My name is Kathryn Rose Wood. I’m a songwriter, musician, board-certified music therapist, and social services professional. I’ve spent most of my adult life championing outreach and advocacy (for example, see the 3rd Annual Music for Mental Health Benefit) across a spectrum of human justice needs, and have been no stranger to traumatic experiences of both those I’ve served, and my own. Just a few months ago, after what felt like years of darkness, it seemed like I was finally coming out of it. And that’s when life got turned upside down, beyond any fathomable reality I could have ever dreamed… and without my consent, or awareness. So, the following story is being shared in an attempt to do what I often strive to do: use personal challenges and negative events to share information and resources to the community at large.
Around 10 a.m. on Tuesday, December 18, 2018, I was arrested by the Jefferson Parish Police – for the first, and hopefully last, time of my life. I was voluntarily getting fingerprinted at the Jefferson Parish Sheriff’s office for an upcoming school counseling internship when I was informed that there was an active outstanding Orleans Parish warrant in my name for “unauthorized use of a movable,” reportedly originally issued in December 2016. Essentially, I was being accused of vehicle theft, without any prior contact, mailings, or knowledge of the charges held against me.
Despite my best protests that the warrant was illegitimate, I was detained and transported to a Jefferson Parish holding cell. There I sat, with 17 other female bookees awaiting their own fates, without any explanation of what was happening or why. Thanks to my cellmates, I learned that Orleans Parish has ten days to pick up a detainee from another parish’s holding. So, until Orleans decided what to do with me, I would not be processed or released from Jefferson’s holding. I would continue lying on a dirty, ripped cot with my bunk buddies in a room no bigger than most musicians’ practice spaces, for the next 30-some hours. And so…I waited.
Sometime mid-afternoon on Thursday, December 20, I was transferred from Jefferson’s holding to the custody of Orleans. I arrived to Orleans Parish criminal holding near dinnertime, and waited some more. As a bail hearing approached, I was provided a consult with the public defense lawyer on duty that evening. Per the lawyer, it appeared that someone had rented and then stolen a U-Haul truck in my name – in November 2016, over two years prior to my arrest. I felt shock, and then immediately became angry. How could someone use my identity to rent a U-Haul, without any access to my identity or financial information? U-Haul didn’t ever attempt to find or contact me when said rented vehicle was never returned. Better yet, how might a warrant in my name be active for over two years, and yet, I hadn’t once received any type of communication about it? I kept my addresses current, was easily located online (thanks to my musical, professional, and outreach pursuits), my phone number and email had been the same since I was a teenager, and I’d even had an NOPD police officer in my living room, taking an unrelated incident report when my purse was stolen at gig in March 2017, just four months after the U-Haul warrant went out. How’s that for irony?
When I was arrested, it was just days before I was due to leave for my first independently planned tour. I had club features, hotel gigs, and a few house shows booked up the Northeast and back over the course of two weeks, with a family Christmas visit mixed in the middle. As one might guess, my new legal status meant the tour was cancelled, Christmas was cancelled (for me), and any income from the performances was lost. Although I was later released from Orleans’ custody on December 20, it was thanks to a Release on Recognizance (ROR) bond. This meant that, in lieu of paying a bond fee, I was required to remain in the state until further determination of my guilt or innocence. This also meant any future gigs out-of-state would be cancelled until the bond was satisfied – which would be whenever the court determined if I was guilty or innocent.
How do you explain to a booking manager with whom you’ve got no real relationship that you really wanted to play the gig, but you – uh-oh! – aren’t legally allowed to leave the state? And what about the damage to your artist reputation, or ability to book that venue/area again? Or, perhaps most importantly, how do you recoup the lost wages from now-cancelled performances, and possible merch sales?
Unfortunately, the likelihood is that you don’t.
So… what can be done to protect yourself in a situation like this? Or prevent it from even happening at all? There is crucial information most working musicians and other creative artists should have in order to answer these questions. In the most basic of tenets, here are some steps:
1. Keep documented records, including any financial and contractual specifications, of every upcoming gig you have booked, at minimum. Take that one step further and hold onto gig records from the past year (or more), as well. This is easier said than done, since many local venues rely on text messages and phone calls to book. So – save those text messages. Don’t want to save them in your phone? Forward them to your personal email. Voicemails? Save them. Emails, social media messages, texts, voicemails, screenshots of call logs between you and the booker – save all of it.
Why?: You can use records of current/upcoming bookings in support of possible legal recoup claims, should you be unable to perform due to circumstances beyond your own doing. You might also be able to use those past bookings as proof of whereabouts in a particular time or place – or at least trigger memories of specific timeframes related to important events.
2. Get your financial affairs in order. Make sure basic bills are paid, outstanding debts are (at least starting to get) taken care of, and allott a percent of your income to an emergency fund. Most creative folks I know will agree that it’s tougher than ever to make a comfortable, livable wage simply on performances and merch in our immediate areas. We get used to living gig-to-gig, and put off annoying Frenchmen Street parking tickets, unpaid medical bills, etc. to pay for the really basic necessities: rent and food. BUT, funneling a small portion of earnings toward an emergency fund builds up over time, and can be a lifesaver in an emergency situation.
It might not seem like much, but even $1 of the $10 you made on that crappy St. Claude gig last week is still something more than nothing.
Why?: If you land in trouble, a little bit of cash offering goes a long way. Got a traffic citation for an unpaid speeding ticket? Putting at least $20 toward the fine might prove that you’re aware and attempting to rectify your debts. More serious circumstances? A basic amount of emergency money can help that bail bondsman make a release deal with the court, giving you added time to make a game plan and keep working.
3. Unless you save every receipt (and if you do, who are you?!?!), make it a point to save the past two years of any banking statements and credit card transactions at your financial institutions. Most companies now have the feature to download PDF files of each account charge and payment over the past two years, so do this ASAP and often. Save them somewhere you can easily access them.
Why?: Just as in point 1, having a proof of a financial timeline supports your physical timeline/whereabouts, but also helps outline expenses you may need to claim in legal proceedings or lack of funds available to do so. In my case, having a record of my statements during the time of said vehicle rental/theft showed that – shocker – I had no history of transactions with the U-Haul company during this time, or any other. Pretty helpful evidence of non-responsibility!
4. While I don’t have a solution for determining if there’s a warrant in your name, it’s safe to say any parking tickets (damn those Frenchmen load-in/load-out tickets), speeding tickets, etc. should attempt to be paid in the timeline enforced. And, hold onto those citations!
Why?: Again, easier said than done, but it sure helps your case if you end up like me and can, at least, say, you’ve satisfied any outstanding legal commitments – even those as minor as traffic – to your knowledge. Court officials will almost always be more likely to hear you out if it seems like you’re making your best efforts to do right by the law.
5. Memorize at least two phone numbers of local contacts for emergency purposes. Mom’s number ten states away isn’t gonna do much for you in a real emergency.
Why?: It’s pretty rare that anyone is permitted to access their cell phone when being arrested and detained. Once you get access to a phone, what good is getting a phone call for help when you don’t have a local number to actually get in touch with? You’re going to need someone to help physically advocate for you, contact those venues you booked but can’t play because of being detained, and get to the bail bondsman with that $20 St. Claude emergency fund to make a deal for release.
6. Purse stolen off the stage of your gig? Drop your wallet somewhere in the Quarter while toting your too-heavy gear? Report it to local police. Then go to the records office and pay the fee to get that police report. Trust me, it’s worth it.
Why?: If someone attempts to sell any of your belongings, or – in my case – steal your identity, these documents might be your one true hope of proof against the matter. If it’s a missing identification card, you can also use these reports to get a new ID number, passport number, whatever it may be, when you go for a replacement. This is a crucial step, so do NOT skip it! Most agencies will not give you a new number unless you provide this document.
7. If you find yourself in a seriously troubling situation, and without access to any funds or friends to help, get in contact with the Justice & Accountability Center of Louisiana. These folks are dedicated to helping people end injustice in the justice system, and are apt to provide advice or referrals to someone who can help – including a free expungement workshop held monthly at their offices in Mid-City. So…. remember that thing about memorizing numbers? Memorize this one. Now! (504) 322-4050.
After all these tips, you may be thinking, “This is such good information. Awesome! But what about Kathryn’s story?”
With the help of an empathetic/ financially-reasonable lawyer, some great friends, and all those tips I shared with you on what to do to protect yourself, the charges were eventually refused (basically, the prosecutor decides there isn’t enough evidence against the accused individual to pursue criminal charges). Upon refusal, I went through the expungement process to get that arrest record publicly sealed as soon as possible (pro tip: there’s a handy guide from the Justice and Accountability Center on its website telling you how to do this!). I was ultimately granted public expungement on June 28, 2019, and received my certification of expungement late-August 2019 – nearly 9 months after the arrest, and almost 3 years after the initial warrant went out.
Now, this won’t mean the legal woes are over for me, because expungement only publicly seals your records by Louisiana law – which means any offenses or arrests remain on private records that are searchable by state/federal institutions. I’ll be subject to explaining the arrest and providing proof supporting my innocence on any state/federal background checks, job offers, professional licensing applications, re-certifications, etc. for the duration of my life. But, with a stack of documents for every step of this journey, and all those records I held onto from gigs, financial institutions, and otherwise, proving not only my lack of responsibility for the allegation, but also the time, status, and money lost due to the allegations, I’ll be all the more ready to face the future. And hopefully, after reading this, you can be, too!
Kathryn Rose Wood is board-certified music therapist, nationally-certified counselor, singer-songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist based in New Orleans. A lifelong social justice advocate, Kathryn uses her experiences as an active musician-turned-social services professional to promote outreach and advocacy through music. You can read more of Kathryn’s essays, on topics such as mental health, suicide prevention, and music at Elephant Journal, OC 87 Recovery Diaries, the New Orleans Musician’s Clinic, To Write Love On Her Arms, and the National Alliance on Mental Illness. For more on Kathryn, or just to drop her a line, find her at the following links:
