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.

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Undignified deaths

I've worked I don't know how many dead body calls in the last 20 years. Most routine, folks go to bed at night and wake up dead in the morning. Or they go to the bathroom and "Elvis Presley" themselves.

We had one little old guy who did just that. Went in and tred to do his business, and he must have been eating plaster because he was apparently bound up to no end. When he was found a couple of days later he was in the position before his passing. Seated on the thrown, arms tucked to his side, face all screwed up just straining to no end. Except that was his end.

Another one dealt with a lady who must have lived on two things-Ho-Ho's and laxatives. When she was found, again it was in the bathroom. She was quite hefty, kind of wedged in the little room. A job getting her out. When the house was checked for info on who she was or might be related to the officers found lots of Ho-Ho's and the ever present laxatives.

My first one in this town was the old guy that went to the kitchen to lope his mule (you know, choke the ckicken, throttle his rod.......) Either that or he found it stiff one day and thought he should wash out the wrinkles. Anyway, in the midst of doing his thing, the big one hit him and there he dropped. We found him on the floor, pants down around his ankles, business in hand.

Then we had one old guy who rolled off his bed and died. Not a problem in itself, except when he rolled off it was between his bed and the wall. He stayed there a while and was stiff as a board. He was pretty easy to get out and loaded up though, just picked him up by the belt and moved him where we needed him.

When my time gets here maybe they'll find me in the bathroom. I know the guys would get a good laugh there, and everyone needs a little humor in their life.

Saturday, December 18, 2004

Bobby Diamond

Bobby has been with the department almost as long as I have. He's made talking people out of a report a fine art. He'll talk 30 minutes to get out of a 10 minute report. That started with his first report call-stolen Christmas decorations. He and his FTO (the poor schmuck assigned to train the new guys) were sent on a call about stolen decorations. After listening to the caller say that someone stole his $3.00 PVC pipe candy cane, and damn it, he wanted a police report, the first words out of Bobby's mouth was "You gotta be shittin' me!". Needless to say, after the FTO recovered from Bobby's statement, a police report was taken. While some officers can go through a book of 25 traffic tickets in a week, Bobby has had the same book for years. If he stops someone and writes a ticket it's a major event, and other officers will run by his stop to see who would do something so dastardly to warrant a ticket from him.

It's not that Bobby is lazy, he'd just rather take a different approach to things. He feels high visibility is a good deterent. One morning a citizen called to complain about a police car always in the same place, on the same street, at the same time every day. There's Bobby, setting in a church lot. He was tipped off that he'd be called in to the Chief's office about the complaint. Not one to wait for something like that, Bobby came strolling through the Chief's office one morning, looked at him and said "I talked to the Lord this morning, and he said mi casa es su casa" and walked off. As with most of Bobby's conversations with the Chief, it left him wondering just what the hell did he say and what's he talking about?

Sonny, are you OK?

One officer, Mike, was on a call which deteriorated into a knock-down, drag-out, free-for-all. In the course of the fight Mike was kicked squarly in the family jewels, a very painful experience if you've never had the pleasure. The pain was terrible, and it was about all he could do to drag himself away from the fight, which by that time was being handled by other officers. He kind of crawled between two houses to get out of the public view, and there, on his knees, with his hands holding the damaged goods, commenced to puke his socks up. Out of public view, but not the little old lady who lived in one of the houses. The next thing he knew, the little old lady is standing next to him, asking "Sonny, are you OK?"

Another time Mike (Sonny) was in the work area taking a phone call. He was leaned back in the chair, legs spread, getting real comfortable. John came in, saw him seated like that, walked over, dropped to his knees, and buried his face in Mike's crotch. It was all fun and games until the guy came walking through the room from a visit to the detective office.

One day a fast food place sent up a bunch of leftover baked goods, and several big tubes of that runny, white icing. At shift change these same two guy waited for a particular dispatched to come in. Mike was leaning in the corner, and John on his knees again. As the dispatcher came in the office, John turned his head to look at her in fake surprise, while Mike zipped up his zipper. The "icing" on the cake was when John let the real icing ooze out of his mouth and run down his chin. The look on the dispatchers face----PRICELESS!

These two guys left our department and went on to bigger and better-in another department, together.

Thursday, December 16, 2004

Jer, I think she's dead!

One of the hospitals in town sends a lot of patients out of town to other hospitals for better care. One of the ambulance crews did such a transfer one day. While they were at the out of town hospital, someone asked if they would ship one back home for them. Normally this isn't done, but since it wasn't too far out of the way, and money was involved, the return run was OK'd.

The patient had no IV's, it was a return home trip, routine transfer type of deal. As such there was no need to check vitals every 15 minutes. About half way home the patient told the tech she thought she'd just take a nap. OK, not a problem, we've got a ways to go yet. Enjoy the nap.

When they arrived at the lady's house the tech went to wake her. No response. Checking a little closer the tech noticed there was no breathing or other signs of life. Not good. She calls up front to her partner, telling him she thought the patient had died. He thought she was kidding. No Jer, I think she's really dead. Jer runs to the back and checks her, and she's really DEAD. DRT. Taking a real nap. After they confirmed everything they asked the husband if he'd like to see his wife before they took her to the funeral parlor. Sure. Husband, a skinny guy, crawls in the back of the truck. Standing there looking at his dead wife, he says "I really loved her, but I don't know how I'll pay for the funeral. Well, I think I'll go get something to eat now." OK, keep them priorities straight.

Since this was a rather hefty gal, the local fire department sent over a crew for lifting assistance. Since they weren't needed there they all went to a funeral parlor, and helped unload the woman. The coroner got there and confirmed that she had a real bad heart problem, and no one expected her to make it out of the hospital alive in the first place. The crew later learned the hospital knew she was circling the drain, and really didn't want her dying there, hence the big rush to get someone, anyone, to take her home.

Turkey Tom

One local guy in town has been known as "Turkey Tom" ever since I've been here. I never knew why, thought maybe it was because he looked like a turkey, or maybe he hunted them often. I finally asked my supervisor if he knew. He did.

Prior to becoming a deputy for the county, my supervisor worked at a local food processing plant. Turkey Tom worked there also. My supervisor left for a career change. Turkey Tom left because someone walked in the turkey cooking room, and found Tom pleasuring himself with two warm, tender turkey breasts. He's still known as Turkey Tom to this day. Think about that the next time you eat a turkey TV dinner or pot pie.

While this and Johnny Appleseed really didn't have much to do with law enforcement, they're just a small example of the folks we deal with daily. You meet the most interesting people in this job..........

Johnny Appleseed

We've got a guy in town known to some as Johnny Appleseed. He's not the sharpest stick in the bunch, but a hard worker. One night Johnny was at home, watching cartoons. At the time he was bent over the footstool, eating an apple. One of his friends came over and the guy wanted a little "action", if you know what I mean. Johnny wanted nothing to interrupt his cartoon watching, and turned his friend down. That wasn't good enough for the friend, so down comes Johnny's pants, and his friend mounts Johnny like Bowser mounting a visitor. This caused such a ruckus the nieghbors called the police. When they got there they heard all the yelling and went in. There's Johnny, still bent over the footstool, still eating his apple, still watching cartoons, and Bowser-friend just going to town, having his way with him. Hence, the name Johnny Appleseed has stuck to him to this day.

Wednesday, December 15, 2004


Our old Senior Dispatcher finally retired, and a few years later re-married, and they moved away. He came back to see us a few times, then his health went downhill, and he ended up in a raisin ranch. The guy smoked like a house on fire, and the ranch had one room for the smokers. He could be seen there dragging his O2 tank and heading for that room. I don't know what kept him for burning himself up.

He eventually died, and his wife had him cremated (how appropriate). The day of the funeral all the officers and deputies that knew and worked with him for the last 30 some odd years all gathered at the funeral parlor. We were all seated as a body on one half. I was at the end of the row, and noticed the deputy next to me couldn't see the cremains and the preacher because of a post blocking her view. I leaned over, and just to make sure she could hear me told her "Well. You can't see the Bob-In-The-Box." Gee, from the reaction I got you'd a thought I did something terrible during the service. I didn't think it was that bad, she really couldn't see the box. The Old Guy would have liked it but she sure didn't. Can't please 'em all.

Dispatch, I need Animal Control quick!

Some time back a frantic caller dialed 911, and told the call taker she needed an ambulance as someone in her family had shot himself. The dispatcher thought the caller, who was, understandably, on the border of hysteria, said the victim shot himself in the hand. She started an ambulance and Officers to the address, with the Supervisor arriving first.

When the Supervisor got there he grabbed his aid bag and started for the door. He was met by a woman who said "He's in there", pointing to the living room. The Officer thought it was strange that a GSW to the hand would be causing such a stir. When he walked in the living room he realized the dispatcher should have said "head" instead of "hand". The guy took his trusty 30-30, set it to his chin, and that's the end of him. When the Officer saw that he knew immediately why the caller was upset. There was "stuff" blowed all over the place. He got other Officers at the scene to assist, then made a call for dispatch to get the Animal Control Officer there fast. Seems the family dog found the mother load of tasty bones to chew on, and he grabbed a big one. They finally got Bowser shut up in the bathroom, got the remains from him, and it was off to doggy jail for him.

By the sewer I lived...
By the sewer I died...
And when I died,
It was "sewer side"...

Sunday, December 12, 2004

Traveling Salvation Show

We had a one-man revival come to town many years ago. Kind of like Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show. The one where you pack up the ladies and grab the old babies and everyone goes. Anyway, Officers and an ambulance was requested at his travel trailer for an unknown injury one day before a show.

When they got there they learned this: Brother Love said he took a jog before the show, and noticed he had gravel stuck to his clothes. He figured he'd get the electric broom out and clean himself up a bit. Guess he didn't think about a shower before the show, but that's his business. Our gravel is no different from anyone else's, it usually falls away from the joggers, and doesn't stick to them. But I guess he'd do the best he could. Apparently he had a really powerful electric broom (that's one of those upright vaccuums used to sweep the floor), like enough power to suck-start a Harley, or a golf ball through 50 feet of garden hose. It had to be powerful enough to unzip his pants and pull out the business. And that's where the trouble begins. Apparently stuff went too far in the broom, and the little fan blades acted like a real meat grinder. Therein lies the need for the ambulance. I don't know why the cops were called.

The Brother was pretty mangled and bleeding. After he got to the hospital the doctor came in to check him out. The one on duty at the time, Dr. K. was an outstanding surgeon, but he didn't have miracle worker in his title. Dr. K. looked at the mess this guy had made of himself, picked up a scissors, and said "Oh. He no need this anymore!" That pretty much left the only thing to do was sew the remains up.

As a side note, Dr. K cut on me one time. The scar, which was on my neck, measured about 10". I finally got tired of people guessing at what happened, so any time someone asked about it they got the standard, one word answer: circumcision. It's amazing how many people fell for that one. A sucker every time.

Friday, December 10, 2004

Do-It-Yourself Sex Changes Made Easy

One morning about quitting time the dispatcher sent Officers, myself included, to a call of a male who cut himself with scissors "down below". I had a pretty good idea of what she meant when she said "down below". Go figure, this guy has to wait until we're ready to get off work to do this. Can't wait 15 minutes, got to do it now. Git 'r done.

When we get there I got out with my bag, and start in the open garage door. Grandpa is first in line-"He's in the bathroom." Just inside the kitchen door is Grandma-"He's just a man trapped in a woman's body." In the kitchen is Mom-"I knew this was going to happen." They pointed me in the direction of the bathroom. Send David in first, he's the EMT and he has a bag of stuff.

When I got to the bathroom the door was closed. I opened it up and found a young guy laying in the bathtub. He's wearing a diaper, in lots of pain, and bleeding like a stuck pig. I asked him what happened, and got the following story: this guy was in the process of a sex change, and it was taking too long to suit him. He got the bright idea of getting a razor blade and speeding things up. One small cut was apparently all it took to remind him of the benefits of having the family jewells surgically removed, in a hospital, and not at home in the bathtub. Kind of like a reverse home delivery. At least he had enough respect for the family to not do it in the kitchen sink-Hey. We wash dishes in that sink. You don't pee in that sink and you're not going to cut your bag there either.

I asked the guy if I could treat him until the ambulance got there, and he was hesitant about that. Then I told him that, in addition to being a police officer, I was also an EMT. See, here's my little pin, as I showed him the pin I wore. That must have made it official for him, and he let me treat him.

I cut the diaper off, and it weighed about 5 pounds, soaking wet with blood. He's bleeding real good by now, so the big gauze gets applied with direct pressure. I've had my hand between people's legs before, but I have to admit it was a first time dealing with something like that. When the truck got there the medic came in, but the tech was so disgusted at taking over that he let me continue. Then we found out that he had been in there for hours. At the hospital we found out he had lost a fair amount of blood, and was in some serious shape. I don't know what happened to him. Maybe he was the cute gal buying new underwear at Wal-Mart. As for the tech, some guys have no sense of adventure.

Lion patrol

One time many years ago, this being prior to 1974, a traveling man came to town. Either that or he was a small circus, with only him and one animal- -a lion. Anyway, this guy stops at one of the local motels and tries to get a room. The clerk rents him a room but the no pets clause got him. He could stay but not the lion. I don't know how he came up with the idea, but he went to the police station to see if they would house his lion for the night in one of the cells. The copswere apparently pretty accomodating, because when the midnight shift (2 officers) came in, they saw a lion locked in the cell.

I guess it was a slow night, because before long the 2 Officers were in service in a 2-man 1-lion car. These guys got the lion out of the cell, loaded him up in the back seat of the patrol car, and started out. They hit all the popular places in town, such as a public housing area. I guess the lion was the talk of the department and the streets for some time. I never heard of any lion bites or other injuries to people they came in to contact with that night, but they sure had the cooperation of everyone they dealt with. While I wasn't here at the time, this one has been backed by other Officers who were there or had first hand knowledge of the caper.

Speaking of lions, my friend Crazy Ed took a call of a loose lion at the 7-11 one day. When he got there he found his lion- -a brown Chow dog that the owner had shaved to look like a lion. The caller was pretty hysterical when he reported it, and Crazy Ed was laughing hysterically when he found "the lion". Those were the days............

Thursday, December 09, 2004

Unchained Melody.......

I had a girlfriend (yeah, really) who, for reasons known only to her, decided "Unchained Melody", sung by the Rightous Brothers, would be "our" song. For those who know me and read this, forget it-I'm not naming names..

Some time after we parted company (read that as she dumped my ass) I had "Big Tim", a reserve officer, riding with me. Big Tim is everything the name implies. BIG. We were riding down the street that day, doing as little as possible, listening to the radio, when "Unchained Melody" comes on. I looked at him, put my hand on his thigh, and said "I just love this song." That was really not the thing to do. One hand came up in a fist, the other grabs the door handle, and Big Tim is trying to get out of the car as we're going down the street. Had he another hand to unhook the seat belt he would've bailed, moving or not. He'll let me give him the "secret society" handshake, but I'll never touch his thigh again.....

As a side note, I still think of her every time I hear that song. I think how lucky I am that she dumped me, and I'm married to the woman with me now. But I'm still not naming her........

Dealing with the dead...

While my main career is in law enforcement, I became an EMT a few years back for something to do and for supplemental income. Any LEO knows you need that. Anyway, there were a few interesting calls in that job let me tell you. Any EMS worker can back that up with probably more than a few of their own. This is one of those that the general public may not understand, but any emergency services person who has been around the block on the bus a few times has dealt with this and more, and knows exactly where I'm coming from.

My partner and I, both part timers, usually worked Saturday night shifts together. Those were the best times. If we weren't running calls it was NASCAR for him until bedtime, and all night music channels on the TV for me after that.

Early one morning we got a call of a elderly woman who apparently died at home. No problem for us. Go out, run a strip, confirm the family fears, let the cops handle the rest of it while we went back to the base. I'm driving, The Plumber is taking care of the run report/radio, and we're heading out to the call. I turn down the street and it's wall-to-wall cars. I'm thinking someone must have a party going on in one house and their neighbor missed it because they died. I barely have enough room to get the truck down the street, finally see the police cars, and have to park still further down the street. We bring in the monitor because we already know we don't need anything else. When we get inside there's a living room full of people. These folks called everyone and their brother to come over. We expect to find the recently deceased in bed, where they are the majority of the time. No way. She's in the living room with the other folks. I hear someone telling the grandson, who really is a decent kid, but just a bit on the slow side "Doesn't she look just like an Angel?" Then I see her- -the old woman who passed more than just a short time before they called us.

I held my tongue, but what I really want to tell the guy was No, she doesn't look like an Angel, and don't lie to the kid. Look at her. She's dead, you people have her propped up in a chair she probably never sat in because it's uncomfortable looking even for the dead. Her head's leaned over so far it would hurt the living but you just let her set there like that. She's in her night gown that's not closed up, and her tongue is hanging out. There's more people in the room than will probably be at her funeral, and you think she looks like an Angel? She looks like something out of a cartoon, without the black crosses on her eyes. I don't know where the Hell this guy gets his Angel pictures, but it's not the same place I get mine.

We got our strip, told the cops what we found, and then had to listen while one of the other family members told us to leave her there until the preacher got there. Sure no problem. Early morning visitation planned? She's not going anywhere but the funeral home anyhow. And we're not taking her. That's their job.

My partner had the same thoughts I did. He left me to unhook the monitor and he was out the door. Stuff like that never ceases to amaze me, but I guess I'm surprised every time it happens.

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

Stinkin' patrol car

Early on in the shift one evening we got a call about 2 strange people, a man and a woman, hanging around a certain residential area. A car was sent to the call and I went as backup. The Officer got there before I did, and as soon as he got there he called in with what he had-two homeless-looking people wandering around. When he gave their description I knew who they were, so there was no need for me to continue on. The Officer handled the call and left.

Later on in the night another Officer was sent to an intersection farther south in town on a couple of people setting on the curb. I was right down the street so I called and said I'd meet the Officer on the call. That's when the dispatcher said there had been 20 to 30 calls on the couple, mainly from people who thought they may get run over. When I got there the Officer was out talking to the couple-mainly to the mother since the son never said a word. She didn't know where she lived, but knew her house number had a 6, 7, and a 2 in it, but she also didn't know the order of the numbers. I knew where a relattive lived, so I asked if the couple wanted a ride there, and th mother, who by that time couldn't hardly walk, said they'd go there.

These two had a stench about them that wouldn't stop. Apparently they didn't know that water, when combined with soap, made a wonderful combination and it would do wonders to stop smell. Maybe they had no soap or water, or both, for that matter. Anyway, I told the mother that the nice young Officer with me would be happy to give them a ride home, since we had a good idea of where to take them. The Officer helped the mother get in the back seat and the son in the front. Before he could leave all the windows had to come down as it was absolutely unbearably stinking in the car. He left and made a fast trip out of the 7 or 8 blocks to their home, and got rid of them.

A few minutes after he called in service I heard him come in to the station. I got up and got the big can of Lysol spray, since I knew he would want it. He said he first had to clean up the back seat since the mother took a crap on the way home and left the majority of it in the seat. I guess mere words wasn't enough to express the gratitude these folks had for the nice young Officer.

Sunday, December 05, 2004

911-you got an emergency?

Our department houses the central dispatch for the three local emergency services, along with the 911 forwarding for the Sheriff's Department. As a rule, we answer all 911 calls in our jurisdiction, with very few exceptions. The majority of the 911 calls being emergencies, some mis-dials, a few where the people are just too lazy to look up the business number, and some calls that are just stupid.

We had heavy rains for several days here a few years back, with lots of local flooding, including several basements. Sorry, but your basement flooding is not a police problem, more along the line of call a plumber. One night the dispatcher took a 911 call from a no habla. All the dispatcher could make out was something about a flooded basement. I told her to tell the caller to contact the plumber of their choice, not us. She did, however the caller had no earthly idea what the dispatcher was talking about. Being a 911, we had to roll on it.

My partner and I went to the house, knocked on the door, and was met by Mrs. Mexican. She directed us to the basement like we were the plumbers come to clean her drain, regardless of what I told her, or how. When we got there we found Mr. Mexican standing knee-deep in water, poking the motor end of the plugged in sump pump into the water, trying to get it to work. We all cleared the basement pretty quick, because if he was going to fry himself sticking an electric motor in water that's all well and good, but we're not going with him. He finally figured out that maybe he was doing something wrong, so he unplugged the pump and came upstairs to see what we wanted. Through some strong verbal and nonverbal communication, we got the point across that he was doing it all wrong. We never got a call of the power going out in the area later, so apparently he didn't fry himself after we left.
Whatya doin', workin the Bowery or somthin'? Posted by Hello

Several years ago I was picked to play the part of a burglar in a training series. In all my years I never saw such a well dress burglar. None that I ever came across ever wore dress pants and a scat hat. My brother said I looked like something working the Bowery, so that kind of stuck. I hadn't seen this picture in years and forgot all about it until I was working on a training plan myself. Amazing the things we find.........

Things NOT to say on the radio

One of our Senior Dispatchers was having a hard time reading the computer screen, or seeing anything for that matter, so he went to an eye doctor and learned he had cataracts. He continued to work before the surgery, which didn't help matters.

One day an Officer was working a traffic accident, and called in a license plate number, with the driver, an older female, standing within hearing distance of the radio. When the dispatcher came back with the wrong information the Officer corrected him, which didn't set too well with the old guy. He hit the transmit button so hard I thought he was going to break it, then let loose with a "WELL I CAN'T READ THE SON OF A BITCH!" The dispatcher then realized what he said and done, and just knew his goose was cooked on the spot. Nothing happened to him, but I can't recall the Officer ever being at a loss for words until that time.

That was one of many incidents coming out of the dispatch center that wasn't talked about too much, just in case the powers that be didn't hear them in the first place. No sense in giving them any more ammunition than they needed........

The new guy

We got a new officer one time and I had him with me for the evening. That night a female prisoner started complaining of severe pains in the female regions, so it was a trip to one of the local band-aid boxes. After the doctor examined her he came out and told us it was nothing serious, just about a dozen different kinds of VD (PID, of which EMS personnel knows the slang), and she could go back to jail. I made the command decision that she'd get a summons there and we wouldn't have to deal with her anymore from that point on. She got her summons and we left.

New guys will believe about anything, so on the ride back to the station I asked the newbie if he was aware he could pick up some of the strains of VD she had by setting in the same car seat. He said he wasn't aware of it, but really didn't believe it anyway. By the time we got back to the station, a couple miles away, he was on both elbows trying hard not to let the butt cheeks hit the seat. He was worried the rest of the night and thought he should go home and change his uniform pants so he didn't infect anything else he sat on.

New guys are some much fun..........

Shots fired.......

Late one night during one of the deer seasons we got a "shots fired" call. The caller wasn't real specific about the locaion, giving use an area about 3/4 of a mile square. My Officers, plus 2 local Deputies, searched the area pretty hot and heavy since it bordered on a public housing area and it could have been the real thing. We searched for some time before one Deputy came on the air and said he found the cause. He gave us an address in the area so we all converged on it, figuring it might not be much since there were no other calls.

When I got there the lady of the house was outside, spitting mad because her son, who just got home from deer hunting, blew a hole in the side of the house. She said he was setting on the bedroom floor, trying to clear his rifle, when it went off. I told her they never got too old to spank and she agreed, saying that a spanking was a very real possibility. I then went inside to see the young lad, only to find a 27 year old, still living at home with Mom and Dad, in his own room, complete with car posters on the walls, and JOHN DEERE TRACTORS sheets and pillow case. He told me he was sorry for the trouble he caused, and he would be more careful next time. I told him I doubted there would be a next time, and he was the one with the trouble becasue Mom was probably literally going to spank him. From the look on his face I think he knew what was really going to happen after we left.

I don't know what happened after we left, but I'm glad I wasn't there when it happened.

Thursday, December 02, 2004

Crazy Ed

A friend of mine is a police officer in another small town near a major metro area. He doesn't carry the name "Crazy Ed" for nothing, and he's proud of it.

Crazy Ed has always be respectful of the people he deals with, calling everyone Sir or Ma'am, never the "Hey you. Scumbag" or other things like some of the shows on TV. While he gets along with everyone he meets, there are just some folks he doesn't care to deal with, and his answers are usually short, to the point, and it's move on to the next person. One day the local American Legion hall caught fire. Crazy Ed's on the job, and is assigned to a traffic control post. Up walks a reporter from one of the local radio stations, and sticks a tape recorder in his (Crazy Ed's) face. "Tell me Officer, what do we have here?" Crazy Ed looks at him, and says "Fire". The reporter moves the recoder, and asks him to be more specific. Again it's "Tell me Officer, what do we have here?" This time Crazy Ed is much more specific: "Big fire". The reporter left it at that.

My years on the job

I've been in law enforcement in one way or the other for almost 33 years. During that time I've collected a bunch of stories, most of which are true. I've thought about setting down and putting them on paper, and then my daughter-in-law started posting on this site. I thought this might be the place to do it. Either way I have to start doing something soon or I won't be able to remember what I did yesterday. As a matter of fact, I really can't remember some of yesterday so I better hurry up. I'll attempt to pass some of those on for whomever wants to read them.

Some folks will see the humor (especially other cops and emergency service workers), while others won't. Some people will understand some of the stories and know where I'm coming from, and others will have absolutely no clue. Hell, maybe everyone who reads these will think I'm just some old guy who can't remember what happened yesterday and I'm just rambling on. Either way, if you like them let me know.


Wednesday, December 01, 2004

The missing chickens.

Several years ago I was dispatched to an old woman's house because she had some chickens missing. The old gal raised chickens in her back yard, and had for years, so no one bothered her about it. One day she went out to feed them or kill one of them or whatever, and I guess the count didn't come out right. Her immediate response was that someone came in her chicken house and stole them. Never mind the fact that her back yard was butted up against a woodland area where there might be chicken-eating animals living. No matter what I said about animals getting them, she just knew someone stole them. She'd probably raised chickens longer than I had been living at the time, and I guess since they were her chickens she would know if they were chickennapped or the victim of another animal. I took the report that said someone stole her chicken.

Now, this was back in the days before we had computers, and all reports were handwritten or typed, and submitted to the Chief for approval. He read each and everyone of them, and if they were OK, then he'd sign off on them. If not more than likely there'd be some nasty comment about what was wrong with it, and it was done over. I stood there and got one of his nasty frowns when he read the last line of the report--FOWL PLAY IS NOT SUSPECTED.