A reason why the "War on Drugs" is unconstitutional. by Michael P. Weinheimer
(libertarian)
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
It was a cold March afternoon in 1992. I was returning to New York State via Amtrak after spending five days in Montreal. Soon after crossing the border and entering American soil, the train stopped at the U.S. Customs stop near Rouses Point, NY. The next hour and a half was the longest hour and a half in my life.
The Customs officials walked up the aisle looking at drivers' licenses and asking the passengers why they were coming to the United States. They came to me and asked why I was coming to the United States.
"I live in the United States."
They asked what I was doing in Montreal and I told them I went there to see a Canadiens game and to do some sightseeing.
They told me to get out of my seat and to get my carry-on bags. I retrieved my bag from the overhead compartment of the seat and hnded the bag to one of the agents.
"What do you do for a living?" One agent asked while the other rummaged through my belongings.
"I am a Postal Clerk."
"What's the zip code for Rouses Point?"
"I don't know off-hand. I am not from around here. I can tell you that it is either a 128- or a 129- zip."
I was staring at the agent going through my things. He picked up a pair of jeans and dipped his hand in the pockets and his finger through the "five-pocket".
I was ordered to stand facing the front of the train and stick my arms out forward. The agent who was going through my belongings was patting me down while the other agent checked under my fingernails. I had become perturbed by this point.
"Why are you harassing me?"
You are being searched because you "fit a profile."
"Correct me if I am wrong," I said, "but 'fitting a profile' isn't 'probable cause'."
"Shut up!"
The agent took my pack of cigarettes. He took each cigarette, rolled it between his thumb and his finger, hoping something would fall out besides tobacco. He then took the aluminum foil off the wrapper and inspected inside the pack.
"I don't mean to cause trouble, but what kind of profile do I fit?"
"You're a single white male traveling alone."
"There are a lot of single white men on this train."
"We have agents on the other cars."
"You guys might get some drugs if you went after people who are stoned."
"One more word out of you and you will be detained."
They fired off a bunch of questions about U.S. history. I answered all of them, they were rather easy. They finally left me alone when they ran out of questions and had nothing they could arrest me for.
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