In 2013, I was falsely imprisoned by security at Maryland Live Casino. What started as an ordinary evening turned into a multi-hour ordeal that changed how I think about civil rights, documentation, and the importance of holding institutions accountable. I filmed what happened, and that footage became the basis for two videos that have now been watched over 48,000 times combined.
I’m Lawrence Justin Mills — a filmmaker based in Silver Spring, Maryland. I’ve spent most of my career documenting overlooked stories: a Salvadoran civil war survivor, Latin American political movements, community concerts. But sometimes the story finds you.
What Happened That Night
Maryland Live Casino, now known as Live! Casino & Hotel Maryland, is a large gambling facility in Hanover, Maryland. I had visited before without incident. But on this occasion, casino security approached me, accused me of card counting, and detained me without cause. There was no illegal activity, no disturbance, no legitimate reason to hold me.
What followed was a confrontation I documented as best I could. Security personnel used physical force — conduct that later formed the basis of a second-degree assault claim. I was eventually released, but not before experiencing what it feels like to have your freedom taken away by people who believe their institutional authority puts them above basic legal standards.
Why I Filmed It
As a filmmaker, my first instinct is always to document. That instinct has served me well — covering elections in El Salvador, filming historical testimony for documentary work, recording live performances that might otherwise go undocumented. In this case, documentation wasn’t about art. It was about survival and accountability.
The footage I captured that night is raw and unpolished compared to my professional work. But it tells a clear story. You can see the conduct of the security personnel. You can hear how the situation escalated. That visual record became critical in everything that followed.
The Legal Process
After the incident, I pursued the matter legally. The false imprisonment claim centered on the unlawful detention — being held against my will without legal justification. The second-degree assault claim addressed the physical conduct of the security staff during that detention.
These aren’t abstract legal categories. False imprisonment means someone took away your freedom of movement without the right to do so. Second-degree assault means someone caused or attempted to cause physical harm. Both happened to me that night at Maryland Live.
The videos I published — one focused on the false imprisonment, one on the assault — were part of how I chose to handle this publicly. Transparency matters. If this happened to me, it has happened to others. Putting it on the record is the least I could do.
Card Counting Is Not Illegal
One thing worth stating clearly: card counting is not illegal. Casinos dislike it because it gives skilled players a mathematical advantage at blackjack. They have the right to ask you to leave or refuse service. They do not have the right to physically detain you, use force against you, or treat you as a criminal for doing something that is entirely within the law.
This distinction matters enormously. The moment a casino crosses from “we’d like you to leave” to “we’re holding you here,” they’ve committed a civil rights violation. When they add physical force to that equation, they’ve committed assault. Knowing your rights in that situation — and being able to document what happens — is essential.
What the Response Taught Me
The two Maryland Live videos have been watched over 48,000 times between them. That wasn’t something I expected. But it reflects a genuine public interest in what happens when ordinary people encounter institutional overreach — whether at a casino, a government facility, or anywhere else authority is exercised without accountability.
The comments and responses I’ve received over the years have ranged from people sharing their own similar experiences to legal professionals weighing in on the conduct. That kind of engagement is exactly why I believe in documenting and publishing, even when the subject is personal and uncomfortable.
Documentation as a Form of Accountability
My documentary work — from The Path of the Shadows, which tells the story of Carlos Mauricio and the Salvadoran Civil War, to the coverage of political movements in El Salvador — has always been rooted in the belief that documentation creates accountability. The historical record matters. Individual testimony matters.
The Maryland Live situation was smaller in historical scale but no different in principle. Something happened. I recorded it. I put it on the record. That’s what filmmakers do — and it’s what anyone who cares about truth and accountability should do when they have the means to do it.
If you’re researching this incident, dealing with a similar situation, or simply want to understand what happened, both videos are publicly available. The documentation speaks for itself.
About The Author
