True Detective Stories

I have two quick stories today. Both occurred on Sunday, but both were at least semi-interesting enough to post. Of course, your mileage may vary.

So Diego the Idiot Detective screwed up a job – shock, right? – and he had to write another report to supplement the first. He drops the paperwork off at my desk, and says, “Yeah, the district is going to enter this job. Here’s the report number. Just put it into my queue, but don’t give it a control number.”

For the record, most every job which passes through my desk needs a control number for tracking. That said, it was my last day, so I accepted his request with the expectation a supervisor would chastise him sometime later this week. Before he walks away, I ask him to confirm the report number. He gives it to me and I write it down.

About ten minutes later, he waddles back to the desk and asks why the job isn’t in his queue. I tell him the district didn’t enter the job yet, and he stops me, saying, “It’s in the system. I was just looking at it.”

Now I’m annoyed, so I ratchet up the sarcasm. “So do you have a different screen than me, because it’s not here.” Diego takes a breath, and says, “That’s because you put in the wrong report number.”

I’m sorry, WHAT???

“I asked you to repeat the number not once, but twice. I even wrote it down as you read it to me. LOOK!” *points to paper*

“Oh,” Diego replies, “That’s a three at the end, not a two.”

“Dude, you f**King told me it was a two. I wrote it the f**k down!”

“Nah, I told you it was a two.”

Thoroughly beaten, I submitted. “Fine Diego, it’s a two… which is one point above your IQ.”

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True Detective Stories

When it’s my time to leave this mortal coil, I would like you to know Diego the Idiot Detective killed me.

Yes, I could be hit by a bus, killed of cancer, or slaughtered in a blimp attack, but trust me, Diego will be the cause of my eventual death.

Two rookie cops brought in a gun arrest yesterday morning, and sadly, the job was assigned to Diego. I don’t like giving serious jobs to him because they entail a white paper, and Diego can barely spell his name, let alone write a full-page detailed report.

The officers brought up the gun to be processed and took it to Diego’s desk. Diego “took care of things,” then sent him on his way.

About an hour later, Diego submitted his white paper – a document which goes to every detective supervisor from lieutenant and above – and moments later, the sergeant called him to the desk.

Apparently Diego forgot to inform us the following:

1. He never did any checks of this guy’s criminal history, including any open warrants. Kind of a big deal if the offender is released and no one sees, say, a homicide warrant.

2. He never swabbed the pistol for DNA, despite the Directive mandating it. Swabbing for DNA is important since it would eventually identify anyone who was in possession of the weapon.

3. He never told us the idiot cops brought in a loaded gun

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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.


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.

True Detective Stories

It’s been a while since I regaled you with stories from Diego the Idiot Detective. Luckily for you, this has already been a banner week for Fredo Corleone. Let’s begin, shall we?

Monday: Diego’s first job of the day was a probation violation arrest, which is literally the easiest paperwork to complete. If it takes you more than ten minutes to process a probation violation, you should probably wear a helmet at all times. It took Diego about forty-five minutes, partly because “he couldn’t read” the report – or he simply never learned to read – and partly because he was too busy flapping his gums instead of doing his job.

Diego’s second job was a gun confiscation. All he had to do was complete a gun trace, which is on the computer, and it is a fill-in-the-blank format. It took him twenty minutes to complete.

Diego’s final assignment was a shooting incident. Some thug fired shots outside a residence, no one was hit, but Diego had to recover twenty spent shell casings. It took him nearly an hour and a half. The crime scene was less than five minutes away…

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True Detective Stories

Saturday – mercifully – ended my day work tour. I had been waking up at 5am every morning so I could stretch out my wretched back for a half hour. It’s the only way I could put on my clothes without help.

Mere minutes after I sat down at my desk, Diego the Idiot Detective waddled in, carrying a covered bowl. He announced, “Hey guys, if you’re hungry, I brought in a bowl of brisket!”

The time was 7am. Who. The. F**k. Is. Eating. Brisket. At. Seven. AM?

Since none of us are unemployable alcoholics or stayed awake the entire evening, we all declined.

The tour was rather uneventful: no shootings, no robberies, and it rained most of the day. (The thugs don’t like the rain.) I was able to catch up on my work, relax a bit, and watch some college football.

At about noon, Diego walked into the kitchen, brought out the bowl, and placed it on his desk. He opened the lid and told everyone they can dig in. When he said this, I was walking to the kitchen to grab something to drink. I wish I hadn’t.

Diego walked down the aisle toward me, holding a large piece of brisket in his chubby hand, and chewing on it as he walked. He looked like Dan Aykroyd in Trading Places eating the stolen salmon while riding the bus…

As he passed me, I said, “Diego what the F**K are you doing?” He replied, “I’m eating brisket. Want some?”

In twenty-six years of policing, I have seen almost every type of violent, stomach-churning incidents you can imagine: homicides, suicides, hangings, decapitations, and people struck by Acela trains. None of those were more sickening than seeing Diego gnaw on a giant piece of brisket.

No plate, no utensils, just one dullard harkening back to his Neanderthal roots.

The good news is everyone on the floor shared my assessment, and no one wanted to be anywhere near Diego and his chew toy. I don’t remember ever trying brisket, but now, I can assure you, I never will

True Detective Stories

It’s been a while since Diego the Idiot Detective graced the blog, but yesterday he popped up on the radar. A police officer brought in a gun possession arrest just after the shift began, and unfortunately, Diego was the assigned “detective.”

Firearms arrests are usually easy to process. You run the weapon through the system to find the owner, and check to see if the gun was previously stolen. Then you swab the firearm for DNA. Finally, you insert the information on a gun trace and send it downtown to the Firearms Investigation Unit (FIU).

It’s so easy that a teenager could literally process the job. Unfortunately, we had Diego doing it.

Diego swabbed the gun for DNA – although he has a habit it catching his own DNA on guns – and began the gun trace. The form is a fill-in-the-blanks formula, so if you miss something, the report will let you know. It is almost impossible to screw this up. Almost…

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True Detective Stories

Well, it didn’t take long for Diego the Idiot Detective to get on my last damned nerve. Saturday night was crazy busy, and unfortunately, Diego landed a big gun job. For the most part, he processed the scene an the evidence without completely ruining everything, but what he said after processing the gun was one for the record books.

When we recover a gun, it has to be swabbed for DNA. Sometimes the DNA will come back to the owner, or any thug who happened to pick up the pistol. Dummy took the swab and walked up to the sergeant to begin likely the dumbest conversation I have ever heard.

Diego: “Hey Sarge, was that pistol unloaded when it was brought in?”

*Head hits desk* Since it’s policy to unload recovered weapons immediately, you already know the answer, dumbass. When the sergeant told Diego yes, he doubled down on the stupid…

Diego: “So there was no round in the chamber?”

Yes, you colossal f**king idiot! If the gun was unloaded, it means there is no f**king round in the chamber! Jesus Christ, are you completely incapable of conceiving a cogent thought? Moron!

True Detective Stories

Today’s episode of TDS is a cornucopia of smaller stories that didn’t necessarily warrant its own post, but were worth mentioning anyway.

#1. Last week, officers responded to a report of fireworks/gunshots – no one knew for sure what it was – and when the officers arrived, the entire block came out to start trouble. The neighbors started harassing the cops, throwing insults and profanity at them, and a few people got in the officers’ faces. The officers were trying to deescalate the situation, then one thug POS punched a rookie in the eye, breaking his orbital bone.

All this was captured on body cameras.

The evidence was collected, the doer was identified, and we sent the job to the District Attorney’s Office. Hours later, the DA sent it back, claiming there was not enough evidence supplied to approve the arrest warrant. Infuriated, the supervisor sent every officer’s body camera footage to the D.A. and demanded they watch every piece of video taken during the incident.

The kid had his orbital bone broken, and this Soros-appointed DA refuses to charge the thug. But yeah, the cops are the problem…

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True Detective Stories

For the record, I am desperately trying to move away from the Floyd Riots, the Defund the Police movement, and the other nonsense which is occupying the left. Luckily, I am surrounded by morons every day, and I do not highlight their idiocy enough.

Remember Diego the Idiot Detective? He’s been profiled here more than a few times, and is quite literally the dumbest human I have ever met. When it comes to “Carrying the Stupids,” he’s the one I most often have to lift.

Diego outshined himself twice this weekend, while simultaneously proving the detective’s exam also needs a psychological evaluation attached…

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True Detective Stories

Many of you regular readers are vaguely familiar with my coworker, Diego the Idiot Detective. Diego is arguably the dumbest person I have ever known, but what he lacks in intelligence, he also lacks in common sense.

Most detective divisions in the department are working shortened shifts in an order to practice social distancing. A few people come in early and are relieved by others after a few hours. For the most part, it has worked well, and we haven’t had a positive Wuhan illness in a few weeks.

That said, we’re obviously short on manpower, and we need every detective to be available to come to work and do their job.

Enter Diego the Idiot Detective.

The other day, Diego started whining about his back, saying it was “killing him.” (As if I’d be that lucky.) Diego is on the portly – read: obese – side, so back problems are not a surprise. He said all this in front of the sergeant, because that is Diego’s M.O. The man telegraphs sick days ahead of time, so it’s not a “surprise” when he calls out.

Thee sergeant, to his credit, interrupted a bitch session, stating, “You know we’re running a skeleton crew, right? You’re effectively working half days, and you’re going to call out sick while we’re short?”

Immediately cowed, because he’s a pussy, Diego responded, “Well, I’ll probably be good to go. No worries.”

The next morning, Diego called out sick for Wednesday, and said he would not return until Monday.

Stunts like these are why I cannot wait to leave this department. This never would have happened even ten years ago, because the peer pressure would be too great. Now, everyone is out for him or herself. There’s a special place in Hell for people who purposely screw over their coworkers.