Posted by: Blue
There are two different tellings of this story. The real story, and JT's version. He has told his version of the tale to everyone on every shift... multiple times... often by special request. I just let him. It's way funnier than the truth, even if the truth alone was already quite hilarious.
DISCLAIMER: The facts as presented by JT were accurate to his standards at the time of posting. It should be noted that the story becomes more and more elaborate and ridiculous with each re-telling.
It was the beginning of a day shift. We were just signing on. I was driving and headed for the coffee shop to pick up our regular morning java to kick-start the day.
It was the beginning of a day shift. We were just signing on. I was driving and jumping and telling JT to run plates the entire time he was trying to log onto the computer and he was becoming more and more agitated because he couldn't sign on but I kept bothering him with plate numbers. He kept telling me to shut up and just focus on heading for the coffee shop to pick up our regular morning java to kick-start the day.
I saw a vehicle pass-by, going the opposite direction, without a front plate (mandatory in our province). I waited until the traffic cleared, pulled a u-ball and then caught up with the car. It stood-out to me because it looked like it had the dark tinted windows and shiny rims of a typical dial-a-dealer drug-mobile.
JT was still fighting with the computer and looking forward to getting a coffee to calm him down when suddenly he was thrown sideways as I careened through a u-turn which took me over the 8" high centre median and then all hell broke loose as I accelerated after some unknown target, all the while cutting-off a number of shocked citizens who were just trying to get to work safely. JT kept asking me "What's wrong!? What did you see!?" but I refused to answer and I had the look of a determined mad man in my eyes.
We caught up with the vehicle and I turned my overhead lights on. The car didn't slow down, so I chirped the siren a little. The car still didn't slow or pull over, so I let the yelpers wail.
I almost rear-ended the vehicle, coming up on it hard. Then I proceeded to roll down my window and hang halfway out the door, yelling at the person who was driving and wildly flailing my arms. When that didn't work, I grabbed the PA system and started hollering at the driver that if they didn't stop their tires would be shot out. A number of PITT manoeuvre attempts proved fruitless. JT began voicing a slow pursuit over the radio.
At this point, I began to suspect one of two things; either this was a gang member attempting to make a very slow get-away, or it was a very elderly person who was oblivious to my presence.
I told JT to let dispatch know that the helicopter would be required for our pursuit.
The suspect finally pulled over and stopped, but on the left side of the street instead of the right. I stopped the car behind them and got out to approach the driver's side door.
The vehicle in question remained in motion but the pursuit was so slow that I decided to get out on foot and give chase.
Just as I got to the driver's door, the vehicle began pulling into a left hand turn, across the intersection and headed for a side street. I began running alongside, knocking on the window with my flash-light to alert the driver, who I could now see was indeed a frail old grandmotherly type, of my presence.
As I approached, the vehicle accelerated away from me. Not to be left empty-handed, I jumped onto the trunk of the car, holding onto the antenna for support, and made my way over the roof of the car as it sped away to peer into the car through the windshield. I held my Glock and pointed it at the feeble old lady in the driver's seat, threatening to send her straight to Jesus if she didn't stop the vehicle.
Just as we crossed through the intersection, our tactical team happened to be driving by. They saw me running alongside the vehicle and decided to lend a hand if they could. Meanwhile, JT still sat in the car in the middle of the road, with the driver's side door wide open and the lights still flashing, shaking his head and wishing he was drinking a coffee. The driver finally noticed me and pulled to the side of the road. The boys in the tactical car jumped out to help but I sheepishly waved them off. They waved and drove away.
Just as we crossed through the intersection, our Tactical team happened to be driving by. They saw me running alongside the vehicle and immediately assumed I was chasing down a murderer who was wanted on a Canada-wide warrant. They finished the pursuit by ramming the suspect car into a tree. The driver was unceremoniously pulled out of the vehicle through the smashed window and held at the point of two assault rifles while I begged them not to shoot and tried to quickly explain myself.
I explained my presence to the sweet old gal and asked why she hadn't stopped and if she hadn't seen the lights. She replied "Oh sure I saw you there. I just didn't think you were after me!" I told her that she was missing her front plate. "Oh my goodness! It must have fallen off! Thank you officer!" "You're welcome ma'am. Just make sure to pull to the right and stop next time... even if you don't think I'm after you. Have a nice day."
It was eventually discovered that I had scared the old lady so much that she had soiled herself. In the end, she ended-up being the great-aunt of the mayor and I had to talk to the Chief and explain why I had been so rough on the woman. I kept my badge but just barely because as it turned out, the mayor didn't really even like his great-aunt.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Bad Week
Posted by: Blue
It's been a hell of a week.
I'm tired and worn out. Not from overtime or from manual labour. I've been getting good sleep for the most part.
But every person I seem to have dealt with this week seemed intent to belittle me and tell me what a terrible job I was doing or had done.
I think I did a great job.
Thank God my bosses see how hard JT and I work for all of these people who try to destroy us.
It's been a hell of a week.
I'm tired and worn out. Not from overtime or from manual labour. I've been getting good sleep for the most part.
But every person I seem to have dealt with this week seemed intent to belittle me and tell me what a terrible job I was doing or had done.
I think I did a great job.
Thank God my bosses see how hard JT and I work for all of these people who try to destroy us.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Complaints
Posted by: Blue
Today, my Sergeant sent me a message in the car; "There's an envelope for you in the shift bunk".
It is a formal complaint which has been lodged with the police "watchdog" agency over the conduct of myself and a couple other officers on my shift.
The complainant was arrested for driving impaired and had to be handcuffed and shackled and at times held down to keep her from smashing her head on the cement floor of the cell.
Her children were put into temporary foster care while she was in jail awaiting bail approval.
I try not to take it personally, but every time I think of her, I think of the state that I found those children in; sleeping in a room full of dog shit all over the floor, nothing but rotten food in the fridge and empty cereal boxes on the shelves, dirty, un-bathed and no proper winter clothing to be found.
Her 7 year old girl was in the vehicle with her as she sped drunk and high through residential areas. The poor sweetheart wasn't buckled in and kept rattling around in the trunk area of the van along with all of the empty liquor containers. My Sergeant and I gave her chips and soda while she played games on my iPhone and her mother screamed away in the cell on the floor above us.
I hope she goes to jail for a long time.
At the same time, I hope she doesn't, so her kids never have to enter the foster system permanently. It's worse than all of that because they will likely never have each other again and each other is their only salvation from their mother.
Some people must be stopped from having children. But personal "rights" take priority, even if they infringe on other good and innocent people's rights and freedoms.
Today, my Sergeant sent me a message in the car; "There's an envelope for you in the shift bunk".
It is a formal complaint which has been lodged with the police "watchdog" agency over the conduct of myself and a couple other officers on my shift.
The complainant was arrested for driving impaired and had to be handcuffed and shackled and at times held down to keep her from smashing her head on the cement floor of the cell.
Her children were put into temporary foster care while she was in jail awaiting bail approval.
I try not to take it personally, but every time I think of her, I think of the state that I found those children in; sleeping in a room full of dog shit all over the floor, nothing but rotten food in the fridge and empty cereal boxes on the shelves, dirty, un-bathed and no proper winter clothing to be found.
Her 7 year old girl was in the vehicle with her as she sped drunk and high through residential areas. The poor sweetheart wasn't buckled in and kept rattling around in the trunk area of the van along with all of the empty liquor containers. My Sergeant and I gave her chips and soda while she played games on my iPhone and her mother screamed away in the cell on the floor above us.
I hope she goes to jail for a long time.
At the same time, I hope she doesn't, so her kids never have to enter the foster system permanently. It's worse than all of that because they will likely never have each other again and each other is their only salvation from their mother.
Some people must be stopped from having children. But personal "rights" take priority, even if they infringe on other good and innocent people's rights and freedoms.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
The Law Should Be Technicolor
Posted by: Blue
Sometimes I feel like the tools that I have to use for keeping the peace demand that the situation be determined as either black or white.
But the best solution for the problems that people have dictate that you see spectrally. People are dynamic and complex. Like roan red or cerulean blue.
Sometimes I feel like the tools that I have to use for keeping the peace demand that the situation be determined as either black or white.
But the best solution for the problems that people have dictate that you see spectrally. People are dynamic and complex. Like roan red or cerulean blue.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Cold
Posted by: Blue
In the coldest months of the winter, people often come up with strange ways to stay warm.
I frequently see all of the elements on the stove glowing red hot while the oven door is wide open, trying to heat the kitchen.
Lately, I have been going into houses where there are blankets and quilts nailed over the doors and windows to stop drafts.
Last night, on a disturbance call, we knocked on the front door of the house.
"GO AROUND TO THE BACK DOOR!"
We knocked on the back door. Rustling and bustling was heard. The door finally cracked open and the Steward of the Manor lifted a questionable blanket like a tent flap for us to enter into the home. We had to duck under the material (quickly and with as much agility as possible to avoid chances of bed bugs living in the tapestry dropping on our heads) and then edge past the butler; a middle-aged gentleman with a uniform consisting of a beer shirt and dirty "athletic" pants (though I doubt they had ever been used for their intended design) and a mouth full of rotting teeth and spaces where teeth had already rotted away. His breath smelled like Death and Hades riding out to drag souls back to Hell (and stale beer).
"I see you guys have the blanket fort all set up..."
He guffawed and a droplet of spittle landed on my cheek.
The Lady of the House proceeded to explain to us that the blankets were to keep the cold out, completely missing the jocularity in my jab, pointing to a small snow drift in the entryway, which had worked itself through a large 2" gap where the rest of the bottom of the door should have been. She was also well into the beer, and kept telling me that it was okay because her daughter was babysitting her newborn and her house was clean, (which was a low-down-dirty-lie), so I didn't have to call CFS.
We quickly tidied up the call and excused ourselves.
I stood outside in the -45 C (-49 F) for a full 15 minutes, hoping to freeze any bed bugs out of my clothing should they have successfully stowed-away.
In the coldest months of the winter, people often come up with strange ways to stay warm.
I frequently see all of the elements on the stove glowing red hot while the oven door is wide open, trying to heat the kitchen.
Lately, I have been going into houses where there are blankets and quilts nailed over the doors and windows to stop drafts.
Last night, on a disturbance call, we knocked on the front door of the house.
"GO AROUND TO THE BACK DOOR!"
We knocked on the back door. Rustling and bustling was heard. The door finally cracked open and the Steward of the Manor lifted a questionable blanket like a tent flap for us to enter into the home. We had to duck under the material (quickly and with as much agility as possible to avoid chances of bed bugs living in the tapestry dropping on our heads) and then edge past the butler; a middle-aged gentleman with a uniform consisting of a beer shirt and dirty "athletic" pants (though I doubt they had ever been used for their intended design) and a mouth full of rotting teeth and spaces where teeth had already rotted away. His breath smelled like Death and Hades riding out to drag souls back to Hell (and stale beer).
"I see you guys have the blanket fort all set up..."
He guffawed and a droplet of spittle landed on my cheek.
The Lady of the House proceeded to explain to us that the blankets were to keep the cold out, completely missing the jocularity in my jab, pointing to a small snow drift in the entryway, which had worked itself through a large 2" gap where the rest of the bottom of the door should have been. She was also well into the beer, and kept telling me that it was okay because her daughter was babysitting her newborn and her house was clean, (which was a low-down-dirty-lie), so I didn't have to call CFS.
We quickly tidied up the call and excused ourselves.
I stood outside in the -45 C (-49 F) for a full 15 minutes, hoping to freeze any bed bugs out of my clothing should they have successfully stowed-away.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)