True Detective Stories

So Monday night, one of the dumbest officers in our division called. Sadly, I was dumb enough to answer the phone. This kid has maybe a year under his belt, and every time he responds to a radio call, he calls the detective division to ask us what HE should do.

When I answer this imbecile’s calls, I always give him the same reply; “I’m not out there, so you need to make a decision.” The imbecile grumbles, and says, “Okay.”

In Monday’s case, the imbecile responded to a call for a person with a gun. Imbecile is the first on the scene, talks to the alleged “victims” and the offender. Officer Imbecile patted down the offender, and found no firearms or weapons of any kind. The “victims” swore up and down he threatened them with a pistol, but there were no independent witnesses.

Officer Imbecile explains he did not find a weapon on the alleged offender, and no one other than the alleged “victims” claimed they saw a pistol. My first thought was, “You got nothing, kid,” but I figured I should explain why. I told the imbecile that the “victims” may just be trying to screw over the guy – who was the former boyfriend of one of the “victims” – and without any independent witnesses or video, there’s not much he can do. You certainly cannot arrest the guy for possessing a gun if he didn’t have one…

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True Detective Stories

This may surprise you, but there are many police officers in my division who have not taken a shine to me. It may be because I’m old school, or because millennials don’t understand sarcasm, or because they’re morons.

I’m going with the latter.

So Saturday night we get a call from the 666 District – by far the worst district in the city for violence, and for moron officers. Officer Halfwit, the pride and joy of the short bus, tells me they have a stabbing inside a residence. I ask Officer Halfwit if he has any details, and this is the word salad he threw at me:

“Well, the victim came out of the house with a stab wound to the neck. The victim had his keys, and locked the door behind him. The medics arrived and are working on him now. The victim isn’t telling us what happened.”

This is the typical response from people in this city. No one wants to cooperate, even if they’re the victim…

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True Detective Stories

The first three days of the daywork tour have been a nightmare. We had three detectives on Saturday, four on Sunday, and four on Monday. Monday was more egregious because as I walked in, the previous tour left us with a robbery, a burglary arrest, a stolen gun, and a self-inflicted gunshot wound. So every detective caught a terrible job before 7:30am.

Naturally everyone was pissed, but the worst job of all turned out to be the burglary. The cops were abysmal human failures who took three hours to bring in the report. They then went downstairs to START their paperwork, and that took another half hour. The cops – a male and a female – looked like they were twelve, but definitely had the maturity of six year olds.

When the paperwork was finished, the male came to my desk and just stared at me. Annoyed, I asked, “What do you have, officer?” He replied he had an arrest, which he told me a half hour before. I asked him for the paperwork, and he snidely replied, “I’m getting it all together.” Now, I’m angry.

“All I need is your incident report. Do you have that?” He handed me the report, and I entered it into the system before sending him on his way to his detective. The two dolts recovered a crowbar from the scene, and placed it on a property receipt.

Both cops kept walking back and forth through the building like they had ADHD. The male dealt with the detective and the female just did her own thing. At one point, she was sitting in the lobby with the crowbar. Moments later, I saw she was gone and the crowbar was lying on the floor. A short time later, the bimbo pops back up, walks past the crowbar, and enters the division.

I stopped her and said, “Just a little bit of advice. You may want to stay near the crowbar, since people walk through this area all the time. You know, since it’s EVIDENCE.” She looked at me and said, “Well, it’s just a crowbar.”

I stared at her for a moment, and responded, “It’s also the only evidence linking your defendant with the burglary. But hey, you be you.” I swear, these cops are getting dumber by the day.

1,270 days.

True Detective Stories

Allow me to beguile you with a tale. It’s a sordid story emanating from the big city, where one man was stabbed and another man was interrogated.

While both men are the focus of the investigation, another man is the subject of this story. In this case, that person is a slow, dim-witted man the big city thought was worthy enough to wear a badge. Let’s call him Barney.

Barney is a member of the new breed of super cops; the kind of officers who take two hour lunches, pull over vehicles for sliding through a stop sign, and whine when they don’t get their way. In other words, the kind of cops everyone hates. But I digress.

Shortly after I walked into the division, I received a call from a sergeant claiming they had a stabbing victim outside a residence. The victim was stabbed multiple times in the torso and the arm, and collapsed on the sidewalk while fleeing his attacker. He was transported to the hospital and his last condition was critical.

The only other man in the residence was detained for questioning, and since he had several prior arrests, he knew the game. The suspect spent the entire time either lying or refusing to answer. Par for the course in the big city.

The suspect – who we believe was the attacker – was brought in by Barney, uncuffed, and virtually unguarded. The current policy is no one is brought upstairs because of Covid, but Barney is special, and brought him right up. The sergeant, to his credit, immediately told him to take the suspect downstairs… and that’s when Barney showed his true colors. “I’m day work. I’m supposed to be leaving soon.”

The sergeant was having none of it. “I understand that, but right now you need to take that person downstairs.”

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True Detective Stories

As you know, many of my True Detective Stories revolve around the truly terrible police officers this city hires. Obviously, the talent pool is low after the left decided to declare war on the police, but even some of the decent cops in my division would need an abacus to count their fingers and toes.

Once a week, the district’s Quality Assurance Officer – usually a female who either is scared to work the street or has friends in high places – looks over the week’s reports and checks them for accuracy. The QAO never knocks down a report – like making a robbery a theft – but always upgrades it. Because police captains are always overjoyed when they have to explain five new robberies which were thefts the day before.

The QAO of one particular district gets off on sending us high-level felonies every week, and usually five days after the report was filed. This policy is stressing because most victims refuse to cooperate with police the day of the incident, let alone a week after the fact. This was the case Monday evening when a robbery report from Saturday landed in our queue.

The dumbass QAO of the offending district refused to scan the report in, so I had to fax AND call the district twice to find a copy of the report. You see, you cannot investigate a crime without ANY OF THE F**KING DETAILS, LIKE SAY, THE VICTIM’S NAME AND PHONE NUMBER!

But I digress…

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True Detective Stories

The recent “peaceful protests” have been effecting everyone at work, and for the most part, the riots are making everyone much dumber. Let me tell you about the last few days.

Saturday was extremely busy. In between two shootings, a homicide, and some lootings, I also had to deal with a rookie cop who thought he knew everything about the job after being on the street for less than a year. This jackass brings up a report of vandalism, and before I read the report, he says, “I think she’s lying.”

The victim is a store owner, and she claimed rioters smashed her front window. The window was not very large, but the victim claimed it was worth $15,000. I asked this genius why he would take a report if you thought she was lying. The kid looks at me with a scowl, and says, “What am I supposed to do?” I responded, “Maybe you could ask a few questions before writing anything down. You’re the initial officer, so it’s your job to ask questions if you have them.”

The cop gave me a sarcastic sigh – smart move – so I took his report and told him to hit the road. This douchebag will likely be a lieutenant in three years…

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True Detective Stories

When I saw Die Hard in the theaters, I was a 19-year old college kid who thought cops were the greatest people in the world. I was a Criminal Justice major – believe me kids, it was a terrible choice – and wanted to become a federal agent. I remember watching the film and saying to myself, “Wow, these police supervisors are so comically portrayed that they’re hardly believable.”

Looking back, John McTiernan portrayed Dwayne T. Robinson and both FBI Agent Johnsons perfectly.

Tuesday night, one of our dumber districts called and said they had an arrest for aggravated assault. Apparently the doer threatened the victim with a knife, and during a scuffle, the doer sliced open his own hand.

Yes, the residents of my division are mostly mutants, thanks for asking.

Anyway, the district officers arrested the offender and claimed they would bring up the victim and witnesses for interviews. The time of that call was 6:07pm. In the meantime, we were busy as hell – see yesterday’s TDS – so I eventually forgot about this particular arrest.

The night dragged on, and around 9:45pm, I looked at my queue and still saw the district’s job, but the officers still hadn’t arrived. “Yo, did anyone see the aggravated assault from the southern district? They called nearly four hours ago?”

Nothing. They still hadn’t brought up the paperwork, the victim, or the witnesses. I figured it was just southern being southern, since they take hours to drive a few miles to the division, and when it was quittin’ time, I went home…

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True Detective Stories

For the record, Zoe Saldana has nothing to do with this post, but if I didn’t post some eye candy, I would have literally lost my mind. This post is more of a play-by-play instead of my usual rambling soliloquies, but the points you need to remember are as follows: rookie cops, assault, and paperwork. Also, take note of the times listed on the right. Let’s begin.

1:18pm – Two officers responded to a report of an assault and observed the first male offender punching the female victim. During the incident, another male jumped on one of the officers and tried to interfere with the arrest.

1:30pm – The officers arrested the two male offenders, and transported the offenders and victim/witnesses to the division.

2:45pm – I walk into work, fifteen minutes early (as usual), and the victim is banging on the window, asking to use the bathroom. The woman stated she had already been in the hallway for nearly an hour, had not been interviewed yet, and was none too pleased…

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True Detective Stories

When you’re a member of a big-city police department, there are always a few employees who are not exactly high caliber. This is true in any profession, but it’s slightly more disheartening when your job is keeping people safe.

On Sunday, we had to deal with Officer Steroids; a hulking man whose sleeves are always one flex away from tearing. Officer Steroids has been on the job for about thirty years, and sadly, the man still cannot write a coherent police report. I guess his rippling muscles,stop the blood flow to his underdeveloped brain.

The officer called the division Sunday and explained he was out at a burglary scene. Apparently, the offenders entered the residence, grabbed the victim’s car keys and stole two vehicles. Officer Steroids – again who has thirty years on the job – asked a question anyone who ever watched Law & Order would be able to answer:

“Do I write one report for the burglary, or three for the burglary, and the two cars stolen?”

It was then that I grabbed a glass of hemlock and chugged it down…

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True Detective Stories

Yesterday I was minding my own business, sitting at my desk in 81 degree heat, waiting for my impending death – or end of shift, whichever came first. The phone rang, and like an idiot, I answered it. It was yet another misstep in a career full of missteps.

The officer on the other line had less than a year on the street and her partner also had less than a year’s experience. In days gone by, you would put a rookie with a veteran so they can learn the job, and not annoy, say, detectives, with stupid questions. Here is their story:

10:03am – Female officer calls and states she has two victims of assault. Both the man and the woman have small lacerations and bruises obtained during a mutual fight. It is not a domestic situation, just an argument between coworkers. The officer actually says, “Which do we lock up?”

I impolitely reply, “No idea. I’m not there, and it seems a mutual fight would mean neither one is arrested. So I suggest you call your supervisor to the scene to make a determination.”

11:30am – Male partner calls, over an hour later, and states both combatants are at the hospital, being treated for their injuries received in a mutual fight. The officer states both the woman and the male will need stitches, so it is an aggravated assault. Again, the question arises, “Who do we lock up?”

I ask this officer if a supervisor ever arrived, and he said yes, but the supervisor would not give them advice. I replied, “Then you’re 0-2, because I am still not there and I cannot make a determination. It’s been an hour and a half. This job should have been done by now. Make a decision, or re-call your supervisor.”

12:15pm – Male officer calls again – he has my name, so he specifically asks for me – and states, “We’re locking up the male.” I reply, “Okay, why did you choose the male?”

Wait for it…

“Because he’s the guy.”

(See above facepalm for my reaction.) “So wait, both people assaulted each other, both have similar injuries, and you are arresting the male simply because he’s a male?” The officer was silent. “Look dude, you can do what you want, but if you think that reasoning will make it past the D.A.’s office, I wish you luck. You need to bring these people up here a.s.a.p. so we can get the paperwork processed. I mean, it’s been over two hours for this nonsense.”

2:30pm – Four and a half hours after the initial call, there is still no sign of the officers, combatants, or the paperwork. Shift’s over. Good luck, with that debacle night shift.