True Detective Stories

So Wednesday was a rather easy day for me at work. My supervisors decided they wanted me to be the administrative assistant for the tour – I was effectively Toby from The Office – so instead of entering jobs, I ran errands and made my coworkers sign for things.

The downside to all this is someone had to cover my position. In this case, it was Diego the Idiot Detective.

The bulk of my time was spent either inside or just outside the supervisor’s office; filing reports, doling out Chinese Wuhan Virus masks, and making sure Diego did not f**k things up. Unfortunately, I could not babysit this slack-jawed yokel every minute of the tour, so occasionally I missed something.

From what I heard, I missed something… significant.

Diego handled a shooting incident the other day, and while no one was hit, he did recover twenty-plus shell casings. Since he is not a conscientious detective, Diego took three days to process the scene, and was still working on the job. (A job like this takes an hour, tops, but hey, Dummy gonna Dummy.)

Anyway, Diego was apparently working at my desk while also trying to finish the shooting job. At one point, he took out the bag of spent shell casings and lined them up on the desk. Diego cannot multitask, so while he was entering jobs into the computer, he was also fondling the casings.

THE. CASINGS. ARE. EVIDENCE.

As a result, most evidence custodians, district attorneys, defense attorneys, judges, and juries usually frown upon fondling evidence and spreading your fingerprints/DNA all over shell casings! The supervisor saw this, and asked, “Diego, what the hell are you doing?”

Diego responded, “What do you mean?”

The supervisor replied, “You’re picking up and touching the casings with you bare hands!”

Diego, in typical fashion, laughs and says, “Oh yeah, you’re right.”

Welcome to my nightmare.