After an initial run-in with the police on the sixth week of our anti-torture vigil, we resumed protesting in the same location next week. Below is that story, told in photos and captions. (Photographs by Dale Domer, myself, and others.)

Our five-hour action began with readings from the book, Poems from Guantánamo: The Detainees Speak edited by Marc Falkoff, an attorney for 17 Yemeni prisoners.

James Petersen joined us in returning to the corner of Valley West Drive and University Avenue, where we were harassed by mall security and police for walking on the sidewalk the week prior. Here’s a link to the URI on the sign.

Mall security did not exit their van for another round of mockery this week, instead circling around in their vehicle and phoning the cops.

About 45 minutes in, the first police officer arrived to take identification and, as he put it, “investigate a crime.” The crime in question was the operation of a megaphone without a permit.

The cop conducts his self-described “criminal investigation.”

Kirk was frisked by the cop in front of a packed line of traffic for no apparent reason.

The protest continued as Kirk was inspected for something that was never found. The web address on the sign is WitnessTorture.org

James holds the sign that reads, “Indifference Is the Currency of Brutality” while waving the Adbusters flag.

After frisking Kirk, the officer took our driver’s licenses and consulted his on-dash robot-box to determine if we were terrorists.

Kirk, Dale, and James await the cop’s departure.

After the first officer left, we took a break to enjoy rice cakes, peanut butter, and apricot jam.

In what I can only imagine was preparation for Fred Phelps’ visit next week, homosexual slurs were out in full force: “Faggot,” “Gay,” “Suck dick,” and, most comically, “Eat a cockmeat sandwich!” Usually it’s a lot of “fuck you”, “hippies”, “get a job”, “get a life”, etc. (Which we thankfully also heard today.)

Most of these are shouted after people have been waiting at a stoplight for quite sometime. When the light turns green, they cowardly shout something out as they pass by. The gold prize this week goes to the fellow who said, “Come down the street and we’ll beat the fuck out of you!” Apparently there is a special corner for fuck-beating, and it wasn’t the one we were on.

The guy on the motorcycle here asserted that, “the reason we have to keep fighting the war is because of people like you who want to shut [Guantánamo] down.” Ah yes, we wouldn’t want any London chefs returning to their families after years of indefinite detention without charge.

This fellow pulled into the mall parking lot to ask us if we knew who Daniel Pearl was. “Yes,” James responded. Daniel Pearl was an American journalist who was brutally beheaded on video at the hands of al-Qaeda. “I think torture is wrong no matter who is doing it,” I responded. The man said, “You don’t know who you’re talking about”, a shouting match ensued, and he left.

Despite negative remarks, the reaction was surprisingly positive that week. Usually, the majority of vocal drivers are hurling insults at us, but the negativity was the lowest it had been since 2009 this time around.

A second officer arrived perhaps 30 minutes after the first who had frisked Kirk. This officer was considerably less friendly, saying, “This is how it’s going to work: I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen,” at which point I began to talk to him as he explained that, “if I hear anything more about you guys going out in the street and causing traffic accidents” we’d be in trouble. This was nonsense, as we had remained on the sidewalk, and I told him so. Nonetheless, he stated, “If I have to come back over here, somebody’s going to jail.”

After the second officer threatened to arrest us, we decided to make his job easier by moving the protest outside of the West Des Moines Police Department.

After visiting the police station, we began a march through residential neighborhoods in West Des Moines. Along the way, two girls who were curious about our event joined us in carrying signs as we plodded on toward the mall.

The march lasted for quite some time, and we picked up three other interested people as we went, who walked with us.

Worry!

After a lot of marching, we finally reached the corner of Valley West Mall again, but with a slightly larger group.

The group returns to four as the sun sets.

After five hours, the vigil comes to a conclusion.