GREENSBORO - It ended with barely a whisper Monday for the 79-year-old grandfather we've come to know as Pop.
Alexander Kohanowich walked into a second-floor courtroom, wearing a "Celebrate Freedom'' pin on his lapel, and heard his attorney say the two words he longed to hear all month.
"It's done,'' Seth Cohen told Kohanowich beneath his breath.
District Attorney Doug Henderson dismissed the charge against Kohanowich - a misdemeanor assault on a government official.
And that call - which took no more than four minutes in court, according to my watch, officially ended a case that ignited screams of criticism from here to California for the past month.
Catch up with Kohanowich, and he'll tell you he would like for the city to apologize and cover his $2,500 in legal expenses. But don't hold your breath.
On Monday, police Chief Tim Bellamy reiterated what an earlier review found: His department acted appropriately.
Still, Kohanowich has no hard feelings. He respects the police department and the police officer who arrested him. He doesn't want him fired. He calls him a "good man.''
And the idea of a potential civil lawsuit for wrongful arrest? Not this Pop.
The city, he says, is us. We the taxpayers.
"Why would I sue the city?'' he says, walking to his white van in the spitting rain Monday morning. "Can I hug that dollar bill and get warm? No. I'm just glad it's over. I've found some good friends and that's meant a lot to me.''
But why did it have to get this far?
Please, tell me. Because I just don't know.
On March 26, when Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama came to town, Kohanowich stood in the median across from the War Memorial Auditorium and held three signs about patriotism and supporting the troops.
After standing there for an hour and 40 minutes, Greensboro police Officer Lester Prescod approached Kohanowich to tell him he had to leave. Police say Kohanowich - along with at least 15 other people -- had been told three times to move.
The other people moved. Kohanowich didn't.
At the time, Kohanowich was being interviewed by Jeff Tiberii, a radio reporter from WFDD-FM (88.5).
Here's what Kohanowich and Tiberii said happened: Kohanowich placed his left hand on Prescod's right shoulder and intended to tell him he got an OK to stand there from a motorcycle cop.
Tiberii stood so close he could reach out and touch Kohanowich and Prescod. He said Monday that Kohanowich placed his hand on Prescod's shoulder in a "grandfatherly way.''
Here's what Prescod and the police say happened: Kohanowich reached forward and shoved Prescod's shoulder.
Whatever happened, you hear it all unfold like a miniradio drama on Tiberii's tape.
At first, when he asks Kohanowich to move, Prescod sounds polite. Kohanowich raises his voice, there's a tussle and you hear Kohanowich shout, "Are you recording this now for NPR?''
With each brief exchange, Prescod - 43, a 14-year veteran of the department - sounds more perturbed. He says seven times: "Don't put your hands on me!''
It all lasted, from beginning to end, 45 seconds until Kohanowich is flat on the ground, handcuffed, with his hands behind his back.
He drops an expletive, and the police break one of his signs.
"Where the truth lies is difficult to ascertain,'' Henderson said Monday.
"So, given that the defendant is an upstanding citizen, has no criminal record, let everyone go their separate ways.''
So, was there a shove or not a shove?
"That is where everyone parts company,'' Henderson says.
"The law enforcement says a shove was there, and the defendant and an eyewitness (Tiberii) saw it differently. It's something you can't reconcile.''
Kohanowich's 56-year-old daughter, Denise Hollas, has started a legal fund for her father.
Meanwhile, Kohanowich wants to end his brief dance with infamy. He wants to carry his patriotic signs and wear his "Celebrate Freedom'' pin, right above his heart, so everyone - you and me - can't forget.
Ever.
Contact Jeri Rowe at 373-7374 or jeri.rowe@news-record.com
Officer Lester Prescod: "You can't stand here."
Alexander Kohanowich, his voice rising: "Yes, sir. Is this public property?"
Prescod: "You can't stand in the median, sir."
Kohanowich: " Is this public property?"
Prescod: "You can't stand in the median, sir. But you can stand on the side of the road."
Kohanowich, sounding perturbed: "Why didn't you take me out of here before. You saw me here for an hour and half. Why didn't you take me out, sir."
Prescod: "Don't be difficult.''
Kohanowich: "I'm not trying to be difficult.''
Prescod: "Don't put your hands on me.
Kohanowich: "Aaaaaaaah. Wait a minute."
Prescod: "Don't put your hands on me."
Kohanowich: "You going to lock me up?"
Prescod: "Yep. Don't put your hands on me."
Kohanowich: "Alright!"
Prescod, sounding alarmed: "Don't put your hands on me!''
A scuffle ensues
Prescod: "Don't put your hands on me!''
Kohanowich: "Are you recording this now for NPR? Don't break my (expletive) arms."
Prescod: "Don't put your hands on me."
Kohanowich: "I'm 89 (sic) years old."
Prescod: "Don't put your hands on me.''
Kohanowich: "Don't break it that thing. I'm 79 years old. I'm not resisting for God's sake. You with NPR? You see what's going on?"
Prescod: "Don't touch me.''
An unnamed police officer: "Charge him with assault.''
Kohanowich: "You've got five guys here. You destroyed my sign. I'm here supporting
the men and women who gave us this freedom, and you're going to hang me
for it.''
Unnamed officer to radio reporter Jeff Tiberii: "Excuse me, do you mind walking to the other side of the street?"
Jeff Tiberii: "Yep.''
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