Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Go rent a sheep

One night one of the Officers brought a fellow in who had been domestically assaulted by his girlfriend. Being the supervior I asked what happened. The Officer told me that Marvin was laying on his couch, asleep, when drunk Kathy came in and started beating him with a table leg. Betcha woke up quick, 'eh Marvin? She went to jail, and he went back home to his other girlfriend.

A couple weeks later he was back at the station, this time complaining that Kathy had violated the protection order he had out against her. The Chief happened by and listened to his story. When Marvin finished the Chief just looked at him, and without so much as a smile said "Maybe you should go rent a sheep." Well, at least the sheep wouldn't be as ugly as Kathy.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Will work for food.....stamps

Shortly after I got out of the Army I went to work for a very large county sheriff's department. I got stuck in the jail, which for the most part sucked. There was lots of interesting people there, but the long hours "working the floor" was no fun. Then I got sent to booking, which was a definite improvement.

One night we got the city transfer in, which was rather large. There were only two of us that night booking about 30 new prisoners, several of which were "working girls". As I went down the line booking each new one in I'd have to do a complete inventory of all their property. Boy there's an opportunity to see some strange stuff. These people would come in with all kinds of stuff in their bag. The "working girls" had the normal things you'd expect for their line of work-small change (pay phones used dimes back then), jizz bags, and whatever else they may have in their purse or where ever they kept stuff. Anyway I was booking one in, dumped out her property, and there was a bunch of food stamps. I looked at them, then at her, and she explained that she accepted food stamps also. I don't think that's really what USDA and the welfare program really had in mind when they set that up.

Friday, March 11, 2005

Strange people

A couple of years ago there was a rash of incidents wherein males would call the homes of school-age boys and girls. He would speak with the children, usually the girls, and convince them he was the school disciplinarian (I guess I spellt that right). He would tell them he had a report that they had been bad in school, such as by cussing or something silly like that, and he was calling to make sure they were properly punished. To do that he would have them spank theirself. Oh yeah! Let some caller talk you into spanking yourself. There were several of these incidents, like a group of men were working together or something.

Anyway, our local guy doing this ran an automotive shop and he and his employees all wore uniforms from the local uniform supply company. The company got word of the goings on, and decided to pull the contract from the shop owner, and stop supplying them uniforms. The local agent stopped me one morning and asked how he should go about doing it. Hell I don't know. But one thing I do know. What's that? When you talk to the shop owner, don't let him talk you in to spanking yourself.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Norman, what the hell are you thinking??!!

One day last week I was stopped at a stop light, waiting for it to turn. Across the road was Norman, on of the locals. I noticed Norman drove forward, stopped, and then started to go through the light. He didn't get far because cross traffic and I caused him to pull to the side of the road. Never mind the fact that it's the wrong side of the road, with Norman going the wrong way. I had to walk across the road to get to his car, with traffic driving past like I wan't even there. Maybe they didn't see me. They may have been too busy wondering just what the hell Norman was doing.

Anyway, I made it over to Norman's car. I just looked at him and said "Norman, what the hell are you thinking??!!" Norman just looked back at me and without missing a beat told me "I'm thinking I need to get home before I pooh my pants. I got to pooh!" Geeeeezzzzzz!!!!!! Not wanting Norman to pooh his pants if he wasn't at home, I got him out of traffic and on his way. I just didn't have the heart to give Norman a ticket because he had to pooh.

Maybe tomorrow if I see Norman I'll ask if he made it home OK.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Always respect the ladies

In our state we have laws that were designed to do something about domestic violence. In this state, among other things, assaulting your: husband/wife, son/daughter/girlfriend/boyfriend/gay or lesbian lover/aunt/uncle and so on is supposed to be illegal. The law, as it's written, is pretty cut and dried. Some people understand it while others just figure they can do what they want.

Officers got a call to an apartment one day where an older guy (60's) was drunk and giving a lady a hard time. Someone called his daddy, who was well up in his 80's but had it all together. Sonny let loose with a string of cuss words and Daddy, not liking that told him "I told you to never cuss in front of a lady." Smack! Slapped him so hard it almost knocked him out of his chair. Since this happened in front of the Officers, they had no choice but to take Daddy with them. He understood fully, but was still upset with Sonny for cussing in front of a lady.

Always respect your Daddy and ladies.

I can't see where I shot him...

Bobby Diamond got a disturbance call early one evening at a duplex well-known to everyone. Momma and Son had a disagreement over the $700.00 + cell phone and pager bill he racked up. This was in the days long before cheap minutes.

Anyway, about the time Bobby gets to the front door he hears one shot inside. That's all it took for him to call for backup, which was on the way anyhow. When we got inside we found that during the disagreement Son moved toward Mom in a threatening manner, she reached under the bed and got her gun. Pow. One shot above the left eye dropped him like a sack o' taters. She went to jail, and he went to the hospital because it didn't kill him. Least ways not right then.

Son died the next day and the funeral parlor folks did an excellent job patching the hole, which was pretty good sized. You could tell where it was, so they pulled a ball cap low on his forehead to cover the body work For him it looked somewhat natrual.

Not long before the funeral one of the deputies brought Mom out to the parlor so she could see him one last time since she was going to miss the services. There she was, hands cuffed behind her back, trying to get the ball cap off. "I just want to see where I shot him." Should have took a picture before the cops got there.

As a side note, she was a pretty good shot. One of her former husbands can attest to that. She shot him 7 times one night. He's still alive.

Trying to get it going again.....

My train has jumped it's tracks and I've not been on here for a long time. I need to get back at it, just too much other stuff going on to really set myself down. But I'll try to do better. I promise.

Thursday, January 06, 2005

He's alive.......he stays here.

Several years ago my brother came down and spent Christmas with us. Just before he left he commented that we were due for another killing, since there was one or two a year for a stretch. Thank you very much.

The next morning I got a call around 5:30 AM about a double shooting, one dead, one kind of questionable as to whether or not she'd make it. I went to the station, got the car, and picked up my partner, and we went to the scene.

When we got there the first thing we found was that the blanket fairy had already been there. The blanket fairy is the one who covers the dead body and screws up the crime scene. They're dead, it may be the middle of winter, but don't mess up my scene by covering the body. They're not going to complain about the cold. Anyway, when we met with the first officers on the scene we found the reason for the discord that lead to one dead and one maybe.

An extended family, which consisted of some cousins marrying each other, went out and burgled several businesses one night. As there is no honor amongst thieves, these people got in to a big fight on who was getting what ill gotten goods. It got so heated that the man of the clan shot his wife, which was also his cousin. He then shot his sister-in-law, which was also his cousin, and maybe his wife's cousin as well. Hence the dead body and the other in the hospital.

After we got our scene processed we let "Digger", from the local funeral parlor, in to collect the dead. He saw the first one, which he really couldn't miss since she was laying in the doorway. After looking around his eyes really lit up because there, in the living room, was another body. He asked about that one and I told him no, he stays. He's still alive. The live one was Frank, also a cousin to the aforementioned. Frank was so drunk he slept through the festivities. He didn't want to wake up when his uncle (maybe another cousin) came to pick him up. Uncle Cousin gave Frank a few nudges, but he wouldn't move. Uncle Cousin got so perterbed that he finally hauled off and kicked the snot out of Frank. That's all it took and Frank was back with the living, still not knowing what had happened during the night. Frank, a real mental giant, probably doesn't know to this day what happened.

That was the shortest killing I ever worked. We had the shooter in custody in no time, got the confession, cleared the burglaries, the killing, the shooting, and had charges filed all before lunch time. If they could all be that easy.........

Saturday, December 25, 2004

Working on Christmas

I worked my share of Christmas Day shifts, be they mids, days, or evenings. In one department I worked the mind-set of the people that made the schedule was, if you're married you'd want to be home with the family, and if you were single, you had no life, therefore no reason to be off on Christmas. Truth be known, it was the married guys who wanted to work so they could draw overtime, because they had to pay for all the crap they bought for Christmas. I guess they thought the single people were all orphans, and we had no home to go to. Thinking like that got some of them to the rank they were.

But Christmas Day was usually busy. Family fights for instance. You'd get family members that hated each others' guts 364 days of the year anyhow, then put them together for one day. Why should that day be any different? Then the people that didn't get what they wanted for Christmas and star ted a fight. Yeah buddy, show the true meaning of the day and all your Christmas spirit. Then there was the calls that people wouldn't normally call about in the first place. I remember the loose dog call one year. BFD dispatch, so there's a dog running around. I made some snide comment back to the dispatcher, and cut short saying something I knew I would regret later anyhow. At the time I was driving past the local Lutheran Church, where my regular dispatcher, and (horrors!) my mother were both seated, attending the service. All my comments over the radio came right over the preacher's Mr. Microphone system, broadcast for all the congregation to hear. The dispatcher would have ammunition to use against me later. My mother knew that all eyes had gravitated to her because everyone knew her son was a police officer (in her mind) and how could she ever show her face to them again? We got our dog, and I listened to the dispatcher repeat the story to everyone who came through the door later. Enough already!

Then there was the drive through town very early in the shift (7:30 or so) just to count how many Christmas trees had hit the curb already. It's surprising the number I could find. The wife would have that sucker up the minute after Thanksgiving dinner, and the husband would have it down the minute everything was cleared away from under it. More of your spirit of the day there.

People who know me know that there are two words I don't say. I'll say 'em here shortly, but first: if you're on the job today be careful. Watch them family fights. If you're serving in the Armed Forces anywhere, especially Irag, Afghanistan, anywhere you could get shot at, be careful. If your current address is a VA hospital or Veteran's Home, or for instance if you're a WW2 vet who froze your ass (and maybe a few other things) off in the Battle of the Bulge, or if you served during the Korean War (hey folks, anyone remember those guys?), or Viet Nam (no White Christmas there), or if you simply served, Thank You. And Merry Christmas.