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Prey for NYPD
The last I have heard from Detective Litrell of the 83rd Precinct of the New York Police Department was a phone call in early December. He told me that he could not print wanted posters of my assailant unless I provided the date of birth, which I did not know. I don’t know dates of birth for many people I consider friends, let alone a guy that I had met a mere five days prior to him assaulting me. He said that he would try to get more information form the shelter, but the cynic in me says that he has dropped the case. With the guy living in the shelter system, he ought to be a sitting duck for an arrest, but perhaps the cops are afraid that he’ll be violent and don’t want to bother, since the accuser is just a bum who pays no taxes, or so they think. I owe nearly $300 for last 2011, in spite of living below the poverty line, and I had enough income last year that I have to file.
Police are simply King Mike’s SS, enforcing his crony capitalist rule. I observed this first hand on September 17, 2012, at Occupy’s anniversary march (in case you’re wondering, I used my cane in order to participate, which some say should have made me an easy target), as white-shirted police began brutally beating people from Occupy Faith and Veterans Against the War with batons for simply walking into the street near the stock exchange.
At the aforementioned Friday visit to HRA, I brought along my medical bills–my emergency room visit at Shands Jacksonville when I had strep throat at the end of April and after being rear-ended by a Korean lady who spoke no English while I was in the passenger seat of my boss’s nephew’s car in Fort Lee, New Jersey, on October 13, 2012 (which would have been my father’s 71st birthday, which is why I remember the exact date), which resulted in an emergency room visit to Englewood Hospital to make sure nothing was damaged. I went only because I thought I was covered by Medicaid, but I kept getting bills in the mail even though I presented my Healthfirst card.
The first time that I brought these to the East River Job Center in Long Island City, Queens, where all New York City shelter residents have their public assistance handled, I was told to take them to any Medicaid office, so I went to the LIC location (about a 20 minute walk from ERJC), which told me to go back to PA because I have a full case. The man at reception told me that he was not surprised that they had done this, but that when you have a full PA case, you cannot handle Medicaid claims through a Medicaid office, only through a PA office.
When I was at PA most recently on Friday, I brought the bills, and they told me that I needed to go to Medicaid. I told the clerk what I was told at the Medicaid office, so she gave me the addresses for the Medicaid offices at Bellevue Hospital and Metropolitan Hospital. Bellevue’s was still closed from the flooding, so I took the bus up to Metropolitan (they are both on 1st Avenue, a hike from the subway). When the clerk told me that I needed to go back to the East River Job Center, I showed her the sheet where the addresses were written on the distinctive lavender stationery used in HRA offices for customer service color-codes. When she still insisted that the proper course was to go back there, that’s when I started yelling, and that’s when the police were called. The police told told me that if I didn’t calm down that I would be arrested for disorderly conduct. It’s typical of the cops to treat the symptom and ignore the cause.
The cops demanded a photocopy of my ID, and I complied, so as not to get arrested. Too many people in the shelters have said that they have been arrested for not carrying ID, even though such arrests are not lawful (Plummer v. State and John Bad Elk v. U.S. give someone unlawfully arrested the right to take the arresting officer’s life, but I would not consider doing this in this situation, particularly since a jury would have to decide if it were indeed justified), and they usually attribute it to race. I think the issue is really class (I was the only white person involved in the incident). The clerk’s supervisor gave me a fair hearing request form. Although there is a phone number at the back with 516 numbers (Nassau County, Long Island) for out of state medical bills, the supervisor said that the only way to deal with these was through a fair hearing request. After she gave me the document, the two officers, a Latino man and a black woman, escorted me out of the facility without even allowing me to take the time to put the documentation back into my bag in spite of the rainy weather, and asked if I knew where I was. I said yes, and they parted from me, telling me not to do it again. It’s much easier for police to deal with an irate customer than it is to go after someone accused of assault when the evidence is plain on the victim’s face, so that’s what they do.
As far as I am concerned, NYPD is a useless waste of taxpayer dollars. They do the bare minimum of what the public expects them to do, and do everything that King Mike and his cronies want them to do, regardless of the legality. Were this not a government office at a city-owned hospital, there is no way the police would have arrived as quickly as they did (they were there before I had even finished yelling), nor would the two officers have done as much as they did. As I said in a previous blog, I have apparently internalized the use of yelling when all rationality fails with irrational authorities, because I am so used to my mother’s irrationality, in which she would yell and throw my belongings over things beyond my control, like whether a job application results in an interview. It didn’t matter how many application confirmations I could show her in my e-mail. As far as she was concerned, if I were doing anything other than job search on the computer, I was spending 100% of my computer time in play, no matter how much evidence that I could produce to the contrary. This is also someone who insisted that I could not qualify for unemployment because I had not worked, but somehow miraculously did because what she considers work and what the government considers work are two different things. I suspect she gets much enjoyment out of my current slave labor situation, even if they day I’m actually supposed to be working is the one where I handle my needs and wants, and the other four days are in the prison called FEGS.