CIVIL OBEDIENCE

PART I

I didn’t burst through the door like some kind of Wild West vigilante — though I did consider it, dramatically speaking. Instead, I stepped into the police station lobby the way one steps into an aquarium — all eyes, no breathing, surrounded by cold glass and colder stares.

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like bored hornets. A “Blue Lives Matter” bumper sticker peeked out from beneath the plexiglass barrier like a wart the department couldn’t afford to laser off. There were two cops behind the counter: one pretending to type, the other pretending not to notice I existed. Standard issue posture for state-funded decor.

I stepped forward with the calm clarity of a man who’d had enough caffeine, too little sleep, and absolutely zero fucks left in his civic tolerance bank.

Rook: Hi. I’m here to turn myself in.

One of the officers looked up like he was rebooting from inside his own skull. The otber just stared at me like I’d said, “I’m here to pay my taxes in milk.”

Cop #1: Sorry, what?

Rook: I’m turning myself in. For being anti-fascist.

And there it was. The pause. The glitch in the matrix. The look of two men trying to remember whether the Constitution still applies on Mondays.

Cop #2: …What?

Rook: I said I’m Antifa. You know. Anti-fascist. Apparently that’s illegal now?

They blinked. They shifted. They exchanged the kind of glance that usually precedes someone calling in a supervisor or Googling a law they were supposed to understand in basic training.

Rook: I’ve been publicly and vocally against fascism for years. That makes me part of Antifa, right?

One of the officers opened his mouth, paused, then pivoted to an old favorite.

Cop #1: Uh… you’re gonna have to be more specific.

Rook: Specific? I mean, I’ve written articles, attended rallies, participated in community organizing, helped coordinate protests — I even helped raise money for trans kids and immigration lawyers. I oppose fascism and I think your department probably should too.

The two of them stared at me like I’d just confessed to witchcraft.

Rook: And now, according to Trump’s Executive Order, opposing fascism is functionally illegal. So I figured I’d save you the trouble of knocking down my door at midnight and just show up with my hands in the air.

Cop #2: Uh. Well… do you have a warrant out for your arrest?

Rook: No, I’m just trying to obey the law. I figured I’d get ahead of it.

One of them started to reach for something — maybe a pen, maybe a donut, who knows. But then he stopped. Like the weight of irony was too much to bear.

Rook: Look, I simply want it on the record that I oppose fascism. I oppose book bans. I oppose ICE raids. I oppose police brutality. I oppose throwing immigrants into detention camps. I oppose purging history and punishing teachers. I oppose fascism. So go ahead and book me.

They said nothing. Absolutely nothing. Somewhere, the printer made a noise like it was trying to get out of this too.

Rook: I’ll wait.

I sat down in the little plastic chair by the bulletin board covered in “Community Watch” flyers, all of which were essentially coded ways of saying “Call us if your neighbors look poor.”

No one came to cuff me.

No one read me my rights.

No one even offered me a pamphlet.

Which is weird, considering that I’d just declared my allegiance to the most criminalized ideology in the country: human decency.

to be continued….

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At Closer to the Edge, we walk into police stations with nothing but a notepad and a smirk — and we don’t flinch. Subscribe now to follow this wild experiment in civil obedience, radical wit, and dangerously well-documented dissent.

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