Open letter

MORGAN JONES Artist/Vendor

What do you do when the police do something wrong to you?

The District attorney is supposed to help you but it seems like no one there wants to talk to me. I was arrested one day before Thanksgiving. I felt violated and still feel vulnerable and confused about what happened. I still don’t understand it.

Maybe our readers can give me some advice. Who am I to turn to? What should I do?

They told me I was arrested for being on private property. But I’d been selling the newspaper there for 11 years, in the Metro Center station. Right outside the station. I know the rules and regulations, I’ve been doing this for 11 years.

They told me I wasn’t supposed to be there. The owner of the building by 12th St. NW exit near McDonald’s. That day, I was told by police officers to move. I was instructed to move to the sidewalk and then I was arrested. I was standing right where people come out of the subway.

I had my vest, my badge and my mask on! And I was just trying to make a living.

I think it was discrimination. Maybe it was discrimination against my age. Maybe it was discrimination against homeless people. Maybe it’s new people who are unfamiliar with the city.

On the day I was arrested, a Black lady I’ve never seen before said I needed to leave and threatened me with the police. She said this to me at the same spot I’d been selling in for years.

In fact, I sell at the same spot now because I like my customers. I’m a businessman.

The police should’ve taken me downtown but they took me three hours to another location. They processed me for an FBI background check and put me in a dirty cell. I had an appointment for my vaccine and I couldn’t get it that day. They also did not give me a ride back to where I was. I had to get on the bus to get back. And by the time I got back, my tablet was broken and I was out $60 to get a new one. I was so mad.

Since that day, I’m constantly worried that the police are coming to get me. In the end, they didn’t press any charges. The district attorney dropped all charges and no papered the case. What should I do now?

QUEENIE FEATHERSTONE

Artist/Vendor

All I can remember is how beautiful my mother was with her dark skin and long hair. (As I said in the last issue, I was only six years old when she died.) On holidays and on her birthday I still grieve and cry. It took many years to comfort myself. If not for the man upstairs, my heavenly father, I would have run myself crazy. So, thank you, Jesus.

Remember, there were nine children. I’m number eight and I have a little brother. He was only a baby when our mother died, so he never had a chance to see her. After her death, my father moved us to Miami, where he was born and where his sister lived. I was 7-years-old. We lived in my aunt’s big house until my father found an apartment across the street. After a year there, we moved back to the District. We had a big house in Southeast D.C., so big I was scared to go into the basement. (Remember: I was only seven and only in second grade). It took a while, but I eventually stopped being scared and went into the basement.

When my father went to work, we would run outside and play (after school, of course). One day, two friends and I were playing by the train tracks. One friend spotted the tunnel, so we decided to go inside. We started counting the lights inside and discovered each was 15 feet away from the other. We counted about 25 lights.

Then we heard a noise like a humming sound. “That’s the train!” we said. I’m telling you we were far inside that tunnel. We started running our fastest. I turned around and saw a little light. The noise got louder and louder. It seemed as though we were never going to get out of there. Then the light grew bigger and brighter and the noise got even louder.

Even though I was the youngest of the three, I was in second place running out of the tunnel. We finally saw the beginning of the tunnel and ran faster and faster. The two of us got out of the tunnel, which was a blessing from God. Our other friend came out just 40 seconds before the train came in. Thank you, Jesus! If we hadn’t escaped, no one would have ever found us.

Full of hopes

Full of dreams

What does it all mean?

Full of laughter

Full of cries

What does it all mean?

It’s all in the library!