Here's how I broke my arrest cherry

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"Vigi" by Shieko Reto

The Anti-ISA candlelight vigil on Sunday, August 1, 2010, was supposed to take place on the padang at Dataran Petaling Jaya. The police blocked access to the field and told the crowd to disperse. The organizers tried to negotiate with the police, but, after several warnings to disperse, the riot police moved in, arresting several people, and they pushed us into Amcorp Mall. officials

In the process, the police tried to arrest the mother of two children. Syed Ibrahim, the head of Genmansuhkan ISA, and other protesters put up some resistance to this arrest; she needed to take care of her kids. Syed was arrested in the process.

I was keeping away from the fray, walking in and out of the protesters and police. The parking lot was a no man's land behind the police line, consisting of lawyers, journalists, photographers, the SUHAKAM officials and innocent bystanders. Lawyers would call out to the detainees as they were being lead to the police vans. My friend Yuhan was getting lead away by police officers. His shirt was torn, but he was OK.

Someone had lowered the shutters to the Amcorp Mall entrance. At the demarcation, I suppose, between public and private property, the riot police had fortified their position. 

The protesters made a push to break the police line, but the coordinators were quickly arrested. They had been leading the protest, walked straight into the police line. The police let them walk through—they made way. When a few coordinators realized that the police wouldn't let them go, they started screaming. The crowd backed away from the police line. In the confusion, my friends Mien and Thilaga got arrested, for apparently no reason. As Thilaga was taken away, I asked her what she had done to get arrested. As I was doing so, the police grabbed me.

They took me to a van where they were holding the male protesters. I knew one of the coordinators, so I felt relatively calm. I was never really alone with myself throughout the whole process and at one point, later in the night, I took out my book and read a review of several Proust biographies. I shared this quote, by a Proust scholar, with a few other detainees: 

"The only true voyage, the only Fountain of Youth, would be found not in traveling to strange lands but in having different eyes, in seeing the universe with the eyes of another person, of a hundred others, and seeing the hundred universes each of them sees, which each of them is."

The van brought us to the police station where we joined the other male detainees, including Syed Ibrahim. There were sixteen of us in the police van, where we spent about half an hour. An inspector, an Indian lady, asked for our ID, but a coordinator insisted that we be read our charge before we give them any identification.

The police detained a few more people outside the police station, for reasons unknown. They handcuffed a few of us for a short while, to make room for the new detainees, and made us stand outside the van. The van was hot, and the holding area outside the van had ceiling fans and fluorescent lights—more comfortable, in relative terms. They had the other male and female detainees join us in this holding area. We collectively became a hell of a lot more cheerful, in the company of our fellow detainees, sneaking thumbs up and smiles from across the crowd (or maybe this was just me). Half an hour after arriving at the station, the lawyers started arriving. One of them was a cute girl in a MyConsti T-shirt, but I didn't get her name or number. I got Nalini and Puspa to autograph their Blue Chili Awards pages. Puspa wrote, "Anti-ISA forever," at my request. The SB was videotaping us the whole time. 

The toilets were filthy. I am not a toilet connoisseur but they had not been cleaned in years.

The night was a waiting game for the police to get round to it.  The coordinator had already briefed us about giving our statements, so we knew what to expect. It was an opportunity to get to know the other detainees better. One of them gave me some background on the organizational structure of the police. I was able to supplement his information with a browse around the offices when we were made to wait. For instance, this particular branch has only four officers on the team that investigates break-ins.

When the police finally got around to taking our statements. I was taken to a sad-looking office with water damage in the ceiling, an old printer chucked onto a pile of folders, and black and white poster of a Norman Rockwell print (I think) on the wall. The room was partitioned by a shelf that looked as if there was a toilet or a basin behind it.

My lawyer, Meor, took me through the procedure a few times. My response to all the questions were, "I will give my statement in court." But I tried to keep the mood light by giving different emphases. 

I. Will. Give. My statement. In. Court.

I Will. Give. My. Statement. In court.

I will give. My statement. In court.

I. Will give my. Statement. In. court.

They took our mug shots and we weren't fingerprinted. After some more waiting, the police were ready to release us. The police were allowing only one bailer per detainee. 

After we were released, I hung around till everyone was released, talking with the crowd outside the station. It was over 30 people, many people who I didn't know. The Sun was delivered as we were waiting and I was able to read a piece on the very protest.

I got a ride home from a friend who had been arrested outside the police station. He had just been smoking a cigarette when an officer came up to him and said, "I saw you at the protest, and I wanted to arrest you!" Sadly, the officer's wish came true. 

The night is exemplified for me by one incident. As I was waiting for an officer to photocopy my IC and bail slip, the officer couldn't figure out the photocopier. A second officer entered and the two officers tried to figure out the photocopier. At one point, four officers were trying to solve the photocopier. Photocopiers are no joke, as we all know. But the fact that none of them had ever been asked to make a photocopy until 5AM on August 2nd was absurd and I suddenly felt very sad. 

Throughout the incident, I tried to see the police with different eyes, but the incident made it obvious to me that the police are not tasked to "serve and protect," not to make people feel safe, but to follow orders. When following orders becomes a matter of survival, I too know I'll fail to see I have a choice.