The Police Adventures of a Small Southern Town..

[Roscoe]

Roscoe's Great Bear Hunt


To be continued...

[MelodyB]

What a tease you are.

[Roscoe]

What a tease you are.

[Roscoe]

 It was a normal, nice, quiet summer night, and I was on the shift that always had the craziest things happen- third shift. I was enjoying riding around with the windows down, listening to good music and looking to see if any thing new had happened in my little town. I'd made all the rounds of the local car lots, and had enjoyed a conversation with a retired cop friend that walked every night. In short- a normal boring relaxing third shift weeknight.

Suddenly, the silence and my peace was shattered by Dispatch. ""Officers, we have a burglary alarm and 2445 Highway 9, motion." Hmm. I think I know that address....."Dispatch, is that the beer distribution center?" "Ten-four". that told me all I needed to know. As I've said before, our county was wet. Very wet. Flooded in fact. This caused an enterprising soul to decided that there was money to be made in sin.
 
Said soul had opened up a beer distribution center that had been the target of a plot of every redblooded redneck for three counties, at least in their minds. The plot being, how to liberate all those golden suds to their custody? Fortunately, no one had suceeded as of yet. However, it was always one of those places I suspected would be hit eventually. The last true attempt anyone had made was several years prior, when a couple of enterprising Bubbas had tied a chain to their bumper, the other end to the gate, and tried to pull the gate down. It didn't work like they planned. They'd yanked the bumper off of their truck, got scared and drove away.

Finding them was very hard. We had to run the license plate that was attached to the bumper, which was still chained to the gate, and drive to the address on the plate return and arrest them. Einstine was obviously not their close relation...

[Roscoe]

 I headed  for the center, which had been locked up for several hours. The location of this warehouse was ideally located for an attempt. Lying just on the outer edge of town, in a dimmly lit area, surrounded by pine trees, if anyone had saw a vehicle around they'd probably figure it was an employee.
As I arrived, my sergeant did as well. We walked around the outside and saw no sign of forced entry, but one of the doors was unlocked.  Dispatch advised us that the owner was enroute with a key to the building. Sarge and I decided to wait and speak with him.

Now, at this point, I had been working for this particular police department about six months. My coworkers and my sergeant took particular pleasure in tormenting me to no end. As a result, I'd been the butt of many jokes and pranks. Little did I suspect that fate had set them up with a terrific opportunity....

Mr Coors arrived with the key. He talked with us, and stated that he figured that there was no one inside. However, he stated that he would appreciate us "clearing the building" and ensuring it was empty. Okay, that's our job. No prob. What I did not know was-1) Mr Coors was quite the prankster himself 2) he instantly took me for fresh meat and 3) he and my sergeant shared a wink as we started into the building.
Oblivious to this, I entered the building and in my best police tactics, proceeded to go through the warehouse inch by inch. Pallets and cases of every type of beer known to man were stack floor to ceiling and the dimly lit warhouse offered tons of hiding places.... After Sergeant and I cleared the warehouse finding no one there, we entered the offices and cleared them. No one.

I began to relax. There was one office left. Mr. Coors' private office suite.  I should've been suspicious when my normally take charge sergeant stepped back to allow me to enter first. The light switch for the office was on the other side of the room, near Mr. Coor's private entrance.
Therefore, I began clearing the room by flashlight. I was soon to discover another interesting tidbit about Mr. Coors.  As I made the corner of the building with my gun drawn, nerves already on edge and jacked up with adrenaling flowing, I was savagely attacked by a huge beast!
Okay, it didn't attack me, but I sure nearly wet my pants. I was staring face to face, or actually face to waist, with a nine foot tall Grizzly bear in full attack posture, with teeth glinting. I screamed like a little girl, jumped back, and nearly shot the bear before I realized that the sergeant and Mr. Coors were on the ground laughing, having a fine time. I then realized that grizzlys are not native to this area, and even if they were there would be no reason for one to be in a warehouse.. 

Mr Coors told me that he was a big game hunter and had taken the bear a couple of years prior on an Alaskan hunting trip. It was such a prize he decided to have it stuffed and mounted in an attack posture in his office. He and the sergeant could not resist seeing my reaction. Mr. Coors' poor grizzly nearly was shot repeatedly this night..... Needless to say, I never trusted Mr. Coors or Sergeant again..... Nor have I ever had the desire to hunt a bear. I did however, have the desire to stalk and hunt Mr. Coors and my dear Sergeant.....

[MelodyB]

Nice!

I kinda thought it would be a story about you taking on the highway patrol.

[rootbeer]

I'm getting sleepy.

[Roscoe]

 Roscoe's Rapid Retreat

It was a pleasant sunny day in my small town and life was going grand for the little police officer. Despite all of my shortcomings....I was working on second shift, from two to ten pm, which was my favorite shift. I'd recently put in for the available Sergeant's postition, and had been promoted. I was wearing my shiny new Sergeant emblems for the very first time, and I swear I grew six inches taller every time someone called me "Sarge".
Best of all, I didn't have to leave MY shift, which meant that my friends would remain working with me. As an added benefit, especially after the late cobbler crash and their phony sympathy, I would have the ability to grant or deny them any time off. BwaaaaHaaaHa! I was God. Or at least a very evil short version of Him, according to the men who had spent the last several years harassing and heckling me while I worked my way to the top. 
Obviously cream rises to the top, and now I had power... Ah, but life was good. 

Then we got THE CALL. " Dispatch to 105." "Go ahead." "Sarge"- ah, I loved the sound of that- " We need you to go to the middle school. Mrs. Rains has a small problem she would like to speak to you about." "Ten-Four."  I hung up the mic and went to see what Sergeant Bob could do for the school teacher.
Had I not been so drunk on success, I might have noticed that Dispatch was awful guarded in their information on the nature of the call. Had I noticed, or been a more experienced sergeant, I would've played it safe and sent one of my boys. Sadly, none of this came into play.

When I arrived, I spoke with Mrs Rains, who appeared both sheepish and concerned. "Sergeant, my car wouldn't start this morning and my husband was gone so I drove one of the farm trucks in. I think I have a problem." As we began walking towards the old Chevrolet one ton in the parking lot, I fully expected that it wouldn't start or something of that matter. Being the ever faithful public servant, I was eager to assist.
"As I got in the truck this evening, a snake fell out from under the dash. It went back under the seat, and I don't want to drive it until the snake is gone." This was said so sweetly and quietly I missed the meaning of the words at first. "No problem, Mrs. Rains. We'll have you on your- WHAT?!? A snake!?!?" I jumped away from the half open door liked I'd been bit. "Did you say a snake?" "Yes. I told the dispatcher".

Now there were two things everyone knew about me. 1) I didn't go to any call involving me being near a dead body and 2) Snakes are of the devil. I shall not be anywhere near them. Point a gun at me or wave a snake at me. You've a better chance of living pointing the gun. In fact, I had told more than one person who mentioned "snakehandling Pentecostals" that the day we took up snakes would be the day I would become the world's first One God, Jesus Name, Tongue Talking Holy Rolling Baptist. In short, I am deathly afraid of snakes. Crying, screaming, hysterical schoolgirl-on-top-of-the-table scared. And I ain't ashamed of it.
My dispatch had purposfully set me up, the wretched wenchs..........

[Roscoe]

I calmly stepped back and called for one of my boys to come assist me.  We weren't busy, and one of the guys would surely be able to help me look for the evil beast. Besides, once some other officer was there, I could break away on important sergeantly matters and place myself a safe distance from any potential snake- like across town.

The officer that showed up was Clint. This young man had became one of my closest friends during his time on our reserve program, and had become somewhat like a brother to me. He and his wife were my wife and my closest friends, and frequently ate out together and even vacation together when time allowed. Yes, he knew of my snake phobia.
  Complicating matters of the Great Snake Chase was the fact that the truck was twenty years old. It had apparently never been cleaned. There were feed sacks, McDonald's sack, oil cans- you name it, level with the bench seat that Sir Snake had supposedly hidden under.
I directed Clint to began searching where the snake was last saw. After all, I knew him to be a better shot than I, and if someone got bit, SOMEBODY would have to be in charge of the paperwork and important supervisory things. Clint couldn't do that.

On the other hand, it was apparent that we were drawing a crowd and that I had to do more than talk. I went to the opposite side of the truck, extended my police issue baton to its full length of three feet, and began poking around through the trash. After several minutes, I became sure that there was no snake on MY side of the truck and ensured that he would not want to be there by making noise. Alot of it.
I was so hung up in my search, and trying to look busy, that I turned my attention from my friend, who was searching the other side of the truck with apparent reckless abandon, like he was hunting for gold... Big Mistake.  As I bent down to closer see a piece of paper, something long and black, much resembling a snake, flew at me, striking me on the shoulder and cheek.
I screamed, jumped ten feet back and twelve feet up, ran smooth over the top of the school resource officer, who was just as afraid of snakes as I was. The four and a half foot tall Philippino Resource Officer got up and PASSED me, screaming even louder. We were later told we could work part time as tornado sirens.
I looked back with gun drawn to see where the evil beast that had attacked us was. Instead of the hissing python, I saw Clint. Laughing so hard he had tears running down his face.
He'd found a broke fan belt the farmer had left in the truck and had thrown it on me to see my reaction. I nearly shot the truck, my best friend, and a fan belt.....
The School Resource officer and I began to plot revenge.  First, I refused to speak to Clint. This made him VERY concerned, since he had never saw me mad at anyone other than the thugs we dealt with daily.

Then the SRO got with his friend the principal of the middle school. She, after knowing this was a prank, wrote out a letter of complaint for the "chief" on offical letterhead, deploring "the prank that showed such unprofessionalism of your department" and hinting that she would be speaking with her neighbor the Police Commissioner about this issue.

I then got the letter, called Clint aside, and read him the riot act. I wrote him up, gave him a copy of the letter and chewed on him until he was literally in tears. Then- just when I had him believing that he was about to lose his job, I informed him that his friend and sergeant knew a thing or two about playing pranks. The whole write up was fake. Just like his snake. The snake, incidently, was never found... I am still somewhat wary of white Chevrolet farm trucks. And Clint has never again threw anything resembling a snake at me.

[MelodyB]

Bawahahahahaha!

[The Purple Fuzzy]

[Lynx]

Snake handling WHAT?!  I never voted on that in any General Conference I've ever been to.  And if I see it appear in the manual I'll be the second one God, Jesus name, etc. Baptist.  You and I can start a church.  You be the pastor, I'll run the sound booth.

[Heather]

I don't do snakes. Brandon bought me a machete so I can chop em if 1 shows up at his house. That or I'll be dancing on the roof of my SUV....

[Roscoe]

Roscoe and the Gravel-voiced Ghost

It was yet another dark night in the hot Arkansas summer, approaching midnight in the small town I worked in. We had a typical summer storm blowing in, it appeared. Hot, muggy with humidity, and lots of lightning meant there was a chance of flooding, fires, and tornados, with a high chance that I would wind up wet.
  Seems like bad weather caused drunks and bad drivers to come out in droves, and they always managed to damage someone's property to the point that I'd have to stand out in the weather and direct traffic or something equally unpleasant.

The one thing I knew I could count on would be numerous alarm calls. Most of the businesses in the old downtown area were housed in old building with glass fronts, and due to a large amount of break-ins, most of the businesses had installed glass breakage alarms. The sensors for these systems attached to the glass and measured vibration. A loud clap of thunder would viberate the old windows to the point that the alarm system would think it was breaking glass, and the dispatch would be swamped with calls.
This meant I would be running from one end of town to the other.....
Sure enough, Dispatch soon ruined my evening. I had purposefully headed to the most distant part of town I could find and still be in the city limits. I'd gone to the neighborhood of the Jones-Smith feud, figuring it would be somewhat calm. Most of their issues had became daytime issues, with the elderly participants sleeping at night, so I'd decided it was safe to venture over.

However- just a few short blocks away from their neighborhood was one of my small town's landmarks. The "old hospital". This giant four story building was a legend in our town. It had been built sometime around the turn of the century, and had been shut down in favor of the new hospital several years before I was born. Perched at the very top of a huge hill, after being boarded up for so many years, it had of course became haunted.

  The fact that, as a hospital, people had undoubtably died there just added to the stories. As kids, especially around Halloween, it was popular to sneak into the old building and tell ghost stories. Local kids, outta town kids- at one point it was even on the internet as a haunted place.  Even the local police had been known to add to the mystique by hiding inside the building at Halloween to scare the bejabbers outta the delinquents sneaking inside. This, however, was long before I became a cop.

I never really thought myself superstitious,but I never really like the dark either. And I was sure there were spirits, and I had no intention of letting one near me unless I knew it was holy. And holy spirits didn't hang out in abandonded buildings- thus, neither did I.

Now, just a few months prior to the call I am about to tell you about, the town had been surprised with some good news. An out of town partnership had saw potential in the handsome old building and had bought it. They set about converting it into an apartment building for the elderly.
I knew they'd been working on it, but had never found a reason or need to go up and check it out, even in the daytime. They might've disturbed a spirit or two....no need to take chances.
Anyway....Dispatch radioed all units- " We have an alarm at the old hospital. Shows glass breakage." Crud. I was, literally, a block away. No one else was near. There were just three of us that night and one was booking in a drunk and I had thoughtfully sent the other to a downed power line so I wouldn't get wet. Once again, karma kicks my tail....

[Roscoe]

I picked up the mic and advised Dispatch I was enroute. Surely I could drive around the building, shine my spotlight a bit- with my doors securely locked- and go back in service quickly. We all knew it was the storm....nonetheless, it HAD to be check out.
  I turned the corner a block away and instantly got a bad feeling. The alarm system that had been installed was of the type that had flashing strobes. When the alarm was tripped, these things came on at approximately one trillion candlepower and flashed none stop. Four floors, with around twenty windows per floor visible from the front...all with flashing strobes.
  So- let's recap.
1) Haunted Building perched on a hill- FACT
2) Pitch Black Night- FACT
3) Lightening Bolts- FACT
4) Flashing Strobes to set the ambiance- CHECK
5) One uneasy cop- Yeah, we DEFINATELY got that.

All I needed was Mary Shelley's monster with bolts in his neck to come stumbling out. At this point I was ready to desert the scene if so much as a mouse moved...
I checked out with Dispatch so they would know where to find my body when the ghosts attacked me, checked my flashlight- common knowledge spooks didn't like light- made sure I had my gun, and got out of my car. One wrong move by the wind, even, and I'd be gone quicker than a set of rims at a PuffDaddy concert....

[Roscoe]

 I walked to the front of the old building, only having the urge to run screaming back to the car twice, once by stepping on a stick,  and once when what *might* have been an owl swooped over my head. Either that or my overactive imagination. I KNEW I should not have read so many books when I was younger. Every one I read that started like this ended with a dismemeberment....

Fortunantly, the front door was locked and the new windows that had been recently installed were unbroken. Good. Now to walk around back and check it out, then get the heck outta Dodge before the spirits attacked.
I strolled semi-confidently around the back of the building, having somewhat successfully convinced myself I was being silly and there was no problem here, supernatural or otherwise.

I checked the first door- no problem. I headed for the second door, by now well out of the lights of my patrol car and relying only on the flashlight. About the time I approached the second door, I saw something move. I instantly became convinced of spirits all over again. Then the blasted stray cat darted for the bushes, with me nearly joining it.
One more door, then I could leave. This door used to lead to the old laundry room. It, too,  was tightly locked. Then- standing there in the semi darkness, with lightening flashing, and nerves on end- it happened.

"Don't know what happened, son." A gravelly voice pierced the night, accompanied by my scream. I jumped nearly out of my skin, pawing at my gun and just generally losing my mind. Oh Lord. I'm dead. He's got me. I turned my light in the direction of the voice, hoping to at least stall the spirit.

Sweet Jesus, the voice had came from by the door I'd forgotten about. The door that had led to the morgue. This just keeps getting better. The light illuminated a man that was a hundred if he were a day, sitting there so serenly in a wheelchair.  Evidently, he had good night vision. Most ghosts do. "Calm down, son, don't shoot me. I'm still alive. And I'd like to stay that way a bit longer."
   I regained some of my professionalism.  I was able to, with the help of the darkness, conceal the puddle that was not rainwater suspiciously around my feet, and get my voice back to a normal range. Now if I could just stop the flashlight from shaking....
After a brief conversation with the Gravelly Voiced Ghost, I determined that he was still alive- barely. He'd been allowed to move into one of the two apartments completed a bit early because of housing issues. No one had saw fit to let the police know that he was living there. We determined that there was no problem, and the alarm reset itself.
     Mr. GVG and I had quite the talk. Turns out, many, many days ago, he'd carried a badge and gun for a living.  He told me a few tales from days of old.  As I was leaving he said," I have one question, son....Why'd ya draw your gun when I first spoke?" Uhhh... "You thought I was a ghost, didn't ya?"
  The old man began to cackle. " I ain't yet, son. And by the way, far as I know, those bullets only stop flesh, not ghosts." He cackled even louder. Then he thanked me. Not only had he got to talk to someone, he'd gotten the "best laugh in fifty years" out of the deal.
Me? I politely told the cantankerous old codger that I had to go, and walked away hearing the laughter of a ghost......all the way to my car.
NO- I didn't tell my dispatch. Or anyone else. And a couple of weeks later, the old building was full of tenants. Of course I went there in the daytime. Never saw the old codger. Was he real? Was he a ghost? I know not. One thing I do know- he WAS the cause of my wet pants that night.

[MelodyB]

Wow. That one was the best one yet! You had me at "morgue"!

[Lynx]

"I'd be gone quicker than a set of rims at a PuffDaddy concert...."
Classic.  Hope you don't have a copyright on this one. 

"I KNEW I should not have read so many books when I was younger. Every one I read that started like this ended with a dismemeberment...."
Yeah, that's why I don't read horror stories. 

[Roscoe]

"I'd be gone quicker than a set of rims at a PuffDaddy concert...."
Classic.  Hope you don't have a copyright on this one. 

I must confess to hearing that expression on a comedy routine years ago...maybe Larry the Cable Guy? I just liked it....

[The Purple Fuzzy]

That was funny.  Not sure you should admit that one part of the story.

[RainbowJingles]

Oh my word.  I wish I had read this before our trip to RKansas...  That old hospital would have made me ROAR with laughter instead of asking what was so funny.  Oh.  My. 

And... "I'm sorry about the cobbler" made me just crack up.

As I've been absent for so long from GP, I hadn't read any of these stories.  I just sat here and read them ALL, and laughed out loud until my husbandn wondered what on EARTH was so funny.

Mrs. Jones moved into an apartment over the garage...  *shaking my head*  Oh my.

I needed those laughs tonight.  I just did.




Now life would be great right now if I didn't have this overhwleming craving for a donut and a piece of peach cobbler!

[Roscoe]

Sad part is, my dear clown friend- every blasted one of those stories are true. I lived through each of 'em....

Some day, these and others may make it into a book, written just so Chey knows what kinda goofy stuff happened to her poor unsuspecting daddy..

[The Purple Fuzzy]

I think we need a new installment.

[Roscoe]

I think we need a new installment.

I shall think about it. Sadly, many of my police adventures were not near as funny or are, um, off color and not fit to share...
If I think of a good one I shall post it..

[Roscoe]

Roscoe's first traffic stop

There comes a time in every young cop's life that he waits anxiously on.....the day that he is deemed to be well enough trained to be allowed to go drive around and enforce the law on his own. To patrol. To protect and serve.
The day that he is given this responsibility is a great day and usually has some strings attached. As in being told not to make traffic stops, just learn the streets...or if you do make a traffic stop, make it simple. No vehicle license or something.

  That day came for me in the fall of 2001. I'd hired in as a reserve police officer for the tiny town of Menifee, Arkansas (population 485) and, being single and without a life, had been spending every minute I wasn't at my full time job in uniform. The power was intoxicating. And I looked good in the uniform, too, at least in my mind. ( I would later use the whole uniform/badge/ hero thing to my advantage in persuading a beautiful young lady that I was, in fact, a hero and to marry me) Yes, life was good. 

On the day in question, I'd came in to work with my Chief, a retired Airforce Master Sergeant. One of the first things he said to me when I got in the car was " I hope you don't mind smoke." Of course I did, but I wasn't about to tell him this. He then fired up one of the foulest smelling cigars in existance and laughed at me turning green. We rode around the tiny town a bit, then recieved a call. The town was having new vinyl stripes put on the cars to freshen them up and make them seem more offical, as they couldn't afford new cars.
  My trusting chief had me take him by the fire department, where the striper was working his magic on the chief's car. Deciding that he needed to oversee the job on his car, he turned to me and said " Go patrol. And don't get into anything!" Alright! This is what I had been waiting for!

I pulled responsibily away from the fire department. Beware malefactors....Roscoe's on patrol. Make my day, park in that handicapped spot. I'll have you towed so quick, your head will spin...Bwaaahhaaaa! Power was mine! I drove around the little town of approximately two miles square. With only one main road coming through the town, we focused our activities on speeders. Unfortunantly, I had yet to be trained on radar and therefore could only bark at the violators. Kinda like a toothless old hound. I drove around, with visions of violators in my head, daydreaming about stopping a pair of bank robbers and becoming a hero.

When suddenly- I spotted it. A white Chrysler pulling out of a side road. Did you just roll past that stop sign?!? And oh boy, NO LICENSE PLATES. A law I could enforce. Not on my watch, you criminal!  And thus began my first solo law enforcement action....

I hit the gas on the tired old Chevy Lumina patrol car. Now, you should really know a little more about this car. There are cars that are especially designed by their manufactures for police service, with bigger brakes, alternaters, and more horsepower. This car was not one of these. The police chief had, a couple years prior, hit a deer at speed in the department's also non police package Taurus. The deer and the Taurus passed from this world.The mayor had gone to the nearest city, drove around until he found a cheap white four door car on a used lot and bought it. Thus, the lumina.

Back to the stop- as I hit the gas, the squirrel under the hood squealed angrily, and I began to gain on the criminal. I activated my blue lights to make the stop, and the suspect vehicle turned into the parking lot of a saw mill. Considerate, I thought, trying to ensure neither of us would be hit by traffic.Maybe I'd only write him a ticket and not give him jail time. 

Oh no, what is this clown doing?!? The vehicle drove around the parking lot aimlessly, with me behind him with my blue lights flashing. Did he not see them? Okay, I'll step it up. I hit the siren momentarily to make sure the driver knew I was there, and radioed in to dispatch a traffic stop.

The siren had the exact opposite effect from what I was looking for.  The suspect suddenly accelerated and tore out of the parking lot and onto the highway, with me in HOT PURSUIT! Uh....what was that about not getting into anything? Oh well. Evil must be stopped. I grabbed the radio mic, yelling excitedly that I had one running!
  Suddenly, I was King of the Airwaves. And the Road. I attempted to give directions, but just a block away from the beginning of my Great Pursuit, the car turned abruptly into a driveway- or tried to. The driver lost control and nailed a large corner fence post made of railroad crossties. That car was going nowhere again. I excitedly jabbered into the radio that the suspect had wrecked out, and bailed out of my car, feeling very much like a car chasing dog who had no clue what to do with what he'd caught.....

I rushed torwards the suspect vehicle, with my hand on my gun. The drivers' door opened- and the biggest black man I had ever saw began to emerge. I swear, he got out of that car for a week.    At the time, I was 5'6" or 7" and maybe 190 lbs...this dude was 6'8" and 350 lbs. And none of it appeared to be fat. And he was obviously not pleased about the way his day was going.

Suddenly, neither was I. And this job ain't near as fun as it'd seemed a few short minutes ago. I began to yell at him to put his hands on the car and stay still, while listening for the calvary that was enroute to me. Thankfully he obeyed. And then I heard the voice of God- or at least it could've been- assuring everyone that he was on scene, and we had the situation under control. It was my chief, who had comandeered the city's water department truck and rushed to help me. 

"Eddie, what in the heck are you doing?" Chief addressed the giant, who now looked sheepish. " I don't know, chief. It's my girlfriends car and I aint got no insurance or license." Cheif had me hancuff the giant, who had to sit sideways in the back seat of the car to fit. A tow truck was called, and we went to jail, where the giant apologized to me.
As we were leaving, the chief looked at me and said "Don't get into anything?!?" Then he busted out laughing. "If you could've just saw your face. You looked like you thought he was going to use you for a Thanksgiving turkey."
Indeed, that thought had crossed my mind.

As a post script, I went back to work at my factory job that Monday. A huge black guy that looked much like my suspect rumbled over from an adjacent line. "You arrested my brother this weekend". Oh Lord, I'm dead- again. " He give you any problems?" I explained the matter. "He'll plead guilty and won't give you anymore problems. That was dumb on his part." And he did just that.
That's how my first solo traffic stop became my first pursuit and first arrest...what a way to start a career.