I Got Arrested at the Fraternity Pledge Camping Trip

It was just weeks after I became a pledge when I saw a sign at the frat house about a pledge camping trip. I’d never gone camping before, so I was pretty excited. Each pledge had to bring a case of beer for the weekend.

We drove from the University of Maryland out to western Maryland at some campsite. There were two other groups there for the weekend, a couple of families with campers and some Boy Scouts.

After getting our tents set up, we started pounding beers, eating hot dogs and hamburgers, and having a good time overall. But as it got late, one of the brothers lashed out at the pledges because we’d run out of beer and food. We brought the beer we were asked to bring and had nothing to do with the food, but getting blamed for stuff that wasn’t our fault was something I was already used to.

Everyone was drunk, so nobody was driving anywhere to find more food and beer, even if there was anyplace open by then. I went with my dorm roommate and pledge brother, Scott, to wander around, and we decided we’d grab some alcohol and food from a cooler at the neighboring camp.

We came back as heroes with a couple of steaks, some ham, beer, and wine coolers. Brothers were happy, and we went to sleep.

The next morning, we woke up to a bunch of yelling and peeked out of our tent to see a park ranger shouting at some brothers. The campers we’d robbed had reported it, and the park ranger came over to our camp, since he figured the frat boys were more likely to be the culprits than some literal Boy Scouts.

I was ready to keep my mouth shut until the park ranger said that if no one came forward to take responsibility for the theft, our whole group would have to go home. Everyone in our group knew who took the stuff, so I didn’t have much choice but to admit what I’d done.

The park ranger took us to apologize to the victims of the theft, and we did our best to smooth things over. Those people were understandably pissed off, but they said they were not going to press charges.

We were free and clear… until the park ranger said he was going to press charges on behalf of the state. He took us back to the station and told us we were arrested and would have to go to court.

I’m pretty sure he never read our Miranda rights, and he didn’t take mugshots, but we were in the system. He took us back to the campsite and said we’d have to leave immediately. Luckily, a pledge brother had to drive back to campus for his job, so we were able to jump in for the ride.

I got punished for it at a “Pledge Advisory Board,” but then things returned to normal, and I forgot about the impending court case until I checked my mail at the dorm one day and opened a summons to appear in court a few days before Christmas.

I was the dangerous combination of arrogant and ignorant, and figured I’d just have to go to court, and it would all go away. I didn’t tell my dad, and I didn’t ask for a public defender until days before. They told me it was too late, and I’d have to defend myself.

I used to watch the old movie Inherit the Wind with my dad, so I figured I had a grasp of the legal system and could do the pro se thing in court.

When it came time for the court date, my co-defendant told me he was going to skip it and go home for Christmas. My pledge educator, Brad, also got a summons to appear, so I asked if he could drive me. He wasn’t happy.

On the day of the case, we got there with minutes to spare, and I sprinted into the courtroom for my case. Flustered and sweaty, I took a seat in the back.

The case before mine was a local teenager who was arrested for the second time for dealing drugs. Judge David Young was conversational and kind with the teen and gave him 50 hours of probation. The judge said he knew this kid was trying to improve himself by getting involved at the local boxing gym.

This was going to be a cakewalk. I’d probably get 10 hours of community service, knock it out, and be done.

But the judge was immediately antagonistic with me for not having a lawyer, and for my co-defendant failing to show. He lectured me for being this kid from the big city coming out and ruining the peace and way of life in the local campground.

I was shaking at this point, and felt like I was going to faint as he read out the sentence. I was going to have to pay $145 in restitution to one victim and another $100 to the other.

Somehow, the food and drinks weren’t the only items they claimed we took. I was also on the hook for some fishing equipment. Now, I did take the food and booze, and that was a stupid thing to do, but I didn’t touch the fishing equipment, and I have no idea how that got included.

Also, I would have to spend the next year completing 500 hours of community service under a Probation Before Judgment (PBJ) ruling, and then my record would be expunged.

Scott didn’t show, and he would only get in trouble if the police picked him up for something else. That was horseshit, and it reminded me of a Billy Bragg lyric from his song, Rotting on Remand:

I said there is no justice

As they led me out of the door

And the Judge said, “This isn’t a court of justice, son

This is a court of law.”

That was a fun Christmas, as I had to explain to my dad that I needed a ride to see my probation officer and that I’d also need to borrow $245 to pay the victims. The cherry on top was telling him I’d earned a 1.0 GPA after that bad news.

He was angry, and I was miserable. My dad said I should look into joining the U.S. Army, since I wasn’t cut out for college.

It was a tense winter break, and all I had to look forward to was Hell Week before the next semester started with me on academic probation. I did get a letter from one of the guys I’d stolen from, and that made me feel a little better.

After my visit to the Prince George’s County Probation Officer, I was assigned to work at the University of Maryland Physical Plant on Saturdays and Sundays from 7:00 AM to 3:30 PM, as well as working spring break, summer, etc., to complete my 500 hours before the end of 1989.

This was in addition to working at the campus gym during school, bussing tables at a sorority, and taking a full course load.

It sucked a lot. I was spending each weekend with a bunch of guys who thought it was hilarious that they were getting paid to sleep in their truck while I did all of the work.

It sucked so much that I wrote a letter to the Governor of Maryland, William Donald Schaefer, begging for leniency. He responded that he thought the judge made a fair decision.

I finished my community service hours during winter break at the end of 1989 with a week of “volunteering” at a local nursing home. That was a lot easier than being a garbage man, but pretty sad, too.

I’d also gotten my grades up enough that I didn’t have to join the army, which I really felt good about when the Gulf War broke out in 1990.

Scott didn’t show up for Hell Week and wasn’t arrested in Maryland, so he wasn’t punished at all. And I didn’t even get any of the steak, ham, beer, or wine coolers that night.

I tell this story to people, and they never believe that I got 500 hours for this crime. But you know now, because you’ve seen the documents.

Originally published at https://shawncollins512.substack.com.

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