4Runner target practice


On Thursday night, I responded to a hit and run call in an alley. When I arrived, I found a parked Toyota 4Runner with front end damage and the front bumper from the suspect vehicle on the ground right next to it.

Another officer advised over the radio that he was out with the suspect and the victim at a 7-Eleven parking lot about a half mile away. I interviewed a witness at the scene and then drove to the suspect’s location.

It turned out the suspect, who we’ll call Tammy, crashed into the parked 4Runner when she was trying to drop someone off.

Right after the collision, a vehicle drove into the alley and stopped. Coincidentally, it was the owner of the parked 4Runner, who just happened to arrive in the alley.

The guy got out of his vehicle and saw that his 4Runner was just hit. Tammy decided she was going to split and started to drive away. The only problem was that Tammy crashed into the guy’s other vehicle, which was also a Toyota 4Runner!

After the second collision Tammy fled the scene as the victim chased after her. She finally gave up and pulled over in the 7-Eleven parking lot.

What were the odds of the victim owning two 4Runners and having them hit by the same suspect in two separate collisions?

You just can’t make this stuff up.



A few months ago, I was sent to a call in which a woman wanted to speak to officers about witchcraft. This was a first for me. I’ve always been a Jedi Mind Trick sort of guy, but I’d give the witchcraft conversation a shot.

I was working a graveyard patrol shift when I was sent to an apartment at 4:30AM. The gate was locked, so I asked dispatch to call the RP (reporting party) to let us in.

We waited for a while, but no one came to the gate. After a few minutes I got on the radio and asked, “Can you call the RP and see if they could make up a spell to open the gate?”

A minute later the RP appeared as she walked down a pathway toward us. She was in her late 30s, short, had a round face and brown shoulder length wavy hair. She was wide eyed with a gaze that was cast downward. She only spoke Spanish, so I called dispatch and had someone translate for me over the phone.

The woman told the translator someone had cast a spell on her because they were jealous of her kids. Cast a spell on her? This was indeed a new type of call for me.
I asked the woman where her children were. The woman replied her kids lived with someone else.

We handed the phone back and forth as I used the translator to help us communicate. In the end she didn’t want to hurt herself, but she was truly fearful of the witchcraft that was around her. It was her reality. I could’ve said, “Boo” and she would’ve jumped into the air.

She said she wanted to talk to a mental health professional and we arranged transportation for her. As she left I thought about how lucky we were that she didn’t own a black cat. I didn’t see a broom either.

The little Christmas tree


A few weeks ago, I was working overtime in patrol when I was dispatched to a disturbance call at a run down motel. The tenant in one of the rooms was drunk and causing problems. When we arrived, Tom was sleeping, so our problem was solved. Why wake him up? He was having sleepy time.

A few hours later, Sleeping Beauty was up again. He was still drunk and wanted to fight with the motel owner. This generated another call for service and I was back for part two.

When I arrived, he was buying more beer at the liquor store next door. I went over there and waited for him to come outside. He was eventually arrested and the motel owner said he was going to kick Tom out.

After Tom was handcuffed he was told about getting kicked out. That’s when a friend walked by and said he’d help. The friend agreed to clear the room out and hold onto the stuff until he got out of jail.

After he was taken to jail I went back to the motel room to drop off the beer  he just bought.

When I drove up, I saw the friend already hard at work getting Tom’s stuff packed up. That’s when a bare Christmas tree got moved to the front door. It reminded me of a Charlie Brown Christmas tree when I saw it.

This guy was an alcoholic and according to him, living in a bedbug infested motel room. I didn’t know anything about him, but seeing that little Christmas tree made me feel bad for him because he was probably going to be alone during the holidays.

Tom might’ve wanted to fight the motel owner, but he still had a little Christmas spirit left in him.

Did you fall in the pool?


The other night, I was at a hit and run call when one of the officers got on the radio and said he was in foot pursuit of the suspect. I looked northbound and saw a shadow running down the street.

They were at least 100 yards away, so I jumped into my patrol car and floored the accelerator as the Dodge’s engine roared to life. My tires were making up the distance fast when I saw the shadow turn left toward a house.

The officer in foot pursuit broadcasted the suspect went into a backyard and he was jumping fences heading northbound. I drove to the end of the block and set up on the north end of the perimeter. Our helicopter arrived overhead and the suspect was caught a short time later.

After he was taken into custody. I drove over to where the suspect was so I could talk to him about the collision. I opened the door of the police car and noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt. I wondered what happened because it was cold out.

After I was done with the interview I joked as I said, “You’re lucky the K9 didn’t get you.”

“I heard barking,” he replied.

“It wasn’t from our dog. He was cancelled.”

“I heard fake barking.”

“What do you mean fake barking?” I asked.

“I heard the cops fake barking.”

I gave him a puzzled look, but his face told me he really heard “fake barking.” After I closed the door I wondered who the K9 impersonator was. I walked over to where the other cops were and they told me the suspect had fallen into a pool. Now I knew why he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

I opened the door again and asked, “Did you fall in a pool?”


“What happened?”

“I jumped a fence and fell in the water.”

It’s not every day when a hit and run suspect falls into a pool and hears the cops fake barking at him.

You just can’t make this stuff up.

By the way, I found out who the K9 impersonator was. That’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard a suspect say. Well played. Well played.

A Christmas time knucklehead


The other night it was raining cats and dogs when I was dispatched to a non-injury collision where both drivers pulled into a parking lot. When we arrived, the first priority was finding somewhere to be dry at.

I exited my car and took shelter under the overhang of a business. One of the involved drivers got out of his car in a huff and walked toward us as he sarcastically said, “I guess I’ll go over there.”


The other driver got out of his car and walked over to where we were. He was calm, polite and looked like Santa Claus, except his white beard was on the short side. Santa stood by while I spoke to the knucklehead first.

“I already called my lawyer,” said the loud and obnoxious guy as he tried to sound like a big shot. Part of me wanted to ask him if his lawyer was going to handle the report also.

He then started to tell me what happened in his bully voice. During the story he pointed to Santa and called him a “faggot.” WTF? Where did this guy come from? His ignorance flowed from his mouth like a volcano spewing lava down the mountain toward the village.

At this point, my body worn camera was the only thing paying attention to him. I had mentally checked out as soon as he grunted and pounded his chest like a caveman.

I finally cut him off as I said, “You’re not helping here.”

The Santa hater snapped out of it and said, “I have anger issues.”

No shit.

When I was done I went over to Santa and listened to him tell his side of the story. Santa clearly didn’t have any anger issues. He was more of a jolly old guy. The only thing missing was a sleigh and Rudolph.

Do you have insurance?


On Sunday night, I went to an injury crash where a truck turned out of a gas station driveway and hit a passing car. I pulled up and was met my a hysterical woman, who told me she was injured.

She was stressed and was running around like a chicken with its head cut off. A few minutes later she was on a gurney and placed into the ambulance. After she was inside the ambulance, I climbed in so I could speak with her.

I asked her what happened and she explained how the collision occurred. During the interview she kept saying, “He doesn’t have insurance.”

I hadn’t spoken to the other driver yet, so I asked, “How do you know?”

“He told me.”

“Do you have insurance?” I asked.

“No,” she said as she got quiet.

The insurance question now became the elephant in the room. Well, in the ambulance.

I said, “Oh,” as the word hung in the air a little too long. “Sooooo, you don’t have insurance and he doesn’t have insurance?”

That’s when the realization hit her that she wasn’t in good hands with Allstate and Nationwide wasn’t going to be on her side. Geico wasn’t even going to save her 15% on her car insurance.

It was almost like the Price is Right loser theme song was playing in the background at that moment.

Talk about a bad day. 

Track marks to nowhere


On Thursday night I was driving down the street when I came to a four-way stop at a residential intersection. I stopped for the stop sign and was about to go when I saw a guy on his bicycle heading toward me from the cross street. He was about to run the stop sign, but he saw the police car at the last moment. Instead of going straight he made a quick right turn without stopping.

I made a U-turn and decided to talk with rider about the violation. After I stopped him the rider said, “Sorry, I don’t have brakes.”

I spoke to him briefly about the violation and found out he really didn’t have brakes. Who rides a bike with no brakes? That’s like playing football without a helmet or sky diving without a parachute.

We then spent the next 15 minutes talking about his heroin addiction and life on the street. He told me that he and his “baby’s momma” had their son taken away from them when he was born. He was in prison at the time and she was a heroin addict. The child was eventually adopted and now lives in the Midwest.

After talking about his son he told me about being homeless and injecting heroin two or three times a day.

When I was about to leave I asked, “Can I see your track marks?” I explained to him I wanted to take a picture of them so other people could learn from his addiction.

“Yeah, you’ve been cool,” he replied as he pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie. I took my phone out and he became an “arm model” for a brief moment.

The tracks marks told the story of addiction that a lot of people don’t understand or have any idea what these people go through. They also told the story of a homeless 30 year old, who doesn’t even have a driver’s license and lives behind Walmart.

This guy was the perfect example of why people should stay away from drugs.

Could it be any closer?


Starbucks and Subway in the background

On Friday night, I drove to my favorite Starbucks to type reports and grab a drink. I was even feeling adventurous and got a chicken and artichoke panini.

I ate my sandwich and had my drink as I typed at the same time. My fingers were hitting the laptop keys with the effortlessness of a pianist playing Rhapsody in Blue.

Thats when it all came to an end when another injury crash went out down the street. The location of the call was maybe 150 yards away. At least it was close. It’s the little things, right?

I gathered all of my paperwork, got my drink and walked out to my car. I pulled out of the parking lot and saw that the crash was much closer than 150 yards. It was more like 100 feet away. It actually took me longer to get my stuff and walk out to my car than it did to drive there.

I parked my car in the middle of the street with my overhead lights on and called for a tow truck. I interviewed the drivers and wrapped it up pretty fast. After the tow truck was done cleaning up I went back to my Starbucks staging area. The Barista said, “You’re back already?”

“Yes, and I’ll take another black tea.”

A Repeat?


On Tuesday night, I was dispatched to a dead body (927D) call at 5AM. When I arrived, I saw a male in his eighties on the floor of his room covered with a blanket. The fire department was there and said it appeared he’d passed away from natural causes.

I called the coroner and notified them of the death. Since there was nothing suspicious they didn’t respond. I was instructed to have the care facility call a mortuary to pick up the body.

Right before I left, a worker asked, “Can you help us put him in bed? We don’t want the family to see him on the floor.”

I reluctantly said, “Sure,” as I took gloves out of my pocket. What the heck. I might as well cross off, “Picked up dead guy and put him in bed” from my bucket list.

After I got my gloves on I grabbed the legs as two other people got the shoulders. On the count of three we picked him up and put him into bed.  As we picked him up the movie “Weekend at Bernie’s” popped into my head.

The next night was busy from the start. I hoped the day before Thanksgiving was going to be calm, but that all changed as soon as I went 10-8. The night flew by and didn’t calm down until around 4AM.

At about 5:30AM, I parked so I could finish my dead body report from the night before. I had just started typing when I was sent another dead body call.

A repeat? What were the chances of getting two in a row at this hour of the morning?

It was a good thing I was off the next day. No three-peat for me.