True Detective Stories

So yesterday I walked into work, settled in at my desk, and checked the court cases. It’s usually the first thing I do on court days, so I have an idea how short we’ll be. You see, the city’s District Attorney – a loathsome piece of filth whose first mission is to defund the police – has decided every police officer and detective must appear in court, whether it’s a trial or a preliminary hearing.

Nearly every court notice is now labeled “Must Be Tried.” MBTs are only used when the judge schedules a trial or when it is a final listing. The D.A. now puts MBTs on almost every case, forcing the majority of working officers and detectives to appear in court, whether they are needed or not.

This is purposeful, because when the D.A. forces all these people to court, it leaves virtually no one patrolling the streets or working in the detective divisions. Which explains why I was the only detective working yesterday for six of my eight hours. Me. No one else.

All this preamble brings me to Diego the Idiot Detective (above – okay Diego is much fatter than that guy). Almost every court notice Diego receives is marked MBT. Most of us assumed they were marked as such because he is a f**k-up, and the ADA needed him to explain his idiocy. Apparently, that is not the case. I mean, he is a f**k-up, but that’s not why he’s getting these notices.

There have been rumors going around claiming Diego has been calling assistant district attorneys, asking them to make all his cases MBT. One detective in particular heard a conversation he had with an ADA explicitly asking for an MBT. Why would he do this? In short, because he’s a bum.

When you are given an MBT notice, you are almost guaranteed to be sitting in court for the entire day. Most of us hate that, because sitting around for hours at the whim of some scumbag ADA, is very unpleasant. For Diego, it is a picnic. First, he gets out of work, because he will not receive any active jobs. Second, he knows he can sit downtown all day, stuffing his face with bon-bons and boring his fellow detectives to death. Finally, he knows no one will check up on what he’s doing, because the rest of us are working our asses off.

The only good news is I do get to assign dead jobs – jobs where there is no complainant or witness – to Diego, and after hearing his little plan, I can assure his mailbox will be chock full of jobs for him to address tomorrow.

I truly despise this bloated, disgusting pustule.