I was questioned (albeit politely) about what I was doing there, in a public space, at 9 p.m.

As questioning continued, my associate pastor, a white male, was already parked in the church lot and came to investigate. The officers never asked to see his identification, never asked his name nor ascertained why he was parked in the parking lot waiting for me to arrive.

They let him stand there making small talk with them while I convinced them to compare the name on the church sign with the name on my identification as well as dropping names of several police officers who attend my church.

Again, they never asked my associate a single question. They apologized — sincerely and with apparent embarrassment — and left for another call.

As they drove away, a flood of emotions which had been dammed up during their questioning began to flow. I could not afford to become emotional or outwardly upset during my interrogation out of concern that my burning anger would betray me and cause me to look guilty of some real crime, warranting a search, a ride downtown or further professional embarrassment.