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Tobias Kern. I thought it was an ordinary traffic stop. Then my journey became a transfer in custody.
The story in five images
1. No Longer Just a Check
I had convinced myself they would only want my driving licence and vehicle papers. A few questions, a quick look, then I could get back in. But when the officer repeated my name, his tone changed. Another man was already waiting behind him. Nobody was asking me to explain anything now.
I stood at the roadside with my hands behind my back while black gloves moved across my brown hoodie. I wanted to say something firm, something confident. Instead, I heard myself asking whether this was really necessary. The answer was brief. My cargo trousers, my pockets, my whole appearance were being inspected as though my own word suddenly carried no weight.
The cars drove past slowly. I did not look at them. I still felt every glance.
2. In Full View
When they brought my hands round to the front, I thought for a moment it would become easier. Then one officer checked the cuffs while the chain at my waist rattled beside me. I stood with my feet apart on the asphalt and tried to keep my fingers still.
My white Nike trainers with their blue Swoosh looked absurdly clean among the heavy tactical boots. Earlier, I had pressed the pedals in them without a second thought. Now even a small movement made metal strike metal, and everyone looked at my feet again.
I was not only ashamed of standing there like that. I was ashamed of my voice. It had grown thin, despite all my effort not to seem small.
3. The Last Walk
A hand rested on my arm. We walked towards the vehicle, and I was still trying to find my own pace. The officer did not need to shout. One short word was enough whenever I moved too quickly or wanted to stop.
My brown hoodie no longer offered any shelter. I could not hide inside it, put my hands in the pockets or simply turn away. Everything that had once been incidental stood out now: the fabric on my shoulders, the air against my face, the distance to the open door.
I thought about my car behind us. The key still belonged to me. That did not mean I was allowed to drive on.
4. Steps That Are No Longer Mine
I looked down. The blue Swoosh on my Nikes, the laces, the cuffs of my cargo trousers. Familiar things. Above them sat the ankle restraints, with a chain running between my shoes.
I put one foot in front of the other. Not far. Just far enough to make the next step possible. Only then did I fully understand how little about moving was still automatic. I had to think about something I had never considered before: where I placed my foot, and whether the distance would even allow it.
I wanted to manage this short walk without stumbling. Not give anyone another reason to watch.
5. My Journey Ends Here
At the ramp they brought my hands behind my back again. I saw the open door and the darker interior beyond it. One officer waited at the top; another stood beside me.
I lifted my white Nike trainer onto the ramp. The next step was slower. I had no free hand to hold on with, and I had to let them guide me. Of all moments, this was the one when I did not want to ask anyone for help. But pride did not make the climb any easier.
At the top, I turned my head towards the road one more time. The checkpoint stayed behind, along with the passing cars. Everyone else's day continued. My journey had become a transfer in custody.
As I stepped inside, I heard the chain behind me. This time it no longer sounded like a brief noise at the roadside. It belonged to the space where I now had to stay.
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3. The Last Walk
A hand rested on my arm. We walked towards the vehicle, and I was still trying to find my own pace. The officer did not need to shout. One short word was enough whenever I moved too quickly or wanted to stop.
My brown hoodie no longer offered any shelter. I could not hide inside it, put my hands in the pockets or simply turn away. Everything that had once been incidental stood out now: the fabric on my shoulders, the air against my face, the distance to the open door.
I thought about my car behind us. The key still belonged to me. That did not mean I was allowed to drive on.
4. Steps That Are No Longer Mine
I looked down. The blue Swoosh on my Nikes, the laces, the cuffs of my cargo trousers. Familiar things. Above them sat the ankle restraints, with a chain running between my shoes.
I put one foot in front of the other. Not far. Just far enough to make the next step possible. Only then did I fully understand how little about moving was still automatic. I had to think about something I had never considered before: where I placed my foot, and whether the distance would even allow it.
I wanted to manage this short walk without stumbling. Not give anyone another reason to watch.
5. My Journey Ends Here
At the ramp they brought my hands behind my back again. I saw the open door and the darker interior beyond it. One officer waited at the top; another stood beside me.
I lifted my white Nike trainer onto the ramp. The next step was slower. I had no free hand to hold on with, and I had to let them guide me. Of all moments, this was the one when I did not want to ask anyone for help. But pride did not make the climb any easier.
At the top, I turned my head towards the road one more time. The checkpoint stayed behind, along with the passing cars. Everyone else's day continued. My journey had become a transfer in custody.
As I stepped inside, I heard the chain behind me. This time it no longer sounded like a brief noise at the roadside. It belonged to the space where I now had to stay.
1. No Longer Just a Check
I had convinced myself they would only want my driving licence and vehicle papers. A few questions, a quick look, then I could get back in. But when the officer repeated my name, his tone changed. Another man was already waiting behind him. Nobody was asking me to explain anything now.
I stood at the roadside with my hands behind my back while black gloves moved across my brown hoodie. I wanted to say something firm, something confident. Instead, I heard myself asking whether this was really necessary. The answer was brief. My cargo trousers, my pockets, my whole appearance were being inspected as though my own word suddenly carried no weight.
The cars drove past slowly. I did not look at them. I still felt every glance.
2. In Full View
When they brought my hands round to the front, I thought for a moment it would become easier. Then one officer checked the cuffs while the chain at my waist rattled beside me. I stood with my feet apart on the asphalt and tried to keep my fingers still.
My white Nike trainers with their blue Swoosh looked absurdly clean among the heavy tactical boots. Earlier, I had pressed the pedals in them without a second thought. Now even a small movement made metal strike metal, and everyone looked at my feet again.
I was not only ashamed of standing there like that. I was ashamed of my voice. It had grown thin, despite all my effort not to seem small.
Slideshow
5. My Journey Ends Here
At the ramp they brought my hands behind my back again. I saw the open door and the darker interior beyond it. One officer waited at the top; another stood beside me.
I lifted my white Nike trainer onto the ramp. The next step was slower. I had no free hand to hold on with, and I had to let them guide me. Of all moments, this was the one when I did not want to ask anyone for help. But pride did not make the climb any easier.
At the top, I turned my head towards the road one more time. The checkpoint stayed behind, along with the passing cars. Everyone else's day continued. My journey had become a transfer in custody.
As I stepped inside, I heard the chain behind me. This time it no longer sounded like a brief noise at the roadside. It belonged to the space where I now had to stay.
1. No Longer Just a Check
I had convinced myself they would only want my driving licence and vehicle papers. A few questions, a quick look, then I could get back in. But when the officer repeated my name, his tone changed. Another man was already waiting behind him. Nobody was asking me to explain anything now.
I stood at the roadside with my hands behind my back while black gloves moved across my brown hoodie. I wanted to say something firm, something confident. Instead, I heard myself asking whether this was really necessary. The answer was brief. My cargo trousers, my pockets, my whole appearance were being inspected as though my own word suddenly carried no weight.
The cars drove past slowly. I did not look at them. I still felt every glance.
2. In Full View
When they brought my hands round to the front, I thought for a moment it would become easier. Then one officer checked the cuffs while the chain at my waist rattled beside me. I stood with my feet apart on the asphalt and tried to keep my fingers still.
My white Nike trainers with their blue Swoosh looked absurdly clean among the heavy tactical boots. Earlier, I had pressed the pedals in them without a second thought. Now even a small movement made metal strike metal, and everyone looked at my feet again.
I was not only ashamed of standing there like that. I was ashamed of my voice. It had grown thin, despite all my effort not to seem small.
3. The Last Walk
A hand rested on my arm. We walked towards the vehicle, and I was still trying to find my own pace. The officer did not need to shout. One short word was enough whenever I moved too quickly or wanted to stop.
My brown hoodie no longer offered any shelter. I could not hide inside it, put my hands in the pockets or simply turn away. Everything that had once been incidental stood out now: the fabric on my shoulders, the air against my face, the distance to the open door.
I thought about my car behind us. The key still belonged to me. That did not mean I was allowed to drive on.
4. Steps That Are No Longer Mine
I looked down. The blue Swoosh on my Nikes, the laces, the cuffs of my cargo trousers. Familiar things. Above them sat the ankle restraints, with a chain running between my shoes.
I put one foot in front of the other. Not far. Just far enough to make the next step possible. Only then did I fully understand how little about moving was still automatic. I had to think about something I had never considered before: where I placed my foot, and whether the distance would even allow it.
I wanted to manage this short walk without stumbling. Not give anyone another reason to watch.
The complete story with narration
German narration, without music. Complete written stories in DE, EN, ES and FR; no English, Spanish or French narration. The video is chronological. Captions: chapter headings.