Only 4 days after my born-day, on that dreadfully dark and cloudy, smokey day, Wed. June 7, these 2 rookie looking pigs quickly arrested me off the block for not having ID. At the 14 precinct in midtown south, Manhattan, 35th Street by 9th Ave, is where they hold arrested prisoners on the super daily basis. After spending over 10 hours before getting processed (fingerprints and mugshot), had to wait another 10-15 hours before they transport us to downtown criminal court at 100 Centre street aka Central Bookings. The known problem is the majority of inmates' crimes are minimal beyond petty so called "crimes" like riding bikes on the sidewalk to urinating by the corner to even smoking trees in public places. Even though marijuana is legal now in NYC, there's still a massive amount of unlucky cell mates here for public use of the medicinal plant. Last time a bro got in here from an eye then mouth match with an indian business looking guy then the indian brought over a cop, and now he's in the patty wagon with us. Inside the little jails within that precinct is an entirely different article and story, which these sub-human people working in there should be under investigation. The conditions are beyond atrocious and filthy. Saying it's "disgusting" is an understatement for the facility. My hand/fist became my pillow because I don't do the shoe by my head thing too well. Some were snoring until people start screaming "officer" or "c.o." for cigarettes, food, or the hospital/medication. I refused their usual offers of McDonald's murder burgers, and cold fries, which is all they feed us, unless you unexcept.
It's way too easy to go crazy in there but stayed cool as heaven, but others like this female couldn't stay calm. If I did get a minute, literally, to actually sleep, loud banging and screaming sounds irritate TF outta me. This female had to be heard throughout the whole building, like she was being attacked by wild animals. Is it a coincidence that we're here being treated as such? She banged, banged, and more banging, and screaming "Ima mother, lemme call my kids!" for hours. It was draining and traumatizing, to say the least. I still haven't fully processed our mom's passing plus father's oxygen tank usage recently.
These hostile and volatile conditions further affected my entire back, spine, neck, shoulder, ribs, hips, legs, sides, trying to rest on that urine smelling wooden bench. Is this supposed to be a couch, bed, chair, or torture table? Meanwhile their floors are covered in sticky dirt, with a mixture of piss, flies and feses, yes human shit, cigarettes, and anything else to blend in to represent pure utter filth. You try to make peace of mind in this type of legal system of kidnapping for not showing ID but as time goes by with no processing yet. Got in here by mid-afternoon, now pass 10-11pm, still no fingerprinting or photos done yet. After a few more hours of asking for my arresting officer, the young rookie looking pig says, I know you’re not a bad guy”, yip yaps yadda blahblah etc, then he’s offering me more loosies and more McDonald’s cold fries SMH. It’s always a serious hassle to finally get transported to the patty wagon, chain-gang line (handcuffed to each other), to the bookings aka central bookings, downtown Manhattan. Last night few inmates went to the hospital and after they arrived back explained how another inmate passenger on their chain-gang line literally with no exaggeration, had ring-worms, lice, bed-bugs, plus others not even discovered yet, crawling on his head, face, neck and body. This 14 precinct has a horrendous reputation for the most senseless arrests, not only by us victims but also by them people at the tombs (central bookings) as well. Then after getting to the bookings, it’s more waiting games, along with the most unhealthiest pink carton milk, baloney, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches ever given to digest.
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