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What is Delaying and Obstructing?

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California Penal Code Section 148
148. (a) (1) Every person who willfully resists, delays, or
obstructs any public officer, peace officer, or an emergency medical
technician, as defined in Division 2.5 (commencing with Section 1797)
of the Health and Safety Code, in the discharge or attempt to
discharge any duty of his or her office or employment, when no other
punishment is prescribed, shall be punished by a fine not exceeding
one thousand dollars ($1,000), or by imprisonment in a county jail
not to exceed one year, or by both that fine and imprisonment.

V C Section 2800 Compliance with Peace Officer Orders
2800. (a) It is unlawful to willfully fail or refuse to comply with a lawful order, signal, or direction of a peace officer, as defined in Chapter 4.5 (commencing with Section 830) of Title 3 of Part 2 of the Penal Code, when that peace officer is in uniform and is performing duties pursuant to any of the provisions of this code, or to refuse to submit to a lawful inspection pursuant to this code.

I hardly ever watch videos on Facebook that are police related. That’s because of the ignorance of those involved in lot of the videos. It just plain frustrates me when I see some knucklehead acting dumb on a video claiming to know what he’s talking about.

It then frustrates me even more to know there are people watching the same video, who are getting the wrong information because they’re also misinformed.

So, like I said, I usually skip videos all together because I have better things to do on the phone, like playing a game.

Well, today I didn’t follow my own advice and I watched one. I knew I should’ve just moved on to something else, but for some reason I clicked on it. The video showed a guy, who was clearly being difficult on purpose during a car stop.

During the video the officer said he was “giving a lawful order,” which of course, the suspect didn’t comply with. This went on for quite some time before he was taken into custody.

It got me wondering if people knew it was against the law to disobey “a lawful order.”

I also wondered how many people knew it was against the law to delay, obstruct or resist an officer.

Now, let me start by saying most people at work are law abiding citizens, who comply with my directions and request the first time I ask. I hardly ever have to ask twice because most people understand I’m in the middle of an investigation and they’re in the way.

So, this brings me to the two laws I copied and pasted at the top.

Let’s look at 148a of the California Penal Code first. “Every person who willfully resists, delays, or obstructs any public officer, peace officer.”

Now, most people aren’t going to fight with the cops because they know they’re going to jail afterward. Everyone knows fighting or running from the cops falls under the “RESIST” part of the law.

How about the delaying or obstructing part of 148aPC?

There’s misinformation out there or ignorance as to what delaying or obstructing is. If I can’t do my job like the other 99.9% of the time because you’re in the way or causing me to get distracted from what I’m doing, then you fall in the delaying and obstructing category.

If I tell you to do something over and over again, but you refuse, then you fall into the delaying and obstructing category also.

All that has to be proven in court is a person was willfully doing it. In other words, you’re doing it on purpose after I told you to stop or to move.

It amazes me to see the hurt and upset looks I get when I have to change the tone in my voice because someone didn’t get it the first couple of times. They look at me like I did something wrong.

The reality is I want to finish my call and move on to the next with as little conflict as possible. It’s just easier that way for everyone. Why would I want to be there any longer than I had to if there were going to be problems?

Let’s also look at 2800(a) of the California Vehicle Code.

It is unlawful to willfully fail or refuse to comply with a lawful order, signal, or direction of a peace officer…..

This seems pretty simple too.

If an officer asks you to do something and you don’t do it, then he or she is going to tell you to do it. At that point it’s an order. If you hear the words, “I’m giving you a lawful order,” then you’re about to go to jail. Anything other than complying is being done on purpose because you’ve already been put on notice.

When you look at it this way it should be pretty simple. Just let the officer do his or her job and listen to the instructions.

If the officer stops you while you’re driving and asks for your license, then guess what? You need to give up your license on the first request. Not after ten times. Any normal and reasonable person can see that this is delaying and obstructing. Especially if the officer is standing in traffic at the driver’s door.

I could go on and on with examples, but it’s a pretty simple rule to follow.

So, the next time you watch a video on Facebook and you hear the officer tell someone to do something ten times, then you know that person is breaking the law by delaying or obstructing. That person had control of their destiny by listening and following the directions the first time, but they refused to.

There’s no way a person can say, “The cops grabbed him for no reason,” or “He didn’t do anything wrong.” Yes they did.

We don’t want to fight or argue with you. We just want to get the call done and move on to the next one to help someone else.

This isn’t rocket science. It’s common sense.

Frank’s Back

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Frank’s back!

A few days ago I posted a story about a drug addict and thief named Frank, who I met while doing my DRE certifications. They story got people talking because it’s been viewed over 4,300 times on Facebook.

If that story got you upset, then this one should leave you wondering WFT?

Last night I was back at Fullerton PD doing my DRE certifications and guess who I saw? If you said Frank, you’re right. He was under the influence again.

Part of me was surprised and part wasn’t shocked at all.

As soon as I saw Frank, I instantly thought of the story I wrote about him the other day. Frank wasn’t worried about jail then. And guess what? He’s still not worried about it now. Prop 47 says he gets a citation.

It’s his “get out of jail free” card. Actually, it’s a pink copy of his citation.

Remember, the citation is just the cost of doing business to Frank. As long as he signs his ticket he gets out of jail. If he gets a fine he just has to pay it. And where do you think he’ll get his money from?

You again!

He’s a thief and a criminal. That’s the way he described himself last week. Frank steals to pay for his meth, so that means he’ll  probably steal to pay for his fine too.

So, Frank just needs to visit your house, business or break into your car to get the money to pay off his debt. Problem solved. His fine is paid and he gets to roam your neighborhood to feed his habit. Oh, I forgot to mention that Frank is also a documented gang member.

Not to rub it in, but Frank would’ve stayed in custody if it wasn’t for Prop 47.

Some people think being under the influence is a “victimless crime.” Well, tell that to the person whose house or car was broken into. They’ll tell you they felt violated and were the real victims.

Who thought Prop 47 was a good idea anyways? Oh yeah, the people who voted it in. The Franks of the world thank you for it.

The Highs and Lows of The Job

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Tonight was the perfect example of how one call can be a complete polar opposite of the very next.

I went to a call involving two tourist who just happened to crash into each other. This woman drove two hours to watch her granddaughter compete in a cheerleading competition today. She was on her way home when her vehicle was disabled in the collision.

She was now stranded far from home with no transportation. Taking a taxi was not an option. If she wanted a rental car she would have to go to the Orange County Airport because everything else was closed. That wasn’t going to work either.

She now needed a hotel room for the night. I told the woman I wasn’t going to leave her alone and I would drive her to whatever hotel she wanted to go to.

We were in front of the Double Tree Hotel, so she checked there first. They were having trouble finding her a room and it looked like I was going to drive her somewhere else.

While we waited, she showed me a competition photo of her granddaughter and she asked about my family.

The hotel finally found her a room and it was time for me to leave. The woman thanked me again for staying and not leaving her alone. She then asked, “Can I give you a hug?” I told her she could and we both smiled. She then gave me a giant hug and I left.

I was feeling pretty good after that because it’s not every day in this job that you have an interaction like that.

The very next call didn’t have the same happy ending.

I heard the call go out over the radio about a woman who was not breathing and a family member was performing CPR at that moment. I was close by and off I went with lights and siren.

I was hired in 1994 and graduated from the academy in February of 1995. Up until last summer I had never performed CPR on anyone except for the dummy at training.

Now I was en route to CPR attempt number three since August. The first two times didn’t work out for me or the victims. Now I was feeling apprehension and dread as I raced toward the house because I knew I was going to be the first one there.

When I pulled up to the house I was mentally prepared for what I was about to do. This was different than when I performed CPR the first two times.

I went into the upstairs bedroom and there was a woman in her mid-sixties lying in a hospital bed. A man was bent over doing chest compressions on his wife of forty-five years.

I then took over for him as he watched with hope. This didn’t look good, but I still had to try. She had a lifeless look on her face and some type of fluid was coming out of her mouth.

I was in an awkward position, but I kept pumping away as I waited for the paramedics. Two minutes seemed to take forever until they arrived. When they did, they hooked up a monitor and checked for a heartbeat.

She was flat lined and they pronounced her right there. They then pulled the sheet over her face and told the family they were sorry for their loss.

She was about the same age as the woman who just hugged me on the last call.

There was nothing else I could have done. I stood in the hallway as her husband called someone and said, “Mom’s dead.”

I felt kind of weird being there to hear him make that call since this was such a private moment. It took me back to when I told my kids that my father had passed away.

Now it was time for them to grieve for their wife, mother and grandma. It was also time for me to go to another call.

Tonight was the perfect example of the roller coaster ride we call police work.

This job is also just like Forest Gump and his box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get……

Where Does An Addict Get His Money?

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The other night I went to Fullerton PD for my DRE certifications as part of the class I completed a few weeks ago. I had an interesting conversation with a suspect and I wanted to share it with people who are not familiar with addicts.

 

First of all, most of these people don’t have jobs, but they need income to support their habit. Where do you think they get their money from?
From you!

 

These addicts break into your cars, your houses and your businesses. They steal and then steal some more.

 

During our conversation I asked him how often he uses meth and marijuana. Without hesitation he replied, “Every day.”

 

“How do you feel when you don’t do meth?
“I get anxiety.”
“Does the drug make you feel well?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Do you drink?”
“No.”
“How come?”
“Because I lose everything when I drink.”
“What do you mean?”
“I lose my car and I go to jail. So, now I don’t drink at all.”
“How many DUI’s do you have?”
“Two.”
“How much do you spend a day on meth?”
“$300.”
“Do you have a job?”
“No.”

 

Let’s assume he over estimated his daily usage. Either way he still needs money for his habit. Where do you think he gets that money from?

 

“Where do you steal from?” I asked.
“I don’t do anything in my city. I have pride in my city.”

 

It seemed like he really wanted me to understand he had pride in his city and it was important to him that I knew that. I asked him more questions about his thefts, but he didn’t want to tell me. At one point he smiled and said, “I’m a criminal.”

 

At least he knows it.

 

Is this a guy you want roaming around your city? Absolutely not, but guess what? He was cited out. He was cited out like all the people who were arrested for being under the influence of a drug that night.

 

He was cited out because of Prop 47 in California. Prior to Prop 47, he would’ve remained in custody for the under the influence and drug paraphernalia charges. Now we have to cite him out. I’m sure that pink copy of the citation made him feel bad.

 

He said he normally starts to feel the anxiety about six hours after doing meth. That means he’s ready for more meth or he has to find more before that feeling of anxiety takes over.

 

Guess what he’s going to do if he’s short on cash?  You guessed it. He’s going to rip someone off.

 

I still find it shocking that people in California voted for Prop 47 and allow people like Frank to be out on the street to do their thing.

 

What if Frank gets caught stealing at a store? He’ll get another citation for petty theft. That’s just an inconvenience to Frank. It’s the cost of doing business.

 

Eventually things will catch up with Frank, but right now he only has to worry about a citation. County jail time is the least of his worries.

 

Frank’s job is stealing and getting high. At thirty-one years old he’s got all the time in the world.

I work in the Twilight Zone

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Sometimes it seems like I never get a normal collision call to handle. There’s always something.

Here’s what I consider a normal call.

  • All the drivers have licenses.
  • There are no injuries.
  • Everyone has insurance.
  • No hit and run.
  • No one has been drinking or taking drugs.
  • There are only two vehicles.
  • There’s no drama.

It’s not like I’m asking for much.

There was a call last Wednesday night that didn’t come close to what I just described. It was just one of those weird calls where I was in the Twilight Zone.

For the story we’re going to refer to one guy as DUI Man and the other as Motorcycle Man.  Then there’s Motorcycle Man’s son.  We’ll call him Knucklehead.

On that day, DUI Man was driving his vehicle even though he was never issued a license. The unlicensed part didn’t bother him because he drives all the time.

DUI Man doubled parked his truck in the middle of the street in front of his house. He left it there so he could talk with a friend. I’m sure parking in the driveway would’ve been too easy.

While DUI Man was talking to a friend, Motorcycle Man started riding up and down the street, even though he didn’t have a motorcycle endorsement on his license.  DUI Man thought he was riding too fast and he was concerned for the neighborhood children. He decided to tell Motorcycle Man to slow down.

Let me say that again. DUI Man was worried about the safety of the neighborhood kids.

Motorcycle Man’s son (Knucklehead) didn’t like this and decided he needed to get involved for some reason. Before you knew it, Knucklehead and DUI Man were fighting in the middle of the street. The crowd separated them and DUI Man wanted to leave.

DUI Man jumped into his vehicle, but there was one small problem. DUI Man was really DUI. As he drove off, he sideswiped Motorcycle Man’s car by accident. He then fled the scene, but returned a short time later.

DUI Man walked up to me and wanted to report an assault and battery because he was a victim. Did I mention that DUI Man was also an illegal alien and they were neighbors? Not that it mattered, but it just made the story that much more bizarre.

DUI Man ended up getting arrested and went to jail. Of course, this wasn’t his first DUI arrest.

That’s when I learned a little bit about Knucklehead. It turned out he was in his thirties and still lives at home. He is unemployed and has “Three baby’s mammas.”  Those were his words.

He has a couple of arrests for domestic violence, but he just got off probation. I’m sure he’ll treat the new “Baby’s Mamma” much better than the last two.

I forgot to mention that Knucklehead was shot during a drive-by years ago and his license is suspended for not paying child support.

The only thing missing from this call were circus animals, clowns and some midgets.

The next call was much easier. That one involved an unlicensed driver who, crashed head-on into another car while on the wrong side of the road.

There was a restriction on the victim driver’s license for corrective lenses so I asked him where his glasses were.

The driver told me ink spilled on his glasses and they were smashed. After that, the glasses were in the kitchen and the dog, “Disappeared them.”

“Your dog ate your glasses?” I asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“It was a Pit Bull,” he said.

That was the funniest thing I heard all night. See, you just can’t make this stuff up.

The Child Who Died On Me

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“He’s not breathing!”

That’s the first thing we heard as my partner and I exited our patrol car at a traffic collision last summer.

A group of people waved at us as they pointed to a child lying on his back. We went to the corner and there he was. His eyes were open and empty looking.

Ten minutes before, Matt and I were laughing and telling stories. Now I was standing over a dying child. I got on my knees hoping to feel a heartbeat and see him breathing. That hope was crushed as soon as I touched him.

“Do you feel a pulse?” I asked my partner as he touched the child’s neck.
“No.”

I keyed my radio and said, “I need units code 3 and fire needs to step it up. I have a 9 year old who is not breathing and we’re starting CPR!”

A memory was triggered as I started chest compressions.

For a brief moment I was sent back in time to a backyard pool two months earlier. The face of a sixteen year old flashed into my mind as I remembered performing CPR on him in the dark of night. I tried to save him, but he died.

Now I was performing CPR on a child, which I hoped never to do. With each chest compression I tried to push life back into him.

“Not again,” was all I could say to myself.

As I did the chest compressions, I made the mistake of looking into his eyes. I forced myself to look away and concentrated on the compressions. I couldn’t believe this was happening again.

I could hear people crying behind me and I wondered if his parents were watching.

At one point the child let out a breath. His eyes didn’t move, but his body did as the breath came out. The crowd behind me became hopeful. I expected he would wake up at any moment.

I stopped momentarily and said, “Come on buddy,” as I tried to feel a heartbeat from his chest. My partner had his finger on the child’s neck as he tried to feel a pulse too.

“You feel it?” I asked.
“No.”

I started the chest compressions again as I silently said, “Not again! Not again!”

I could hear the people behind me start to cry louder as the energy of the crowd seemed to fade. “Come on,” I said to myself.

I still believed I would win. I believed he would live. Then he made a breath sound again as his body moved.

I put my hand on his chest again as I said, “Come on buddy. Come on buddy.” I rubbed his chest like I was trying to wake him up from a deep sleep.

That was the last he would ever move again. It felt like I was at that pool all over again.

I was losing the battle with each passing second. I then glanced at his face one final time. His eyes were blank and lifeless still. Those eyes were already looking up to heaven.

I tried, but I lost……Again.

Other officers arrived to help, along with the paramedics. An officer asked if I wanted him to take over. I nodded and got up. The soul of that tiny body had angel wings now.

I walked away and never looked back. I never saw him get loaded into the ambulance. I think that was my way of moving on.

The self-doubt then started as I asked Matt if we did everything we could. I knew we had, but I needed to hear it. He replied we had.

After everything had calmed down it was just me and a few officers at the scene. I looked at the car where the child was sitting. The damage was violent and incredible. I knew he never had a chance. I also knew I never had a chance to save him either.

I made my peace in the middle of that intersection knowing there was nothing I could do.

I didn’t leave work until after sunrise. As I drove home, I thought about his parents and the pain they were going through. I also thought about my daughter, who was the same age. I couldn’t imagine losing a child.

A tear ran down my cheek at the thought of them being told he had died.

When I got home I sat in my car as I took off my sunglasses. The child’s face was in my mind for a brief moment. It seemed like I rubbed my eyes forever as I tried to erase the image.

I walked into the house and was grateful my family was safe. Everyone was sleeping and had no idea what dad saw tonight.

Hours before I was in the middle of chaos. Now I was home and all order was restored.

When I woke up, I made sure to give my kids an extra long hug.

DRE School

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What is a DRE?

If you asked me what a DRE was ten years ago I would have said it was an officer who dealt with street drugs and addicts. Those were two subjects that I stayed away from because they didn’t interest me.

Ask me the same question today and I’ll have an entirely different answer. In fact, I’ll talk your head off about the subject and tell you why it is so important.

The first thing I learned at DRE School was how much we take DRE trained officers for granted. The average cop has no idea what they do, or how much training they have been through. That includes the brand new cop all the way up to the chief of police. Unless you’ve been through the training, you have no idea how much work it is.

Say “DRE School” to most cops and they’ll run the other way. I know because I was one of them.

Cops would rather go to an active shooter call at a nuclear power plant meltdown than go to DRE School. Handling a triple fatality collision sounded much more appealing than going to DRE School.

On the first day, the instructors told us this was going to be the hardest advanced officer training class we would ever take. They weren’t lying.

The information was piled onto us with no mercy. It was like a wheel barrel pouring concrete onto a new house foundation. It went everywhere and there was no room to breathe.

My world suddenly revolved around CNS Depressants, CNS Stimulants, Hallucinogens, Dissociative Anesthetics, Narcotic Analgesics, Inhalants, Cannabis, nerves, neurotransmitters, blood pressure and heart rates.

The eyes were now the window to the soul as pupil sizes and reaction to light helped tell the tale of drug use.

By the third night I felt overwhelmed. I thought there was no way I was going to remember all of this stuff. It was like going up a steep mountain in a snowstorm with a strong headwind pounding my face.

There were two choices. Put up the white flag of surrender or I could listen to the “Eye of The Tiger” song from Rocky 3 and gut it out.

The first week of DRE School was like watching a foreign language film with no subtitles. I know I wasn’t the only one feeling that way.

At one point the light bulb switched on. It was dim at first, but then got brighter. The drug matrix card started to make sense after a while. It started to become more than just a bunch of boxes with words in them.

Slowly the subtitles started to appear in that foreign language film that made no sense a week before. Then, by some miracle it clicked.

What was once pure nonsense in the first week was now like listening to the fourth movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. It all came together. If you’ve heard the symphony, then you know what I mean.

Those two weeks of DRE School turned my household upside down. Everything revolved around my class. All scheduling for my kid’s school, childcare, practices and dinner was planned around my school and studying.

Then there was the occasional DRE dream where I was evaluating someone for drug use. Friends in the class told me they also had the dreams.

At the end of the class our main instructor asked us if we were ready to stop alienating our families and having those dreams. I laughed hard because it was so true.

So, what is this DRE class?

The Drug Recognition Expert program had its beginnings with the LAPD in the 1970s.

Before an officer can become a DRE they have to attend two prerequisite training classes, along with the 72 hour DRE School.

You must get 80% or higher to pass the class.

After passing the course, the officer must complete twelve under the influence evaluations with a DRE instructor present. The officer must be able to name which of the seven drug categories the suspect is under the influence of and this must be confirmed through the chemical test. And finally the officer must pass another written test after their drug evaluations have been approved.

This was not a class I signed up for. It was a class I was told I had to go to. I started out being forced to go, but I had an epiphany half way through. I saw just how important this training was for me. I realized how important it was for every officer on the street. I also saw how important it was for public safety.

Say “DUI” and people automatically think of drinking and driving. That’s no longer the case. Marijuana and prescription drug use is on the rise like never before.

And finally, this isn’t the class we should be running away from. This should be the class officers are trying to get into.

Almost every crime we deal with revolves around drugs. The word “drug” doesn’t mean illicit drugs anymore. It also means prescription drugs.

A heroin junkie is just as dangerous behind the wheel as the soccer mom who is abusing Xanax or the person who is stoned on marijuana.

Next time you’re stopped at a red light. Take a look around. Chances are they’re probably next to you. Do you really want to share the road with that person?

I don’t either.

Let’s train more DREs to help stop these people before they hurt someone.

When is a Facebook friend really a suspect?

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Do your children have Facebook “friends” who are about to become suspects?

Nowadays, every cop on the street has been to a call or taken a report involving social media. Ask any officer who is assigned to a school detail or sexual assault detective and they’ll have plenty of stories that will make your jaw hit the floor that involve some type of social media.

About two years ago, I was dispatched to an assault and battery call in one of our run down neighborhoods in the northern part of the city. When I arrived, I spoke to a sixteen year old girl, who had been drinking.

“What happened,” I asked.
“This guy punched me and left me here.”
“Who is he?”
“I met him on Facebook.”

REALLY?

One day she got a friend request from someone she had never met before. Rather than ignore it like I would, she clicked on the accept button.

She then started messaging this male who she had never met before. After a while she agreed to go to a party with him.

A day later he picked her up and took her to the party, which was at some unknown location. There were two other females in the car with them. Once at the party she started drinking. Of course, her parents had no idea where she was.

When they finally left the party he was supposed to drive her home. As they were driving the girl noticed they were going the wrong way. She told the suspect this, but he pulled to the curb and told her to get out.

She refused and told the suspect to take her home. She didn’t want to get stranded in this strange neighborhood at night. He again told her to get out. She pretested and refused to exit the vehicle.

Apparently he had enough. He got out of the car and went to the passenger side where she was sitting. He opened the door and dragged her out of the car. He then punched her in the face as he kept telling her to get out.

When he was done hitting her he got back into the car and drove away, leaving her on the side of the road at midnight.

I asked the victim if she knew his phone number or where he lived. She had no information on him except for what was posted on Facebook. No license plate number either.

I asked to see his Facebook page to try and get some information about him, but she didn’t have a phone. She had an iPod instead, which was at home.

I drove her home and explained to her mother what had happened. The mother was a Spanish speaker and I had to use a translator to assist me. She seemed concerned, but she had no idea who her daughter went with tonight.

I stood in the living room while the victim went to her bedroom to get her iPod. She returned from the bedroom and handed it to me. The suspect’s profile page was showing. I saw his picture and his name. Below the name were the words, “Add Friend.”

I showed her the iPod and said, “He unfriended you already.” That didn’t take long for her to be kicked to the Facebook curb of “unfriended” status.

She took a look at the iPod and was shocked to see they were no longer Facebook friends anymore. Not that they were ever really friends in the first place.

I left the apartment shaking my head at the ignorance of this victim and her mother. Neither one of them really saw the problem here. They just didn’t get it. They didn’t understand how bad things could’ve ended up tonight.

Watch out for your kids!

Stayed tuned for my next Facebook story…….

You Can’t Make This Stuff Up

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I should have a frequent customer card for people. I could punch it every time I run into someone. Actually, every time someone runs into them.

Tonight I was at a crash involving two cars and a person. The two cars were parked facing the same way, which were next to each other. There was a guy named David in the driver seat of his car with his door open.

He was under the dashboard trying to change a fuse with his cell phone as a flashlight. His feet were outside the car.

While he was under the dashboard he heard the vehicle on his left start up. He tried to close his door, but he was too late.

The vehicle next to him sideswiped the door and ran over his foot. It’s pretty safe to say I have never taken a crash like that before, but that’s not even the best part of the story.

While I was speaking with David he told me I had taken a report for him before. I asked him what happened.

“It was a hit and run,” he said.
“Were you the good guy or the bad guy?”
“The bad guy.”
“Did I arrest you?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“For hit and run and for lying to you.”
“Oh, what a small world,” I said. “So, how’s it going?”
“Good. I paid the fine. I’m on probation now.”

This isn’t the first time this type of conversation has happened to me. After all these years it’s still funny to run into past customers. I later looked up the report and found the incident.

The crash happened in December of 2012. He crashed into a median while exiting the freeway. He was unlicensed and sober. Basically, a very easy report except…….

David committed a hit and run on the freeway. He was trying to get away from the victim at the time. Unfortunately for him he was going too fast and crashed. He had the bright idea to report the car stolen afterward.

The cuts to his forehead and hands didn’t help his story either.

After separating David and his passengers I was able to figure out he was lying. Despite all of this, David went to jail still saying he wasn’t driving and his car was stolen.

At least he finally admitted to driving two years later. Better late than never.

Sometimes it’s a small world in this job. You never know when a past customer is going to get run over.

You just can’t make this stuff up.