FOR THE SAKE OF TOTAL TRANSPARENCY: Don’t assume I’m still in court. It was officially stated that this criminal case was closed in 2019. This reading material is provided for educational research purposes. Right now, nobody is conducting a judicial inquiry into me. None of this is ever documented by the police, by lawyers, or by prosecutors. Everything has come to an end and is complete. I wasn’t even imprisoned in a jail cell.
To Judge Daniel Brown,
My name is Da’Shawn Marques Owens, and I’m from Saint Louis, Missouri. 26 years of age. Because of the police violence that occurred on November 2nd, 2018, I’m providing you with my side of the story. According to an eyewitness, my complaint may NOT be the same as that of two racist policemen who’ve written me up in the computer database, including my mother, Mrs. Poe, according to the EMT Worker. I get a strange sense that they do not have the same political views that I do.
You first learned about my former residence with my mother, Mrs.Kimrala Poe, on November 2, 2018. She first moved to the first floor of the house. Da’Shawn Marques Owens always fell asleep in the basement of this house. I rented a room at 1904 Driftway Drive in Hanley Hills for $300 a month. This house doesn’t belong to me, and it also doesn’t belong to Mrs. Poe. In 2018, we were both payers and renters of Mrs. Taylor’s house. Satifya Taylor and her husband own this house.
Unfortunately, I don’t even remember her husband’s name at the time. I know the mother of Mrs. Taylor through my former Deaf classmate, Lequisha Joseph, with whom I used to make friends. Mrs. Kimrala Poe has known Denise Taylor since 2004. Satifya Taylor is the aunt of Lequisha Joseph. I’m familiar with Lequisha, her aunt, and her grandmother. Because Lequisha and I are both Deaf, we have experienced hearing loss in our ears. We communicate through American Sign Language, and we both attended the Missouri School for the Deaf. Satifya and her husband are both parents of two boys. If I’m not mistaken, they have two boys instead of three. They’ve moved out of the residence at 1904 Driftway Drive and had moved to Collinsville, Illinois. Apparently, Satifya has two houses in Collinsville and Hanley Hills that are two-state residences, from what I’ve heard. I think it was probably because of the radioactive wastes that had already contaminated the water and sewer systems under Earth’s soil in Bridgeton, Missouri. I believe they were forced to abandon Hanley Hills in December 2017. As a result, they decided to turn it into a rental property and became landlords to boost her income. My mother, Kimrala Poe, had, on the other hand, voiced her concern that Mrs. Taylor appeared immoral in her attempts to mistreat tenants. I’m NOT responsible for this. Instead, it was Mrs. Kimrala Poe’s problem, and only she’s mixed up in debts and paying the rent.
Thanks to my testimony, you now know who those tenants are.
The incident occurred on November 2, 2018, as per the Hanley Hills police report. No matter how different we were, Mrs. Kimrala Poe and I were having trouble getting along. When we lived at 1904 Driftway Drive, we had many disagreements that quickly escalated into physical abuse against each other, which was a toxic relationship. If you’re wondering why we’ve always argued that it ended up as domestic violence, consider this:
Mrs. Poe came home from work one Thursday evening in October 2018 and told me, “I have terrible news to share with you.” That was the beginning of the end of October 2018.
Shawn: “Can you tell me what this is about?”
Sadly, my mother informed me that she would stop paying the rent in November 2018 because Mrs. Taylor has demanded she pay $1,000 in the coming weeks. Mrs. Poe was dissatisfied with the cost of the rent and claimed that nobody could afford it. Thanks to Mrs. Taylor is unemployed in Collinsville, Illinois, my mother called her a “greedy-ass woman” who exploits her earnings from two sources of employment intending to gain personal benefits. Mrs. Poe was very dissatisfied since she only had two jobs as a security officer for the Downtown Saint Louis in the United States Postal Service building and working at a Downtown bank on the night shift. Mrs. Taylor shouldn’t be exploiting $1,000 in rent from two sources of income just because she needs money for her family or anything else that she has stupidly wasted her money on.
Normally, Mrs. Poe and I paid $700 for the first day of each month. Mrs. Poe and Mrs. Taylor verbally yell at each other over the phone, exactly the argument that ultimately reaches the point to notify tenants to move out within three months. Emotionally distraught, Mrs. Poe had to share “bad news” with me, but at the same time, she was lying right to my face, saying she’ll get us a new apartment together.
On the second day of November 2018, somehow, Mrs. Poe changed her mind unexpectedly. She was a very different woman on that day. I hated it when she changed her mind out of the blue. Now she says she won’t help me find a new place to live, saying,“You’d have to do it yourself.” I completely disagree with her that the argument suddenly turned us into a very loud altercation. We both yelled at one another in the wake of moving out. I already told her I’m not really surprised that she doesn’t want me to live with her in the new apartment; I knew she gonna lie anyway. Nothing that she says shocks me. It’s unsurprising, really. I got upset because she doesn’t care if I ended up being homeless.
Just to clarify, I don’t always live with Mrs. Poe.
In the year 2017, I lived alone on my own. I had my own apartment at that time. I used to stay in my previous address at 4164 Folsom Ave Unit E (nearby Vandeventer Road & Tower Grove Avenue), and Folsom Avenue is across from Klemm Road. My apartment is about one mile behind Saint Louis University hospitals and centers, a bit far away from 39th Street. I have lived in that area for the last 5 years since August 2013. I managed to pay bills without my mother’s assistance, but I couldn’t afford other bills I was being owed to. Efthim Realty used to be my landlord agency for about half-two years. In 2015, my next-door tenants complained so much about Efthim that led to another new location, referred to as DECA COMPANY REALTY, became my landlord agency.
DECA and I rarely get along. We argued both in emails and on the phone. I used a video-relay service, Sorenson NTouch, to communicate with non-disabled people via sign language interpreters. They are the money-grabbing greedy people I ever met in my twenties. Similarly noted, Mrs. Satifya Taylor is being financially greedy with Mrs.Poe. DECA and I argued over the basement that they won’t let me have it to use laundry machines. So, I chose to move out of Folsom Avenue to live with my mother in Hanley Hills.
After a couple of weeks at that address in January 2018, Kim and I immediately stopped getting along when we moved in together. We fought verbally, physically and blamed each other for minor problems that could have been solved rather than escalating further.
MRS. POE FIGHTS ME OVER DURAND DOTSON
Mrs. Poe has another serious problem, she doesn’t have excellent taste in men. One of her ex-boyfriends was bisexual. She doesn’t trust me because of my sexuality. She said she’d get mad at me if I planned to have sex with Durand Dotson. I would never do this to hurt my mom, but I laughed at her because she was foolishly gullible. Whenever I smile or laugh because she’s delusional. She assumed that my smiles were destined to hurt her that I planned to make love with Durand behind her back. It’s not true. I never had sex with Mr. Dotson. I never did. She already knows I’m gay and hasn’t believed me since the day Durand came to help move her personal items to 1904 Driftway Drive. He looked at me oddly, I didn’t know why he looked at me like that, but I didn’t realize that was what made my mother suspecting about me. She actually believed I would do that to hurt her. She says Mr. Dotson has had an attraction for me, but he was known for being a womanizer and promiscuously fornicating with everyone, whoever he sees as fit. I have known him since I was five years old. He never seemed like a fatherly figure to me, yet now I’m the grown-up adult in my late twenties, which is why my mother’s paranoid. She says Durand wants to add me to one of his sexual partners on his bucket list because I’m an adult now. I doubted her at that time. She also said that she had already threatened him that it was the last straw she would have on him. She reminds him, “He’s my son!” She wouldn’t allow a man to disrespect her personal boundaries. Mr. Dotson doesn’t have a proper sense of personal boundary issues. She said she would disown me if it happened to intend to hurt her. Yet she has no proof because Durand doesn’t live with us. He had sex with her as per his schedule, not with me. I never liked him. He ain’t my type. I know my type better than her.
I never saw Mr. Dotson again since December 2017. Kim emotionally accused me of having sex with him because she says she saw early signs of my bizarre behavior of grinning, smiling, giggling, and walking funnily. Kim said she’d never seen me wear such strange clothes like that before, and saying, “You are now changed; I don’t recognize you anymore as my son. What the hell happened to you?”
My repeated efforts to correct Mrs. Poe were a very frustrating experience: “No, I haven’t. That’s the real me! I cut the long sleeves to make my sweaters look like tank tops. I cut jeans to made them look like summer shorts. That’s all there it is!”
“You are under Durand’s influence; he pimped you out!”
“No, never! I’m not under the influence of Mr. Dotson’s pimp lifestyle, you dumbass! I’m happy to have a taste for fashion. That’s how I expressed who I am through creatively cutting off jeans and sweaters!”
She called me a liar multiple times! So, I told her to buy surveillance equipment from the BEST BUY store to put the cameras anywhere in the house. She can see the evidence for herself when she returns home from her work. She said she had no time to gamble on who is right or wrong.
Mrs. Poe kept telling me, “I don’t want you asking me what time I come back home. Stop asking me that!”
Of course, I did ask her that.
“You have secret intentions and schemes to do something behind my back when I’m not at home. I knew you would get Durand into my house. I’m not stupid enough to tell you what time I go to work and what time to come back home. I knew when my stuff is missing, people steal things from my bedroom! I can tell!”
These delusional accusations she made are false and unproven. This isn’t the first time I’ve been accused by Kim of having sex with Durand. In her mind, Mr. Dotson and I exploited her because of her emotional vulnerability. In fact, Ms. Poe is hurting no one but herself; she is deluding herself without any evidence to support it. But she can’t see what she’s doing to herself. I mean, for the sake of her mental health.
That’s why Mrs. Poe physically ambushed me by GRABBING MY BUTTOCKS, TESTES, and PENIS. She fingers my anus violently without my consent, even saying, “Look at you, no wonder you’re bottom. You let him fuck you.”
“Actually, I’m versatile. I’m a two-way street. Both a top and a bottom.” Her toxic behavior also shows that she has an incredibly minimal comprehension and ignorance of effeminate men in sexual behavior. She only humiliated me of effeminacy and body language. She has neither chosen to be educated nor research on issues of gender identity and sexual orientation. She thinks she knows too much.
Every time she fingered me, all she did was humiliate me to the lowest point in my life. I got fed up with her delusions! Enough is enough! I exploded and physically assaulted Mrs.Poe as a result of mockery and sexual harassment.
I continued explaining to her in sign language: “I always check the mailbox from indoors at the front door. I do not see any harm in leaving it disclosed and ajar.”
She angrily yelled at me without the use of sign language: “Shut the mailbox now! Now!” Only referring me to my secret schemes that I waited for Mr. Dotson to use flashlights to get my attention through the mailbox attached to the house. Mrs.Poe thinks the MailBox Wall is a secret cue after she falls asleep or goes to work at late night.
While talking with Mrs. Poe in sign language, she moves away from me very quickly. I had to hurry to follow her into her bedroom.
Mrs. Poe angrily expressed in Pidgin Signed English: “I’m quittin’ helpin’ you! You need to do it on your own! Why don’t you ask Durand to help you find a new home? He’s the one fucking you! If you kept secrets from me the whole damn time, why don’t you ask your stupid boyfriend help you?! You can live with him now! That’s what I don’t understand about you fags! Why do fags visit you here when I am not around?”
My hands signed as I say: “You have no evidence since you refused to buy the CCTV equiment, it’s not my fault, it’s your fault! Quit twisting everything I say! You’re neurotic as fuck! Go get yourself a mental check, for real!”
Mrs. Poe talked back: “Get the fuck outta my room! I’m not crazy! Call me crazy one more time! I’ll kick your ass outta the house! You’ll be homeless in no time!”
I quickly blocked the room door where Mrs. Poe tried slamming it in front of me, and I told her: “You must help me get this goddamn apartment! Your oldest siblings (aunts and uncles) never communicate with me and have done nothing for me! You are all I have! Did I help move your belongings when you first moved here? Yes, I did! I’ve been so helpful to you, but you refuse me?! Stop talking about my sex life! I don’t want to talk about it no more! You got no proof! You don’t want to buy and set up the video surveillance! That ain’t my falut!”
Mrs. Poe finger my butt to humiliate me over and over again.
Her fingers still in my butt while mouthing closely to my face, so I read her lips: “Tell that to your fuckin’ boyfriend, now get off my door! Move!”
She locked the door loudly across from me. That’s it! I can’t take it anymore! I angrily kicked the door down with my shoe to the point where I broke it. Mrs.Poe opens her mouth in total shock, apparently stunned by the broken door. I pulled one of her breasts in my right hand, I squeezed it so hard. I had to do that to her because she offensively fingered me without my consent. I gave my mother a hard-headed lesson for violating my personal boundaries. Do not finger me, do not slap my buttocks, do not grab my crotch or anything down there!
I screamed at her in sign language: “I can make your life a living hell as long as you mistreat me! This time, I’ll break your tits if you don’t stop!”
Kept on twisting one of her breasts as long as Mrs. Poe screamed for help in her pain I’d caused.
“Now you see how I feel! Feel my pain, bitch! You traumatize me emotionally! But you traumatize me energetically, psychologically, and physically too! You still don’t have a clue how much you fucked me up!“
Actually, I started rambling off without coherent words in my deaf accent. I have a bizarre accent that nobody can understand me while talking incoherently. I can’t speak right. She looked at my facial expressions, as if I were a madman in her prespective. I knew she didn’t understand what I was saying. Not even in sign language. She barely could understand me at 15% or less, but I knew she couldn’t understand me when I started yelling at her in multiple rants. All she did was stare at me like I was insane. That’s all she does because she’s not deaf like me!
She had only seen a few snippets of what I was saying in sign language. Still, honestly, she has a habit of misinterpreting and misjudging everything I say to her due to communication barriers. She’s slow-witted, mentally challenged, dyslexic. She has trouble reading my hands, not even excessively splendid reading the facial expressions used by deaf people. She has already failed the ASL class at Florrisant Valley Community College, she never returns to study again. She falsely assumes that deaf people can read lips without being misunderstood, which is proven false.
I have read mouth movements (reading on lips) to 15 percent or lower than that. However, I still have my limitations of communication skills. Don’t expect me to read every single word coming off your lips. That’s not how it works in my cerebrum. Trust me, very few deaf people can easily lip-read everything, but not that many can do that. I repeat, not that many! I found this society so problematic when everyone thinks we have superpowers, which is a form of misconception that negatively affects the daily lives of deaf people. Lip-reading is a massive dedication of many hours. It requires lots of effort and self-motivation. It is not cute as you think or piece-of-cake. My eyes are not well-trained to perceive the multiple shapes of mouth movements, making my eyes sore really bad. My visual perception isn’t doing great these days. What if I’m going to be blinded in 30 years or more? What if I can’t read lips anymore? That won’t last forever.
HOW MRS. POE CALLED COPS ON ME
A few minutes later, Mrs. Poe successfully prevented me from gaining control of her feminine chest in my right hand. Of course, she was in emotional turmoil at the time of the incident while yelling at me in sign language, “Go away! Leave me alone! I’ll help you get a new apartment! I’ll do it!”
“Great! I’m going down to the basement to use my laptop; looking for apartments online, starting now!”
Mrs. Poe couldn’t even wait for me to leave her alone, slamming the door so loudly tight, locking it from the inside. Sure, I didn’t hear the noise of slamming doors behind me due to my hearing loss. I wasn’t really concentrating on what she was going to do next as I thought she was quietly crying in bed as I went down into my basement.
I opened up the laptop in my basement room. I started Googling the apartment names under the search engines for as long as I could look for. I already knew that my social security benefits do not exceed $200. Still, the last time I lived alone in my apartment on Folsom Avenue, the $375 rent was usually paid through DECA REALTY COMPANY. While looking at my laptop screen, I realized that nearly all the apartments in Saint Louis are costly and up above $375. I kept trying to find rent under $600 and less.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to write down the list of names I want to live in because my searches only take 10 minutes or 15 until two cops show up in my basement. I didn’t finish exploring online when the cops showed up unannounced and without my invitation. I never even expected to see them enter my room. It was so surrealistic and unrealistic that the cops are already here in my room. I thought I was hallucinating when I saw the cops. I never realized I had two white cops standing across from me!
I never thought that she would call the cops on me intentionally. Obviously, she wasn’t joking by bringing ’em here to protect her from me. She didn’t feel safe around me, but at the same time, I feel neither safe nor comfortable when she decided to finger me. Two white cops quietly walk toward me in the opposite direction on my right side, only to see Mrs. Poe hiding behind them while being paranoid and afraid of me.
Wow! Well-played! You’re playing the victim card on me! That’s really low of you!
Two white policemen stopped within a few inches apart of me in front of my bed, the TV, and the white table. I gave Mrs. Poe my confused reactions of anger and disgust, and of course, she knew how I felt about the police! That was like a slap in the face!
Two police officers have the nerves to ask Mrs.Poe to become my personal interpreter, but I NEVER ask her to interpret for me. I don’t trust her. She unwillingly used sign language to let me know that the cops mandated me to go to DePaul Hospital immediately.
“You are not going to jail. You are not under arrest at the moment, but you must go to DePaul Hospital now.” That’s what her hands say in Pidgin Signed English.
The policeman wrote a small piece of paper as I was reading it. I shook my head in extreme disagreement, asked them why, what’s going on, and why I need to go to a hospital? One of the cops, if I remember correctly, tried to make me look at his lips by speaking these words a bit fast, but at a regular rhythm: “Did you forcibly grab your mother’s breasts after you broke down the door with one of your shoes?” That was the point when I was reading his lips briefly. He also made small gestures toward the middle of his chest, referring to Mrs. Poe’s breasts.
I gave two white men my dirty looks since I’m not a great fan of police brutality due to the serial events of the Black Lives Matter movement. I have seen countless videos of police violence on YouTube and Facebook since August 2014. I began to worry about my safety due to a potential threat to life by the cops. I decided it was time for me to cut to the chase and lie to them. Hopefully, they’ll realize it’s a waste of time.
One of the cops asked me, “Is this true?”
I shook my head and told them, NO, I shook my head and told them NO, but it doesn’t matter if they believed me because they could have been racial sadists! Who knows? I don’t know them well enough, I mean, given their history of dealing with civilians. They may be both supremacist and sadistic at the same time.
As soon as Ms. Poe saw my “NO” reply in sign language, her face got so red furiously; all of a sudden, stop interpreting for me. She refused to translate my signed words in her voice to tell the cops, no matter how much I lied. She disagreed with my statement, so she avoided repeating what my hands told her because it was a very emotional release in the heat of the moment. My “NO” reply really triggered her. She seethingly scolded me for lying: “Yes, you did! You fucked up my boobs! You called me a bitch!”
“You called me a motherfucker! You called me a little shit! You called me a faggot! You fingered my asshole! You grabbed my dick without my permission! I broke your boobs because you hurt me first! You accuse me of sleeping with your ex!”
Two cops watched as Mrs.Poe and I angrily yell at each other and obviously don’t know what I said in sign language. They turned their heads to my mother for more clarification; my biggest frustration was how she decided to translate my sign language into her own way, not mine! It was taken out of the context! She simply lied right to their faces! She didn’t want them to know about her ex-boyfriend, Durand Dotson, so she left him off the record. She never mentioned his name in front of two cops, not once. She realized I was telling the truth and decided against sharing it with two police officers.
What Mrs. Poe wants two cops to remember what she told them:
- Groping her breasts violently
2. Calling her BITCH
3. Kicking the door down with one strong leg/shoe
That was it. That was all the cops heard from her, not from me.
What I want 2 COPS to know:
- Mrs. Poe accused me of having sex with her ex-boyfriend, Durand Dotson
- fingering my rectum, slapping my buttocks, and grabbing my crotch
- Calling me FAGGOT
- Accusing me of secret plans behind her back when she’s at work or not at home
- Lying to me about helping me to get a new apartment
I was incredibly frustrated trying to read her lips as she complained to the police, but to no avail. I had to find a crumpled piece of paper on the white table behind me, writing as fast as I could, but my handwriting was messy. I don’t have enough time to write complete sentences while showing the paper to two cops that she’s a liar. I told them she fingered my rectum and slapped my butt. They have read what I have written; they do not seem interested in what I said on the messy paper! They think that she is really a victim instead of me. They think I played on them!
Two cops believed her blindly because of her privileged status within ableist attitudes! Just so you understand, I understood if she wanted to fight for her rights as a woman. However, it doesn’t make her innocent enough when she fingers my anus. Sexual harassment is not the best approach if you call cops on me!
I don’t entirely trust the able-bodied people who always called the cops on me, and now the cops have been trying to investigate me. By the time the cops are already in my basement, I knew that Mrs. Poe didn’t want to incriminate herself but wanted me to admit my wrongdoing. She was too busy protecting her reputation as a victim against her own child. I also tried to convince two cops that she wasn’t as innocent as they thought she was.
Mrs. Kimrala Poe is not as deaf as I am; she can hear and speak as police officers do daily. They can readily communicate or exchange words with her, but not with me! People who can talk are 10 times faster than deaf people who have speech problems. Talking with your voice is 10 times faster than writing on paper when it comes to police officers! That’s why I accused her of being “Hearing Privileged.” That “speech” privilege is directly intended for people who can hear and speak. In contrast, others do not have the same accessibility as Mrs. Poe. I always will be an audiological problem in terms of police officers, period.
I felt helpless and underprivileged when I knew they would shut me down whenever possible because of my speech problems. I could not speak coherently with my deaf accent. Law enforcement officers always presume the worst for persons with disabilities!
It is not the first time that this happened, it will not be the last time that this happens, and it will go on again in the years to come!
I hurriedly wrote down another paper torn from the white table as two cops read: “I don’t take the blame for her so she can feel better about herself! She is to blame, as I am! You should blame us both! Why is she allowed to sexually harass me when you plan to arrest me if I have revenge on her? Isn’t it ’cause I’m a man, huh?” Unfortunately, at that time, I did not precisely write what I just told them in the paper as I would have liked, but I think I made myself clear, and I hope I did.
Two police officers became extraordinarily bored and impatient because they did NOT want to read everything I wrote.
“You can’t force me to go to Depaul hospital for nothing! You got no warrant!”
They laughed at me like a fool and said these words without writing, “No, your mom’s got the right to call the cops, so we came here to investigate this crap.” I haven’t read their lips correctly, but that was my interpretation at best.
I remember writing angrily: “Look at her! Frisk her body! She’s got no wounds, no scratches, no cuts. I don’t see any blood on her!”
They said nothing about searching her body; they probably don’t care whether she has bruises or not. They want me to shut up and kidnap me to the emergency room immediately. I still refused to follow the instructions and comply since I strongly disagreed.
HOW I GOT ESCALATED
Then the four of us (2 cops, Mrs.Poe, and including me) were met by another person. Actually, the blonde woman dressed in a paramedic uniform slowly walked into my room. I didn’t know she heard everything Mrs.Poe and I argued loudly. Somehow, I guess she was eavesdropping and picking up a few things along the way. EMT Woman first spoke to Mrs.Poe and asked her to interpret so that I could listen to this white woman in Pidgin Signed English. Frustratedly, I shook my head, demanding that she stop signing in front of me. I knew that Ms. Poe would only aggravate the situation, but her hands kept on signing as I asked her not to! She did it anyway! I NEVER give my mother my full authorization to become a professionally certified interpreter in front of two police officers and an EMT worker, no!
Domestic violence is not appropriate for a family member or friend as a personal interpreter, according to the written bylaws of the American Disability Act. Having unprofessional people as personal interpreters is a horrible idea. Please, don’t do that again, Your Honor. Mrs. Poe should have told the paramedic and the police that I needed the legit communicator here in the house. Besides my point, it’s not my fault she called the police because she wanted them around me to prevent any violence. In this case, it is also her responsibility to advise 911 operators that the certified interpreters should be in the same room as me. That’s what the ADA says!
Two police officers and one paramedic must directly contact the ADA national hotline through the White Pages and Yellowbook directories. Professional interpreters are very neutral; they do not take sides between enemies, in contrast to personal interpreters. So I’m not recommending the use of personal interpreters. I deeply doubt Mrs. Poe knows that. EMT Woman abruptly cut me off and aggressively asked my mother to interpret and repeat after what she told her in Signed Exact English:
“Shut up! You have two choices right now. You could follow me upstairs with no handcuffs all the way to the ambulance van outside your home or slapping metal cuffs on your wrists by going to the DePaul hospital against your will. Which of these choices is your choice now?”
This white woman belittles me like I’m 5 years old, which is insulting to my intelligence! I shook my head while defending my beliefs, repeatedly informing the EMT Woman that my mother had no trace of bruising, blood, or cuts. Again, I wrote another shredded piece of paper to the EMT Woman and Two Police Officers that I promised them I won’t hurt Mrs. Poe again.
“I’ll keep quiet all night, ignoring my mother in her sleep or whether she’s still up. I’ll be busy searching for apartments on my laptop without harassing her in my basement. I’m not going upstairs to bother her anyway.”
Their heads swung right and left at me because they clearly don’t believe me.
“This will happen all over again unless you cooperate and go to the hospital right now.”
“She should be arrested for a false report against me, and not only that; she also touched my private parts just to insult me as a gay man.”
But I didn’t finish writing “she also touched my private parts just to insult me as a gay man”, I never finished that part.
Two cops lost interest and no longer have any patience with my writing; they do not waste time throwing away my pen and paper while failing to reason with them. They’d already made their decision against my will. They broke the law by cuffing me; they shouldn’t be cuffed behind me. My hands should be in front of me.
Did they realize how much sign language can be used behind their backs by deaf people in handcuffs? It’s illegal.
They were furiously frustrated by me that I resisted them, unwilling to cooperate. Two cops ran towards me, jumping on me like a wrestler. I had to bite them with my teeth, gnawing their wrists to shield myself from any physical attack.
With all due respect, Your Honor, I don’t feel safe with the police. I don’t know how to fight the police with my fists. I didn’t learn to use ’em since growing up without a father in my life. Usually, I was told that the fathers were supposed to teach their sons and boys how to fight enemies with fists.
Do you think biting the police with my teeth is a mental health issue?
No, and I disagreed with the mental-health viewpoint because… I’ll fight back against dangerous people who think they gonna win by beating me up. In this case, it’s the only way I can protect myself with my teeth and use ’em. I don’t care how they feel when my teeth tear skins off. They didn’t care if I was shot or killed by a bullet. That’s exactly how I felt when I bit ’em. Two police officers are already highly qualified for any violence thrown at them. I never learned to defend myself like them, but the only way to protect myself is to use my teeth. My plan was to escape the arrest they made on me, I was going to hide somewhere in the forest for a little bit, but it didn’t work anyway.
Two cops threw another round of five fists in my face and stomach like they were members of the Ultimate Fight Club. They beat me up violently; my bed officially rolled over, my television fell down, cracked in half. Who’ll pay for my cracked TV, huh? You see, they have no difficulty prosecuting me for using my teeth as self-defense. I can’t sue ’em for breaking my TV, messing up my room, but c’mon, seriously? They are entitled to their advantages because they are always protected by the laws, no matter what they have done wrong! They knew they would not be charged for causing damages to my personal properties. I don’t think it makes sense for me to have to pay a $1,000 fine for using my teeth to defend myself, so why should I? They won’t pay for my broken TV and my bed anyway!
Two cops loudly cussed out at me, making demands: “Get the fuck down on the dirty floor!”
I’m amazed that the cops are allowed to say, “Fuck,” “motherfucker,” “asshole,” or “shit.” I mean, don’t you think it’s a bit weird that civilians such as me can be punished for the use of blasphemy in the eyes of the law rather than cops, do you? Cops never take the same punishment for using that such language; how irony! It doesn’t make sense to me, but what I do know is that cops abuse their power whenever they feel like it.
I BEG you to understand how unfair that is to me. There are countless advantages to being a police officer because they seldomly got terminated from their employment, behaving like a superior to an ordinary civilian. How can you justify the cops acting out of this selfish privilege when I don’t have one like them, Your Honor?
“Get the fuck down!” is coherently clear what I’ve been reading on their lips, but please don’t ask me how I know they used that F-bomb. It is possible when the face of the cops has turned extremely red with the muscles of the lips moving. Sometimes I only understand by reading lips if they choose a large size of lip movements. This is much easier to read if their lips move hugely, openly, and slowly. However, the problems still show the limited mouth movements in speific ways, such as whispering or mumbling to yourself. It is much harder to understand what they say exactly. When the movement occurs in the mouth, it can be misinterpreted and misinformed; my brain deciphers the human mouth in such a complicated way. Now, you must remember that the ability to read lips is not a gift or Superman’s laser eyes. It’s not that simple. Sometimes my brain enables me to read lips, sometimes it doesn’t let me know what the mouth says. I only FAIL to read lips when people stop using profane language; again, don’t ask me why. Imagine that! If two cops didn’t say “get the fuck down,” I probably wouldn’t understand them anyway.
I laid my body down on the ground, spread-eagling my arms out while they ordered me to do that. They became incredibly energetic towards me, kicking me in the head from their boots, probably trying to splash my head like a dead cockroach. I felt as if my head was falling into pieces and hammering on the ground. I could have had brain damage or lapsed into a coma! I was in the middle of cooperating with them when they put a taser on my back! They don’t appear to care if I quickly learn to obey at the last minute. I have succeeded in provoking them to almost tasing me. Yes, I’m aware that I’ve crossed the boundary line, but they chose to ask for more trouble against me. They held the taser weapon in the center of my spine behind me. At first, I thought it was some kind of handgun. I would have been shot and executed on sight, just like Officer Darren Wilson murdered Michael Brown. I was thinking of the SWAT that killed Isaiah Hammett in his own house. I also thought about the SWAT driver who drove carelessly that caused Freddie Gray to die in the van. Other male victims murdered every day, as I saw on TV, on Facebook, and on YouTube!
Every male victim is whom I’ve thought about being killed by cops that came into my head right now. Two White Cops stared at me coldly with a death threat, pointing the taser weapon behind me. But at the same time, I wasn’t physically electrified, I mean, not yet. They made sure that I wouldn’t fight my way out by putting my hands behind me. They slap down the coldness of the metal handcuffs on my wrists, which is a horrifying experience for me. I felt like these cuffs had some kind of shark teeth with pointy incisors to deeply chew into the lines of my wrists as if being sawn off. Two White Cops made sure the cuffs are extremely tight to keep me trapped and locked behind. Two White Cops pulled me up, forcing me to leave my bedroom against my will. I couldn’t believe this actually happened already! They carried me upstairs to leave the cellar from the kitchen to the living room, then out the front door. I was forced into the emergency van, slammed into the stretcher. EMT Worker and Two White Cops wrapped my wrists and lower legs so intensely tight. It was almost like they trapped a live rat in a claustrophobic confined space. My ankles and wrists were extremely tense and so much sore. I thought I would be totally numbed because I have sensory system problems in my feet that cause numbness and loss of contact with materials. I could’ve passed out or slowly dying in the ambulance van, where my body was completely numb due to the symptoms in my wrists and feet. It took me three weeks to heal!
They left me to rot alone in the emergency van for almost two hours in front of the house! I haven’t been to the hospital. I haven’t left yet, not yet. I had to wait for this report to be completed before they take me to DePaul Hospital. Two doltish cops busily WRITE ME UP on laptops in their police squads and give zeros of attention to me in the stretcher that locked me up. Two White Cops and Blonde Woman are busy chatting, laughing, and flirting with one another, but for what, two hours! That’s how they chose to bully me when I was locked inside a medical emergency stretcher! Blonde Woman, whose job is to be an ambulance worker, repeatedly says, “shut the fuck up” at me inside the ambulance van.
After two hours of waiting on the street across from the house, as I was just arrested, a young male policeman with dirty blond hair also joined the van with me, EMT Worker, and a male driver. New White Cop was also a rookie that ended up supervising me during the transit to DePaul Hospital. Now, we were driving on our way to DePaul Hospital while the EMT Worker made fun of my deaf accent. I scolded her for playing psychological games with me when mocking me: “What, huh? I can’t understand you! You talk like a fuckin’ retard!”
AT DEPAUL HOSPITAL
New White Cop and EMT Worker brought me to the emergency room against my will when they pulled me out of the van on the stretcher. Two cops came back to check on me for two hours in one of the empty rooms that nobody uses for a while. They didn’t trust me and suspected that I might have created another crime scene if I was alone with the hospital full of nurses and one cop. They knew that one cop is not good enough. I was still on the stretcher, then they transferred me to the new stretcher and putting a handcuff on my right wrist in the vacant room. EMT Worker even bragged to her colleagues in the emergency room that she had locked me up in the stretcher as if she’d won the lottery! She must’ve thought it was too damn funny, but because I didn’t find it funny! Whatever she was thinking of me at the time, I guarantee you she doesn’t know me well enough! She remains ignorant of my identity, mental health, and life journeys, regardless of what she thinks! This racist woman doesn’t know anything about me, period!
After approximately 45 minutes, I spoke to the male medical attendant who works at the Emergency Room inside the DePaul Hospital. I told him I wanted him to free me from the handcuffs on my right side of the stretcher. He asked me in writing: “Are you still violent? If you continued to get violent with one of us here, then I cannot uncuff you. We still felt unsafe.”
I told him with reassurance, “I can behave myself; I won’t fuck it up. But let me ask, what would you do to me if I get escalated?”
He replied back in writing with a deadpan expression on his face: “Then I sedate your ass.”
Ugh! I had to eat my pride. I nodded silently to let him know that I understood the risks I would have to take if I became dangerous towards them.
Three male police officers have returned home or wherever they are on their next assignment. It was just the medical staff and me at DePaul Hospital, and then they put me in another room where anyone can see me. Later that night, I met the 5’4 feet of a black woman at the end of her 40s, arriving late at 10 pm. She informed me that she was an ASL interpreter and said that she was a child of deaf parents. She stayed with me for the next five hours until 2 in the morning; we expected a psychologist to come to see me soon. A white therapist came to check on me to determine my state of mind. She began to empathize with me and to have an ongoing dialogue with me about what happened at 1904 Driftway Drive. I clarified that immediately because she asked me why I’m here in the emergency room.
When I was done explaining why I was in the E.R., her final reply was to say: “Next time, the best way to defend yourself is to have your smartphone on hand. Or any kind of video device must be recorded with proof of what happened under any circumstances. It’ll be much easier to disclose it to law enforcement at a later date. Show them that you have both experienced domestic violence, incest and proven innocent that you have NOT had sex with men in your basement. Your mother shouldn’t touch your butt, specifically your anus, where the trauma may be readily triggered. At the same time, she blamed you out of ignorance for having sex with an ex-boyfriend without supporting evidence. That’s not good.”
I responded in sign language as the interpreter spoke for me in front of the psychologist: “That’s fine, but I don’t have a phone! I can’t even afford to get another phone. I’m still paying my late obligations and overdue bills. I don’t have the money or the time to buy another phone to capture proof. Nobody’s gonna trust me because I’m freakin’ deaf, and I don’t have a phone or a camera. As far as the police were concerned, they called it heresy or hearsay! Cops only go by what they hear; they don’t ask me questions first. They don’t want to talk to me until they hear what the complaints say about me, that’s it! They can understand my mother because she can speak with her voice instead of using sign language. They can hear my mom a lot better than I can! If I tried to impersonate someone in my voice, the cops would never understand me. Look, my point is, she took advantage of my disability only because she was busily concerned for her own safety! She thinks my disability is putting her in harm’s way. This is also where she abuses her privileges to the best of her ability in front of the police. I knew she could and was going to do it again in the future!”
“I would rather not buy another phone because I was trashed at work or on the bus two years earlier. I lost a phone twice a year. I realized I was running out of energy to keep up with new phones. At the end of the day, I’ve gone through multiple more thefts, and phones kept getting lost in the wrong places. I’m gettin’ tired of buying new ones, so I ain’t no buyin’ no-more! Until tonight, according to what you told me recently, I didn’t know why or how important it is to have a phone when it is useful. Exactly why I had so many conflicts with cops this year. I went to the 24-hour jail on April 2ND, 2018. You know, I think I’ve been through enough.”
I’m writing my conclusion to help you understand three accusations I made a list below:
Kimrala Poe (my mother), EMT Worker (Blonde Woman), and two racist police officers neglected their duties to contact the ADA national hotline by telephone! They could have found this information in a Yellowbook or a White page. They’ve already failed to reach out to ASL interpreters on demand. It’s already written according to the ADA policy, although it’s not legally required, and not many people use it anyway. Nonetheless, this is highly encouraged by the ASL community. So, basically, my mother, EMT Worker, and two cops violated my disability right to have a live interpreter here with me!
You should try creating a bill for the Missouri government in the City of Jefferson, talking to your lawmakers, so you can make it happen! I do NOT have the power to write bills or submit these ideas to the House of Representatives and Senators, hoping that they would have voted on this bill. This idea could save many lives of deaf people like me!
- Two cops also violated my disability rights when they put my hands behind my back in handcuffs; my hands are supposed to be in front of my chest. I’ve been doing my researches when I went to Paraquad and Deaf INC. I also learned from other disability agencies, not only in Missouri but from 50 states on Facebook. They kept telling me that cops weren’t allowed to do this behind deaf people’s backs in handcuffs. They are, technically, supposed to have ASL interpreters at the crime scene or in any situation on request. It’s not a request; it’s a term of references. If you want to learn more about ADA rights regarding deaf people, please contact the ADA experts by phone, and including the disability rights organizations.
- Mrs. Poe downright insulted my disability rights and including the Code of Ethics! She is NOT allowed to pose as the ASL interpreter without proof of legal certification and credentials! She has NOT finished her degree at Florrisant Valley Community College to become a professional interpreter! I have NOT given her my full permission to use sign language or translating vocally in front of the paramedic worker or two white policemen! Since you and I both knew it was my mother who was calling the cops on me, so she shouldn’t be using ASL or talking for me on my behalf! It’s wrong!
Please understand how deadly and serious this can be. It could have resulted in tragedy from a misunderstanding to many unnecessary consequences, only if it can be avoided!
If you’re not too bothered to educate my mother, please tell her to back off and avoid using sign language while the cops are present. Her ignorance is at odds with my personal boundaries of interpretation. She’s not supposed to let any cop ask her to do something without my permission. I’ll say NO, I’ll say NO again! How would you feel if someone disrespectfully interprets without your consent? In this case, it is a severe infringement of my ADA rights!
BUT WHAT I CAN SAY FOR MYSELF IS:
I just moved into a new apartment, stopped living at 1904 Driftway Drive after December. I was currently a resident of 5461 Delmar Blvd APT 213 in January 2019. The name of the apartment is Forest Park Apartments. Mrs.Poe and I secretly left Hanley Hills without letting our landlord know during Thanksgiving week before the start of December 2018. Mrs.Taylor physically threatened my mother on Facebook, saying her husband would put a bullet in her head. She also says that she’ll talk to one of her lawyers to take legal actions against Mrs.Poe, but not relating to this case. Just keep it in mind. You should consider a recent situation between the tenant (my mother) and her landlord (Mrs. Taylor) that could help you determine the state of this case. I hope this case will assist in reducing a sentence or consequence of the way you planned to punish me on February 6th, 2019, at 2:30 PM.
With the greatest of respect, Your Honor, I plead not guilty. I do NOT consider myself guilty of trying to reason with two police officers before we got escalated. I do NOT feel guilty for trying to prevent my mother from using sign language in front of two police officers and an ambulance worker. I’m NOT guilty because they haven’t managed to give me what I need. None of this would have happened if my mom had called the ADA hotline and sent an ASL interpreter! I’m constantly fed up with police officers or family members who think it’s normal to violate my disability rights! It is the very reason why police brutality generates racism and ableism in America! Police brutality is the reason I have always misjudged cops on my part, even though they are NOT evil in the eyes of the law. You’ve learned everything I’ve told you, so it won’t be the first time you’ve heard my story. Trust me, you’ll hear the plenty of horror stories from people with disabilities. This will not be the last time. This will happen again and again if NOBODY is willing to listen!
Remember this, GUILTY OR NOT, Your Honor, please do not repeat the same punishments or errors made by people in the past. It is I who beg you to truly understand the impact of your decision on me.
Thank you, Your Honor, Judge Daniel Brown
Fact-checker: The Judge didn’t actually read everything in my complaint letter. He didn’t read all of it. He only suggested that I should be in a mental health court instead of a criminal court. Case closed!