Finally, after a "white lady who had seen everything" attested to his innocence, the police officer let him go, Asamoah says.
The incident, Asamoah says, is indicative of a lack of racial sensitivity among officers on the force. "They assume we all look alike," says Asamoah. "Tall, Black, that's anybody."
But police assert that these cases are honest mistakes, and that it is all part of the job.
What would the community say if "you told them you didn't stop [a Black offender] because you were white and were afraid to stop him because of the repercussions?" Franklin asks.
Not all police find it difficult to relate to the experiences of Cambridge teens. Six years ago, Detective Frank E. Greenidge was arrested with his friends when police thought they fit the description of "three Black men" who had robbed a store in Central Square.
"I felt anger," says Greenidge, who was applying to the police academy at the time, "I cried. It really set me back."
"I was shocked about being arrested for something I didn't do," he says. He was eventually cleared of all charges.
Greenidge, 25, says he agrees with the teenager's perceptions of the police force and of society in general.
"You're treated differently, that's for sure," Greenidge says. "You're looked at as a criminal, not a person. Criminal first, person second, and that's not fair."
Police officers and teenagers are well aware of their differences in opinion, and have made efforts to discuss their problems at "teen summits" at various locations around the city. Police say they also are making serious efforts to forge relationships with kids not only through volunteering at area youth centers, but also by walking beats in the neighborhoods. Yet both sides are only cautiously optimistic that the new dialogue will improve relations.
Greenidge, a juvenile detective who grew up in the neighborhood on Western Avenue known as the Coast, spends much of his free time at the Moore Youth Center on Gilmore Street cultivating friendships with the teens.
"You have to get to know the children," Greenidge says.
And many teens say they appreciate the efforts of individual police officers who come to talk to them rather than question them. "We can trust them because they talk to us, they reason with us but other police don't do it," Moore says.
But others notice that only the Black police officers take time to play basketball or talk with them at the youth center, while the white police "just ride by and stare at us like we're bad kids," says Kevin Dunkley.
Lacking an official directive from the top, few officers spend time volunteering. "If you don't want to do it, you won't do a good job," Greenidge says.
And Greenidge says there are just some officers on the force who are temperamentally unsuited to dealing with kids. "Not all officers can talk to children and take [their] verbal abuse."
Belinda Augustin, who will moderate a summit to take place at Rindge and Latin this evening, says she hopes that a greater understanding will emerge from the meeting.
"I hope the police will learn how to deal with us."
Still others believe that they will just be wasting their breath. Pointing to his ears, Carvel Monroe says, "It'll go in one and out the other."