At the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time

At around 9 PM this past Friday, May 21st, I bumped into a friend of mine on 23rd and G street as I was on my way to my mother’s house.  He told me that he was waiting on another friend of his to go to the club on 11th and 4th street and he asked me if I wanted to come along with them.  I thought it was a good idea so I said yes.

When that other friend got there we went to 25th to take a piss and we got into the parking lot.  There were two officials from the Ministry of the Interior dressed in civilian clothing just a few feet from us.  We got out of the place and we crossed to the sidewalk across the street.

While we waited for the bus my friend and I started to exchange music on our cell phones.  Suddenly, these two officials approached us and showed us their IDs, confirming that they were agents of State Security.  Meanwhile, other cops dressed as civilians began surrounding us.  They then started grabbing us, they were looking for drugs.  Neither my friend or I had any of that, however, they did find pills on the other guy.  “Positive!” they screamed, as they handcuffed the three of us and sent us to the station on Zapata and C.  We were there for 24 hours in between various interrogations.

The guy with the pills said he was sick and made it clear that we didn’t know he had that stuff with him.  They took me out of the station and took me to my house to get checked.  They took over my laptop and transferred me over to another unit.  The next day was full of more interrogations, more questions.  The friend of my friend was taken to 100th and Aldabo, while my friend and I had to pay a fine of 1,500 pesos while we waited on a supposed trial.

This is my story.  And it is also the story of many of the young people who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.  I can only wait to see what will happen with us.  I haven’t done anything, my conscience is clean, but my reason is keeping me alert.

Translated by Raul G.

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