True Detective Stories

So, let me tell you about my Friday night.

One of the main avenues in my section of the city was being repaved – at 2pm on a Friday afternoon – so instead of a twenty-five minute trip to work, it took me forty-five minutes. It goes without saying when I walked into the office – late – the temperature was a chilly 82 degrees. Oh well, at least we had five detectives instead of the previous day’s four.

What? A detective called out sick? Awesome!

The night played out as planned: robberies, domestic assaults, gunshots, drugs, dogs and cats living together, when an officer came to my desk with something odd.

The cop had a sheet of paper in his hand, and said, “The supervisor wants me to ask what information you have on this incident.” The paper was a teletype message for a job where a 75-year old man apparently jumped out his window, breaking his arms. The time out for the job was during our shift Thursday night…

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True Detective Stories

Saturday signaled the end of my day work tour, arguably the only time each month when I’m happy. Night work is coming, I can sleep late, and it’s so busy I’m not reminded how slowly that hours are passing. I can just sit down, relax on a lazy Saturday and wait to go home.

Or not.

A jackass police officer – he’s a regular offender when it comes to asking stupid questions – called the division, and I had the misfortune of answering. Breathlessly, the officer informs me stopped a male and he is not currently in possession of identification. (OH MY STARS!) The officer wants to arrest the male for False ID to Police, which in this town, with this D.A., is akin to a summary offense. In short, it’s a waste of our time.

Any hoo, the officer continues to push the issue, saying, “”I know he’s lying to us. I know he has a warrant. I want to arrest him for false ID.” This idiotic conversation lasts for a few minute, as my urge to kill is rising. I wanted to tell the officer, “We are leading the city in shootings and homicides, and THIS is what you want to bring in?”

Semi-cooler heads prevailed.

Instead, I injected some common sense into the equation. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you write ped stop paperwork, bring the male to the division, and ask the CCTV officers to, you know, identify your suspect?”

Silence on the other end.

“You see, if you bring him in, they’ll fingerprint him, photograph him, and have him identified in an hour or so, and if he has a warrant, he’s locked up. If not, he’s released with a laurel, and hearty handshake.”

The officer finally caught on. “We can do that??”

I don’t get paid enough. I really, really don’t.

True Detective Stories

Bad Cop No DonutThere is no shortage of stupid people in this great big world, and most people cannot swing a dead cat without hitting some dullard. Sadly, my profession attracts the galactically dense, and most of them revolve around me like simpleminded planets.

So, let me tell you about work last night…

At about 4pm, an officer called the division and stated he responded to a radio call for a theft. The victim claimed someone took his Amazon package – oatmeal and books – from his front doorstep. The victim stated he saw the offender – from behind – but it’s all good because he can identify the offender’s “distinctive clothing.” Um, okay.

A few minutes later, Supercop stops a vehicle with three people inside; two women and one man. The victim is brought to the scene and “identifies” one of the women as the one who stole his package. The identification is made only by the clothing, and no package is recovered in the car or with the offender.

Supercop asks, “So, what do I do?”

You take off your badge, turn in your gun, and go work for Tastykake, because if you don’t know what crime – if any – was committed, you should find another line of work…

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