The Youth Group, The Police and Me

I sometimes have these moments which I will call “realized memories” which, before they popped into my head, had been forgotten up to that moment. I have no explanation why these memories pop in on me. Sometimes, a song, seeing a certain old car, a place or a scene in a movie brings the memory to the forefront of my mind.  

Following is one such memory. It is regarding an old friend, Mark Mears and an event that occurred many years ago around 1985 when I was 28 years old. The recollection resurfaced last week when I drove by the Greyhound Bus station in our town. 

Mark and his wife Tena lived in the apartment building managed by Linda and I in San Jose. Mark was a youth pastor at a local church. One day, he stopped by to ask if I would do him a favor. What he asked me to do was right down my alley and I quickly agreed. He was putting together a scavenger hunt of sorts for his youth group which required them to follow clues, walk around downtown San Jose in small groups, and perform certain tasks such as finding landmarks and talking to people. He asked me to dress like a street bum and stand in front of the Greyhound station. The clue that would lead them to me instructed them to walk up to me and get some (now forgotten) information which would lead them to their next stop. 

I dressed well for the part by donning an old pair of torn Levi’s and a well worn t-shirt. I had mismatched socks but wore no shoes. There was a large oil stain full of grime on the cement at the apartment complex which I rolled around in like a pig in mud making sure to get my hair in it. My ensemble was topped off by a 100% dark wool trench coat I had bought in high school at a thrift store for $3. It hung down to my shins and really made me look the part of a street dweller. 

I arrived at my post on a Saturday morning and waited for the kids to show up. Well, before that could happen, two San Jose Police Officers drove by and eyeballed me very closely. I hoped they would drive on, but they stopped about 100 feet away, got out of the car and one of them walked toward me while the other stood by their car. The officer, an African American, who came up to me started asking questions about who I was, what I was up to and where did I live. Now, remember. I was 28 years old, but my baby face said I was only about 16. His first question was, “Do your parents know you are out here on the streets?” I told the cop that I was pretending to be a bum that some church group kids were going to talk to in a few minutes and that it was a scavenger hunt,  blah, blah blah. He did not believe me. 

I went on to tell him that I was 28, married, worked at Juvenile Hall and was a father. He did not buy it and told me so. He said he figured I was no older than 17 and asked me why I was lying about it. So, I pulled out my driver’s license and my Probation Department ID. When he saw these, his eyes lit up and he lowered his voice. He asked me if I wanted to play a prank on his partner. Take a guess what I said. He wanted me to admit I was a kid and then say why I was on the streets. His partner was far enough away that he was unable to hear our conversation and did not know the whole story. The first cop called his partner, a white guy, to come over and the first one said I was a minor but that he suspected I was up to no good, that I had no ID and was not being honest about why I was out there. 

The second cop jumped right in, peppering me with questions about my name, age, why I was there, what drugs did I use and from where did I come. I was evasive, playing up my role as a street urchin, acting hesitant with my answers and disoriented. I told him I was from Los Gatos and that my parents had kicked me out of the house because they were tired of me not living up to my potential. I said my dad was the CEO of a big company but that I didn’t know which one. The first cop had to step back so his partner couldn’t see the big grin on his face that he couldn’t suppress. I, on the other hand, remained straight-faced and should have won an award for my performance. 

After about five minutes of interrogation, the second officer determined that, for my own safety, they should transport me to Juvenile Hall and put me in protective custody.  This was just too much for the first cop. He burst out laughing and told his partner the truth. We all had a good laugh and they told me I had done a great job. They left and I finished my morning talking to several groups of kids, giving them the clue for their next stop. This was a lot of fun, but it was the prank we played on the SJPD officer that was the icing on the cake.