I still remember the fluorescent lights in that cramped little police station in California.
Not glamorous.
Not dramatic.
Just… humiliating.
It was supposed to be a quick errand before my flight back to Manila.
Jet-lagged.
Running on stale coffee and three hours of sleep.
I parked where i wasn't supposed to.
Didn't even see the sign.
When the cop knocked on my window, I tried to talk my way out of it.
Explained i was a visitor, I didn't know the rules.
But my voice was sharp.
Defensive.
I was tired, and he didn't like my tone.
So they told me to step out of the car.
Made me wait on the curb while they ran my ID.
Called it "detaining for questioning."
Standard procedure, they said.
I sat in the back of the patrol car while they checked if I had unpaid fines or warrants.
Spoiler: I didn't.
I ended up at the station for paperwork.
No handcuffs. No charges.
Just signatures, instructions to pay a hefty fine, and a warning about my attitude.
But that photo?
It ended up online.
Headlines back home: "Filipina Actress ARRESTED in Los Angeles."
They didn't care about the difference between arrested and detained.
Didn't care about the truth.
That was the first time i realized how fast a rumor could swallow the facts.
How easy it was to paint me as trouble.
It wasn't the last.
But it was the first time i understood that for people like me—
People who perform for a living, whose faces are on billboards—
One mistake, one bad angle, one stubborn moment…
And you're not a person anymore.
You're a scandal.
And i was only twenty-five.
I didn't know yet that it would follow me forever.
That no matter how many roles i landed, how many awards i won,
there'd always be someone who'd say,
"Wasn't she that actress who got arrested in LA?"
No.
I wasn't arrested.
But i did sit there in that station.
Staring at the floor.
Wondering if this was the moment everything I'd worked for would disappear.