We knew we were in trouble as soon as we stepped out of the woods.

Two policemen stood there, arms crossed. In our arms would have been a case of beer, but fortunately, we spotted them moments before and hid the case.

The officers probably heard our nervous exclamations as we stuck the beer behind a bush, but that was all our intoxicated, seventeen-year old minds could think of at that time.

The cops stared at me as I walked onto the sidewalk. "Mr. Lee?" asked the officer standing near my car.

My mouth tasted like sandpaper. "Um, y-yea. Yea. That's me."

The officer wrinkled his nose. Alcohol was pouring out of our pores. "Is this your car?"

"Y-y-yes sir," I stammered.

I heard Joe snort. The cops gave him a glance and then returned their gaze on me.

"We had a report that someone saw a guy and a girl in your car, fighting."

"F-fighting?" Shit. It must have been Mike and Katie. Where the hell are they, I wondered.

"Yea. Do you know anything about that?"

I cleared my throat, trying to get rid of the sandpaper. "Um, t-two of my friends had, um, s-stayed in my car to t-t-talk, when, um, the rest of us w-went into the w-woods. Um, I g-guess it was th-them."

"Do you know where they are now?"

I looked around. The other guys shook their heads. Joe stumbled a little; he was having a hard time opposing the force of gravity, apparently.

"N-no sir, I don't."

The officer eyed me up and down. "You're not planning to drive, are you?"

"N-no sir," I quickly shot back.

"Let me see your ID."

I fumbled in my pocket and pulled out three incorrect articles before finally reaching my ID. During this time, I could see Joe wavering more and more. He almost fell onto one of the cops.

"Michael," said the officer, "how much have you been drinking today?"

"Um, just a few, um, b-beers. N-n-not much."

He handed my ID back, and was about to say something else when his partner yelped.

"Hey, watch it son!" the other officer yelled as he shoved Joe off of him.

"Fucking piiiig…" Joe muttered.

"Excuse me?"

The other guys and I watched in horror as Joe righted himself momentarily and screamed the words, "Fucking pig!!"

Then Joe made a fist and swung it at the officer. He only caught air and an angry gleam in the officer's eyes.

The officer that was talking to me rushed over and grabbed Joe. Joe smashed one of his hands into the officer's back. His partner pulled out his nightstick and walloped Joe's knee.

In utter silence, we watched Joe crumble to the ground. "Fucking pigs! Get off me, you fucking pigs!" he kept yelling.

The cops began to kick him. My friends and I grew up in a rather upscale town. None of us had ever seen anything like this before. We were frozen and sweating, like ice sculptures in the sun.

The officer that had talked to me looked our way. "You boys better leave now," he commanded.

We blinked once, looked down at Joe one more time, and then slowly backed away. The alcohol had completed left our brains now; we were stricken with sheer soberness and absolute terror.

A few steps down the block, we watch the cops carry Joe to their patrol car and throw him into the back seat. Then they sped off.

We stood on the sidewalk and watched into the car disappeared down the street.

. . .

Have you ever witnessed police brutality?