True Detective Stories


So yesterday two rookie officers brought in a domestic assault job. It involved a woman who was arrested for allegedly stabbing her girlfriend in the shoulder with a pair of scissors. The officers gave me their report, I assigned it to the domestic unit, and one officer walked away.

A half hour later, the domestic detective came out and said neither the police report nor the officers came to her office. “How is that possible?” I asked, since I pointed the jackass to the office. The detective replied, “I have no idea, but I don’t have anything on this job.”

The other officer sauntered over to my desk fifteen minutes later and demanded a copy of his report. I told him we needed two copies: one for the front desk and one for the assigned detective. I also informed him the domestic detectives were looking for him and his partner, and maybe he should see them first before making demands…

Then it happened.

“Look, I’m just asking for my report. You don’t need to be rude and brush me off. I was just asking a question!”

I sat there flabbergasted, asking myself where did this come from, and why did this dick holster believe he could scream at me while inside my division? Before my cauldron of bubbling rage spilled over, I did what any logical person would do: I ignored him. After a minute or so of silence, the cop walked away.

The job eventually made it to the domestic office, and Officer Pissflap left the division without a word. Moments after his departure, my sergeant approaches me and asks, “What happened with that cop?” I replied, “Nothing, why?”

Apparently, Officer Special Little Snowflake went to my sergeant to make a complaint about my “attitude.” First of all, I don’t have a fucking attitude. I am equally sarcastic to everyone, from the ass hammocks to the yellow-bellied twatwaffles. It’s not my fault everyone is stupid but me.

Second of all, this hairy beanbag only had to walk fifty feet to the domestic office and apparently got lost during his magical journey. It is my fault his phone doesn’t run Google Maps?

You know, when I came on the job the first rule was always have your ducks in a row before bringing it to the detective division. I made many mistakes as a rookie in the mid-90’s, and I paid dearly for it. The guys at East Detective Division were brutal, and if I pulled something like this there, the deskman would have thrown the book at me.

I mean that literally. I once had a 75-48 report book thrown at my head after screwing up a job.

In the good old days, detectives were god, and you genuflected before them because 1. they were always right, and 2. they controlled whether or not you would get court overtime. Twenty-two years later, the cops have become petulant special little snowflakes who go to water if a detective frowns at them.


5 thoughts on “True Detective Stories

  1. I am so sick and tired of this whole new sense of entitlement that whole generations are feeling. I have had a couple “come to Jesus” meetings with a few of the entitled snowflakes in our OTD program. There are times they absolutely dry-hump my last nerve.


  2. Perhaps when the young fellow’s squad mates discover they have a whiney, chickenpoop rat on their squad, his “hostile work environment” mayhaps will help him reconsider his choice of career. Payless is looking for shoe salespersons.


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