TIM WALKS HOME AT THE WITCHING HOUR, a haloed moon the only witness until a flashing police cruiser spotlights him up against an alley wall, no crime, no record, the only probable cause : wrong side of town—economic station .

— Where are you heading at this hour ?
— Why is the time relevant ? Home .
— Let me see your I.D.
— I don’t have one .
— [ sarcastically ] You don’t have an I.D. ?
— [ sarcastically back ] This is America ; I don’t have to carry papers .
— All right smartass, turn around, I’m arresting you for belligerence .

  The court fines him accordingly a few days later . Cha-Ching ! Justice .

*[ WSB ]_.