Mug Shot

Google Me and You’ll See My Mugshot — Here’s the Truth Behind It

If you Google me, you’ll see my recently booked page from my stint in jail.

Here’s what Google won’t tell you.

For one thing, I was never once read my Miranda rights.

I was living in my car in 2023. Ashes season. I went to the pool and got picked up for swimming in the pool and not doing anything. They took me into the bathroom and wanted me to dress when I was in my swimsuit. All the men police officers went into the shower area and I was placed in a police car, not handcuffed once. No rights read. Just processed.

I got a charge for reckless driving when I was going the speed limit down the street and the officer took me in. I was not going fast. I was not drinking. They left my car sitting at the grocery store all night. When you are unhoused, you face criminalization. Existing is suspicious. Driving while tired is reckless. Swimming while homeless is trespassing.

I worked with the court. Everything was dismissed but the driving, and I did take care of that. I paid what I owed. I showed up. Because I know I was not drinking. I know I was not reckless. I was just poor, tired, and in a car that was also my bedroom.

I can honestly say that I learned the difference between big butts and little butts. Big butts are big police officers with experience. Little butts are rookies. The big butts knew I wasn’t a threat. The little butts had something to prove. That’s jail culture. That’s how you survive it.

I can honestly say that I was arrested once in my life and I always feared police. They were actually pretty cool. Human. One of them watched me make a pool in the jail cell spilling all the water out. I wasn’t being destructive. I was coping. I was bored. I was scared. And nobody broke me for it.

That mugshot online? That’s not a criminal. That’s a 51-year-old biracial woman in the middle of her ashes year. That’s what criminalization of poverty looks like. That’s what happens when you lose your mother, lose your housing, and the system doesn’t know what to do with your grief except book it.

I’m not ashamed of that booking photo. I’m proud I lived through what came after it.

Court dates. Dismissed charges. Cocoon season. Learning boundaries. Finding Salem. Finding From Ashes to Office.

2026 is butterfly. And the butterfly doesn’t hide the caterpillar.

So Google me. See the mugshot. Then read this.

Because the record is public, but the story is mine.

Cathryn M. Murray

Salem, Oregon | August 1, 2026