“You’ve got the wrong guy. Don’t you people know who I am? Hey, I’m talking to you; answer me, dammit.” They ignored me again like they had the last ten times I said the same. I’ve been repeating that refrain or some variation of it since they threw me back here with cuffs on and no regard for my comfort.

At first, I tried telling myself that it was because of my disheveled appearance that they didn’t recognize me, but then I remembered that they’d called me by name in ...