True Detective Stories

So, I took off sick Wednesday after a night of no sleep, and another sick day Friday after I was battling a 102 degree fever. I felt better Saturday so I decided to suck it up and go to work. Damn you, embedded work ethic!

I arrived a half hour early – traffic was no existent – and settled down at my desk. Five minutes later, I cursed myself for coming in. Here’s how the day went.

The overnight shift was crazy busy after a six-person shooting in our division. Five people were shot – three are stable and two are critical – and another was killed. I began entering unassigned jobs from the previous day when the first idiot cop walked through the door. The female had a robbery report and had the victim in tow. I reminded her we cannot have victims upstairs because of the Chinese Wuhan Virus protocols, but she didn’t seem to care. Even after reminding this bint it was an order from the Inspector, she declined to comply… because she’s a bint.

The victim was placed into the hallway, and I read this obviously bullsh*t report. The male claimed he was coming home from a night club when two black males approached him, pulled out handguns, and took his Cartier watch, iPhone 12, house and car keys, and assorted jewelry. The victim claimed the total for the amount stolen came to $36,200.

Yeah, okay. I know I always carry $36,000 worth of items when I go to a night club…

Shortly thereafter, another female cop called and said she wanted to take a missing persons report. The father wanted to report his 38-year old missing. The problem here is:

1. The man is 38 years old and has no mental difficulties.
2. The father has not seen the son in three years.
3. He was last seen in Los Angeles.
4. The missing person is homeless.

After smashing my skull with the telephone receiver, I asked a few pertinent questions:

1. You do realize adults have permission to leave their home, right? We’re not dealing with a child here.
2. The father has not seen him in three years, and he could be anywhere in America right now.
3. The son has no address, so how are we supposed to find this person, even if he is in L.A.
4. Homeless people usually don’t want to be found, specially when they move 2,700 miles away.

The officer took a moment, and responded with, “Well, my sergeant told me to take the report.”

I put this jackass on hold and informed my supervisor, who replied with, “Just have her send it up here. We’ll do what we always do – fix their messes.”

Finally, the third job was the icing on the cake. A security guard has been having ongoing problems with his baby mama, and she kicked him out of the house. This dolt left the residence, then realized his bag – containing his revolver – was still in the house. For some reason, he called the police – the same district which took the missing person report – and one officer showed up. The kid has one year on the job.

The kid brought the report in, dropped it on my desk, and was about to leave. I flagged him down, and asked him to explain what was going on. His answers were unfathomable to me, my supervisors, and my coworkers.

“Well, I knocked on the door and she refused to answer, so I brought up the complainant and the paperwork.”
“Wait, that’s all you did? Did you even attempt to get the gun out of the residence?”

“Okay, did you at least call a supervisor to the location, since there is a gun that is missing now?

“Uh, no.”
“Wow. How about this, did you have someone posted at the front and the back of the residence, so the gun doesn’t disappear? I mean, if we’re going to apply for a search warrant, we want to be sure the gun is still there.”

“No, I didn’t have anyone cover the house.”
“So, how exactly are we going to get a search warrant approved if you never held the scene?”

At that point, the supervisor interjected. “Officer, if you don’t know what to do, call your supervisor. It is not our job to fix your mess. The next time you don’t know what to do, call for your supervisor.”

The kid turned around and stormed out of the building, although I doubt he learned anything. I hate this job anymore.

1,320 days.

6 thoughts on “True Detective Stories

  1. I hate dealing with the idiocy of others which fortunately is rare in my dept. I don’t know how you do it day in and day out.


  2. My cousin retired as a sergeant from (Houston) HPD a few years ago. He has similar stories to tell about the shenanigans he had to endure on the job. Hang in there!


  3. Is that a Philly thing, a Pennsylvania thing, or an East Coast thing, to use “anymore” as a synonym for “now?”


  4. Ronni – When I got on, there were veterans who showed us the ropes. The new cops don’t look to vets because they already know everything.

    Paul M – My department is dying. Veterans are looking to get out and no one wants the job anymore. I’ll wager many blue city departments are dealing with similar issues.

    Cathy – Because the patrol supervisors don’t want to make a decision.

    Mitchell – I wrote this while I was feverish, so it was probably just delirium.


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