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So you're walking down the street in an upscale neighborhood wearing your Sunday best and.... you get these three charges levied on you?

Feel like there are details missing to this story.




Oh there's a myriad of details missing, to protect both my privacy, and the privacy of the accuser, whom I have come to believe was an unfortunate victim of both their own mental illness and the state.

It's more along the lines of:

I was sitting at friend's house, (quite literally) in my Sunday best. I received a phone call from an acquaintance who was distraught. I arrived at the home, was arrested, placed in handcuffs (double locked behind my back), and held for forty eight hours without food or drink.

I was released after paying an exorbitant bond (did you know you can post bond with a debit card?), followed by a rather insane two and one half years prosecution, against the wishes of everyone involved.




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