"CALL FROM OLIVER" appeared on the display screen of my then somewhat new Motorola RAZR V3c flip phone. I answered, in my usual manner with an appropriate, "Ahoy, hoy!"
A melancholy voice responded, "Hey, it's Kirsten. I'm using Oliver's phone." "Hey, what's up? Where's your phone?" I asked. "They took it and won't give it back and Mr. Michelle wants to meet with you to talk about it..." she replied nervously and proceeded to describe to me how she was caught using her phone during class and that the teacher had confiscated it and turned it over to the campus security officer. The security officer and high school principal, Mr. M, then proceeded to go through the texts and images on the phone and determined that there was sufficient concern to involve me.
"What are you worried about?" I asked. "There's a video of me and Ray smoking in my room." she lamented, knowing I'd be disappointed and potentially angry.
I was angry. But not with Kirsten, I was angry that the school had performed a massive intrusion of personal privacy. I told her that I'd deal with it and would see her when she got home from school.
It was still early in the day, and I was amidst an until then, unmemorable round of disc golf at nearby De Laveaga Disc Golf Course, so there was time to make a plan B4 meeting with Mr. M.
Approaching tee 8A on the course, I put down my disc golf bag and placed a call to the high school. Receptionist K answered and happily made arrangements for me to meet with Mr. M at 4:00. I had known K for years. Both K and her husband had attended some of my lectures and their children attended some of the same extracurricular activities, clubs and general school functions as my kids. K knew me well enough to know that I was no dummy, and it must have been a thrill for her to know what was in store for me at the meeting. We cut our round of disc golf short, and I headed home to think about the situation.
I didn't know what was going on. Why did they need to see me? Is Kirsten in trouble? Am I in trouble? What do they want from me? I played multiple scenarios over in my mind. I finally concluded that they wanted to leverage me and or Kirsten somehow and that I was walking into an ambush. I needed to be rational not paranoid. Was I paranoid? I would be on Mr. M's turf, and he would have his own agenda and idea how the meeting would go down. I had to come up with a tactic to gain the advantage. An unanticipated distraction from the onset would lay a trap that he would hopefully stumble into, I surmised.
While showering, I considered what to wear to the meeting and decided that psychologically, a red shirt would be best, and I had one. A video camera would also be a powerful intimidation factor, I mused. It didn't take long to get dressed. I grabbed my Canon PowerShot A710, checked the battery level, and headed out the door.
The school was only a five-minute drive, so I didn't have a lot of time to stress over the situation. I pretty much had my plan in mind and was ready for the show. K's show.
Mind gaming and un-practical jokery was something I did for fun until I was convinced that it isn't nice to play with people's minds, and now I want to play nice. I only do it on rare occasions now, like when Jehovah's Witnesses are at the door, or annoying solicitors who call on the phone. I was definitely a bit rusty, but reluctantly, I jumped back in for this cause... whatever it was to be, I was still unsure.
There was a convenient parking spot at the entrance to the ramp that descended toward the principal's office. I grabbed the camera, locked the door of my 85 Mazda RX7 and began walking down the ramp, mentally rehearsing my opening line as I neared the entrance. Turning the camera on and making sure that video mode had been selected, I pressed RECORD, opened the double set of large glass doors, and walked into the office, holding the camera in an obvious filming position.
Lights, action, camera... K's show had begun. K was sitting at one of the desks as I entered and said, "Hi K. I have an appointment with Mr. M, would you please let him know that I'm here..."
"He's expecting you," she replied as Mr. M entered the room to greet me. We walked towards one another and extended our hands to shake. With unbroken eye contact, I embraced his hand firmly, delivering the line that I had rehearsed a dozen times; "I spoke with the ACLU and they recommended that I record this meeting, but I don't have a recorder, so I brought a video camera, I hope that's all right." Obviously, I hadn't really spoken to the ACLU. I did consider calling a good attorney friend but determined that I could defuse the situation on my own, even though I was unsure exactly what that was. Mr. M agreed to my conditions without hesitation and escorted me to his private office, which fortunately for K, was within earshot of where she was sitting.
With a wave of his hand, I was directed to sit in one of the chairs positioned across from his desk. I sat down, placing the camera on the seat to the left of me. The slope of the seat allowed the camera to point directly at Mr. Michelle, who, upon taking his seat, positioned himself strategically behind a family photo on his desk, avoiding the camera's intimidating gaze.
After briefly exchanging niceties, Mr. Michelle got down to business. He spoke about rules, and that the use of cellular phones is strictly forbidden during class and that offenders' phones are systematically confiscated and turned over to security. He said, "Normally, a student can retrieve his/her phone after school, but we found some video of Kirsten smoking with another student who we think is a major drug dealer in the school. We're concerned about the safety of our students, and want to know what you know, and what you can tell us about Raymond..."
And with that, and without realizing it, by invoking the word, safety, Mr. M had stepped into my trap. At that same moment, I had an epiphany, and it was clear to me what this was all about. They were going after Ray, one of the only black kids on campus. A family friend, I had known Ray for years. He was an honorable and trustworthy kid. Ray was no drug dealer. Every kid in Santa Cruz smoked weed and it seemed to me that Ray was being racially targeted. I was disgusted and gleefully moved my metaphorical queen into checkmate position.
I took a deep breath and delivered my second rehearsed line, "I'm concerned about the safety of the students too, and I think that the biggest safety concern here is the fact that your security officer has been accessing images and videos of young girls on their private phones. This seems dangerous to me. Maybe we should have a look on his hard drive to see what kind of collection of young girls he may have amassed."
"OH SHIT" was the look on Mr. M's face as he tried to save face by assuring me that his security officer is on the up and up and there is no need for concern. Now, overly friendly, Mr. Michelle handed over Kirsten's flip-phone, (the battery was dead) and with uncomfortable friendly discourse, escorted me out. "Bye K, nice to see you" I said as I departed through the glass doors. Mission accomplished.
I returned home, downloaded the video I had shot at the principal's office to my computer and reviewed the footage. No one else was home at the time, but after a few minutes, Kirsten and Oliver walked through the door. I was still sitting at the computer. "Here's your phone" I said, handing it over to Kirsten. "You Got it? How did that go?" she asked nervously. I summoned them both to the computer and played the video of the meeting. Watching with dropped jaws, they were both thrilled. I had never seen a bigger smile on Oliver's face. Kirsten thanked me and I warned her that I would not be doing anything like this again.
Kirsten, Oliver and Ray graduated together, and it was reported to me that Mr. M and his henchman never messed with them again.
True Story. Some names have been abbreviated because I wanted to do it that way.
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