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  • #61
    I'd also be interested. Rabid giant dog sounds scary.
    If it weren't for the Resurrection of Jesus, we'd all be in DEEP TROUBLE!

    Comment


    • #62
      Biker Gang Karma

      (I copypasta'd this from another thread where I told it as an aside, and added relevant detail)

      The Biker Gang Encounter

      I came on duty for my 8p-4a tour, and check out equipment, and head out to get onto the main drag.
      As I approach the main drag, a large group of Bandito motorcycle gang is heading East, and I'm waiting for them to pass before pulling out, and I was going to head West.

      One of the guys at the rear of the pack had a leather wallet on a chain that somehow fell out of his back pocket, and went sliding down the highway behind them, the chain snaking along the road.

      I pulled out onto the highway, opened my driver's door, scooped up the wallet, and did the lights and siren thing to catch up to them.
      Naturally, the WHOLE pack pulls over to the side of the road, and I get out of my car holding the wallet up in plain sight as they began dismounting and walking back toward me.

      I said, "somebody lost a wallet"? they stopped, and several of them patted their back pockets, til one of them, said, "YEAH, that's MINE!!!!"
      So I handed it to him, and he looked surprised, and said, "that's IT?" I said, "that's it!" And he just stared at me for a couple minutes like he didn't know what to say, then said, "Thanks, man, really.... thanks".

      Another guy said, "you didn't stop us to hassle us?" I said - look around - it's just me, do you really think I'm stupid enough to take you guys on all by myself?
      (at that point, my backup was arriving, but was obviously in no hurry - I obviously had not radioed an "officer needs assist")

      My partner was a HUGE Harley fan, so he walked right up to one of the Hogs and stood there admiring it. Before you knew it, we had a roadside "biker show" going on, and several other officers stopped by, and we held a "best Hog contest", just having fun talking to the guys, many of whom appeared to be old hippies.

      It was actually fun, and I have no doubt there were numerous "wants and warrants" among the guys we were talking to, but nobody seemed to care about that. This was Good PR.
      (Besides, there's always the "is THIS the hill I want to die on?")

      Biker Karma

      A few months later, we had a rumble in the middle of the night behind a Kroger shopping center where there was a report of a woman being raped beside the cardboard box crusher.
      (a stock-boy had gone out to dump some trash, got scared to death, and ran back inside the store to call the police)

      There had been a "community fair", lots of booze, lots of crowd, numerous little street fights, altercations, disorderly nonsense... All in all, a very busy night.

      I was back in that ally all by myself, but my backup was on the way, and I heard a woman screaming.
      Then I saw a guy step out into the streetlight, and heard a noise behind me, and there was another guy back there.

      Before long, it was obvious there were at least 2 or 3 guys with the damsel in distress, and numerous other guys had posted themselves at both ends of the ally.

      One of the guys told me I needed to head out, because his buddies where watching. Dark alley, surrounded by bad guys, partner just radioed "ETA 10", I'm thinking, "OK, is this the way I die?"
      (by the way, this is the point at which I decided to trade my .357 Magnum Security Six (revolver - six shot maximum) for the Sig Saur P210 (semi-auto - 8 round magazine, but quick change, multiple reloads), and later Glocks - 17 round magazines)

      Just then, I heard the distinct sound of a bunch of motorcycles (that signature Harley sound) rumbling up through the ally, and the lead biker stopped right by me and asked, "is there a problem, officer?"
      (Later he told me, "when I saw your unit number - 711 - I thought I'd keep an eye out for you, and if I ever saw you again, I owed you one. )

      I laughed and said, "problem? not anymore". And they helped me round up the bad guys, and treated the woman like a princess, encouraging her to give us her statement.

      One of the bikers, a sell-professed jail-house attorney, told me, "and if anybody complains about 'vigilante justice', I distinctly remember you deputizing me and my guys before we rounded up the dudes". A couple of our officers remembered a couple of their guys from the "bike rally" earlier in the year, and there was a good amount of hand-shaking and back-slapping.

      Before they left, the leader of the group came over to me and reached out his hand and said, "just letting you know... we're even now". I shook his hand, and to my knowledge, never saw him again.

      (Apparently, one of the "good will" results of this was that our area was "marked" as a "no trouble zone" by the Banditos)

      The first to state his case seems right until another comes and cross-examines him.

      Comment


      • #63
        Originally posted by Cow Poke View Post
        Biker Gang Karma

        (I copypasta'd this from another thread where I told it as an aside, and added relevant detail)

        The Biker Gang Encounter

        I came on duty for my 8p-4a tour, and check out equipment, and head out to get onto the main drag.
        As I approach the main drag, a large group of Bandito motorcycle gang is heading East, and I'm waiting for them to pass before pulling out, and I was going to head West.

        One of the guys at the rear of the pack had a leather wallet on a chain that somehow fell out of his back pocket, and went sliding down the highway behind them, the chain snaking along the road.

        I pulled out onto the highway, opened my driver's door, scooped up the wallet, and did the lights and siren thing to catch up to them.
        Naturally, the WHOLE pack pulls over to the side of the road, and I get out of my car holding the wallet up in plain sight as they began dismounting and walking back toward me.

        I said, "somebody lost a wallet"? they stopped, and several of them patted their back pockets, til one of them, said, "YEAH, that's MINE!!!!"
        So I handed it to him, and he looked surprised, and said, "that's IT?" I said, "that's it!" And he just stared at me for a couple minutes like he didn't know what to say, then said, "Thanks, man, really.... thanks".

        Another guy said, "you didn't stop us to hassle us?" I said - look around - it's just me, do you really think I'm stupid enough to take you guys on all by myself?
        (at that point, my backup was arriving, but was obviously in no hurry - I obviously had not radioed an "officer needs assist")

        My partner was a HUGE Harley fan, so he walked right up to one of the Hogs and stood there admiring it. Before you knew it, we had a roadside "biker show" going on, and several other officers stopped by, and we held a "best Hog contest", just having fun talking to the guys, many of whom appeared to be old hippies.

        It was actually fun, and I have no doubt there were numerous "wants and warrants" among the guys we were talking to, but nobody seemed to care about that. This was Good PR.
        (Besides, there's always the "is THIS the hill I want to die on?")

        Biker Karma

        A few months later, we had a rumble in the middle of the night behind a Kroger shopping center where there was a report of a woman being raped beside the cardboard box crusher.
        (a stock-boy had gone out to dump some trash, got scared to death, and ran back inside the store to call the police)

        There had been a "community fair", lots of booze, lots of crowd, numerous little street fights, altercations, disorderly nonsense... All in all, a very busy night.

        I was back in that ally all by myself, but my backup was on the way, and I heard a woman screaming.
        Then I saw a guy step out into the streetlight, and heard a noise behind me, and there was another guy back there.

        Before long, it was obvious there were at least 2 or 3 guys with the damsel in distress, and numerous other guys had posted themselves at both ends of the ally.

        One of the guys told me I needed to head out, because his buddies where watching. Dark alley, surrounded by bad guys, partner just radioed "ETA 10", I'm thinking, "OK, is this the way I die?"
        (by the way, this is the point at which I decided to trade my .357 Magnum Security Six (revolver - six shot maximum) for the Sig Saur P210 (semi-auto - 8 round magazine, but quick change, multiple reloads), and later Glocks - 17 round magazines)

        Just then, I heard the distinct sound of a bunch of motorcycles (that signature Harley sound) rumbling up through the ally, and the lead biker stopped right by me and asked, "is there a problem, officer?"
        (Later he told me, "when I saw your unit number - 711 - I thought I'd keep an eye out for you, and if I ever saw you again, I owed you one. )

        I laughed and said, "problem? not anymore". And they helped me round up the bad guys, and treated the woman like a princess, encouraging her to give us her statement.

        One of the bikers, a sell-professed jail-house attorney, told me, "and if anybody complains about 'vigilante justice', I distinctly remember you deputizing me and my guys before we rounded up the dudes". A couple of our officers remembered a couple of their guys from the "bike rally" earlier in the year, and there was a good amount of hand-shaking and back-slapping.

        Before they left, the leader of the group came over to me and reached out his hand and said, "just letting you know... we're even now". I shook his hand, and to my knowledge, never saw him again.

        (Apparently, one of the "good will" results of this was that our area was "marked" as a "no trouble zone" by the Banditos)
        The Banditos.

        Not normally known for helping law enforcement.

        The interesting think about bikers in groups like that is that they do have their own code -- one that is upheld and enforced.

        I'm always still in trouble again

        "You're by far the worst poster on TWeb" and "TWeb's biggest liar" --starlight (the guy who says Stalin was a right-winger)
        "Overall I would rate the withdrawal from Afghanistan as by far the best thing Biden's done" --Starlight
        "Of course, human life begins at fertilization that’s not the argument." --Tassman

        Comment


        • #64
          Originally posted by rogue06 View Post
          The Banditos.

          Not normally known for helping law enforcement.

          The interesting think about bikers in groups like that is that they do have their own code -- one that is upheld and enforced.
          That's what was remarkable about this - and I was fully aware of that when I popped my lights - that this COULD get ugly, so I was careful to hold the wallet up and get to the point.

          And I correct myself - It's Bandido, not Bandito.

          SUPPOSEDLY, the guy who shook my hand was none other than Ronald Jerome "Ronnie" Hodge, known as "Step Mother", but I can't confirm that.

          Bandidos_Motorcycle_Club_logo.jpg

          And the "1%" opposite of the "MC" refers to the fact that it was stated that 99% of bikers were law-abiding citizens.
          The first to state his case seems right until another comes and cross-examines him.

          Comment


          • #65
            He Who Hesitates...


            It is not at all unusual in Texas for neighboring communities to have "Mutual Assistance" or "Mutual aid" agreements. Things are spelled out like who has jurisdiction, what police powers transfer, use of deadly force policies, etc. Often, these agreements cover not just police, but fire and rescue, as well.

            It was getting late evening, and things had been unusually quiet. Nothing on the radio, until a neighboring police unit called out that he'd be stopping a vehicle on a country road, "occupied one times".

            Since it was so quiet, I decided to head that direction, as his location was just outside my own jurisdiction. No hurry, as it seemed like a simple traffic stop. As it turns out, it was a young male who supposedly had his learners permit, which entitled him to drive in the day time only, or to work and school, but nobody else in the vehicle. That all seemed to check, from what I heard of the radio exchange.

            Next thing I knew, John radioed back that this kid did not have his permit with him, but he only lived 3 blocks away, so John was going to follow him to his house. Immediately, I felt like things were going off the rails, because we NEVER allow a person to drive if we don't know they're "legal to drive". (at least, that's how it was back then)

            I radio to John that my ETA is 2, and I'll stand by the car, but as I turn onto the country lane, I see the kid driving away from John's patrol car, and John pulling out to follow him. Sure enough, the kid pulls into his driveway, jumps out of the car, and runs into the house. As I'm turning into the driveway, I see John getting out of his patrol unit, and I see the screen door of the house fly open, and the kid has a deer rifle leveled at John, and fires one shot, and I see John fall to the ground. I hadn't come to a complete stop yet, but I slammed to a stop, drew my duty weapon, and opened my driver's door to return fire, when the kid suddenly throws his rifle across the yard and throws his hands up in the air.

            My brain is trying to figure out what just happened in split section slo-mo fast action - - no way to describe it... I keep my weapon pointed at the kid as I run up to check on John, and he's bleeding badly from a chest wound, and gasping for air. I use his radio to call the radio call no officer ever wants to make or receive... "10-13 - officer down". According to dispatch records, I said that 3 times, and still had the mike keyed while I'm yelling at John "don't leave me, John, don't leave me!"

            John had been wearing a Safariland Second Chance vest, but back in those days, they weren't designed to stop a 30.06 round from a deer rifle at about 30 yards, let alone some of the more powerful handguns. I'm still trying to help John, and keep an eye on the kid, who is still standing on his porch with his arms up, but by now, his older brother and his mother had come out, and were hanging onto him in disbelief - they didn't know what happened or who shot first or how this dying officer ended up in their driveway.

            More units arrive, including Heavy Rescue, and I see another officer rush up to take the kid into custody, and another going to collect the rifle and make it safe. I'm not letting go of John, though, by now, EMS is doing their best to let me know he's gone. I just didn't want to believe it.

            The kid had lied - there was no learner's permit, he was only 15, he did not have permission to be driving the car, and he had a baggie full of roaches (yeah, marijuana) in his console. He kept saying "I just didn't want to get in trouble".

            About the "he who hesitates" part?

            As I'm turning into the driveway (and I replayed this in my head in super-slo-mo) I see John getting out of his patrol car, the kid appearing on the porch with the deer rifle, leveling it at John, and I see John go for his holster, pulling his gun halfway out, and hesitating, and the single shot rings out.

            More about the hesitation... eleven months prior, this same officer was checking on businesses late at night, and walking through an alley "shaking doors" (making sure they're locked) when two men ran out from the alcove of a doorway, one fired a shot and ran West, the other ran East, and John radioed for somebody to enter from the West end while chased the other man East. Without warning, the man John was chasing stopped, turned toward him, and John saw a flash like from a gun in his hand, so he fired and killed the man from about 30 feet away.

            Only, it wasn't a man. It was a big African-American kid, 15 years old, who had suddenly turned around in this dark ally to show John that he had a whiskey bottle in his hand, but the way it reflected off the only street light, it "flashed" like a gun, and the other "man" (also a 15 year old African-American kid) actually did have a gun that he had just fired a second time hoping to make John stop chasing his buddy.

            The other kid surrendered to other officers who had just arrived, including surrendering his firearm which, in fact, had two spent shell casings in the cylinder of the revolver. He even admitted that he wasn't trying to shoot anybody, he was just trying to scare the cop or "make the cop chase me, and leave my friend alone".

            As is standard policy, John surrendered his duty weapon, was placed on administrative leave, and endured a grueling shooting board of a total of about 15 hours over 3 days - "was there anything else he could have done", "did he have to shoot", "didn't he know these were kids", "did you have to shoot to kill", over and over and over again. (Like some of the questions our Tweb posters ask)


            So - that late September evening as a 15 year old kid aims his deer rifle at John, John pulls his duty weapon halfway out of his holster, and there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that John thought "I'm not going to kill another kid". That slight hesitation cost him his life. I think this is why I get a little on edge when people play the "why didn't you shoot the gun out of his hand" crap.

            The first to state his case seems right until another comes and cross-examines him.

            Comment


            • #66
              Originally posted by Cow Poke View Post
              He Who Hesitates...


              It is not at all unusual in Texas for neighboring communities to have "Mutual Assistance" or "Mutual aid" agreements. Things are spelled out like who has jurisdiction, what police powers transfer, use of deadly force policies, etc. Often, these agreements cover not just police, but fire and rescue, as well.

              It was getting late evening, and things had been unusually quiet. Nothing on the radio, until a neighboring police unit called out that he'd be stopping a vehicle on a country road, "occupied one times".

              Since it was so quiet, I decided to head that direction, as his location was just outside my own jurisdiction. No hurry, as it seemed like a simple traffic stop. As it turns out, it was a young male who supposedly had his learners permit, which entitled him to drive in the day time only, or to work and school, but nobody else in the vehicle. That all seemed to check, from what I heard of the radio exchange.

              Next thing I knew, John radioed back that this kid did not have his permit with him, but he only lived 3 blocks away, so John was going to follow him to his house. Immediately, I felt like things were going off the rails, because we NEVER allow a person to drive if we don't know they're "legal to drive". (at least, that's how it was back then)

              I radio to John that my ETA is 2, and I'll stand by the car, but as I turn onto the country lane, I see the kid driving away from John's patrol car, and John pulling out to follow him. Sure enough, the kid pulls into his driveway, jumps out of the car, and runs into the house. As I'm turning into the driveway, I see John getting out of his patrol unit, and I see the screen door of the house fly open, and the kid has a deer rifle leveled at John, and fires one shot, and I see John fall to the ground. I hadn't come to a complete stop yet, but I slammed to a stop, drew my duty weapon, and opened my driver's door to return fire, when the kid suddenly throws his rifle across the yard and throws his hands up in the air.

              My brain is trying to figure out what just happened in split section slo-mo fast action - - no way to describe it... I keep my weapon pointed at the kid as I run up to check on John, and he's bleeding badly from a chest wound, and gasping for air. I use his radio to call the radio call no officer ever wants to make or receive... "10-13 - officer down". According to dispatch records, I said that 3 times, and still had the mike keyed while I'm yelling at John "don't leave me, John, don't leave me!"

              John had been wearing a Safariland Second Chance vest, but back in those days, they weren't designed to stop a 30.06 round from a deer rifle at about 30 yards, let alone some of the more powerful handguns. I'm still trying to help John, and keep an eye on the kid, who is still standing on his porch with his arms up, but by now, his older brother and his mother had come out, and were hanging onto him in disbelief - they didn't know what happened or who shot first or how this dying officer ended up in their driveway.

              More units arrive, including Heavy Rescue, and I see another officer rush up to take the kid into custody, and another going to collect the rifle and make it safe. I'm not letting go of John, though, by now, EMS is doing their best to let me know he's gone. I just didn't want to believe it.

              The kid had lied - there was no learner's permit, he was only 15, he did not have permission to be driving the car, and he had a baggie full of roaches (yeah, marijuana) in his console. He kept saying "I just didn't want to get in trouble".

              About the "he who hesitates" part?

              As I'm turning into the driveway (and I replayed this in my head in super-slo-mo) I see John getting out of his patrol car, the kid appearing on the porch with the deer rifle, leveling it at John, and I see John go for his holster, pulling his gun halfway out, and hesitating, and the single shot rings out.

              More about the hesitation... eleven months prior, this same officer was checking on businesses late at night, and walking through an alley "shaking doors" (making sure they're locked) when two men ran out from the alcove of a doorway, one fired a shot and ran West, the other ran East, and John radioed for somebody to enter from the West end while chased the other man East. Without warning, the man John was chasing stopped, turned toward him, and John saw a flash like from a gun in his hand, so he fired and killed the man from about 30 feet away.

              Only, it wasn't a man. It was a big African-American kid, 15 years old, who had suddenly turned around in this dark ally to show John that he had a whiskey bottle in his hand, but the way it reflected off the only street light, it "flashed" like a gun, and the other "man" (also a 15 year old African-American kid) actually did have a gun that he had just fired a second time hoping to make John stop chasing his buddy.

              The other kid surrendered to other officers who had just arrived, including surrendering his firearm which, in fact, had two spent shell casings in the cylinder of the revolver. He even admitted that he wasn't trying to shoot anybody, he was just trying to scare the cop or "make the cop chase me, and leave my friend alone".

              As is standard policy, John surrendered his duty weapon, was placed on administrative leave, and endured a grueling shooting board of a total of about 15 hours over 3 days - "was there anything else he could have done", "did he have to shoot", "didn't he know these were kids", "did you have to shoot to kill", over and over and over again. (Like some of the questions our Tweb posters ask)


              So - that late September evening as a 15 year old kid aims his deer rifle at John, John pulls his duty weapon halfway out of his holster, and there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that John thought "I'm not going to kill another kid". That slight hesitation cost him his life. I think this is why I get a little on edge when people play the "why didn't you shoot the gun out of his hand" crap.
              I should add that, in the "shooting board", the legal eagles, city manager, safety director, police chief, Internal Affairs, and several police officers sit as a panel while the officer is pretty much interrogated as to his actions. FIFTEEN HOURS to examine something that happened in 3 seconds.

              John was cleared of that, and it was ruled as a "righteous shooting", though that doesn't change the fact that you carry with you the fact that you took another person's life for a really really dumb reason. The two kids had snuck out of their houses with the whiskey from one of their mother's boyfriends, and were getting drunk in the ally.
              The first to state his case seems right until another comes and cross-examines him.

              Comment


              • #67
                Superman couldn't fly after all...

                Mark Wilson was an absolute train wreck when he was sober, which wasn't very often. When he would take drugs, he would really be a handful. He fancied himself a body builder, and was actually quite strong for a man of 5' 6". I had arrested him several times, and knew it was always best to "cajole" him into handcuffs than try to fight him. He also knew when to "push it" just far enough to get the cops called on him, but not get arrested. He seemed to love pushing buttons that way.

                We even had somewhat of a routine - when I had to arrest him, he'd go into one of his body-building poses, or show off his admirable biceps, and warn me it would take more than me and a half dozen other officers to get him into the patrol car. I'd take a step back, put my hand on my .357 Magnum, and say "you know, Mark, I don't get paid enough to get hurt"! He'd act like he was shocked that I would imply I would shoot him, but generally, he'd back down and go peacefully to jail. He always asked if he could have his favorite cell, and I always told him, "if it's occupied, we'll make arrangements".

                Then one night we got a call from the manager of a 10 story apartment building. The report was that there was this man pacing back and forth on the 10th floor, looking for a way to get on the roof. I was the first officer on the scene, with two other cops right behind me, and I was immediately disheartened because it looked like Mark was acting up again, but this time, he appeared really amped up. I called for a shift commander, and when I told him what I had, he dispatched our "Brutus" -- one of our own really beefed up guys who was part of the "crash unit" at the prison, who was used to dealing with wild-eyed crazy people. Brutus brought leg irons and extra length handcuffs and restraints.

                Oh, it was a fight. Besides his normal powerful strength, his drugs (later identified as PCP) had him hyped up, and a half dozen of us were fighting one man who was shorter than all of us. But a couple things to remember - he has no restraints on how he fights, including fighting dirty - and we have the limitation of "only such force as is necessary to affect the arrest". He was tearing our uniforms, tossing us around, kicking, trying to bite, trying to grab our guns - then Brutus, dressed somewhat like a Goalie at a Hockey Game (part of his "crash unit" getup), body slams mark into a corner, and several of us lean in on Brutus helping him to pin Mark, just so we can catch our breath and and find Mark's arms to begin cuffing him. That part is especially delicate, because if you get only one handcuff on, he can use that as a weapon to beat and slash us, so we're keeping him pinned against the wall, and somebody else is crawling through huddle with leg irons, trying to get him "hobbled".

                Long story short, we finally got him "hogtied" to where he couldn't fight anymore, and had the EMS hoist him up onto a gurney to take him to jail. He seemed to be calming down a bit, and several of us were riding in the ambulance to make sure the EMS guys didn't have to fight him, and I began talking to him, reminding him who I am, and I have his favorite cell reserved for him.

                At the station, he promised to settle down, and we took him into the booking room. I kept talking to him like we were old buddies, and explaining what was happening, and asking for his cooperation, and all was going well until the booking sergeant grabbed his hand to put it on the fingerprint blotter. Mark went stark raving crazy again, and the fight was on all over again. We decided to skip the booking procedure, and just get him contained in a cell, so we began handing our firearms to the dispatcher as we ushered him into the cell block, and I motioned toward his favorite cell, but that wasn't working. He fought back, we pushed, some were in the cell trying to pull him in, he was using the bars like a ladder to pull himself back into the hallway, and SEVEN of us were doing our best to get him contained.

                As we were push/pulling him into the cell, at one point I was halfway in the door, when he grabbed the door and gave a mighty slam, crushing me in the ribs and nearly breaking my hand. They got him inside, and got the door closed, but now I was on the INSIDE with him, and the fight started all over again. Trying to keep him in and get me out, and my ribs hurt like (bunch of swear words) but it won't be over until we get him in, everybody else out, and the door firmly slammed shut. We were all panting, hurting, worn out, some of us were bleeding... and when the door finally shut, and Mark was inside, I had just leaned on the cell bars to steady myself when Mark cleared his throat deep and loud and spit right in my face from 6 inches away. I was shaking because I wanted so bad at that point to shoot him, but I knew I needed to keep my cool, so I excused myself, stepped over to the little ceramic tiled room where prisoners have a combination stainless steel sink/toilet, and started running water and splashing it on my face, and grabbing handfuls of paper towels.

                My shift commander wedged his way into that room with me (very tight for ONE man, let alone me and this big hunk of a shift commander) and he started asking me if I was OK. I told him I think I broke some ribs, but I was going to live. Then he told me (he used to ride me all the time for "being a Christian") "well, I just wanna say, you must really be a Christian to take all that and not hit back". I just stood there, wiping my face, glad to know that he wasn't aware of the thoughts that went through my mind. But ever since then, he treated me really differently, like he had respect for me or something.

                (and my ribs were cracked, but not broken, but I'm told that cracked ribs can hurt a lot more than broken ones)

                I hit the showers, dressed in my civilian clothes, and went home. Next morning, stopped by the cell, and Mark was apologizing all over the place, and told me "they told me what I did to you", and just kept apologizing and said how ashamed he was, because I was his only friend. (I kinda had to choke back a bit when he said that, because I believe he was serious)

                I got him in a half-way house over the next few weeks, and he promised he would stay clean, and thanked me for being his friend. He even let me pray with him, and told me he'd think about that "Christian stuff" I talked about.



                Six months later, same 10-story building, radio call that a man is down out in the front of that building, and looks like he'd been shot. I was the first on the scene, saw a man laying face down on the concrete, absolutely unrecognizable, large pool of blood all around his body. Thinking he might have been shot from the building itself, I have my gun drawn in my right hand, scanning the balcony for anybody who might be a threat - lots of people standing on their balconies just looking down... I figured if there had been a shooter, they probably wouldn't be watching like that, and - not to be gross, but with my left hand I reached for his neck to see if there was any pulse (instinctive reaction, but with all that blood) and finally took my eyes off the building, and looked for the first time at the unmistakable blue jean jacket that Mark always wore, and realized that's who this was.

                Residents told us that he had gone to the 10th floor, found a way to the roof, and began yelling that he was superman, and he could fly. The custodian and a couple residents tried to talk him out of "flying", but he finally took a few steps back, then a running jump, and tried to fly.

                These are the cases that you will always wonder, what else could I have said? What else could I have done. He told me I was his only friend.
                The first to state his case seems right until another comes and cross-examines him.

                Comment


                • #68
                  The Governor of Texas was coming through town, and this was a big stinkin' deal back then.

                  I was on the security team, and my job was simple --- blend in with the crowd, Jeans and T-shirt style, and keep an eye out for trouble.

                  The hour was arriving, the crowd was building, and the excitement growing. I was aware there was a young man about my age to my right, and I noticed he kept looking at me. I finally asked him, "do you need something?"
                  He responded by saying "I got some really good weed".

                  OK, my job is to focus on the parade, the crowd, the Governor...
                  But he insisted, "look, man, I'm home on leave from the Air Force and I gotta go back tomorrow, so I need to get rid of my stash - I got more than this" and he half slid a plastic bag out of his pocket in which there was some green leafy material.

                  I told him "look, you don't want to talk to me, OK? Just watch the parade".
                  He said, "but that lady back there said you'd be interested in buying".
                  I looked in the direction he was pointing, and one of the girls from our Church youth group was standing there smiling really big.
                  I said, again, "OK, look -- you really REALLY don't want to try selling that to me, OK?"
                  He insisted - he'd make me a really good deal.

                  At that point, I noticed he was wearing a VIRGO t-shirt with some astrology symbols on it, and I said, "So, you're a VIRGO, eh?"
                  He said, "yeah, man, what are you?"
                  I pulled out my badge and showed it to him and said, "I'm a LEO - Law Enforcement Officer", and as his face fell, I motioned for two uniforms in the back of the crowd to come get him, and got back to my main job of focusing on the parade.

                  (OK, at least I thought it was clever!)
                  The first to state his case seems right until another comes and cross-examines him.

                  Comment


                  • #69
                    Sometimes you feel like a real bum....


                    7 PM, wintertime, so it's already dark, and I was approaching a 4-way stop from the South.

                    There was a vehicle coming toward the intersection from the North, and I could tell by the way the headlights gently dipped, that they stopped - at least substantially enough - before proceeding through the intersection.

                    From my right, heading West, was a Texaco fuel truck driving a little fast, and not slowing down for the 4-way stop, which had flashing red lights in all four directions.

                    The truck driver, whether he saw me or saw the van, suddenly tried braking, and swerving to the left, just missing the Dodge Caravan that was already in the intersection, and the Caravan jerked hard right to avoid the collision. Amazingly, there was no collision at all.

                    I immediately popped my lights and blasted my siren to make sure the Texaco driver knew he needed to stop, and he was already pulling over.

                    I checked on the family in the Caravan, and other than being really shook up, the mom and dad and two little kids were fine, all seat-belted and car-seated properly.

                    I walked over to the cab of the Texaco truck where the driver had already begun climbing down. He began apologizing, and said he had been really sleepy, and he knows he should have stopped for a rest break. Then he handed me his log book, and asked me to check that he's actually on good driving time.

                    I smelled alcohol on his breath, and told him "I really don't need to see your log book, because I think you have a little more trouble than that". I asked him if he'd been drinking, and he admitted to having one beer with supper just "up the road". I told him I would need to do a field sobriety test, and asked him to cooperate, and he began crying like a little baby, telling me that if he gets a ticket, especially for DWI, that he wouldn't even get a hearing from his company - they would fire him on the spot. I explained that he really scared that family, and he could have killed them if he had hit them, and with a full load of fuel to boot.

                    He begged and pleaded, and refused to cooperate with the field sobriety, in which case I offered to allow him to blow into a field breathalyzer. (not like the fancy ones they have today) He refused that, as well, because he'd be fired, sure as anything. I explained to him that, in the State of Texas, refusal to cooperate with the breathalyzer - or blood test - was an automatic suspension for 6 months, and for a commercial vehicle, it was much greater than that, but I wasn't up to the exact stats - but he interrupted me and listed all the penalties applicable to his situation. I said - "you KNEW THAT, and still decided to have a beer"?

                    He was literally crying and begging, and a DPS car and a sheriff's car soon arrived on the scene. The DPS officer was a friend of mine - I was green as newborn baby poop, and he took a liking to me, with FAR more experience than I had, and had pretty well been my mentor. He asked me what was going on. When I told him, he said, "well I have some really bad news for him". He told me that DPS had a letter from Texaco that if any of their drivers were stopped for DWI, to please call the 800 number and Texaco would dispatch a driver for the truck, and that driver would be terminated immediately pending the outcome of the court verdict.

                    I let DPS talk to the truck driver, and I went back to the Caravan to get driver information, to make sure they didn't want to be checked out by an ambulance or hospital, and give them the PD contact info. They insisted they were fine, and continued on their trip.

                    Trucker began to tell us how his wife has cancer, he has a daughter who just started college, he's been with Texaco for 27 years without any trouble.... and kept begging us not to write him up.

                    Finally, my DPS buddy, said to me, "lemme ask you a question --- what do you think the chances are that this guy, for the first time in his 27 years of trucking, has ONE BEER, and that just happens to be the first time he's ever stopped for drinking?" The answer was obvious.

                    "And another question - what if you give this guy a break tonight, and 6 months from now he plows through an intersection and kills a family on an outing?"

                    I wrote him up, placed him under arrest, and DPS guy found out that Texaco would have a replacement driver on the scene within 30 minutes, thanking us for taking him off the road.





                    The first to state his case seems right until another comes and cross-examines him.

                    Comment


                    • #70
                      That BLINKING Light.....


                      Speaking of 4 way stops with blinking red traffic lights...

                      I'll never forget the old cowboy (guessing in his late 80's) in the 69 Chevy Chevelle SS454, same layout as above, I'm approaching the 4-way, he's coming from the right, and I watch as he begins to slow down, thinking he's gonna stop, then he GUNS it and shoots right through the light.

                      Amazed, I pop my lights and zip out after him, and after only a mile or so, he pulls over and shuts it down.

                      I asked for driver's license, registration and proof of insurance, and he had all those in a neat little folder. Check!
                      I asked if he had been drinking, and he said, "yes sir, I sure have - one beer per hour for the last 6 hours - I know my limit!" And nothing in my ride! Check!
                      (he didn't appear drunk, and an adult his size can, indeed, metabolize one beer, one shot, or one glass of wine per hour)

                      So my attention turned to the light.
                      I said, "you ZOOMED through that light and I'm amazed you didn't see me sitting right there".
                      He smiled really big, a pretty much toothless grin, and said, "OH, I saw you alright, but I didn't do anything illegal".

                      Somewhat amused, I said, "you zoomed right through a flashing red light right in front of me!"

                      Again, that toothless grin, this time with a wink --- "but if you were paying attention, I slowed down just before, then zoomed up and caught it between the flashes!"

                      I couldn't help but laugh. At that point, I asked, pointing to his car - "a 454 for real?" He started listing all the "454ci V8 pumping out 500hp with 10.1 compression and power running down through a Richmond Super T-10 4-speed manual transmission with a Hurst shifter, Edelbrock Performer Aluminum Cylinder Heads, Flowmaster 2 chamber mufflers and electric exhaust cut outs, Edurashine coated Edelbrock Air Gap Intake Manifold, Holley Double Pumper Carb...." and on and on and on. (No drunk on the planet can go through all that clear as a bell)

                      I asked, "pop the hood?", and he was already walking that way, still jibbering away about performance this and hydraulic that....

                      By this time, several other officers showed up just to see what was going on, the guy was in 7th heaven answering questions and explaining how he's nearly 90 years old but is still as much a motor-head as he was when he was a kid.

                      Then he got real serious looking and stared at me for a minute and asked, "you're serious about having to stop even if you make it between flashes?" At this point, I was pretty convinced he was pulling my leg, so I said, "I'm just gonna put the word out that anybody seeing a cherry red 69 Chevelle SS454 zooming through...." he interrupted me by slapping me on the back and saying "I got it, Sonny, and I'll be more careful, and I'll consider myself verbally warned" and he got back in his car and zoomed off into the night, leaving a half dozen cops just standing there laughing in amazement.

                      Sometimes it's actually fun!

                      The first to state his case seems right until another comes and cross-examines him.

                      Comment


                      • #71
                        When you feel like an absolute total complete schmuck...

                        Once again, winter in Texas, one of those rare times when it's actually below freezing, snow is blowing straight across, wind whipping like crazy...

                        About midnight thirty, I'm late returning to the station for the end of my tour - which was supposed to be 4 - midnight.
                        But, on the side of the road, halfway in the ditch, there's an older Lincoln Continental Mark IV, and a woman trying to change the left rear tire.
                        I can't just drive by that, and the rear of the car is sticking out in the road a little, and she could get hit by a passing car.

                        I stopped behind the vehicle, popped my lights for safety, put on my gloves and got out of my car to lend a hand.
                        She had just started to work on the flat tire, first trying to pry the hub cap off, but didn't have the tools that would be in the trunk.
                        She was a very nice looking elderly African-American woman, and looked like she was freezing to death.

                        I told her "Why don't you go sit in your car, and I'll take care of this for you, OK?"
                        I told her I was going to open the driver's door to pop the trunk, because that's where the tools would be.
                        She seemed to resist that, but I was already on a mission.

                        As I opened the driver's door, I was surprised - stunned, actually - that a man was sitting there seat-belted in the warm car, while his wife (it turns out) was outside the car in that weather trying to change the tire. I have to admit I had a bit of a flash of anger (I was much younger and stupider back then) and I literally wanted to grab him and drag him out of the car....

                        That's when I noticed the hand controls for the gas and brake - and the fact that the man had no legs - amputated well above his knees.
                        And I honestly felt like throwing up, because of what I had thought about him sitting inside the vehicle with her outside in the cold.
                        He was a Korean War Veteran, had lost both legs to a land mine, and I was absolutely speechless.

                        I apologized, though I hadn't actually DONE anything, and asked if he could please pop the trunk. I told him I'd get them taken care of, and help get them back on the road.
                        I insisted she get back in the car with her husband, and soon a couple other police vehicles, and even our local wrecker driver, showed up to help.
                        Even after the tire was replaced, they still needed winched out of the ditch, which our Wrecker driver did effortlessly, and refused payment.

                        I apologized again for not noticing he was handicapped, and he told me he was just so thankful we came to help his wife.

                        As they drove off, the wrecker driver asked, "did you notice the specialty plates?" I hadn't - I was more focused on her getting hit by a passing vehicle. I ALWAYS notice the license plate, but this time I didn't. Charlie nodded and said, "Disabled American Vet specialty plate with Purple Heart". wow
                        Why hadn't I seen that sooner?


                        A couple weeks later, I was at the office finishing up a daily report, when the dispatcher came back and told me "there's some nice looking black lady here asking for you".

                        I honestly didn't recognize her at first, and she reminded me that I had helped her and her husband a couple weeks prior.
                        She was very gracious, expressing her appreciation, then said, "Walter, my husband, has a special request".

                        I said, "sure, anything, what can I do?"

                        She said, next week is Christmas, and we always have our Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve. Would you please come have Christmas Dinner with us?
                        Again, I was speechless --- and she said, "it would make Walter so happy, you're all he's been talking about".
                        She asked "are you married, have a girlfriend, could you bring somebody?"

                        At the time, I was dating a Mormon girl (yeah, shock, eh?) and told Carolyn "I'll ask if she'll join me, but I'll be there regardless".
                        So, that Christmas Eve, Marie and I - she's the fair-skinned blond-haired blue-eyed Mormon girl - had dinner with a dozen of the most wonderful loving people I've ever met.
                        We got to be the glaring "minorities", but you'd never know it from the fellowship.

                        The highlight of the evening was when Walter read Luke's version of the Birth of Christ, then had us join hands and thank God for all His bountiful blessings.








                        The first to state his case seems right until another comes and cross-examines him.

                        Comment


                        • #72
                          And MORE fun....

                          The Police Department was right next door to the Church where I was Youth Minister, and my apartment was right across the street from both. There were actually days when I never even started my car, because I could walk to work and to church, and hither and yon. And if I was on duty, I had a "city ride" to drive.

                          One night, we were having a Youth Party upstairs in the Church, and I had bought a brand new Mustang II, parked in the lot below.

                          About halfway through the party, one of the youths came to me and said, "you really need to go see your car". I asked, "WHAT?" She said - "you need to see it for yourself".

                          I put one of my youth workers in charge, and went downstairs to the parking lot. It was a waste of time to appoint a "second in command", because they ALL followed me downstairs to the parking lot.

                          There, to my shock and amazement, was my brand new Mustang II all wrapped in toilet-paper, messages written on the windows with shaving cream, unrecognizable as my new car.

                          I looked around at the youths, and asked, "who did this?" Nobody answered. I said, "OK, that's it, I'm calling the police". The girl who brought this to my attention started shaking her head "no", so I asked, "What do you mean 'NO'".... and she responded, hesitantly, "it WAS the Police!" I said "WHAT??!?!?!" and she pointed over to the Police Garage, where I saw an unidentified uniformed police officer duck around the corner.

                          I headed over to the Police Department ready to tear into SOMEBODY, but as I came in the door, the dispatcher stood up and pointed down the hall.

                          At the end of the hall was my Shift Commander, his hands in the air as in surrender, but firmly calling out "Before you do anything rash, you should know -- We HAVE your wife and kid!"
                          Another officer shepherded my wife and daughter out into the hallway next to my Sergeant, my wife holding my baby, who was smiling and calling "HI DADDY!"

                          I looked at the dispatcher, and said, "That's it - MOBILIZE SWAT!!!!" He laughed and said, "Sergeant IS SWAT!". "Then CALL THE CHIEF", I yelled (pretending to be enraged) and the dispatcher pointed behind me, where the Chief stepped out of his office and told me "you just finished hostage negotiation school - start negotiating!" By that time, my daughter had "escaped" from my wife, and ran down the hallway toward me, laughing and giggling, and my wife just shrugged like "I have no idea what's going on".

                          Chief walked over and took my hand to shake it, and said, "congratulations, you're no longer a Rookie on Probation - there's a cake in the squad room". I told him I was already in a party "next door", and he said, "yeah, they're all in on it, and helped keep you occupied".

                          It's so great to be loved.



                          The first to state his case seems right until another comes and cross-examines him.

                          Comment


                          • #73
                            Guarding the Laundry Hamper


                            So, my apartment being across from the Police Department...

                            When I got married, my wife moved in and we upgraded from my basement 1-bedroom apartment to a 3rd floor 2-bedroom apartment.

                            The common laundry room was in the basement across the hall from my old apartment - I missed that convenience. Sometimes, when I left for my midnight-8am shift, my wife would still be awake enough to decide to do a load of laundry. I had lovingly scolded her several times about the fact that she leaves our apartment door unlocked while she goes down to the basement, and ANYBODY could get into our apartment while she was downstairs.

                            So, one night, I walked across the street to the PD to check in, gather my equipment, check out my city ride, and head out to patrol the vast metropolis of rural Texas.

                            As I turned out of the driveway of the PD, I decided to drive through the parking lot of our apartment complex across the street, and as I came around to the back of our unit, I could see my wife heading downstairs, as the back staircase is along the back wall, and has windows to the outside at each landing.

                            I parked my patrol unit, let myself in the back door, and quietly went upstairs to our apartment where, sure enough, the door is blocked open. I did a quick look-around, and realized she hadn't yet collected the towels from the hamper in the bathroom, so I figured that's where she'd go next. I stepped into the bathtub, and the shower curtain was closed just enough to hide my then slender form.

                            And I waited.

                            Seemed like forever, and I was sure to turn my walkie-talkie volume down, but I finally heard the apartment door close, and knew she was inside. Sure enough, the light in the bathroom switches on, and she bends over to dig the towels out of the hamper. I didn't jump or yell or scream or anything -- I simply opened the shower curtains and politely said "Hi!"

                            The whooping and hollering and "running in place" and antics were -- -if ONLY I had an iPhone back then!!!! THAT would have gone viral in a heartbeat! Then, she realized it was me, and I found out how hard she could punch, as she started beating me on my chest and yelling and screaming how badly I scared her. (Fortunately, that Safariland Second Chance vest helps deaden fist blows)

                            When she finally calmed down a bit, she started laughing (and I knew I could continue to live) and she admitted it would be a good idea to keep the key with her when she went to the laundry, locking the door behind her. As a matter of fact, she decided she needed to limit her laundry activities to daytime hours.

                            She later told me that the only thing that would have made that scarier was for the sound track from Psycho to be playing in the background.

                            But, Praise God, she's a good sport!

                            The first to state his case seems right until another comes and cross-examines him.

                            Comment


                            • #74
                              You really look different out of uniform...

                              Most of us have experienced this... You see somebody somewhere you're not used to seeing them, and the context is not there, and you're left to wondering "where do I know them from"?
                              Happened to me when I was both police officer AND youth minister. I'd see a kid and wonder, "do I know him from the PD or the Youth Group.... or BOTH!"

                              Or you see your postman day after day, and one day you run into him in civilian clothes in Walmart and think "I KNOW that guy...."

                              Marsha had been my bank teller "forever" when I was a cop, and every Friday like clockwork, I'd take my paycheck in and deposit it, and get some cash. I'd be coming straight from the PD, so I'd be in uniform, and she always referred to me as "Officer Poke". (I'm sure you can make the transition)

                              One week, I had been on vacation, had been out mowing the grass and doing some yard work, and was in an old pair of jeans, tenni-runners, and a cut-off sweatshirt.

                              I stopped by the PD and picked up my check (way back before direct deposit was even a thought) and drove to the bank, went inside, and got in line at Marsha's window. The bank was always really crowded on Fridays.

                              When it was my turn, I slid my check, endorsed, under the window to Marsha, who looked at it, glanced up at me, then looked down at the check again, saying, "I'm going to need some ID, sir".

                              I was stunned. I said, "Marsha, it's ME, you've been cashing my check FOREVER!"

                              She looked at the name on the check again, then looked up at me, all embarrassed, and said in a too loud voice - "Oh!!! Officer POKE!!!! I've never seen you with your CLOTHES ON!"

                              That certainly got the attention of the other tellers and customers, and she just started making it worse... "I mean, all the other times, you were in UNIFORM....."

                              Yup, sometimes it's just fun.


                              The first to state his case seems right until another comes and cross-examines him.

                              Comment


                              • #75
                                The Attempted Hit...

                                I've always been an adrenaline junkie, and the police department provided many opportunities. When we had a motorcycle patrol, I was in... when we formed a SWAT team, I was in... when there was hostage negotiation training, I was in... I always tried to take advantage of any additional training or seminars or certifications or special assignment opportunities.

                                When we formed a multi-jurisdictional drug enforcement team, I was on it. At the time, for some reason, drugs were coming from a cartel of sorts out of Chicago, though we were obviously much further away in Texas. We were doing the appropriate "catching the little fish" and turning them to catch the "bigger fish", and with the help of a really scroungy DEA agent (think Maynard G Krebs) who was EXCELLENT at his game, we were getting close to a syndicate in Chicago.

                                One of the "midstream" guys we caught was absolutely adamant that he would "do the time" and "I ain't no snitch". I remember him sitting there studying our faces, saying "I'm gonna remember you, and you're gonna regret ever messing with us". A high dollar lawyer appeared, and managed to arrange bail, and "Bugsy" was free to go, pending a trial later for possession of narcotics for sale.

                                Then one night, following a long double shift (I had worked 8-4 and 4-12) I went home to my apartment across the street from the PD. This was the "basement apartment" I spoke about, before I got married and we "upgraded" to the 3rd floor. I was absolutely worn out, and got home, took of my shoes, shirt and pants, and just collapsed on my bed, but I was "too tired to sleep". Back in those days, TV stations "signed off" after midnight or 1 AM, so TV was not an option, and I just lay there trying to get to sleep.

                                Finally, about 1:30 AM, I decided I was stinkier than tired, and decided to take a shower. I took a nice long hot-as-I-could-stand-it shower to clear my head (congested during pollen season) and relax my muscles. When I got out of the shower, I grabbed a towel and was drying off, when I heard the distinct sound of glass breaking, followed by five loud gunshots - sounding more like shotgun than handgun or rifle. (yeah, I was rather an expert in that area)

                                I ran to the drawer in the kitchen (right next to the bathroom) to grab my backup gun (my duty weapon was in the bedroom from which all the noise had come) and quickly "cleared" my apartment - front door was closed and chained, check - nobody in the living room, check - had already checked the kitchen when I grabbed my backup gun ---- that left my bedroom.

                                I turned on the light, and immediately noticed the smell of gunpowder freshly spent, the broken window just above my bed (the "basement apartments" had windows about 5 feet off the floor, and outside, those windows were at ground level). Smoke from the gun blasts was dissipating, and there were four large "torn up places" in my bed where I had been lying.

                                Somebody was pounding on my door yelling "Are you ALRIGHT?" as the neighbors had been awaked by the gunshots. I could here sirens as officers were converging on my apartment. One of my neighbors started yelling "65 Ford Fairlane, light blue", and the first officer on the scene assumed that was the hit vehicle, and put out an alert. Taking a deep breath, and trying to calm down, I turned to Larry, and confirmed - you saw the vehicle? He confirmed "I looked out my window (his apartment was directly above mine) and I saw two men run and dive into a light blue 65-ish Ford Fairlane and zoom off". So, obviously, at least 3 persons.

                                WIDE AWAKE now, and adrenalin flowing, I got dressed (civvy clothes), grabbed my duty weapon, and jumped into a patrol car with a senior officer, who was determined to find the shooters.

                                It turned into an amazingly quiet night, little to no traffic, no leads or trails to follow. Seemed to go on forever, quiet, fighting to stay awake...

                                About an hour before sunrise, a neighboring PD on our frequency called our PD, asking "you're looking for a light blue 65 Ford Fairlane?" Our dispatch confirmed. He asked, "would you settle for a 66 Ford Falcon, light blue, occupied 3 times?"

                                My senior officer responded "worth checking out, heading your way", and we roared off to the neighboring city limits, getting location, finding out that the vehicle was parked next to a boat shed, under a big tree. The owner had seen it, and called the police, who suspected it might be "our guys", and did an "observe and report only". Sure enough, their SWAT officer, using "starlight optics" night vision equipment (very primitive compared to what we use today) confirmed "occupied 3 times, all appear asleep".

                                One of our officers (A class III Gun Dealer) actually had an authentic fully functioning licensed WWII Tommy Gun with the 100 round drum, and he quietly worked his way to the front of the vehicle, aiming the Tommy at the bad guys through the windshield, while the rest of us approached from the rear and sides. A couple of guys with M-16s were on both sides of the vehicle, all mindful of "line of fire", and he sun was just about to come up. The driver was the first to open his eyes, and as he surveyed the scene, he smartly and slowly put his hands on the top of the steering wheel, indicating "no fight". One of our guys at the passenger window nudged the guy in the passenger seat with the nose of his M-16, and that guy also woke up to a not-so-pretty sight, and slid his hands up. The guy in the rear apparently saw what was going on and was pretending to be asleep, slowly reaching for one of the numerous long guns laying on the floor board in the back seat. He looked up in time to see two M-16 muzzles poking in his open back window, and also decided to "hands up".

                                Long story short, all three were taken into custody without incident, and taken to County Jail for processing.

                                Still running on about 36 hours of no sleep, I rode with my senior officer to the County Lockup just to get the satisfaction that booking went well and they were actually in the slammer.

                                I was getting some really bad coffee, when my senior officer came over to me and said, "Poke, you gotta take a look at this".

                                He led me over to the table where the wallets and personal possessions of the three men were laid out for processing and recording, and pointed to a newspaper clipping from one of the wallets. It was a picture of me and one of my Sheriff buddies (and another guy I didn't know at the time) from the multijurisdictional taskforce, receiving a commendation for a big drug bust a few months prior. I have to admit I had a slight shiver run through my spine as I saw the red magic marker circle around my head in the picture, as well as a circle around the head of my Sheriff's deputy buddy.

                                I looked at my senior officer, speechless, and probably somewhat ghostly, and he said "FBI is already on the way, these guys are serious Chicago Mobsters".

                                Sometimes, law enforcement is NOT so much fun!

                                (ever since that incident, it was in my mind that maybe law enforcement wasn't such a good thing for a family man)
                                The first to state his case seems right until another comes and cross-examines him.

                                Comment

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