Arrests In Phoenix Protest March Total 71
Crowds Move To Jail, Sheriff's Office
New figures released Friday show 71 people in all were arrested protesting
Arizona's new immigration law outside the Maricopa County jail in downtown
Phoenix.
Phoenix police said they arrested 45 people during protests in front of Maricopa
County Sheriff Joe Arpaio's headquarters downtown and in surrounding areas.
The U.S. Marshals Service arrested three people in front of the federal
courthouse downtown.
Earlier Thursday, 23 people were arrested outside a downtown jail where
protesters beat on the metal door.
Six of the jailed protesters were released Friday morning.
The demonstrations across downtown Phoenix came despite a federal judge's last-
minute decision to block the most controversial parts of the measure.
Demonstrators who had promised nonviolent civil disobedience followed through
by peacefully confronting officers, sitting down in the street or crossing police lines.
Protesters moved from the downtown sheriff's offices to the Maricopa County Jail,
where they faced off with police in riot gear. Shortly after, Sheriff Joe Arpaio
launched another crime suppression sweep in the Valley targeting illegal
immigrants.
Demonstrators, bystanders and media were given only minutes to vacate the area
in front of the jail, where some protesters chained themselves. CBS 5 News
reported sheriff’s officials negotiated with protest organizers to keep the day’s
protests civil and to prevent further arrests.
Sheriff’s Office personnel threatened people with immediate arrest if they didn’t
clear from in front of the county jail in downtown Phoenix. Those arrested were led
away in police vans after they refused to obey police orders to leave the
pavement of Washington Street, which was closed to traffic from First to Third
avenues. The road was re-opened after the crowds moved.
Four people were reported to have chained themselves in front of the county jail.
Arpaio said he had cut off visitors' access to the jail.
Names of arrested SB
1070 protesters
released
Friday, July 30, 2010
Tucson police have
released the names of 11
people who were arrested
Thursday evening after
they disrupted traffic at a
downtown intersection
during a protest against
SB 1070, Arizona’s new
immigration enforcement
law, police said.
Police officers arrested
the following people:
Conor Cash, Justin
Helepololei, Jessica
Lambertson, Morgan
Aricella, Layla Hernandez,
Octavio Fuentes, Rachel
Richardson, Alfred
Chavez, Danielle Alvardo,
Robinson Block and
Skylar Clary.
They are all facing one
count of disorderly
conduct.
Another man, Christian
Ziegeler, was arrested on
suspicion of one count of
threats and intimidation,
police said.
The people were
suspected of walking into
the intersection of West
Congress Street and
North Granada Avenue
during rush hour,
triggering arrests and
street closures.
The intersection was
closed for about 30
minutes after the
demonstrators stood in
the intersection.
Posted in Local on Friday,
July 30, 2010
San Diego Education
Report
|
An Arizona Chronology - By Rev. Colin Bossen - UU Society of Cleveland
Cleveland Heights, OH 44106
Wednesday [July 28, 2010] was divided between orientation, fellowship, worship
and non-violent civil disobedience training.
The civil disobedience training was excellent. It was put together by the Ruckus
Society and I think it really prepared people for how to behave in the face of the
police. I can most assuredly say that the training helped me stay grounded while
we blocked the street and prepared for arrest.
Thursday began with a ride over to the interfaith service at the Trinity Cathedral.
Rev. Susan Frederick-Grey was the only Unitarian Universalist clergy person who
spoke despite our large numbers in attendance. Perhaps this was appropriate
given our minority status in Arizona. However, it was noticeable that other
denominations had a larger role in the service despite their smaller presence on
the street.
Overall the service was fine. The best bit for me was the sermon by the Catholic
Auxiliary Bishop. He described Jesus as an undocumented immigrant. Attending
the service was a good way to center before participating in the rally and civil
disobedience.
After the service I found my way to the rally in front of the Wells Fargo building
where Sheriff Joe Arpaio has his offices. Once there I listened to some speeches
and some songs by Unitarian Universalists and others. Eventually we hooked up
with the people who were coordinating civil disobedience. They offered us a
rough outline of the plan and then helped us organize ourselves to occupy the
intersection at 1st and Washington.
Once we occupied 1st and Washington it took about two hours for the police to
arrest us. As usual they managed to obstruct traffic far more than we possibly
could have.
The police presence shut down the light rail. Gradually, they used riot police to
cordon off the street from the sidewalks. At some point several of us decided to
sit down. We had mats to sit on that protected us from the heat of the pavement.
We sat for probably about 40 minutes while the police arrested people.
The group sitting down was made up entirely of Unitarian Universalists and at
some point we started singing the ‘Meditation on Breathing’ together. It is an
excellent thing to sing as you are getting arrested. It really centered me and
removed any anxiety I might have otherwise felt about the situation. As any good
neuroscientist would argue, the singing put me into synch with my fellow
protesters and in those moments I feel that I experienced a sort of sacred unity
with them.
When the actual arrest took place the arresting officers were polite as can be. I
imagine that this had to do with the fact that we were surrounded by the media
and that I am a white clergyman. Nonetheless it was not quite what I expected.
The arresting officer apologized for arresting me, gave me time to make sure that
all of my personal possessions were handed off to a support person and tried to
make me as comfortable as possible, my cuffs were not very tight and I was
placed in an air conditioned police car as soon as possible.
Once we were arrested we were taken to the County Jail for processing. Because
of the volume of protestors–I am told that over 80 of us were arrested on
Thursday–processing took quite sometime.
While we were waiting outside of the jail, but in the parking lot, for processing we
got to witness Susan Frederick-Grey and the other folks blocking the entrance to
the jail get arrested.
Before the Sheriff’s Department arrested the protestors they formed up what
looked like three phalanxes of riot police behind the garage doors of the jail–the
part of the jail the protestors were blocking. Then they opened the doors and
snatched the people who were either locked down or participating in the soft
block.
I could tell that the Sheriff’s Department handled people more roughly than the
Phoenix Police Department. They were not too gentle with the people who had
locked down and I noticed that they were making people who had participated in
soft block, including UUA President Peter Morales and Puente organizer Salvador
Reza, lie on their backs.
I learned later that the Sheriff’s Department had snatched a few protestors who
had not been committing civil disobedience from the crowd. At least one of these
they brutalized. He was thrown to the ground and kicked all over the body by the
Sheriff’s deputies. I don’t think it is a coincidence that he was a Latino man.
While all of this was going on we were taken into the jail for booking. The entire
booking process took several hours. We were processed with the general
populace. For the most part the general populace consisted of people who had
failed to pay traffic fines or had been drunk in public. There were some
exceptions, most notably a couple of guys who were being held for armed
robbery and a frightfully tough looking Neo-Nazi skinhead.
The skinhead had the most tattoos I have ever seen on a human being. His body,
including his face, neck and head, were covered in blue ink. The entire tattoo
design was interwoven and culminated in a swastika on the back of his neck. As
far as I can tell he was kept in isolation while we were being booked.
The purpose of jail seems to be to strip away an individual’s identity and
humanity. Each stage of the booking process removed a little of one’s humanity.
Shoelaces and, in my case my clergy collar, had to be removed. Other property
was also confiscated.
We were subject to a general cursory medical examination, asked if we were
taking any medication and given a blood pressure test, and then given over to
someone who began to process our paperwork. Once our paperwork was
processed our mugshots were taken. At that point we were sent to wait at the end
of a concrete bench until there was a room in a holding tank for us. Once there
was room in the holding tank we were made to take off our shoes, searched and
put through a metal detector.
And then we were in a holding cell. There were phones that we could call collect
from. I used the phone to call the legal hotline and report both my arrest and the
police brutality that took place. It got pretty crowded in the holding cells pretty
quickly.
While I waited for someone to come and take my fingerprints and give me a
booking ticket I heard people talking about their charges and witnessed someone
going through heroine withdrawal. I also met a colorful homeless alcoholic named
Wayne who, for whatever reason, was placed with protesters throughout the next
24 hours.
My experiences for the next day or so can only be described as Kafkaesque. Jail
is designed to be a disorienting and dehumanizing experience. There are no
clocks anywhere so you never know what time it is. There are no windows to the
outside so you also cannot know whether it is day or not. Furthermore, the jail in
Phoenix is designed to make it difficult for you to sleep. Each holding cell has two
concrete bench divided every two feet or so by metal bars. This means that it is
impossible to lie down except for on the floor. And forget about privacy. The
toilet, such as it is, is placed in the middle of the cell. If you use it everyone else
can watch you while you do.
Every hour or two we were moved between cells. The purpose for these moves
always seemed arbitrary and the moves consistently resulted in people being
split into different groups. Eventually though most of the male protesters were in
placed into one cell. At first there was only one other prisoner there, the very
colorful Wayne. It was around dinner time and Wayne began to loudly advocate
for food. He told us that if we didn’t get food then we wouldn’t get all night. After
about an hour our dinner appeared. It consisted of two clammy bread rolls,
smooth peanut butter packed full of sugar, something like Kool Aid, cookies and
an orange of dubious quality. Throughout dinner Wayne tried to get us to give
him whatever portion of our food we were not interested in eating.
After dinner those of us who had been arrested together fell to talking. The talk
relatively quickly turned into a seminar on the issues in Arizona led by Tupac
Enrique, the coordinator for Tonatierra.
Tupac placed SB1070 within the broader context of the conquest of the continent
by Europeans and the ongoing attempt to obliterate the indigenous cultures of
the Americas. He pointed out that the peoples of Arizona and Mexico have been
moving across the border between what is now the United States and Mexico for
thousands of years. The border artificially separates families and cultures.
SB1070 is an attempt to once again remove people from their ancestral lands for
as, my mentor Carlos Cortez was always fond of reminding me, Mexicans are
Indians and Indians are Mexican.
During this seminar Sheriff Arpaio appeared in our cell. Unfortunately we were so
engrossed in our conversation that we did not notice him until he had actually
entered the cell. This meant that we did not have time to really come up with a
plan as to how we wanted to engage. Therefore, people responded to him when
he talked to them. He was able to engage one of the older Unitarian Universalist
men in some polite political banter. The subtext of that conversation was clear
enough. It was, "Hey, white dude why are you in jail here for all these Mexicans?
Can’t you see that you and I have more in common than you have in common
with those Mexicans?"
He also engaged one of the young anarchists in a little tete-a-tat. Here,
unfortunately, he was able to get a rise out of the young anarchist. This was
obviously exactly what he wanted.
Arpaio is one of these people whose ego fills whatever room he enters. It is
sickening feeling to be in his presence and it was clear that he came to us to
gloat. It made him feel powerful to have us in his grasp. It was an opportunity for
him to try and intimidate us.
If I had noticed him before he entered our cell I think that I would have tried to
organize everyone to be silent in front of him. I know that being met with silence,
with a refusal to engage, would have deflated him. I understand that the other
groups of protestors refused to engage with him when he came near them–most
of them sang instead of answered his questions–and I wish we had had the
presence of mind to do the same.
After our encounter with Arpaio we were moved to the end of the hall to the
"Dress Out" room where we were told to take off our street clothes and given
stripped prison uniforms to wear. Our prison uniforms came with pink underwear
and pink socks. The undergarments were clearly meant to humiliate us. In fact
the whole process of being put into stripes was designed to remove our
individuality and humanity. The guards basically related to us as cattle to be
moved from one location to another.
Such a system is doing the exact opposite of what it should be doing. Most of the
people I met in prison who were part of the general population suffered from a
loss of their humanity before they entered jail. It was clear from talking with them
that many of them had a difficult time developing or maintaining relationships and
that they retreated into the false worlds of drugs and alcohol rather than engage
with the human world that surrounded them. How does further stripping away
their humanity help them? Shouldn’t the goal of prison be to help people regain
their humanity? If crimes stem from ruptured relationships shouldn’t society be
teaching people how to improve their relationships rather than making it more
difficult to form relationships?
Let me push that tangent aside and return to my rough narrative outline. Once
we were dressed out we shackled together in groups of six and marched off to a
cell block. There were a total of twelve of us who were taken off to the cell block.
Our group consisted of eleven protestors and Wayne. Once we were in the cell
block we were assigned cells and cellmates.
A minor blessing meant that I found myself in the same cell as Tupac and we
continued our conversation from earlier. He wanted to know about the history of
Unitarian Universalism. We spent a great deal of time talking about creeds and
covenant and how that tied into the history of empire. We also discussed the
Council of Nicea, the merger of the Roman Empire with the Christian Church and
the connection between the reconquest of Spain and the conquest of the
Americas. I would like to think that I helped him place the conquest of the
indigenous within the wider context of the conquest of European, and specifically
Constantinian Christian, Empire.
Eventually both Tupac and I ran out of energy to converse and tried to catch
some sleep on the thin plastic mattress, towels and flimsy blankets we had been
given. We both probably got about six hours of sleep. At probably about six in the
morning the door to our cell opened and we were given another meal of
unappetizing bread, sugary peanut butter, partially desiccated oranges and
colored fructose water. After we ate our food we were told to assemble in the
common area of the cell block, re-shackled and transported down one level to a
holding cell to await our time in court.
We waited in the holding cell for about an hour before being hustled into the
court room. We were then reunited with, but not allowed to sit by, our fellow
female demonstrators.
For reasons that are not clear to me our volunteer attorneys were not present
when we arrived in court. This led to a great deal of confusion and anxiety while
we tried to figure out what to do as a group without being thrown out of the court
of talking.
Eventually people figured out that we should all be pleading "Not Guilty." This
decision was not doubt made easier by the ridiculous plea deal that the
prosecutor was offering us. It was 40 hours of community service, a $460 fine
and paying for our jail costs. Given how ridiculous those terms were it was not
hard to decide to plead "Not Guilty."
Once we had entered our plea the prosecutor tried to argue that we should all be
released on $500 bail. The judge decided that pretty much everyone should be
released on ‘OR’ or Own Recognizance (i.e. no bail).
From the court room we were carted to another holding cell where we waited for
another couple of hours before we were finally given our clothes and effects and
released. There was a lovely jail solidarity group waiting us when we got out and
we emerged to cheers. We were given water, the opportunity to call our partners
and then taken to one of the local Unitarian Universalist churches where we were
fed and reunited with our stuff.
At that point I went back to my home stay, took a shower and had a nap. A little
later we returned to the church to participate in a Taize service. When we arrived
I learned that Salvador had been re-arrested. Sheriff Arpaio claimed that
Salvador had violated the conditions of his release and personally arrested him
after he had attended (but not participated in) an action where ten activists had
blocked access to one of the Sheriff’s jails.
In response to the arrest, as a group everyone headed over to a solidarity vigil
that was taking place outside of Arpaio’s tent city jail. I spent about two hours
there and while I was there I learned a little bit more about the conditions that
Salvador was being held in. Apparently he was being kept in a van with no air
conditioning. In the Arizona heat such an action is akin to torture.
At about 10:00 p.m. my home stay host and I left to go get some sleep.
The next morning and early afternoon I relaxed and caught up on church work.
Then I hooked up with some of the members of the Phoenix branch of the
Industrial Workers of the World. After a couple of hours, Tupac and his daughter
came to pick me up to go eat dinner. He gave me a ride back to my home stay
and we parted ways with a promise to keep in touch.
That more-or-less completes a chronology of my experiences in Arizona. Over
the next few weeks I hope to try to write something about recasting SB1070 as an
assault on indigenous peoples and something else about my experiences in jail.
Sunday I am preaching on the transformative power of love and the situation in
Arizona.