back in 2009, I was on a journey with one of my spiritual brothers. Our destination was Concord, NC, to retrieve his car, which had been in repair since a prior accident several months earlier. To streamline the trip, I rented a car, making it easier to drop off the rental and return in a single vehicle. As we made progress on I-85, roughly halfway to our destination, I became aware of a police vehicle trailing me. This continued for a good five miles or so. I refrained from mentioning this to my companion and maintained my speed, occasionally glancing at the rearview mirror.

Soon, the police car pulled alongside me in the left lane. It was at this point that my brothers finally noticed and began observing. I kept my focus ahead while keeping the police car within my peripheral vision. Up ahead, another police car had pulled over another motorist. Aware of the procedure to slow down and switch lanes to pass safely, I found myself unable to change lanes due to the police car beside me. Thus, I decelerated and passed the stopped vehicle as per protocol. Following this, you know who got behind me and pulled me over.

As I tried to make sense of the situation, the officer approached the passenger side of the car and asked my companion and me about our destination and purpose. Eventually, he requested my identification and registration, which I promptly handed over. He took these documents, retreated to his vehicle, and later returned, instructing me to step out of the car. I complied without protest. Much like many Black households across America, my mother and I had already had “the talk,” recognizing that even a seemingly innocent question like “What did I do?” could be misconstrued as resisting arrest. A disheartening reality, yet undeniably true.

The officer led me to his police cruiser and placed me in the back seat, offering no explanations, failing to read me my Miranda rights, or informing me that I was being arrested. He then returned to the car, as I would later discover, to interrogate my brothers in the passenger seat about the car’s origin, destination, and other details. My brothers divulged everything: our purpose in retrieving his car, our plan to rent a vehicle, and even the hotel we intended to stay at. After a brief time, the officer returned to the police cruiser and asked me questions, such as the name of the hotel we were heading to, all in an attempt to corroborate our stories.

Although I was aware I didn’t have to answer these questions, I chose to do so. The officer then had me exit the police cruiser and explained that I had been pulled over for violating the “Move Over” law, which requires motorists to change lanes and provide sufficient clearance to law enforcement officers on the roadside. I was familiar with the law; however, the police car beside me kept me from changing lanes. Despite this, I refrained from raising any objections and simply replied, “Yes, sir.” He returned my identification and told me to go back to my car. I received no warning, citation, or any form of documentation—just permission to continue on my way.

As I drove away, my mind was consumed by thoughts of what could have transpired. Who would have received a dreaded phone call bearing unthinkable news? A situation pitting my word against theirs, and if any harm befell the rental car, I would find myself liable for a new vehicle, amusingly enough.

My brothers and I scarcely discussed the events of that day. Honestly, I doubted whether he fully comprehended the situation at hand or if he was aware of the profiling occurring. Perhaps he did grasp the reality but chose to remain silent. Regardless, this incident has remained lodged in the recesses of my mind—not out of fear, but out of heightened awareness. It’s a thought that accompanies us every time we step into our vehicles.

Had the officer’s stated reason for stopping me been genuine, a simple warning would have sufficed.