Tag Archives: police

Did you fall in the pool?

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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?”

“Yeah.”

“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

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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.”

Duh!

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?

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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

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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.

A Repeat?

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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.

“Can you let me in?”

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I walked up to the backlot doors of the police department the other day at 4:45AM after a late call. I had my computer and clipboard in one hand and a drink in the other. I also had a shot gun slug over my left shoulder that was slipping as I tilted my body to the side of keep it up.

My building pass was in my left breast pocket and I leaned against the wall so the sensor could beep and unlock the door. The sensor beeped and I pulled on the door handle with my finger tips, but it didn’t open.

I leaned against the wall again and the beep sounded a second time. The door was still locked though. I tried this a few more times, wondering if the dispatchers were watching me on their camera.

In defeat, I finally pushed the call button and asked if they could open the door. After they answered, I turned toward the door and pulled on the handle, but it was still locked. I kept pulling and pulling, but the door just wasn’t going to open.

Now, I knew they were watching me and laughing. That’s when the radio came alive as the dispatcher said, “729.”

I slowly turned toward the camera wondering what was coming next. I keyed the mic and replied, “729.”

“729, are you Code 4?”

I smiled and shrugged my shoulders at the camera as I replied, “I’m code 4,”

I eventually got in and laughed all the way down the hall at my door experience. Now that was funny.

Did they dent the hood?

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I saw an unusual call holding the other night about a man and woman having sex on the hood of a car in a cul-de-sac. Not in the car…..On the car.

I drove into an industrial area and headed toward the cul-de-sac in question. I knew the area well because I’ve typed reports there before. I turned onto the street and followed the road as it curved to the left. As the street straightened out, I could see a man and a woman standing next to a car at the dead end.

There was a blanket covering the hood and the windshield. The blanket looked cozy. These people were serious about their car sex.

I stopped my car, which didn’t have a blanket on it, and got out as they continued to talk as if I wasn’t there. When they finally looked at me I noticed a “glow” about them. It must’ve been the mood, the lighting and the endorphins.

I said, “Hi. I’m here because someone called.”

They gave me a confused look at first.  The look changed when they realized what I was talking about as they looked at each other.

“You had an audience,” I said. “Someone was watching and called the police. That’s why I’m here.”

That was when the “glow” look turned to embarrassment.

I pointed to the blanket as I pulled out my phone and said, “I gotta get a picture of this.”

You just can’t make this stuff up.

“It must be new”

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The other night, I went to a call where a car crashed into a railing in a cul-de-sac. When I got there, There was the car, a damaged railing and a tire that was torn off from the impact.

There was a small park at the end of the cul-de-sac that separated an industrial area from a neighborhood. This particular neighborhood was like an island with its own run down looking store that was at least 60 years old.

I asked the driver what happened and he gave me a lame story about traveling to the neighborhood market and not knowing there was a dead end street here. I looked over at the marker and of course, it was closed.

The street he was traveling on happened to be a straightaway that was at least .3 miles long.  It was the prefect street for a race.

I asked him what city he lived in, where he grew up and if he’d been to this store before. It turned out he had been to the store before and he grew up very close to the collision scene. In other words, he was familiar with the area.

After hearing that I asked, “You didn’t know there was a cul-de-sac here?”

“It must be new.”

How dumb. This street had been like this for over 20 years. Nice try kid. You lost the race and you need a new tire.

He should probably change his Facebook status to “walking.”

Is that your broom?

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On Friday night, I went to a crash where one car made a left turn in front of another. When I arrived, I saw an injured woman sitting on the curb next to her crashed car. I started to ask her what happened when she said, “You look familiar.”

“Have you crashed before?” I replied.

“No, but my employee did.”

“Where?”

She went on to describe the crash, which involved a Domino’s Pizza delivery guy and a DUI driver. After she gave me enough details, I told her I remembered.

With a smile she said, “You were so nice.”

I thanked her and she went on to tell me how today’s crash happened. While we were talking, I looked down and saw a broom at her feet. It just seemed like an odd thing to see in the street at a crash.

The woman was having some anxiety problems at the time, so I decided to lighten the mood as I asked, “Where did the broom come from?”

In between deep breaths she smiled as said, “I have no idea.”

Too bad it wasn’t Halloween night. We could’ve looked under the car for a witch.

What kind of animal was it?

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A few weeks ago I was sent to a call where a car crashed into a tree on the east end of our city. When I arrived, I saw the car in the middle of the street with major damage and fluid running downhill.

There was a pine tree on the side of the road with a large battle scar from the impact. The tree stood upright and strong as if to say, “Is that all you got?”

The officers on scene told me the driver crashed because of an animal.  I had heard that one before. Which animal was going to be blamed tonight? I was guessing a dog or a cat.

The woman, who was in her 30s, told me, “An animal ran in front of my car.?

I couldn’t resist as I asked, “Was it a squirrel?”

The woman gave me a confused look as she shook her head. She said, “I think it was a coyote. I have a picture.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She looked at her phone for a few seconds and then showed me a picture of a coyote in her backyard.

“Is that the coyote that ran in front of your car?” I asked.

“No!” She replied with a hard shake of the head.

“Which way was the animal running? Was it going that way or that way?” As I pointed to each side of the road.

“It was in the middle of the street.”

“Was it a squirrel?”

“No,” she said again with a strange look.

“What did you do?”

“I closed my eyes and the airbag went off.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a squirrel?”

“Why do you keep asking if it was a squirrel?”

“Because its funny,” I replied with a big smile.

She heard that and burst out laughing. I was glad she laughed because I wasn’t sure how she was going to take my joke.

There’s one thing for sure about police work. Sometimes you just have to have fun out here.