Kick the Can

Kick Me

 

I’m just a plainspoken Colorado criminal defense lawyer, but the way I see it…

Here’s one game you don’t play in (perhaps perfectly named) Lynchburg, Virginia.

Kayleb Moon-Robinson made the mistake of kicking a trash can in plain view of a sharp-eyed, though possibly dim-witted, police officer, who diligently filed a disorderly conduct charge, a misdemeanor, against him with the court.

He’s eleven. He’s black. He’s bad, according to the officer and principal of the school where Kayleb attends sixth grade, as pestilent a breeding ground for bad kids as ever was.

Barely had the ink dried on the police blotter before next thing you know Officer Friendly was arresting the black boy again, slamming him to the ground just so’s he’d stay put while slapping the cuffs on. He didn’t break a real law this time, but rather a special rule the school came up with to keep him in his place: he was always to be last of the kids to leave the room. Not exactly back of the bus; still, back of the class.

Realizing they ain’t supposed to have no Jim Crow laws no more, this fine officer improvised, charging Kayleb with felony assault against a police officer, because mayhap the officer pulled a muscle while slamming the little brat to the ground. He briefly considered charging destruction of school property, but talked himself out of it when he realized that, while the boy’s glasses were broken when the thinking man’s cop was forced to bodyslam him ON school property, the glasses themselves weren’t school property, not really. Although, that argument may be reserved later for some right-thinking district attorney.

I may have forgotten to mention that Kayleb lives with autism, a condition known to all the concerned officials, who said while he has special needs, he just needs to “man up.”

Kayleb may indeed someday man up as they are teaching him to do. Little boys sometimes grow into big boys. And while Virginia boasts eighty-nine thousand sheep, Kayleb might not be one of them.

[Editor’s Note: This story was sent by my sister from Redding, California, where when you walk down the street and pass ninety-nine people, the next one may be black if you look real quick.]

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