This is what the officer told me:

Not a wetback. Where are you going?

To my brother’s house.

Why’s that?

He had an accident, cut himself or something

Your brother’s not a wetback, is he?

No, and this is where he paused. He turned the flashlight toward his partner’s feet. There was some kind of non-verbal checkpoint they signaled.

You got any weapons in there, knives, guns?

No.

And your brother, where does he live?

In Burnham Heights. Another set of red and blue flashers grew brighter in my rear-view mirror: a patrol car with two guys in the back.

Where do you work?

I’m self-employed. I’m a His attention changed to the approaching car. His partner ran over to it in a slow-motion kind of strut. He had his handgun drawn toward the passenger door.

Pang. Pang.

I shuddered.

That was when the officer said: You’re free to go. Dragging his hand off my car’s roof he started to walk toward the two guys in custody.