A gut reaction to zealous enforcement of correct bathing suit material at a town pool in a northern New York City suburb morphed into a story about the language of rules, free speech, policing, and the murky manipulation of government powerbrokers.
The incident, which took place over the course of a summer week, first came to light on a slow-news day when an 81-year-old had been suspended from the town pool because she meddled in an encounter with lifeguards ejecting two tween girls from a swimming pool. Mary Wallace had become pissed off about a heavy-handed effort by a gaggle of young lifeguards demanding swimmers show them swimwear labels to confirm their suitability. Cringy yes, but understandable because nobody really wants people in the pool wearing street clothes.
Still, Wallace said the aquatic police had gone off the deep end and she felt compelled to speak up. Doing so would cost her a three-day suspension of her pool pass – but that’s not where the story ended. Wallace, a retired Legal Aid lawyer with more spit and vinegar than a pub filled with soccer fans, believed her civil and First Amendment rights had been violated and that the pool vibe reflected the tyrannical Trumpy moment we are living through. At a time when federal goons are silencing ICE protesters and the so-called Department of Justice is hunting subpoenas and indictments based on Donald’s rage and need for revenge, the fabric of our democracy feels threadbare.
What happens at the top trickles down, empowering officials in anonymous burbs to emulate what they see in Washington, D.C. Those invested with authority are intoxicated with the “because I said so” governing we see these days. Taking many pages from the last 18 months – or the past decade – the powerful (even a Superintendent of Parks & Recreation) are at ease bending the rules and fudging their meaning, or overreaching because they feel politically insulated.
In Mary Wallace’s case, the Superintendent of Parks & Recreation called her at home hours after she “interfered with the lifeguards” to suspend her. The following day her story was reported by RCBJ. Mary expressed the hardship of being banned from swimming; the two-time cancer survivor swims to deal with arthritis and heart disease. But the Superintendent defended the crackdown – let’s call it swim-gate – saying cotton fabrics clog the filters, and more importantly, she should mind her business.
On Wednesday, day two of her suspension, Mary Wallace went to the pool to collect gear she’d left behind. She asked the gatekeeper to let her in for a swim. She was told her pass was suspended. She asked to see surveillance footage that the Superintendent said was taken of her during the incident. They said no. Then, Mary Wallace left the gated pool area and sat on a bright blue bench within the park playing games on her phone.
Not long after she was peacefully perched on the bench, two local police officers approached her and told her to leave the bench, which is situated outside of the pool enclosure. She refused. She said she’s a taxpayer enjoying the park. The police told her she was trespassing because she had been suspended – not only from the pool – but the entire park as well. (In fact, all three town parks). Mary Wallace, who lost a son when he was 13, navigated her husband’s brain seizure, and survived two bouts of cancer – not to mention practiced law for three decades – held her ground. But when one officer pulled out handcuffs and told her she would be taken to the jail, she let out a blood-curdling scream because the thought of having her hands shackled, left her feeling terrified. Mary Wallace wears two knee braces, a wrist brace, and uses a cane. After screaming “help,” the cops put away the handcuffs, but lifted her off the bench by her arms. She was led to a parked police car, but she didn’t get in. Instead, she waited while the cops wrote her a trespassing citation with a court appearance in August.
Tough as boots as she may be the arrest staggered Mary Wallace. She was upset, angry but also brooking for a fight, looking forward to her day in court because she believed her suspension was not based on any rules listed in the town code that permit such a ban. Also, nearly 48 hours after the original incident at the pool and the subsequent phone call telling her she couldn’t use the pool, she never received anything in writing, and she had never been told she was barred from the entire park.
Then, a twist in the plot. Less than three hours after being arrested, Mary Wallace heard a knock on the door. Two police officers came into her house and said, never mind. “Tear up the ticket.” Mary Wallace was relieved but irked, because she was looking forward to presenting her case to a town justice.
Have you ever seen the British show “The Vicar of Dibley,” where everything is slightly absurd, a bit humorous, but also reveals the underlying truths about the fulcrum of power in a parochial society? This was one of those moments.
This is a story about pulls the strings – not on bikinis - but on justice. How does this 81-year-old women get arrested and un-arrested in less than three hours? Would that have happened if her story had not been reported? Or if Mary Wallace was a less sympathetic figure?
The police report said: “while out at the pool the undersigned was informed by (the report redacts name but it is clear that the name is the Superintendent’s) that he contacted (the report redacts another name, though this is either the town attorney or a top town official) and was informed by him that it would be in the interest of the town to decline to pursue charges of trespassing on Wallace.”
It remains unclear who decided “it was in the best interest of the town” to cancel her citation and appearance but it does raise questions about how justice is meted out in the town. Who picked up a phone? Who said let it go and why? Why was it “in the best interest of the town” rather than in the best interest of Mary Wallace?
It’s not difficult to intuit that arresting an octogenarian three months before a competitive election in a town that has become solidly red would be a gift to political opponents. While Donald is playing Russian roulette with the Congressional races Republicans will run for the midterms -– and his lackeys stand in lockstep and continue to feed his ego and his destructive policies despite how it’s impacting their chances of holding their seats -- local politicians in small towns have more agility to change lanes when they’re drowning. Rather than cling to the notion that anything goes, they are more responsive to a queasy story that questions how a town is being run.
But while pondering what looks back at us in this reflecting pool, we also see the arbitrary use of the justice system — and that feels exactly like Washington today.
No posts
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.