True Detective Stories

As I walked into work Friday afternoon, I felt pretty good. There were no pending jobs on my desk, Diego the Idiot Detective was off for the rest of the tour, and my physical therapist thinks I may be able to avoid shoulder surgery.

Yep, I was feelin’ fine… and then they came into the building.

Two members of the BATF (Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives) waltzed in and said they had a job for us. My first instinct was to tell then to f**k off, considering how awful federal agents have been, well, forever. Instead, I suggested they contact our Major Crimes Unit, since federal cases are usually handled by, you know, federal agents.

Apparently, these two clowns observed two males purchasing firearms in an adjoining state, followed them through said state and halfway through Pennsylvania. They finally had the car stopped in my division – but of course they did – had our police officers arrest the males, and demanded WE write up their search warrants.

Yeah. No.

I asked the feds to take a seat and approached my supervisor. I explained how these lazy assclowns were trying to push their job on us, while also mentioning they followed this car through two states, which definitely makes this a federal matter, not a local one.

While I was speaking with the boss, these arrogant agents made themselves at home. They were wandering around the floor, checking out our interrogation room, and leaving some of their paperwork on my desk. By contrast, if you are a sworn law enforcement officer and have court at Philadelphia’s Federal Building, you are personally escorted by a fed from the time you enter the building to the time you leave. They barely let you go to the bathroom alone, but we’re supposed to bend over for these assholes?

My supervisor did not shove them out of the building, but he did the next best thing. The boss told the feds we would process the firearms arrests… and nothing more. They would do their own interrogations, they would serve the search warrants, and they would recover the firearms. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was one I could live with.

If there is one thing I have learned about (most) federal agents, it’s this: no one works harder to get out of working. They pawned this job off on us, and in the end, the detective doing all their work will never see a court notice. That’s how the feds operate.

7 thoughts on “True Detective Stories

  1. I agree with Kitty. Avoiding surgery is a big deal! So glad your shoulder is doing better. As for the feds, I have only dealt with one in my lifetime and he didn’t take my calling off our engagement and giving him back the ring very well.

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  2. Kitty – On Thursday, I was throwing a tennis ball overhand with the therapist Haven’t been able to do that since October. I do my exercises every day, and I go above and beyond in therapy because I didn’t want to be out for so long. Now I may be able to avoid it. We’ll see.

    Ronni – Good point. The supervisor told the detective to only process the gun arrest, but because my coworker is a really nice guy, he decided to do the search warrants. Thee feds did not lift one finger to help, and they were in the building twelve hours.

    If nothing else, my coworker learned never to help the feds.

    Cathy – My sergeant made that comment also. Get rid of him, and send him to the feds.

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  3. If only if only Diego had been on duty you could have given them justice and assigned him to do the job and work with the Feds, it would have been a perfect storm of who can do the least amount of work.
    Good news about the shoulder, may have to do that when I see my Doc in July if my knee doesn’t get better, it’s been almost a month since it decided to drop me on the ground.

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  4. Gary – I suggested that, but the supervisor wanted someone with a brain to get the job. Little did he know the detective ended up getting a clusterfrak.

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