“You are under arrest for aggravated assault. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Arthur’s brain stalled. “There must be a misunderstanding. I was just about to eat dinner…”
The metallic click of handcuffs was the loudest sound he’d heard all year. As they led him down the driveway, he saw his neighbor, Linda, standing on her porch, her hand over her mouth in horror. Arthur hung his head, not because of the handcuffs, but because he was ashamed that his neighbors could see the empty table through the front window.
He was more embarrassed by his loneliness than he was by the arrest.
Mistaken Identity and the Power of Community
Down at the station, the nightmare deepened. The police were questioning Arthur about a crime in Wisconsin in 1992.
