Sonia Sotomayor could declare martial law on Kevin Orcutt's
nunchaku  Sergeant Kevin Orcutt stands over me: "Give me your
arm, please."  He says it the way stereotypical cops talk, in a
monotone demand with just enough polite formality to seem like a
request. I know his goal is to handcuff me, so I've clenched my
body into a ball. Face to the ground, arms crossed, legs wrapped
close. Like a rock, I think. You can't handcuff a rock.  Orcutt
crouches and threads one end of a nunchaku under my right arm.
He clamps both ends together and twists. "Arm, please, arm,
please, arm, arm, arm," he says. The hard polycarbonate plastic
presses into the bone and sensitive muscle beneath my biceps. I
smash my face against the floor to muffle a groan. The two
strands of nylon cord connecting the sticks of the nunchaku
enable Orcutt to pull my arm out from under me. The pain
increases as he cranks upward. Rock, meet forklift. Soon I
unlock my legs and rise to my knees. He uses the nunchaku to
direct my arm around my back. Aft