I was out of state and my sons, Mike 17, and Sean 18, were going fishing.  What could possibly go wrong?  In my family one should never ask that question.  I present this as an example of the advantages of fighting back and not allowing our children to be indoctrinated, rather than educated.

It was late in the afternoon and I was almost a thousand miles from home when my phone buzzed.  It was Mike, my youngest son.  He was speaking much faster than he normally does.  “Mom, don’t worry, Lucy’s going to feed the cats.  I have no idea when Sean and I’ll be home.  We’re being held by the DNR and I need you to text me Harry’s number.  Love you, Mom.”  Harry’s my lawyer… my criminal lawyer.

I took an interest in my sons’ education from the very beginning.  I was aware of the intentional dumbing-down of America and I wanted nothing to do with it.  I wasn’t about to allow my boys to be cheated out of being knowledgeable, thinking, and productive members of society.  I was unable to work because of a pair of spinal injuries so I had plenty of time to make sure they got a good head-start and that they always received whatever adjustments may have been required to stay ahead of the game.  My idea of education differed from the school’s and we had more than our share of conflicts.  I related one of the more interesting altercations in a previous article, Reading Class.

Another area of focus was what used to be referred to as Civics and/or Government class.  I felt this was important since the school offered nothing in the way of any sort of governmental related instruction.  Even then I suspected there may be a sinister reason for the omission of, what I considered to be, an important part of their education.  Looking back, it’s easy to see that a populace is more easily abused by its own government if the populace has no idea of the powers and limitations of their government.  As it turned out, any time spent on those concepts was time well spent.  It took several years but it may have saved my boys from an unpleasant encounter.

A few weeks ago, my sons went fishing with a friend.  They fished for a few hours, caught a few fish, and then packed up to go home.  On their way back to the truck they were stopped by a DNR agent who checked their licenses, catch and tackle boxes.  Everything was in order, so they started loading up the truck to go home.

My son, Mike, has some sort of sixth sense.  He doesn’t get premonitions, or anything like that, but sometimes he gets an impulse to either do something he wasn’t going to do or to not do something he was going to do.  He’s learned, the hard way, to pay attention to those warnings.

Mike got one of those impulses as they began loading the truck.  He started packing their gear into the area behind the seats, in my pick-up, rather than opening the lid and placing them in the bed of the truck.  Sean got the message to do the same.  No words or looks were exchanged.  Sean just followed suit.

Since they’d been told they were free to go they got into the truck and started the engine.  Then, the officer tapped on the driver’s window and Mike rolled down the window.  “I need to see your license, registration and proof of insurance,” the officer informed them.  Even though they were supposedly free to go Mike produced all three after a brief search, in the console, for the registration.  He answered all the questions about his relationship to the vehicle’s owner, me, and whether or not I would verify he was authorized to be using the vehicle.  Mike informed the officer I was out of state, for an extended period of time, and gave him my cell number.  After a brief silence Mike put his foot on the brake and put the truck into reverse.

There was another tap on the window and Mike opened the window a tiny bit.  “I’ll need to look under the cap on the bed of the truck,” the officer informed him.  Mike put the truck in park and turned off the engine… and sat there looking at the officer.  This entire series of events smelled a bit fishy; no pun intended. 

Mike informed the officer, “Sir, with all due respect, you’ll be needing to produce a warrant before I can do that.”  Mike said that the look on the officer’s face betrayed his complete shock and, seconds later, his anger.

The officer countered with the line heard on so many TV shows, “If you have nothing to hide you’ll open the bed of your truck.”

Mike answered, “Sir, I’ll be more than happy to do so, just as soon as you produce a legal warrant, signed by either a Judge or a Magistrate.  I’ll be calling my lawyer, in a few minutes, and I’m sure he’ll want to know what you’re going to claim as your probable cause.”

The officer didn’t answer but instead, returned to his car.  Sean and Mike suspected he was contacting some sort of superior.  Since they were being detained Mike recognized the possibility they could end up under arrest, so he got busy on the phone.  His first call was to his girlfriend, Lucy.  She agreed to feed the cats their dinner.  The second call was to me and I’ve related it at the beginning of this piece.  His third call was to Harry, my lawyer. 

Yes, I have a criminal lawyer on retainer.  I carry a sidearm practically everywhere I go, and I have no qualms with using it to stop anyone foolish enough to attack me or mine.  If you ever fire your weapon outside a range environment your first call should be to the police to report the shooting, even if it’s an accidental discharge.  Your second call should be to your criminal lawyer.  No matter how stressful the situation becomes you should say nothing to anyone without him, or her, present.  There are no exceptions.  I mean that literally; no exceptions.  You say nothing.  You can give them your identification but, after that, you need to pretend you’re mute.

Harry told Mike that he did the right thing by calling but he thought this was simply a case of a young officer feeling his oats and that nothing was going to happen.  He also said there was the possibility that the boys were being setup for something more serious, like a packet of cocaine falling out a shirt pocket during a search.  Then he asked what vehicle they were driving.  Mike told him it was my pick-up since I was out of town and wasn’t using it.  That set Harry off.

Harry’s a perpetually surly, highly irascible little man with the personality of a badger.  I do love that little man and I hired him because I have no difficulty imagining judges being terrified of him.  Then he made a comment that made Mike laugh, and at the same time, he may have touched upon a reason.

“Oh yes, Kimmie the shit magnet,” he began.  You tell that Mom of yours that one day she needs to stop poking important people with a stick simply because they’re important people that need to be poked with a stick.  I’ll be right there.”

It took him ninety minutes, but he was there.  He tapped on the window of the officer’s car and they had a short but animated conversation and the officer left the scene in a manner that gave away the fact he wasn’t happy about the outcome of whatever it was he was planning.  The boys were detained a little over two hours and, as far as we can tell, there are no repercussions.

I have no idea what may have transpired had Mike opened the lid to the bed of my truck.  All I know is that the whole incident was more than a little suspect.  Had the boys not been tutored in how their government is supposed to function they may have stepped into a pile of something that day.  They didn’t and Harry came through for us and put a speedy halt to whatever it was that was happening.  I do think it important to remember that whatever was going on ended abruptly the second legal representation arrived.

I either have horrible luck or fantastic luck.  There doesn’t seem to be any middle ground.  I met Harry and his wife Marge, more than a few years ago.  Through an arrangement via a friend of a friend’s uncles’ cousin I took them to the range and helped them become familiar with the pistols they wanted to carry.  They hadn’t fired in years, but they were competent in all aspects except Marge had purchased a gorgeous, very expensive, concealed carry purse that she intended to use.

It took two trips to the range and a lot of haggling before I finally convinced them to take that purse and throw it into a dumpster or donate it to Goodwill or anything else that would assure it was never used for its intended purpose.  At the end of the first trip they weren’t convinced my reasons was enough to change their minds. 

Between the two trips a scenario came to me in the middle of the night.  I’ve referred to it since as “the nuclear option.”  Once I presented it to them not only did they both see the light, but they gave me the purse to dispose of in any way I saw fit.  Within hours it was in a Goodwill drop off box. 

Harry’s a fantastic lawyer but he’s not the best at common sense.  Marge is a great person but she, also, is sometimes a little short on common sense.  They were grateful that I was so persistent and so convincing that I kept them from using that purse.  It was just the other day I discovered that whatever Harry does for me is pro bono… free of charge.  They were that grateful.  Sometimes unnecessary kindness is spit back into your face… sometimes it’s not.

For a short period of time I considered filing a complaint regarding that officer’s behavior but then the words of a great legal mind came back to me.  “You tell that Mom of yours that one day she needs to stop poking important people with a stick simply because they’re important people that need to be poked with a stick.”  Those important people will remain, at least this time, unpoked.

The concealed carry purse “nuclear option,” that I mentioned above, is over and beyond the scope of this article.  That’s why it’s not included.  If a few people express an interest I’ll be happy to do another article dedicated, solely, to that subject.  Concealed carry purses are a really bad idea.

In these turbulent and uncertain times, where lies have become the norm and truth is the rarity, it seems more important than ever to know what you know and to constantly reevaluate what it is that you think you know and to always strive to understand the difference.

“To know what you know and what you do not know, that is true knowledge.”  --- Confucius

“There are two ways to be fooled.  One is to believe what isn’t true; the other is to refuse to accept what is true.  --- Soren Kierkegaard

“It isn't so much that liberals are ignorant.  It's just that they know so many things that aren't so.”  --- Ronald Reagan

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