CIVIL OBEDIENCE: PART II

They didn’t arrest me. Not even a citation. Which, frankly, felt like a slap in the face.

I mean, what the hell is a guy supposed to do to get arrested for being anti-fascist these days? Burn a copy of Mein Kampf on the courthouse steps? Stage a musical about democracy in the lobby of a Hobby Lobby? Shave the word “justice” into a police dog?

Anyway. I waited.

The cops kept “working,” which I can only assume was some high-stakes Minesweeper tournament they had going on back there. They didn’t ask my name. They didn’t offer water. They didn’t even tell me to leave. So I stayed. And then I stood up.

Rook: Okay. Since no one’s processing me, I’d like to leave a voicemail for your supervisor assuming he or she is unavailable.

They looked at me the way dads look at thermostats being touched.

Cop #1: …For who?

Rook: Your supervisor, or whoever the fuck is in charge around here.

And before they could object, I marched to the courtesy phone — you know, the one that looks like it hasn’t worked since Bush invaded Iraq the first time — picked up the receiver, held it like it mattered, and hit the button that said “ADMIN LINE.” It rang once and went straight to voicemail.

I waited for the beep. Then I unloaded.

Rook (voicemail): Hi. My name is Rook T. Winchester, and I’m leaving this message so there’s a timestamp. A legal record. I showed up at the police station today to report myself for being anti-fascist. For being part of what Trump and his goons now call a “criminal conspiracy.” Because I believe in human rights, public libraries, and the radical notion that no child should be put in a cage.

The cops behind the glass weren’t even pretending to work anymore. They were staring. One had stopped blinking entirely.

Rook (voicemail): I oppose fascism. I oppose the silencing of dissent. I oppose Executive Orders that criminalize compassion, weaponize ignorance, and turn the Constitution into a goddamn coaster. I oppose the state turning its back on the people — and I oppose the people turning their back on what they know is right.

I paused. Just for dramatic tension. Then I looked up and spoke the next part as if I were dictating scripture.

Rook (voicemail): I don’t care if the law changes. My conscience doesn’t. My loyalty is to the vulnerable, the unheard, and the furious. If that makes me a criminal in the eyes of this regime, then get the paperwork ready.

The cops still said nothing. I could hear them breathing. That’s it. Not even an eye-roll. Just breathing and bewilderment.

Rook (voicemail): Oh—and one more thing. If you don’t arrest me today, you’re admitting the law doesn’t actually apply to what I just confessed. Which means it’s not a real law. It’s a scare tactic. A toothless propaganda stunt dressed in tactical gear and hiding behind a flag. And if it is a real law, then you’re cowards for not enforcing it. So which is it?

Click.

I hung up.

Dead air.

Their faces were priceless. Somewhere between “Did that just happen?” and “Can we ask him to leave without being in a TikTok?”

to be continued….

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