Officer J. (Compassionless Dick) Delgehausen,

Dear Officer J. (Compassionless Dick) Delgehausen,

When you asked me if I knew how fast I was going and I told you that my car [shitty, rusted out, 1996 Toyota] doesn't have cruise control and that I'd been working since Friday and I may have been going too fast because I just really wanted to be home, I didn't mean that I had just worked 3 days in a row, I meant that I have literally been working since 4pm on Friday, nonstop.
I didn't mention that I take care of developmentally disabled people for a living (wipe asses, give baths, and dispense affection while maintaining a level of patience you most likely couldn't even comprehend) or that I've been sick for two weeks and got exactly four hours of sleep total the past two nights and had to sit in an emergency room with a client for five hours on Friday while staring at a hospital bed and having PTSD fueled flashbacks.
Nor did I mention that I have had exactly one positive interaction with a cop out of the hundreds of times I've been forced to communicate your kind.
I said nothing about that time an enormous group of you cornered me and someone I loved and attacked us with pepper spray and tear gas for standing on a street.
Not a word about how I already paid my annual pointless $200 when my car got towed two weeks ago because the government (who pays you) can't think of a better way to inform people they are sweeping the streets than putting up signs ONE day beforehand.
I didn't even say anything about the SUV that sped past me as you pulled out of the ditch and turned your lights on, or the fact that I was going 70-- the speed everyone and their grandmother drives on city interstates.
Instead I handed you my insurance card (whose premium will now be unaffordable) and sat in my car blinded by your unnecessary spot light garishly mocking my bad fortune with defeated tears in my eyes.

It must be tough to be a white male working the Eden Prairie beat. I'm sure you had a hard day pulling over the masses of needlessly extravagant BMW, Lexus, Cadillac, SUV driving affluent over privileged populous of Midwestern suburban America. Of course it wasn't at all obvious to you that I really can't afford a speeding ticket-- my very loud and rusty 20 year old car apparently didn't give that away. Or maybe it did and that's why you never made eye contact, I saw only your nose and chin.  I'm sure you also didn't notice the sticker on the back that says,"What wisdom can you find that is greater than kindness?" Or maybe you did, and kindness just isn't your thing-- you have a quota after all. The state needs money to build a new stadium for the bratty, ultimatum declaring athletes who are paid millions of dollars a year while families lose their homes and people beg for money on corners.
Melodramatic? A bit. But it would really be nice if there were some human cops out there. Maybe you could try that next time Officer D, eh?

All my love,

Miss Norlin

P.S. I'll be contesting your ticket with normal colored hair, no piercings or visible tattoos, and a well pressed suit jacket. See you then, pal!