The Police Adventures of a Small Southern Town..

[Lynx]

Thank you Lord for criminals who aren't criminals.   

[Roscoe]

   Police work has sometimes been described as hours of sheer boredom punctuated by moment of sheer terror. I must agree with that assessment, as I have experienced both. With the boredom, especially late night on third shift, when nothing is stirring but the police, an officer can plan out every crime ever committed, diagnoise where the criminal went wrong, and design a plan to commit the same crime and get away with it. Truely there is nothing more dangerous than a bored cop. 

   After all, the best cop is one that is just a couple of decisions away from being a crook.....because to catch them you have to somewhat think like them. I will never forget hearing a colleague discuss a study he had read while studying for his degree. The study revealed that cops and serial killers had many of the same traits and habits. As a civilian (non police), sometime the things we find funny you would find appalling. More than one officer has been discplined over a snide comment or wisecrack on the scene of a death. The average person thinks " That's cold hearted". We consider it a coping mechanism, because if we take everything seriously, the things we see would drive us insane within a year.

Another of our coping mechanisms is playing pranks on one another. Since I have several good pranks that we've pulled that were laugh worthy, but not story length, I thought I'd string a few together here for you to read and see the twistedness and the behind the scenes joking that keeps the thin blue line together and capable of going. Some of these involved me, some did not...

  1)  One that comes to mind was when our criminal investigator came to work one day with a coonskin hat. He'd bought it for his son, and it was a little different from the normal coonskin cap. This one was basically a complete coonskin, with the head and all. After showing it off to the members of the shift, he laid it on the counter, where it promply scared the bejabbers out of a dispatcher, who declared war upon all who laughed. 

Seeing her panic and hearing her scream caused the remaining police to realize that here was the opportunity to create pandomanium and laughter at someone else's expense. The first thought was to plant it near someone's car, but that seemed too tame. What if we could make it move? 

An officer who lived in the city and had a small son was sent home to raid the toybox. He returned with a foot long r/c car that would flat move......with just a little time, the coonskin hat was secured to the r/c car. It was a more than passible appearance of a coon, especially in the dark and with it moving.

The door that officers used to enter the police department was a bay door, into which an officer would pull his car to transport a prisioner inside. He would exit the car and walk up a ramp, into the station. When not in use the door was left open- indeed, in seven years of working there, I never saw the door closed. The "coon" was placed against the back wall in the darkness, waiting........

Shortly, third shift came in. The sergeant on this shift was a veteran officer who loved jokes, loved shooting, and had an interesting trait for a cop. When excited, he sounded like Mickey Mouse on helium.  Wild, really, since he was as mean as a snake when the situation demanded it, could fight better than 90% of the men I ever met, and was quite the ladies' man. My dear friend, the aforementioned sergeant , also had the tendacy of arriving at the last minute and rushing in. Tonight was no different.

  As the unsuspecting Sergeant bailed out of his car to rush into the station, the cop with the remote who was hiding in the jail and looking out the door of the jail hit the "go" button. The "coon" rushed at the sergeant, who nearly had a stroke. For once, he seemed indecisive. He clawed for his gun, began screaming at the top of his voice, and climbed UP the handrailing. It sounded like a Disney convention in the bay...albeit an adult version. I now know what Mickey Mouse would sound like if he cussed every other breath.We were able to keep him from shooting the "coon" by making it disappear  under his car.
He soon forgot about that target and began plotting revenge on the rest of us, who were laughing so hard we were crying. The coon was used numerous times, and became a part of police department legend.

   2) Some of the best pranks are those pulled on ourselves...we had a "swat" team in our town, comprised of city and county officers. While not as big and organized as a large city's, it was adequate. One evening, the decision was made to serve a search warrant on a local drug dealer. Due to the times the dealer kept, the decision was made to do the deed right at dusk for officer's safety. The raid went flawlessly- the door was breached, announcements were made, and the front room occupants secured and placed in cuffs on the couch.

  As the first two officers in the string watched them and cuffed them, the rest peeled off to search the rest of the home.  The last room entered was by a burly, loud cop who had boasted many times of being scared of nothing.
He rounded the corner with the lights off in the house- they'd cut the power off and were using the house as a flop house- with only his gun and a flashlight. Then came the screaming...."Drop the gun! Drop it now! Drop it or I will shoot you!" This, of course alarmed everyone in the house- the police, obviously, but also the occupants who knew no one else was there. 

Another officer, who had walked past that room while clearing another room and had determined that it was empty, got to the burly cop first. With the second flashlight, it became clear that there was, indeed, a threat. There WAS what appeared to be a man pointing a gun back at the officer....the officer scared of nothing had just scared himself slap into oblivion and nearly shot- a full length mirror, which had projected HIS image, gun and all, back to him.

[Lynx]

Some of those mirrors can be downright deadly, especially if you're gaining weight and are in denial about it. 

Not that I would know, of course.  I'm still as sleek and svelte as ever.   

[mini]

Oh lands...I laughed at both of those...especially the part about you being 5' 6" or so.  You aint a lick over 4' 9".

[Roscoe]

Oh lands...I laughed at both of those...especially the part about you being 5' 6" or so.  You aint a lick over 4' 9".

[RainbowJingles]

Oh my.  I needed that laugh tonight.  :-)  A bit late on catching up, but glad I found this.

[Roscoe]

 I haven't jotted any of these down in quite sometime, partially because the majority of the police stories I have are somewhat dark or not really fit to tell, and sometimes the humor doesn't come through...but I think I'll try one more, although it is not funny... just a window into police work.
It was a hot summer night- the type that everything you wear sticks to you, and there's not a dry thread. In addition, the 35 pound vest that we were required to wear kept the heat in, and made for uncomfortable policemen. And, if the policeman in question was me, uncomfortable meant ill tempered. And short tempered....
I'd been an officer for several years, and although I had not yet been promoted to sergeant, I was pretty confident of my abilities to read folks. Unfortunately, this was also the time period I have discussed earlier, a time period in which I was not really in church and was pretty much a heathen.  This night, my people reading abilities and my heathen-ness would both be displayed.
The night started normal, somewhat. Myself and my sergeant, a twenty plus year vet, and a small town on a weekday night. Normally, this would mean a couple of minor calls in which we would straighten other people's issues out, throw a silver bullet down, and call it done, then try to stay awake while doing property checks. I usually spent my time snooping for antique cars in people's yards and planning what I would do if I happened to win the lottery that I never played.
However, this was a rare night for me. I'd ran into an old high school friend a week or so before, and he'd asked what I was doing for a living. When I had told him, he asked if he could ride along sometime, as he had been laid off and was considering police work for a career. I'd cleared it with the boss, and my friend was riding with me. We were enjoying catching up on twenty years' memories when the call came in.
A domestic disturbance- in the section of town known as crack alley. Now, domestics are some of the most dangerous calls a cop can go on. You never know what is going on until you get there, and most often it is caused by 1)  something so silly you struggle to keep from laughing or 2) by drunk folks. Every once in a while it is a fight that is neither dangerous or funny, and the best thing to do is separate the parties for the evening.
This time, my sergeant beat me to it. An irate female, a seemingly calm but angry male, and some minor marks and scratches on both parties. The law indicated we COULD arrest both of them, due to the marks, but truthfully I really didn't want to do three hours of paperwork accompanying arrest. But- I looked at the guy, and something told me that this dude was worthy of an Oscar. In addition to resembling Will Smith- a lot- he was acting.
   He was being very polite and compliant- but my Spidey sense was telling me this dude would have eagerly beat everyone here in the ground if he thought he could get away with it.  On top of that, he'd obviously laid hands on the female. While she wasn't beat, she had received some force, and I can't stand a man that lays hands on a female. But before I could follow my gut feelings and place cuffs on him, my sergeant appeared and decreed that the man would be allowed to leave. In fact, Sarge told me that I should take the gentleman across town to his Auntie's place for the night. Sergeants being one step below God in the policing universe meant an instant compliance. We patted Dude down, placed him in the car and away we went....
All the way across town Dude talked and joked with me, but I couldn't shake the idea that something wasn't right. But I dropped him at auntie's and returned to patrol.
Within thirty minutes the call came- a 911 call, from the same residence. Actor Boy had returned, climbed through the window, and beat the female to the point of hospitalization. Once again, Sarge beat me there, and soon radioed that the suspect had left in his Auntie's car.
Almost instantly, I saw the vehicle in front of me. I radioed dispatch, lit it up and proceeded to come boiling out of my car. I was a whole new level of mad, and halfway sure this idiot was going to run or fight. I was also very much away from God, I am ashamed to admit. 
I took the gentleman out at gunpoint, loudly proclaiming my profane thoughts of him, and his personage, and his family tree. Idiot decided that I was apparently not to be trifled with, and complied completely, much to my disappointment. I really wanted him to resist, and told him so.
I placed him in the car, and looked at my high school friend, who was sitting open mouthed.  See, he knew the me that was in church and never said anything improper. He knew me and my beliefs well, as he was a Pentecostal Holiness boy- believed much of the same as we did, except he counted to three when discussing the Godhead, and I did not. He had just heard things a Navy Chief would've been shocked by, coming from me, the boy who used to carry a Bible around in his pocket in school.  A twinge hit me, but I still had work to do.
I headed back to the stopped car. Auntie was sitting in the driver's seat. I took stock. License plate frame "Follow me to Bethel Baptist". Back seat- one bible. And playing on the radio- black gospel choir music. Oh lord. I KNEW what I'd just said, and NONE of it was what I wanted a church going lady to hear. Looking at the little grey haired black lady of 70-ish, I knew I was done. Not only was I feeling conviction over my dirty mouth, I knew I was fixing to deservedly receive a complaint for my filthy mouth.
" I am sorry ma'am. I should not have talked like that, especially not with you here. I was a little upset from the beating that your nephew apparently gave his girlfriend. I still should not have said the things I did." I was nearly groveling for forgiveness. The choir sang on, pouring salt in my wounds, and the gold cross dangling from the mirror reflected by blue lights, reminding me that I had just crucified the Savior again. Then the Auntie began to speak. I braced myself for this saintly lady to admonish me. But I heard: " Officer, don't apologize. I's mad at the ************* (bad,bad,bad words) myself! You shoulda beat his thug (bad words, bad words)  down." Then the sweet little foul mouthed Auntie told me to tell her nephew to never come back to her house- and drove off into the night.
Talk about conflicted- I still felt convicted and terrible for my actions, but apparently I didn't have to worry about the complaint. I believe Auntie would've beat him down if I hadn't been there. I may have saved his life.
Later, as I spoke with my friend, I realized just how far I had strayed. And weirdly, I had no idea how or when it had happened. Just a bad word here, a missed service there, and I was waaaay away from what I knew to be right.
My friend didn't think less of me he said, and promised to pray for me. He wound up coming to work with me, and was promoted eventually to a sergeant's spot himself after I left the department. I had warned him, with tears, not to come into police work, or if he did, to please stay closer to God than I had.
I won't judge him now. But I know from speaking with him recently, he's been through that same battle. He told me last week that he knew what I had been dealing with. All I could do was tell him that the job, while fun, isn't worth losing God for. Then- I looked into the eyes of my friend. I saw me from several years ago- the haunted emptiness, the hurt, the disillusionment- it was all there. Gripping his hand, I said- "Brother- I'm praying for you. I know what you are dealing with. I'm praying."
As I walked away, I thanked God for His delivering power- and I begged Him to move for my friend. And I still beg Him to move for my friend. Without my friend, and his shocked look that night, I might have continued down a dark path instead of being dealt with by God. Carry on brother....I can't back you up physically now- but I am spiritually.

[The Purple Fuzzy]

I just saw this. Thanks for sharing.