And all over a traffic violation

Out here in Western Massachusetts (yes, there is more to this state than the greater Boston metropolitan area), we have a problem. It is transportation. Or rather, lack of public transportation.

As green as we try to be, it is nearly impossible to go to school, work or do grocery shopping without using a car. This means that for members of our community who lack a social security number, if they want to get an education (for which they must pay out of state tuition even if they have been living here most of their lives), show up to work or spend their money in our economy, they either have to get a friend to drive them around or they have to drive without a license.

This is a terrifying reality.

Local and state police are not allowed to stop anyone based on their appearance since this would be profiling. However, depending on the town you might be driving through, some law enforcement agents seem to be more likely than others to pull a darker skinned driver over for failure to turn on a blinker.

For me, this annoyance means showing my license and registration and possibly receiving a citation. For others, this traffic violation means a night in jail and Immigration and Customs Enforcement showing up at the court hearing the next morning.

I know of several undocumented immigrants who were stopped on their way to work. They were handcuffed. They had to spend a night in jail. They had to go to court the next morning, where they were met by Immigration agents. They were then sent to a detention center and after a month or two, they were deported.

I think about how they must have felt. Some had been living in this country for over ten years. They worked hard, rented apartments, started businesses. They married and had children. They weren't criminals. How must it feel to be treated like a criminal, separated from your family and not know what will happen to you or your children?

So they took me back upstairs and put me in jail in the DeKalb County Jail. Then early in the morning, about three o'clock in the morning, they came and got me and took me to Reidsville. That was the state prison some two hundred and twenty miles from Atlanta. On the way, they dealt with me just like I was some hardened criminal. They had me chained all the way down to my legs, and they tied my legs to something on the floor so there would be no way for me to escape.

They talked with themselves. It was a long ride. I didn't know where they were taking me; but finally I assumed it must be to one of the state prisons after we had been gone so long. That kind of mental anguish is worse than dying, riding for mile after mile, hungry and thirsty, bound and helpless, waiting and not knowing what you're waiting for. And all over a traffic violation.

From "The autobiography of Marting Luther King, Jr."