Arrested at the Border
Last week, I was arrested.
Full on, hands above your head, legs apart, slowly bring your arms down to be handcuffed and detained in a 6x6 cell, arrested.
This is a first for me (except when I was 16 and taken to the police station because I was out past curfew painting the senior hill as a tradition in our high school. But that surely doesn't count!)
I'm the type of girl who usually gets anxious about receiving a parking ticket. I feel all sorts of uncomfortable when an officer even questions my character. Think shame, guilt, vulnerability, misunderstood, scared, etc.
I strive to be a good law-abiding citizen.
Occasionally going five or ten mph over the speed limit is as rebellious as I get.
But handcuffed, read my rights, and put in a holding room?
I was terrified.
Let's start from the beginning.
As most of you know, I have been trying to find my new home. I packed all my belongings up last fall and left Skagway in December, leaving it behind until I found a location I love.
In those three months, I found the cute little town of Palmer further north in Alaska, purchased a three-bedroom ranch-style home, started a house remodel, and prepared a 700+ mile road trip with a Uhaul back to Skagway to get my belongings.
The morning of my arrest, we (my boyfriend Ryan and I) woke up to a bright, blue-skied sunny day in Skagway. Ryan was driving the 15' Uhaul, packed complete with my belongings and a pallet worth of my brothers. I was in my car, leading the way to my new life.
The first 40 minutes of the drive were gorgeous. I looked up with an overwhelming sense of gratitude as I admired the snow-capped mountains and sang songs in my car.
It felt like a good day!
We approached Canadian customs at the Fraser crossing. The border patrol officer asked the regular question, "Do you have any food? Tobacco or alcohol? Any firearms?"
"No, no, no."
Expectedly, he wanted to see inside the Uhaul. We pulled up, and they had us enter the office while searching the vehicles.
Five minutes later, he walked in from outside and said he found some pepper spray in my car's console. This is considered a weapon.
"I'm sorry, officer, I haven't been in my car in four months and blanked it."
"I understand, but is there anything else that could be a weapon in your Uhaul?"
And that is when it hit me.
My face spoke before my words did.
"Oh crap!"
I paused.
There was no way to get out of this now, as my face said it all.
"I packed all this so long ago, and I forgot that there is a pistol still in the original box in the Uhaul somewhere."
I looked at Ryan. He looked at me.
We both knew we were in trouble.
I have never owned a gun up until 2020. I still think it's odd to say, "I'm a gun owner." Growing up in Alaska, my dad always had guns for hunting and protection while out in the woods. Wildlife here is no joke.
I became a gun owner three years ago, used it once when I first got it at the practice range, and it's been in its original box in a bag in my pantry every since.
I felt so foolish at that moment.
How could I have spaced this?
It was an honest mistake.
Or so I thought.
"Mam, please stand up. I have to arrest you for smuggling a firearm into Canada.”
My heart sank.
Complete shock and disbelief spread over my entire body.
Handcuffed, embarrassed, and scared to tears, they walked me to a cell where they read me my rights.
They called the US consulate and a Yukon lawyer and asked me many questions.
Then I was left alone.
(The image below is not of the actual event. It was me being silly at the Skagway jail when I got a tour of the Safety building. Be careful what you show your brain!)
I cried.
I allowed myself to feel feelings: fear, sadness, regret, disbelief, vulnerability, anxiety, and embarrassment.
I took deep breaths.
I cried some more.
I connected with my meditation mantra.
I manifested the best-case scenario and imagined continuing the drive north, singing songs in my car, and arriving in Palmer.
Teenager Cole would have panicked, possibly got defensive, and even made snarky comments.
Mid-twenties Cole would have had a tantrum and blamed others.
Mindful Cole stayed present, grateful for any compassion, and worked with them to better the situation.
Breathe, Cole, Breathe.
The Yukon lawyer described what could possibly happen. The worst cases were I would be charged and put in jail or have to return to Canada for a future court date.
Best case, they don't charge me and instead seize my Uhaul, take the gun, and I have to pay $1000 Canadian to get my Uhaul back.
Five hours later, 60+ boxes untaped, opened, and scattered out on the muddy street with snow and slush, they found and confiscated my gun. They unarrested me and slapped my wrist with the best-case solution. (So thankful, really!)
I paid the $1000 Canadian to get my Uhaul back, packed up all the boxes, and Ryan and I were sent on our way.
As I drove further north, my stomach in knots, I had another hour and a half drive to think about what happened until we got to a city to rest.
Here are a few of my thoughts
Honest mistakes happen - that doesn't mean I'm a terrible person, but wow, my perfectionist and "do-gooder" parts of me hated it!
Compassion and kindness are incredibly powerful and go miles.
Giving myself visions of hope and the best outcomes helped ease the terrified parts of me. (As opposed to dwelling on the worst-case scenarios.)
It's always best to tell the truth, even if that means you can get in trouble. Had I lied and border patrol found the gun later, I surely would be in Canadian jail now.
My toolbox full of self-care was the essential arsenal that got me through this situation—connecting to my meditation mantra, deep breathing, manifesting, honoring my feelings, and shaking out/stretching my body in the small 6x6 cell.
Sometimes it's all about procedures and not about you.
I cringed at the thought of telling certain people this story - for fear of their reaction. While driving, I reminded myself that I am human.
Having a secure partner alongside me, continuously reaffirming that I did the right thing was incredibly helpful. Ryan lifted me up when I felt terrified and was my biggest champion. I am incredibly grateful for his support.
Scary situations make laughable stories later.
Sharing mistakes and vulnerable stories are what connects people. Connection is my top value. Thank you for letting me share and for receiving it with compassion.
Stay safe, friends, and declare your fruits, alcohol, and permitted firearms at the border.
P.S. Please don't hesitate to reach out with any questions. You can do that here or below.
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