Am I not under arrest?
We're right back in the thick of things with a so-called "roadside safety check," which we all know it how Hitlerism got its foot in the door. This time we get a good look at our spectacled resistor with his squared away haircut and demeanor that starts out relatively pleasant and non-crazy. If they only knew. We get the usual dog-chasing-tail act of asking if this counts as being detained and it's pretty clear that is the case, but better ask a fifth time just to be sure.
Then, the impossible happens and a sovereign citizen is actually right about something! I know, law of averages, broken clock twice a day, but it's still surprising. The officer says he asked for identification and is told by the Free Man of the Land that he hasn't and a quick review of the footage reveals this is indeed the case. You pretty much have to stop this unconstitutional pull-over now, in the face of a rare victory. Instead the state sponsored violence ramps up as the badge thugs open the car door and our hero lets out a series of "Whoas!" like he's a young Joey Lawerence or something.
World's Mildest Police Videos.
The system tool explains that driving is not a right, which sure sounds like fascist talk to these ears. Officer Angry has clearly lost all patience with the freedom rider and in the face of this the necessary papiern is meekly handed over. Like a mobious strip we continue to eat that tail forever as it's time for more questions about detainment and its relationship to the driver's current status, which is met with more barking and a little reminder that the State of Illinois does not tolerate back-sass. Maybe try it in Minnesota next time, I don't even know.
After all this our protagonist wishes to remain silent unless an attorney is present. The query that prompted this cliched response was "Is this your address?" Let me please confer with legal counsel before I answer that, and then when I do I'll take the fifth. Isn't it taser time yet? Instead we briefly discuss the fifth amendment and then are indeed free to leave, having accomplished the noble purpose of making another human unit angry.
Bin ich verhaftet?
The scene shifts to an interior where difficult questions about names are about to get bizarre responses. Our unseen champion claims not to have a first or last name, so I guess it's the Clint Eastwood character from all those westerns, with all the toughness and likeability stripped away, naturally. Then he says his name is "Robert," provoking laughter from the civil servant. Nothing funny about our right to play legal make-believe, man.
Please tell me more about how the Magna Carta gives you the right not to have a name.
It's then explained that our dissenter is not a person, and as such isn't subject to the admiralty and maritime law of this court. Now everyone is having a nice chuckle, but the fact remains that there's no denying the unpersonhood of our narrator. Kind of like in grade school when you're not part of the game of tag and as such can't be made "it" or be given girl cooties. This is how jurisprudence works.
"What are you?" is sadly not answered with a claim to be the Bat Man, but merely an ordinary man who is also not a citizen of the United States according to a misreading of a treaty with Tunisia from 1795 or whatever. At this point I half expect references to the Code of Hammurabi, it would be just as relevant. He then claims to be a "State Citizen" which at least gets us up to about 1861 or so. The smile is now long gone from the questioner, replaced with annoyed bemusement.
I regret to inform you that the Civil War is over and your side lost.
It turns out that our non-person is from Idaho, which of course didn't enter the Union until 1890, putting another bullet into a legal argument that's already long dead. As per tradition a request for a license becomes an issue of contention. His person has one, but he doesn't. Wait, I thought you weren't a person? It's almost like you're just firing off random phrases and concepts with no real understanding and in general making a fool of yourself for no good reason, but we all know courts are bad so keep up that good fight.
"I don't wish to create joinder with you." If you were a sexy woman, well maybe. With that the interaction ends and it's time to go address the prosecutor. However the way is blocked by government goons infringing the freedom of movement. The jack-boot squad won't let the Idaho citizen in with the camera, provoking more righteous passive-aggression. This Braveheart moment is somewhat undermined by one of the thugs telling him to leave the camera with his mother, who is apparently sitting across the room. Not now Mom, I'm fighting for my rights! No, I didn't get a job today.
"You are not God!" Yeah, really. Only the unmoved mover can ask me to shut off my recording devices and you ain't him, pal. After acknowledging his lack of divinity the guard absorbs a speech about rights and wrongs, but remains intractable. An attempt to enter is stopped by a human Berlin Wall and now it's already zapping time.
Isn't God, but does shoot lightning from the hands.
The shock is deployed and we get some quality agonized moans. Then it's time for the cuffs. Now Mommy will have to bail you out, nameless non-entity.
Back to the familiar confines of a motor vehicle where a rather doughy officer is demanding the usual laminated items. "As a man what right do you have to stop another man?" Wow. Our well-fed authority figure doesn't even attempt an answer and we skip ahead to a discussion of whether speeding is a crime or not. Hint: it is. An attempt to explain the contra position is severely undermined by incoherent rambling and even an "Aw, you know" in place of the expected citation of the Volstead Act or Wagonry Guidelines of 1804. Yeah, come on, you know what I'm trying to say.
Attempts to cite case law are ignored, and yes, you are being detained. More fuzz arrive and a request to "stand down" instead provokes the brown shirt.
Incredibly he doesn't actually hit anything. This time.
After what baseball announcers would call a "check swing" it's time to demand the opening of the car window. Get the supervisor! I'm going to give you all "very poors" on the customer service feedback card, officer. The window gets smashed, followed by kissing some pavement. With that this examination of our sovereign rights as free men of the land ends with both a bang and a whimper, appropriately enough.
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