M y upbringing, idealism and outrage did not prepare me for the experience of arrest. In the paddy wagon with my arms zip-tied tight behind my back, I felt guilt, regret and fear. My body was no longer my own. My time belonged to someone else. My mother was worried half to death. My future job prospects were diminished. I, an Ivy League graduate, now had assumed the guise of yet another young man of color with a criminal record.
Very real consequences descended from abstraction into the land of hard facts. Down here they felt heavy. Inside One Police Plaza, the police shuffled us through the glacial bureaucracy of arrest intake: hand over your valuables. Give us your address. Take off your belt. Untie your shoelaces. Stand for your mug shot. Remove your necktie. No talking. With a dozen caged in each cell, we watched our arresting officers laugh about the latest viral videos on Facebook and Snapchat their love interests.
Hours passed. The officers milled about, intermittently completing the forms that detailed our intransigence. More hours passed. Around midnight, a dozen boxes of pizza arrived to feed the night watchers — no food for us.
Then two. Around 3am, an officer pulled open our cell door and announced two names for release. Every 10 minutes he returned to spring a new pair of bondsmen. The cell felt increasingly austere as it emptied. My girlfriend, who faithfully waited up all night on the street outside the jail for my release, was exhausted and annoyed. I mustered a zealous response full of youthful conviction.
But deep down, I was asking myself the same thing. New York City criminal court stands diagonally across the park from the site of my arrest. Every morning, defendants and their families line up outside its doors 30 minutes before court opens session. At 9am, security fires up the x-ray machines and metal detectors and the line slowly processes into the building.
On the other side of the metal detectors, throngs of defendants, paper summons in hand, rush to and fro in search of their assigned lawyers and allotted courtrooms. We tracked down our defense attorney, Ronald Kuby, a former radio host with a silver ponytail, and headed for court room We took our seats on benches laid out in orderly rows like so many pews facing the judge. We were instructed to remove our winter hats and turn off our cellphones. We checked the spelling of our names on forms descended from those completed by our pizza-eating jailors, and waited in timid, contemplative silence.
Do I need a permit? Certain types of events may require permits. These include a march or parade that requires blocking traffic or street closure; a large rally requiring the use of sound amplifying devices; or a rally over a certain size at most parks or plazas.
Restrictions on the route of a march or sound equipment might violate the First Amendment if they are unnecessary for traffic control or public safety, or if they interfere significantly with effective communication to the intended audience. A permit cannot be denied because the event is controversial or will express unpopular views.
If the permit regulations that apply to your protest require a fee for a permit, they should allow a waiver for those who cannot afford the charge. Get contact information for witnesses. Take photographs of any injuries. Print: this section. Share this scenario:. What happens if the police issues an order to disperse the protest? Police may not break up a gathering unless there is a clear and present danger of riot, disorder, interference with traffic, or other immediate threat to public safety.
If officers issue a dispersal order, they must provide a reasonable opportunity to comply, including sufficient time and a clear, unobstructed exit path. Individuals must receive clear and detailed notice of a dispersal order, including how much time they have to disperse, the consequences of failing to disperse, and what clear exit route they can follow, before they may be arrested or charged with any crime.
I want to take pictures or shoot video at a protest Your rights When you are lawfully present in any public space, you have the right to photograph anything in plain view, including federal buildings and the police. On private property, the owner may set rules about photography or video. A tractor parade was organised and hundreds of farmers from across Punjab and other states actively participated in the rally. The protest soon went awry and violence broke out.
A young protester, Navreet Singh , who was a part of the tractor parade, died at the protest site. While the Delhi Police have claimed that Navreet died after a tractor overturned, witnesses at the scene, however, have claimed Navreet had been shot at before he lost control of the vehicle.
The family has contested this report. Farmers participate in a tractor rally to protest against the newly passed farm bills, on a highway on the outskirts of New Delhi, India, January 7, Several prominent people involved with and supporting the agitation have been slapped with notices from the National Investigation Agency NIA.
The protesters are accused of collecting funds for on-ground campaigns and propaganda against the Union government, including staging demonstrations outside Indian missions overseas, like in the US, the UK, Canada and Germany. The protest has also triggered mass criminalisation of several young labour rights and climate change activists. Nodeep Kaur, a year-old Dalit activist from Haryana, has been in jail since January As a part of the Sangathan, Nodeep along with 2, other protesters had pitched a tent on the highway at Singhu, at a chowk located between the Kundli Industrial Area and settlement of mostly migrant workers.
Her participation led to three FIRs against her — for rioting, attempt to murder, obstructing public servants, voluntarily causing hurt among other sections.
Nodeep, a daughter of landless labourers and vocal activists, has accused the police and jail officials of violence , including sexual assault. Her bail application has been rejected in the lower court, and her family is now approaching the Punjab and Haryana high court. And anyone considered anti-national is only dealt with the harshest laws of the land. Most journalists, facing legal action have been booked under sedition, defamation and promoting enmity between communities.
Majority of these cases were registered in BJP-ruled states, among them Uttar Pradesh was ever-willing to implicate journalists. At least three journalists were killed due to their work in Out of three, two belonged to Uttar Pradesh and the third killing took place in Tamil Nadu.
An independent journalist, Mandeep Punia , who was out reporting at Singhu border for The Caravan magazine, was dragged through barricades and arrested by Delhi Police. Punia has accused the police of assaulting him and of arresting him vengefully without any grounds for arrest.
The FIR against Varadarajan and Ara has been registered under Sections B imputations, assertions prejudicial to national-integration and 2 statements conducing to public mischief of the Indian Penal Code.
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