There’s a whole subculture of “sovereign citizens” out there who think they’ve cracked the code. They believe if they say the right magic words, refuse to roll down their window, or claim they’re “traveling, not driving,” they can outsmart law enforcement. They love to film themselves resisting lawful commands, then post the meltdown on YouTube as some kind of victory.
Newsflash: they don’t win. They never win. They get yanked out of their cars, tased, arrested, and charged with more than what they were pulled over for in the first place.
The Correct Playbook
- Stay in the vehicle.
- Roll the window completely down.
- Offer a friendly “Howdy” or “Good day.”
- Immediately provide your license, proof of insurance, and registration.
Don’t demand to know why you were stopped. Don’t play word games. Don’t argue about jurisdiction. Just sit quietly, be respectful, and let the officer explain.
If you’re clean, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Worst case, you get a ticket. Best case, you get a warning. If you’ve got warrants, a suspended license, or something illegal in the car, then you’re already in the wrong — don’t make it worse by resisting. If an officer tells you to get out of the vehicle, do it. Don’t sit there like an idiot until they drag you out. For God’s sake, don’t run. You won’t win.
Ripple, the Marines, and a Traffic Stop Gone Right
Back in my Marine days, fresh home from Vietnam, me and another jarhead scraped together enough for a couple quarts of Ripple wine at the Oceanside drive-in. We watched The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, polished off both bottles, and got the bright idea to drive to L.A. to “roll some homos” for cash (stupid idea that thankfully never happened). My buddy passed out, so I turned back toward base. Trouble was, I was cruising on the inside shoulder of I-5 when those blue lights showed up behind me.
When the cops lit me up, I didn’t argue. I complied. Showed my hands. Told them the truth: “We polished off a couple bottles of Ripple.” They gave me the option of urine or blood. I cracked a joke — “Which one will give you the best result?” They laughed. I said, “Blood. Bring it on.”
We spent the night in the Orange County jail, treated civilly and respectfully. At court, I pled guilty at first, until I realized the Marines might charge me with unauthorized absence. I switched my plea, came back with my CO in dress uniform, sharp as a tack. The new judge grinned, asked if I had a case of “Ripple-itis.” I said, “Yes, sir. Just back from Vietnam, celebrating a little too hard.” He dismissed the DUI, reduced it to reckless driving, fined me $100, and gave me three months to pay.
The cops later told me it was one of the funniest traffic stops they’d ever made.
Lesson: respect and honesty go a long way.
A Stop in Texas
Fast-forward to 2017. My wife and I were driving from Phoenix to St. Louis for my 50th high school reunion. She’s Filipino — long dark hair, brown skin, very petite. In Texas, the Highway Patrol pulled us over. I wasn’t speeding, so I didn’t know why.
Instead of explaining, the officer asked me to step out and sit in his patrol car while he interviewed my wife. I suspect he thought she might have been Mexican, illegal, or even kidnapped. He spoke with her for a few minutes, then came back to compare our stories.
Of course they matched. And when he saw my USMC hat, it turned out he was a former Marine too. We swapped stories, shook hands, and he sent us on our way with a smile.
That stop was respectful, professional, and — dare I say it — pleasant.
The Difference
Two very different stops, decades apart. But the common thread? Cooperation. Respect. Honesty.
When you’ve got nothing to hide, traffic stops usually go just fine. Sometimes you even get a handshake out of it. When you start resisting, shouting nonsense about “traveling,” or refusing to comply, you’re the one turning a minor stop into a major disaster.
Prediction: The Antics Aren’t Getting Smarter
From what I’ve seen on YouTube, I don’t even know how sovereign citizen antics could get worse. Watching those videos, I unconsciously clench my fists, tighten my gut, and in my head I’m screaming: Stop! Obey the damn commands!
Instead, these clowns sit there, repeating the same lines about “traveling not driving,” refusing lawful orders, dragging out the inevitable until officers finally have no choice but to yank them out, cuff them, or tase them.
Here’s the reality: it’s not going to stop. Smartphones and YouTube have given these jokers an audience, and they’ll keep doubling down for clicks and views. But their “movement” isn’t growing stronger — it’s just growing louder and dumber.
The real winners will still be the same: the citizens who roll down the window, say “good day, officer,” hand over their papers, and go home with nothing more than a warning.