In 2016, I was working with a client, an African-American man in his early 30s, who kept getting arrested because another man, living in Indiana, had an outstanding warrant for his arrest and both men shared the same name and date of birth.

One morning I got a call from my client’s girlfriend. She informed me that Steve (not his real name) had been arrested by the Chicago Police and was in custody at the 7th District police station, in Englewood. She had no further details. I told her I would find out what was going on, assuming that the Indiana warrant was the problem.

Excuse me, what did I say wrong?

I arrived at the police station on a humid summer morning. I spoke to the shift supervisor, an older white man. I was escorted to a small visiting room where I spoke to my frazzled client through a thick, cloudy plexiglass window.

I learned that Steve wasn’t in custody because of the warrant. Rather, he had been falsely accused of a serious felony offense. Fortunately, Steve had exculpatory evidence on his cell phone which led to his being released without charges.

Prior to his arrest, Steve suffered a blow to his head, inflicted by some bystanders. He said he’d been throwing up and had a severe headache. I was concerned Steve might have a concussion. I asked him if he been given anything to eat or drink. Steve said that he’d been offered a baloney sandwich, which he refused because he is a vegetarian.

Following my meeting with Steve, I discovered that the initial shift supervisor I’d dealt with had been placed by a younger, white male officer. In a normal tone of voice, I shared my concerns with the shift supervisor that Steve might have a concussion and asked if he could be examined by a medical person. I also asked if it was possible to get him something else to eat and drink (aside from a baloney sandwich) since he hadn’t eaten anything since the day before.

My requests were met with a fusillade of contempt, misogyny, and aggression. His response threw me off guard. We talked at each other for several minutes, our voices raised. Seeing little point in continuing the conversation, I left, livid that I’d been verbally accosted for no apparent reason.

What would have happened if I’d been Black?

As I walked to my car (my husband had come to the station with me and witnessed the altercation), I remarked: What would have happened if I’d been African American?

What I learned that day was that my being an officer of the court, white and female was no guarantee I would be treated with civility.

It was also abundantly clear that the police officer was not concerned about facing any ill consequences for his actions. In fact, after I left the station, the police officer saw to it that Steve received no food or water while in custody – and made sure to let him know the reason why.

When Steve was finally released after 9:00 that evening, the police refused to return his prescription eyeglasses to him – claiming that the glasses were crucial evidence. Mind you, the police had already determined formal criminal charges would not be filed against him.

For several weeks thereafter, I called and left multiple messages with the detective(s) assigned to my client’s case, trying to recover his glasses. Neither my calls nor the glasses were ever returned.

Four years later, recent events got me thinking about this incident again. Back then, I’d mulled over whether to file a citizen complaint – especially after my efforts to get Steve’s glasses fell on deaf ears.

I never filed a complaint. Today, I regret having not done so.