True Detective Stories

Saturday signaled the end of my day work tour, arguably the only time each month when I’m happy. Night work is coming, I can sleep late, and it’s so busy I’m not reminded how slowly that hours are passing. I can just sit down, relax on a lazy Saturday and wait to go home.

Or not.

A jackass police officer – he’s a regular offender when it comes to asking stupid questions – called the division, and I had the misfortune of answering. Breathlessly, the officer informs me stopped a male and he is not currently in possession of identification. (OH MY STARS!) The officer wants to arrest the male for False ID to Police, which in this town, with this D.A., is akin to a summary offense. In short, it’s a waste of our time.

Any hoo, the officer continues to push the issue, saying, “”I know he’s lying to us. I know he has a warrant. I want to arrest him for false ID.” This idiotic conversation lasts for a few minute, as my urge to kill is rising. I wanted to tell the officer, “We are leading the city in shootings and homicides, and THIS is what you want to bring in?”

Semi-cooler heads prevailed.

Instead, I injected some common sense into the equation. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you write ped stop paperwork, bring the male to the division, and ask the CCTV officers to, you know, identify your suspect?”

Silence on the other end.

“You see, if you bring him in, they’ll fingerprint him, photograph him, and have him identified in an hour or so, and if he has a warrant, he’s locked up. If not, he’s released with a laurel, and hearty handshake.”

The officer finally caught on. “We can do that??”

I don’t get paid enough. I really, really don’t.

3 thoughts on “True Detective Stories

  1. Thanks for the chuckle on this horrid Monday morning. I know you didn’t find this whole ordeal funny but it cracked me up!


  2. Ronni – This week is going to be a nightmare. Tomorrow I begin night work, and my first day will be spent at asp training. It’s a collapsing metal baton we use instead of the wooden nightsticks. Because wood is dangerous, but tempered steel is not. Or something. The commanders think I’ll wear it on my belt as I sit at a desk all day. Good luck with that.

    Cathy – Phila-duh-phia. We’re already running with Flori-duh. Moron cops, incompetent bosses, you name it, we got it. Ten more years. I can do ten more years. I think.


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