Veteran columnist sheds light on his side of DWI arrest
Veteran columnist sheds light on his side of DWI arrest
Carlos Guerra - Carlos Guerra
Last week, I was charged with driving while intoxicated.
I should, first, thank the many readers who wrote to offer support. And I should also remind those who wrote scathing — and even mirthful — condemnations that, in our wonderful judicial system, one is innocent until proven guilty.
After writing columns for 17 years, however, I do need to tell my side of the story.
After rising before the sun on Thursday to read the nation's newspapers and answer e-mail, I enjoyed some orange juice as my java brewed.
Later, I confirmed dinner plans with a news source. We would meet at her Hill Country home before getting dinner, as we had done once before. That time, she insisted on picking up the tab and I agreed, but only if I could return her generosity.
We went to one of the area's great eateries and ordered salad, hardy entrees with generous sides and a bottle of wine. It was a leisurely dinner that I enjoyed almost as much as the freewheeling conversation that drifted from development issues to our children to toll roads. We skipped dessert, but had coffee and agreed to meet again soon.
After more conversation, I hopped into my car and drove back into town without incident, feeling totally unimpaired by the two glasses of wine I consumed over a three-hour period with my very sumptuous meal.
As I neared downtown, where I live, I took the McCullough exit off Interstate 35 when the red, blue and white lights began to twirl. I pulled off the ramp and into Starbucks, parked my car and was reaching for my wallet for my license and insurance card when the San Antonio Police Department officer started screaming repeatedly: “Put your hands out where I can see them.”
I dropped my wallet and stuck my hands out the window, rattled and fearing that the situation might escalate.
Blinded by the floodlights and disoriented by the red and blue lights twirling and flashing lights atop the patrol car, I knew I wasn't being stopped about some mechanical malfunction with my car. And my friends will tell you that I am a careful driver who uses turn signals and observes speed limits.
“The reason I stopped you,” the officer said in a stern, almost angry sounding command voice, “is that this car has been reported stolen.”
“That is impossible,” I said. “This is my car and it has never been reported stolen.”
“And I smell intoxicants on your breath; step out of the car,” he ordered.
Startled to the point of shaking, I stepped out and was ordered to the front of the patrol car and told to follow a penlight with my eyes, despite being distracted by the flood- and flashing-light show. Never mind my ocular shortcomings. He then ordered me through a series of unusual physical maneuvers despite my protestations about impairments that I have acquired over the years.
Asked if I had been drinking, I told him I had wine with dinner and he smirked disbelievingly and told me I was under arrest for DWI.
Handcuffed and in the patrol car, the officer showed me the “stolen car report” on his computer. It was actually a vandalism report I filed last August after the rear-view mirrors were knocked off my car.
The officer who took that report asked what I thought it would cost to repair it. Because my insurance has a $500 deductible, we joked, it would likely be less than that. That report was apparently misfiled as “theft, $0 to $500.”
Handcuffed and bewildered in the patrol car Thursday, I was still able to call an attorney friend from my cell phone. She advised me to take no more tests and said she would refer me to attorney Andrew Del Cueto, who, with Nicholas LaHood, is representing me.
I have faith in our judicial system, and I look forward to my day in court and my ultimate exoneration.