True Detective Stories

Sometimes I don’t even know why I bother.

Sunday morning is usually a less chaotic tour. On an average Sunday we’ll receive a few burglary reports, a couple shoplifters, and not much else. The front window is desolate and the phone is quiet. Usually.

At 7:05, the phone rings, and since I am the only person who ever comes in on time, I had to answer. This is what started my day:

Caller: “Yeah, someone took my car the other night and I want to know if I can get it back.”
Me: “Someone stole your car, you lost your car, what?”

Caller: “No, YOU took it.”

(I could already see where this was headed.)

Me: “I can promise you I did not take your vehicle, since I haven’t impounded a car in at least two years.”

…

Caller: “Well, the police took it and they said it was being processed.”
Me: “Okay, do you know who is processing the car, because we have nearly one hundred detectives who work in this building.”

Caller: “Naw, man. They were two white guys, though.”
Me: “Two white guys, that’s all you know?”

Caller: “Yeah, I didn’t get any names.”
Me: “You didn’t think getting information on the people who impounded your car was important? Wouldn’t that be the first thing you’d ask?”

Caller: “Naw. man. I just need to know if I can get my car.”
Me: “Well, since you have no information on the vehicle, no information on the detectives, and no idea why they took the car, how am I supposed to help you?”

Caller: “Well, I know why they took it. I fired some shots while I was in my car.”
Me: “Wow. I guess that’s a good reason to impound your vehicle.”

I swear on my life this is what the man said next…

Caller: “Yeah, apparently firing shots in the air is, like, illegal for some reason.”