Earlier this summer, on a Tuesday night at about 11:15, my girlfriend and I were strolling through Cheesman Park in central Denver. We were about to head home when a lighted vehicle came toward us, illuminating us in its spotlight.
It was a police car. Two officers stepped out. One of them, maybe a year or two my elder, asked me to step to the side of the squad car. I asked if there was a problem, but he simply repeated his demand. Then I asked if I was under arrest. Again, his only response was to tell me to step to the side of the squad car.
I complied. As the officer stood behind me, I heard him remove handcuffs from his belt. Standing there bewildered, I jogged my memory for every potentially wrong act I had committed in the past five years.
Nothing came to mind.
“I’m innocent,” I thought, wondering why I was being handcuffed. Maybe they had mistaken me for a serial killer.
Then, enlightenment: The officer asked, “Did you know you are in violation of park curfew?”
Incredulous, I looked over at my girlfriend, who was talking to the other officer. “I didn’t even know there was a park curfew,” I said.
There is. According to Denver’s municipal code, it is “unlawful for any person, other than authorized personnel” — obviously, that wasn’t us — “to go upon or remain in any park, mountain park or other recreational facility between the hours of 11:00 p.m. and 5:00 a.m.”
They then asked for our IDs, but since we had just gone out for a walk, we didn’t have them. So the officers took down our names and went inside the squad car to do a background check while my girlfriend and I stood and waited. I was still handcuffed.
Some 15 minutes later, they came out, each holding a bright yellow document. One officer uncuffed me, and then said, “Your background checks came up clean. Here’s your ticket, which has a court date.”
“Do I have to go to court,” I asked, “or is this just like a parking ticket where I can pay and be done?”
“You have to go to court,” he said.
“How much is the fine?”
“Between $40 and $50,” he said.
He was wrong on both accounts. We only had to go to court if we wanted to dispute the tickets, and the fine was $50, plus a $10 bureau cost, plus a $20 “victim assistance surcharge.”
For a total of $80. Each. For a park curfew violation.
A week later or so, we both went to the courthouse and reluctantly paid our fines.
As a broke college student who works a low-paying job, $80 is about one-tenth of my annual income. The government took $160 of our hard- earned dollars that could have been spent on our education or subsistence, just because we unintentionally violated “park curfew.”
The park isn’t enclosed. It has no fences. Nor does anyone, besides “the public” (of which I am a member), own it. We saw no signs informing us of a curfew, either, and other people were also in the park (although I have no idea if they were ticketed as well or not).
Understandably, if we had criminal records, or were armed and intent on committing robbery, I would fully expect the officers to not only ticket us, but also handcuff us and then lock us up in jail. But we were just college students with clean backgrounds who were walking home.
So who were we harming, anyway? Why wouldn’t a simple warning suffice? Does every male seen in the park “after hours” get handcuffed, or only those who ask questions?
Beats the civil obedience out of me.
So what did I learn from this experience? Nothing.
But I can now say with pride that all those dirty, rotten, no-good-doing park-curfew violators are being diligently kept out of “our” parks. I’m glad to know my tax money (and probably part of my fine) is being put to good use.
Nick Nordstrom (nxixcxk@gmail.com) is an aspiring but broke college student majoring in philosophy at Metro State. He was a member of the 2006 Colorado Voices panel.
