Hi, I'm Snazzy and I'm Trucker

Second shift was the pits, you came in at 2:30 pm, had briefing and hit the streets at 3:00 pm. Sgt Warts was in charge and ran a strict shift. Warts was a real piece of work. He'd worked for a medium sized department for 10 years before joining the City Of Idiots. He was sickly, coughed alot, was a chain smoker, stood 5' 6", was 160 lbs ( 60 lbs were warts ). He had dandraff so bad, his uniform always looked like he'd just come out of a snow blizzard, was 40 years old, had the personality of a dead fish, and hated me. Yep, ole sly Warts had been a behind the scenes warrior in the shift wars. His new goal was to get me outsted. I couldn't stand the guy and wasn't alone. No one in the department liked him. It wasn't as much as his appearance but his personality, he just didn't have one. He only laughed at someone else's expense. He'd never served in the military but his dad was a retired Captain from the Army. So, Warts being an Army brat, knew a little about the military. Anyway, his hobby was playing G.I. Joe. He was a member of a group of men that played army games on the weekends. No, not the army reserves or even the boy scouts. This was band of want-to-be special forces that played together. They had thier own toys, bazookas, missle launchers, machine guns, jeeps, camoflouged fatigues, repelling ropes, boots, swiss army knives, k-rations, tents, and trianing camp. Yep, Warts was nuts.

I hadn't ever spent anytime around Warts untill I was assigned to his shift. The first thing he did was set me straight, he ordered me to not speak to any other supervisers. I was to speak to him only when spoken to. I wasn't allowed to answer any calls alone and had to get his permission for any type of investigative stops I made. Yep, he was a jerk alright. I hated the man and still do. He was a joke and I don't know how he ever made it as a cop. I'd thought someone would of seen that he was unstable. Now, remember this was before any psycological testing was given to police officers by the state. I'm willing to bet he'd been put in a straigtjacket before he filled out the first page. Yep, but who was I ? Just a flatfoot cop in the Villiage Of Idiots.

I was miserable again and had no support. Lt Sot was just a memory and I was left twisting in the wind. The other patrolman on second shift was the son of the Justice of Peace. Yep, he had some pull alright. Now, this may sound strange but Officer Peace was a heck of a nice guy, he was my age and we hit it right off. He couldn't stand Sgt Warts either, so we became close friends. Officer Peace at first was distant towards me but soon saw what was going on. He was good cop and took his job seriously. We ended up actually doing some police work. Sgt Warts was furious and began riding us both hard. I just grinned and bared it, as did Officer Peace.

One day I was home on my day off and got called in. It seems that Sgt Pothead had failed to show up for his Saturday dayshift. The other officer on shift had a family emergency and had to leave. So, I went in and had the city to myself. No backup, no second unit, no Sgt on shift, just me, alone, like in Mayberry. Now, there was detective on duty at the station. He was suppose to assist me if needed but I knew better. Those two detectives were worthless, the one at the station was the worse one. They both had the attitudes that they worked too long, to have to work. Kind of silly but that's the way it was. I went on patrol and was called in around noon for jail detail. It was strange because I'd already done jail detail at 7 am. When I got there the Detective wanted me to have one of the inmates mop the breakroom. Seems that the Detective had spilt his coffee and needed maid service. So, we had a gunlocker at the entrance into the jail area. I did as required and locked my gun up before allowing the inmate out. The inmate, who I later learned was in jail for unpaid traffic fines, swung a mean mob. Yep, he was about finished when the call came in.

The Detective came running up all excited. Seems there was a robbery in progress at the local Mom and Pop grocery store. I started to run towards the door, the Detective stopped me. He explianed that I couldn't leave an inmate out and needed to place him back in his cell. My first thought was why didn't he handle that ? So, I hurridly placed the inmate back in his cell and again ran towards the door. This time the Detective wanted to know if I wanted any assistance on the call. I stood in shock for a second, what the heck ! Sure I wanted assistance, what a stupid question ! I finally made it outside and leaped in the crappy patrolcar. I threw her in gear and ran code three. The store was located at the far edge of the city, was just off the Interstate loop. I was halfway there when the dreaded call was updated. Yep, shots fired man down ! What deal, my mind rushed as I flew closer to the bloody scene. I wasn't prepared for what was about to happen.

Stay tuned, your Snazzy1.

 

I killed my lights and siren, about three blocks before arriving on the scene. There was no sense in advertising my arrival. It had taken me less than two minutes from the station. I swung into the side parkinglot, so the gunmen wouldn't spot me. The old grocery store sat on a corner lot, the street it faced, was less then a block to the freeway entrance. I radioed in that I was on the scene and stepped from my unit. I reached, to draw my handgun ? Ooops, no gun ! Yep, in my haste, I'd left my .357 in the gunlocker. I broke out in the old time favorite, " Camptown races are five miles long, do-da, do-da, camptown races run all night long, dum da do da day, going run all night, going to run all day, camptown races are lot's of fun, dum da do da day. "

I stopped my song and dance, long enough to grab the 12 gauge shotgun from the patrol car. I then ran port-arms, along the side of the building. There were no windows there and I stopped just inches from the front glass door. I craned my neck around and spied inside. It was strange, there wasn't a soul insight. I had turned my handheld radio down to a whisper, so it wouldn't alert anyone to my posistion. I heard the Detective radio that he was filling up his unit. What ? I'm getting ready to go to war and my only backup is pumping Ethal in his tank ? Geez ! Anyway, I slowly opened the glass door and steped inside. The smell of burnt gunpowder filled the air, I knew this wasn't a good sign. I almost slid down in the red tomato juice on the floor, as I proceeded towards the back. I crouched down between the food eisles, in order to have some cover between me and whatever lurked ahead. Yep, so far so good ! I could hear some sobbing coming from behind the meat counter. I peeped thru the counter glass and noticed that just beyond the pork roast, were folks sitting with their hands ontop thier heads. Kind of looked like a game of Simon Says. I slowly rose and inched forward.

A woman screamed, " He's back here ! "
I replied," Who ! "
She replied, " The one they shot ! "
I replied, " Crap ! "

I ran behind the counter and saw the hostages. They all jumped up except the dead one. Yep, he was face down in a pool of his own blood. I reached for a pulse and felt none. The scene turned hetic, as the live ones came to life. Yep, they'd just witnessed the senseless murder of a fellow human being. His sin ? He'd been playing a pinball machine by the front door and hadn't noticed the robbery taking place, just feet behind him. So, as the robbers ordered eveyone to the back, he was too slow. His punishment was a shotgun blast into his side. He fell, but managed to get up and stagger back with the others. That's where he died. I'm sure his last thought's were something like, why me ?

I knew he was dead, because his blood covered a good 10' radius, plus a piece of his internal organs were pretruding from his mouth. It wasn't a pretty sight, to say the least. I remembered that the city ambulance station was just across the street. I sent the store owner to fetch them and had him give me the store keys. I locked the door as he left and tried to calm the witnesses. I had them stand by the fruit and vegtables, away from the shooting scene. I then radioed in a sketchy description of the two gunmen, as given to me. Two black males, wearing blue jackets, blue jeans, armed with a sawed-off shotgun, and wearing ski mask. They were last seen driving a blue Buick, headed North on the Loop, and were wanted for Capital Murder.

The owner returned with the ambulance crew, as my backup drove by and waived. I let the crew attend to the deceased and had the store owner help calm his customers. In a matter of minutes Lt Crap Pants arrived, followed by the Fort Worth, Robbery/Homicide Detectives, a crime scene unit, a news crew, and 400 gawkers. I stood at the door as instructed and played doorman. No witnesses were allowed to leave and no gawkers were allowed in. The poor young deceased was photographed, proded, poked, and pronounced dead by the medical examiner. The crime scene unit collected all the blood samples, fingerprint evidence, and the spent shotgun shell. I opened the door and removed my hat, in respect for deceased, as he was rolled out and placed in the awaiting hearse. A news crew filmed live as I held the door with one hand and my hat covering my heart with the other. It was a Kodak moment, that was on the front page of the Sunday morning paper. Yep, what a deal !

It was one of the worse day's of my life. I let the, 'what if's', drive me crazy for years. Sometimes there just aren't any good answers. The real sad part was when I got home around dark. My wife's mother had just called her. She had seen only part of the news cast and told my wife that my picture was on t.v. Something about a shootout and a dead cop, ( my x-mother-in-law was a heavy drinker). Anyway, when I opened the front door my wife fainted in my arms. I cried that night and still do at times. Heck of a deal !

Let's break, Snazzy1.

 

On Christmass Day 1981 my wife gave me a police scanner for a present. I gave her a mother's ring that had her, mine, the twins , and our oldest daughter's birth stones. I was playing with the scanner and managed to get all the local police channels. Yep, even Fort Worth's and the City of Idiot's. I was on one of my suspension days. See, I took over Lt Sot's posistion as the major foul-up Officer. Yep, I'd missed a traffic court date. That was good for 3 days off, with my 2 regular days off, a full 5 days. Yep, Life was good. I had enough comp. days, so I didn't get shorted any pay. Anyway, Fort Worth broadcast, a robbery call that was identical to our's. Yep, the same pair had struck again, this time no shooting involved. So, just a few days after our killing, I called Lt Crap Pants at home. According to the Fort Worth broadcast a witness followed the pair to some projects. Of course they had ditched their stolen Buick and ran away. Lt Crap Pants came by and picked me up. We went to the scene, as Fort Worth' crime scene unit printed the Buick. Yep, some good prints off the Buick. But, back then without a suspect, you couldn't scan prints. So, at least a lead, but no prime suspects idenified. A break came about two weeks later. Yep, a reward posted by the Fort Worth Crime Stopper's unit. A prostitute turned in her 16 old nephew as the wheel-man. The juvenile sang like a bird and gave up the shooter. Of course, a 5 time loser, that had spent half of his 40 years behind bars. Fort Worth got a search and arrest warrant.

Yep, within a month after our Capital Murder, case solved. The shooter took a deal, it wasn't a bad deal for him. Life, plus 40 years, to run consecutively.
He wouldn't be eligible for parole until his 120th birthday. The 16 year old was ceretified as an adult, he was sentenced to 10 years, because he had cooperated. He'd be eligible for parole in five years. Lt Crap Pants got a letter of accommodation from both cities. I received the same, plus a bonus. Yep, 5 extra suspension days for working while on suspension. What a deal !

I continued working second shift, with Sgt Warts and Officer Peace. Things rolled along, I was miserable having to put up with Warts. He continued to ride my butt and wrote me up for every nit-picking thing he could think of. Finally, I caught a break. Yep, Sgt Pothead had missed a traffic court date and was given a 3 day suspension. Well, ole Pothead decided to snitch on Sgt Flash in exchange for keeping his record clean. It seems that Sgt Flash had been a badboy while running midnight shift. Yep, he'd beaten up folks, shot out tires, left the city in the Sgt's car (to visit his girlfriends), sang in uniform on stage at one of the loclal bars while on duty, failed to turn in evidence, and his feet stunk. So, Chief E.T. demoted Sgt Flash to patrolman. What do you do if your branded but you know your a man ?

So, a Sgt's test was given. Yep, I was the winner and made Sgt Barney after a little over a year with the City of Idiots. What a deal ! Anyway, now the shift wars got complicated, no one was safe. It was like musical stripes. Soon as you got'em thay were stripped away. I held on to mine for about 6 months. Yep, I was riding my new toy, a souped up street bike that I had built, it'd run 150 mph. Well, I was off duty, drunk, doing donuts in the parkinglot, at one of the local taverns. It was halloween night and I was having fun. Well, Sgt Warts happend by and talked me into parking the bike. He gave me a ride home and I thanked him. Of course he wrote me up and Lt Crap Pants recommended that I be fired. Chief E.T. offered me a plea deal, which I accepted. Demotion back to patrolman and a five day suspension. What do you do if your branded......

Sgt Warts got promoted to Lt over the patrol division, as a reward for busting me. I got banished to midnight shift. So, I was back doing what I loved to do. Yep, I lead the department in felony arrest and life was good.
Sgt Pothead got fired for stealing city funds. He was snitched off by one of his own guys, who was dating the Chief's daughter. What do you.....

So, lets break here, Snazzy readers, your, Snazzy1.

 

Hanging on crazy word after crazy word.

 

Thanks, Leannamarie for hanging around as Life Goes On.

We're somewhere around 1983, as I do one of the stupidest things in my life. Remember that house my wife wanted ? She found her dream home, it was located in the City of Idiots. A very large, 3 bedroom, 2 bath, 2 car garage, with basement, den, livingroom, on 2 large lots. All for the low, low, price of $ 60,000, to be financed with a 30 year morgage, at 14 % interest. Yep, a low monthly payment of $ 600.00 per month. Now, your wondering, why would I do such a dumb thing ? Well, home prices had almost doubled in the past five years. The new homes built back then, for that price were twice as high. The going interest rate was 19 % and climbing, so with my V.A. loan it wasn't all that bad of a deal. The real estate agent swore that with the new Walmart just opening, our home would double in price. It was close to our gilrl's schools, had a lake view, was a tax write off, and I didn't think there was a snowballs chance in hell of us qualifying for the loan.

Boy my heart sank the day we closed the deal. Now, I couldn't back out, my wife would of killed me ! So, I was now officially a true blue IDIOT. We moved in and what a dump. Every pipe leaked, the central air quit working, the electric bill was more than the national debt, the roof leaked, the brick walls cracked due to the foundation shifted, and one more thing. Yep, the airbase just East of the city opened a new runway. Gaaazoooooommmm ! Yep, what a deal !

So, there I was working midnights for Sgt Baby Huey. Yep, the Chief had gotten tired of testing for Sargents. The new hat drawing process was much faster and brought around some much more interesting results. Was I mad ? No, but I couldn't keep myself from laughing. Yep, Sgt Huey. What a deal ! One day a Sgt with the Sheriff's Department stopped by the station. I had just gotten off shift and was headed home for my 2 days off, plus the 3 day suspension for peeing in the palmtrees. Yep, I'd gotten a snoot full one night and peed in the trees. Anyway, the Sgt needed an extra body for the work detail. He was Sgt Party and an extradition Officer with the S.O. The job was to drive to California and pickup a load of prisoners. So, I accepted. Yep, I was issued a special badge as an offical extradition officer with the county Sheriff's Department. It was just part time, but hey ! It paid $50.00 per day and all the beer I could drink. Sgt Party was an x-Fort Worth Officer and he knew Chief E. T., Lt Crap, and x-Lt Sot. So, what a deal !

Sgt Party looked just like the actor Charles Bronson. He was a ladies magnet and taught me the art of picking up leg. Yep, what a team. We hit every bar between Texas and the land of truits and futs, err, fruits and nuts, hicup. So, we sped all the way there and all the way back. Then we remembered we forgot the prisoners. Heck ! So, we went back and got'em. I really liked Sgt Party, he told me things I never knew. Such as how Chief E.T. had lost his hearing. It seems that back in the 60's when the Chief was a Fort Worth patrolman. They taught some judo classes. Anyway, one of the moves was to clap both hands against your opponents ears. Patrolman E.T. challanged the instructor to a real duel. Enough said ! I also learned that Lt Crap Pants use to be normal. It seems that he was caught with his pants down by a jealous huband. Anyway, after being forced at gunpoint to eat his own shorts he had a nervous breakdown. This happend back when ole Crap Pants was working as a Fort Worth Lake Patrolman. So, after a few months in an asylum, learning basket weaving, the Chief hired him. I always wondered how the Lt learned the fine art of leather working. He made some beautiful gunbelts and holsters.

So, things rocked along and life was good. Let's break for refreshments. The Snazzy1.

 

The other patrolman on midnights was Officer Pope. He was one of the security guards, turned reserve, and then hired on as a full time Idiot. Officer Pope had reformed from being a lost, pot smoking, dope dealer, to a religious nut. He was one of the last security guard/reserves the Chief hired. They simply ran out of them, none left, all gone. Yep, I'd sponsored him back when and what a deal. Yep, I liked him better when him and x-Sgt Pothead were blowing smoke. Officer Pope wanted to be a preacher and probably could of been. His biggest problem was he was lazy. He'd been in the airforce, went to college on the G.I. bill, and married a college girl who became a school teacher. She was very pretty and much younger than he. While in college he was caught with pot in his dorm and expelled. So, he worked at the security company and dealt pot. His wife taught math at the high school. I liked Pope because he was my age and had a good sense of humor. Matter of fact we laughed alot on midnights. Sgt Huey was alot of fun and there wasn't any tention. I figured Officer Pope would get over his quest to convert the world. He'd tried and failed to be hired on in Fort Worth because of his past drug use. Seems he'd taken a bad trip on L.S.D. and that was a no, no. Anyway, my experience came in handy. I coached Sgt Huey on how to run the shift. I taught Officer Pope the correct way to write reports. But, most off all I taught them how to be cops. Our shift became the best. Most felony arrest, fewer burglaries, and no complaints.

Second shift hadn't faired as well. Yep, ole Officer Slick and now (patrolman) Flash got into a fist fight. Now, it depends on whom told the tale. Slicks version was he was counciling Flash's wife, who was seperated from Flash. Of course, Flash's version was he caught them in the patrol car with 10 toes up, 10 toes down, and 2 round butts, going round and round. I'm not sure who told the truth and really don't care. Slick got 3 days suspension and put on dayshift. Flash got divorced and stayed on seconds, with Lt Wart. Yep, Lt Wart was still assigned on second shift and I knew why. Lt Crap Pants couldn't stand the guy. So, for about a year things rocked a long.

I continued doing extraditions when I could and began accepting the fact that I just wasn't big city cop material. So, in 1984 the drugs hit the City of Idiots. Yep, the new improved methamphetamines over took the streets. Sure, we'd dealt with amphetamines, which were actually a misdemeanor in the early 80's. We'd busted pot dealers and even some cokeheads. But, that meth was the most deadly substance we'd ever seen. Folks would and did kill for it. It was easily cooked up and the profits were astronomical. The City of Idiots needed a hero. Yes, Barney to the rescue. I could spot a meth user at 100 yards and smell the stuff a mile away. So, I made over 30 arrest for possesion of meth within a couple of months. Then the worse thing that could happen did. The killings began. Yep, the city became known as a major drug hub for the metroplex area. It was something else.The high school prom Queen overdosed and almost died on prom night. As this was going on, one of the two Detectives decided to pull a Barney. He got drunk and pulled his duty gun on his neighbor. Of course, his neighbor just happend to be Fort Worth Cop. So, farewell and so long. What do....?

Now, why I got promoted to Detective has always been a matter of opinion. I'd like to think that it was my hard work, dedication, and good looks. Some felt it was the fact that I had too much on the ones in charge. Yep, I knew more than I cared to. About the Chief, Lt Crap Pants, and even the city manager. Of course their secrets were save with me. I never said a word and never would have. I don't operate that way and never will. All these guys by now are dead or retired. But, it makes you wonder why I went from flatfoot, midnight patrolman, to Detective Barney. Yep, what a deal !

The only problem I had was fitting in with the uppity ups. I wasn't x-Fort Worth and didn't have any 20 year old tales to tale. So, I made up for it with humor. Yep, that and working 15 hour days. My Detective partner, ya'll already met. Yep, ole Detective Backup. He was the only minority working for the city unless you count the females. He was a full blood Mexican and I liked him. He was an x-Fort Worth Officer that had gotten fired there for beating up his girlfriend. She was a Captain's wife and well, you know. Now, I'll say this, he was probably at that time, my only friend on the department. He was open about his feelings and a stand up guy. He felt because of his race he was entitled to special treatment. We whites had stolen his land and raped his women. He'd been with the City of Idiots too long to have to work. He was, well special. The saddest part was he believed all that crap. I'd listen to him whine for hours on end. Finally I had enough.

We were sitting and sipping cold ones at the Ya'll Come Back Saloon. I had my fill of hearing the same broken record, " Hey, Det Backup, listen to me ! If you think you've been wronged go file a report with the Equal Rights Commision ! Otherwise, shut the hell up ! I'm sick of it ! You've never even gotten as much as a suspension day here. At least Fort Worth hired you and gave you a chance. Hell, they ran me off ! Yep, don't tell me it's your race. It's your attitude ! Now, we can be friends or you can cry in your beer ! I don't really care ! Just get over it ! "

With that I exited stage right and entered the ladies room. Sorry ladies, I then walked out of the bar. After that day me and Det Backup got along just fine. I did better as a Detective than as a patrolman. It was fun and I loved it. The workload was brutal and the hours nonstop. I just kept at it and soon all my work paid off. Lt Crap Pants took me to lunch. Over a Chinese dinner we cut it up. Yep, I was being sent to Austin, Texas for special training. Yep, I was going to be a ceretified drug enforcement agent. Hotdogs, holy moly, what a deal ! Life was good !

Let's break, the Snazzy1

 

I drove down to Austin, Tx in a brand new Ford, Crown Victory. Yep, when the Walmart had finally opened in the City Of Idiots, it was a windfall. The department had more money than ever before. New fully loaded Crowns were ordered for all. Yep, from the Chief, to the Reserve division, all got new Vic's. These were top of the line, full size, with police packages, electric windows, electric seats, stero, cruise control, and would top out at 150 mph. What a deal !

Now, this wasn't my first trip to the D.P.S. headquarters. I'd attended about a half dozen advanced courses back when Lt Sot was my supervisor. The Chief required that all Officers obtain a minimum of 6 hours advanced training every year. He was good in that area, making sure we kept up with the times. Usually he'd let the Officers choose what courses they took. I'd taken mostly investigative courses before. You know, crime scene, homicide, blood splatter, that type of stuff. I'm sure that helped me make Detective. Also, the state awarded you points for advanced schools. I had managed to get enough points to turn my basic police ceretification into an intermediate ceretificate. That would allow me to hold an advanced ceretificate in about half the time. What I thought was unfair was an officer like Slick who had a four year college degree in the fine arts. Yep, he already held his advanced ceretificate as anyone with a degree and four years police service. That didn't mean anything, no extra pay or points for promotion. But, hey it still wasn't fair. On paper any fool with a four year degree looked better than a cop who worked his way up. But, hey I was just a rookie detective with the City of Idiots.

I got settled into the D.P.S. dorm and was going over my schedule. Yep, drug idenification, signs of drug use, under cover operations, the use of state aliases, proper surveilance, use of wire taps, self defense, and so on. One of the cadets came over and informed me I was to call my department at once. I called in and Lt Crap Pants was crapping his pants. Yep, all hell had broken out, I was to return to the city at once. Code three if needed, just get there, forget the school, full speed ahead, times wasting, don't ask, just get here ! So, I packed and drove back. No school, no ceretificate, no see ya'll later, no byes, no so longs, no been fun, I just left.

When I arrived back the Lt had been right. Yep, all hell had broken loose. Let's see, 2 homicides, 2 fatality accidents, 2 armed robberies, 1 barricaded suspect, and more. Yep, the F.B.I had a bank robbery suspect under surveilance in our city and the D.E.A. stopped in for some coffee and chat. So, the Chief was flapping his gums with the D.E.A, the Lt was assisting the F.B.I., Det Backup was working a homicide, Sgt Warts was working 1 of the fatality acccidents, Sgt Huey the other, Sgt Flash was trying to unbarricade the barricaded suspect, Officer Pope was praying with one robbery group, and Officer Peace was working the other store robbery. So, I went to the other homicide sceene.

It was pretty clear cut, dead guy in the front yard and the shooter bragging he did it. Murder weapon was a black powered musket. Well, a replica that really worked. Yep, dang near cut the kid in half. I had the patrolman transport the suspect to the station. I called the medical examiner and his investigator was just clearing the other homicide. So, he stopped by and pronounced the deceased dead. I took some photos, gathered up the musket, the other evidence, and went back to the station. After reading the shooter his rights, he gave me a statement. Yep, the victim had been the shooter's room mate. He'd borrowed the shooter's car and returned minus the little rubber cap that screws on the tire valve. So, a verbal argument esculated and BOOM ! Yep, killed over a five cent valve cap. What a deal !

I typed up the statement and the shooter signed it. He was brought before the Magistrate and bond was set at $10,000. He made a phone call and a bonds-man made his bail within two hours. I went to assist Det Backup. His homicide was a double hitter. Yep, a drug deal gone bad inside the dealer's house. The dealer shot the buyer at close range with his .45. The bullet hit the buyer right between his eyes. Only problem was this happend a split second after the buyer shot the dealer's wife. Yep, she was laying in the hallway, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, and closet. Yep, the buyer used a 20 gauge pump shotgun. The dealer was in shock and had been transported to the county hospital. He was under arrest and being watched by one of our patromen. Det Backup had taken his photos, collected the evidence, and was waiting for me to write all the reports. Yep, same old crap ! So, I did.

Anyway, it took most the day but we got a handle on all the calls. I went home after putting in over 24 hours straight. I hadn't even mounted the wife, when the phone rang. Yep, a suicide in the parkinglot of our Waffle Home restaurant. What a Deal !

Let's break Snazzy Folks. The Snazzy1

 

It was a little before midnight when I arrived at the Waffle Home restaurant. The deceased was laying across the front seat of his junky car. One of the patrol Idiots handed me the .38 he had removed from the victim's hand. I wasn't happy that he'd done that. Of course the Idiot claimed that the victim had still been moving when he arrived. I reframed from asking if he was afraid the victim was going to shoot himself again ? Anyway, just to cover my butt, I slipped on my latex gloves and felt for a pulse. Of course the deceased was dead. I then changed gloves and opened the cylinder of the .38. Crap ! Yep, empity, not a bullet or spent shell ! My mind told me what I already knew. This ain't no suicide !

Sgt Warts walked up, " Say, I've got some witnesses inside that saw what happend.
I replied, " Well, go get them and get your thumb out your butt !

Yep, Detectives held the same rank as Chief when investigating a crime. Ole Warts best jump to it or I'd write him up ! Anyway, this was a mess. A biker bar was just outside our city limits. They were a rough bunch and we'd dealt with them before. Apparently one of the biker mama's had violated her vows and left with a non-biker customer. So, as she and her John, sat sipping meth laced coffee, two bikers entered the restaurant. An argument started and ended up in the parkinglot. Our dead hero John had gotten into his clunker and pulled his unloaded .38. One of our outlaw bikers drew his loaded .38 and killed ole John dead as a doornail. What a deal !

The medical examiner investigator arrived and pronounced the decease dead and shot me the finger. I returned his gesture and we laughed. I wrapped dead John's hands in paper bags, in order to preserve any gun powder residue that would of shown if he had fired a weapon. That test would be given at the time of autopsy. I had the witnesses taken to the station for statements. I had to call in Lt Crap Pants, because I couldn't get a hold of Det Backup. It was long night and turned into a longer day. Yep, me and Lt Crap went to the autopsies, all 7 of them, 2 traffic fatalities, 4 shooting victims, and as an added extra. Yep, another Village Idiot had overdosed and died. He'd been found in one of our local motels, while I was in Austin. What a deal !

So, a full day of blood and guts. I hadn't ever witnessed an autopsy before. I got an eye full. Yep, saws, pry bars, and needles a foot long. I watched and learned. We collected the slugs, clothing, and personal effects. The Lt and I then returned to the station. I fell asleep behind one typewritter, as the Lt snored behind his. What a deal !

The 2 traffic fatalities were the easiest cases to close. Both, were open and shut. 1 was a motorcyclist that had just wiped out and hit a pole. The other was a drunk driver that had rearended a parked 18 wheeler. The homicide that I had worked was cut and dry. I just completed the offense report and had it ready to file at the D.A.'s office. Of course they were amused that a killing happend over a 5 cent tire cap. I think they referred to it as capped over a cap. The case of the dope deal gone bad was complicated but I think handled well. The husband was no billed, it was ruled as a case of self defense. The wife's murder was closed due to the suspect was dead. The drug charges weren't filed because the husband agreed to become an informant for us. The drug overdose was ruled as an accidental death.

So, all that was left was the biker case. We managed to get the biker mama to fess up to the shooter. Lt Crap Pants was one of the best Detectives I ever worked with. Once you got use to him just being super hyper. He was excellent at crime scene investigation, evidence collection, interviewing witnesses, interrogating suspects, and best of all. He could type a report that Jane Edgar Hoover would of been proud of. What a deal !

So, me and the Lt became close. We staked out the biker bar and followed the gang to their head quarters. It was a fortified fort located just outside our city. It was hidden off one of the lake roads and was spooky. Yep, it was deep in a secluded area and was equiped with gun ports, attack dogs, and armed guards. So, we went to the Chief.

Lt Pants began, " Say Chief, we got a problem. That Waffle Home killing is about solved. We got an arrest warrant for the shooter but he's a biker. We think he's held up at their head quarters. We just just don't have the man power to make entry and it's actually in Fort Worth. They won't send in their swat team on an arrest warrant alone. They say we need proof positive he's in there. We can't prove that he is. Hell, he might not be. So, what do we do ? "

The Chief stood and began watering his beloved palm trees. Of course he used his water picture instead of what I had used. The room filled with the smell of stale urine.

The Chief paused before speaking."Well, let's see. You don't have the murder weapon, so type up a search warrant. List that head quarters as his residence. Now, I got to tell ya'll something. Remember those D.E.A fella's that were out here ? Well, they want us to contact them if we have any dealings with that biker gang. Now, let me say this. Those agents acted awfully strange to me. I bet there's something going on here that they don't want us to know. It's just a hunch I got. "

Lt Pants chimed in, " You know Chief, now that you mention that. Those F.B.I. agents were acting strange too. They told us that there was a bank robber under surveilance. I rode with them over to our city limits. When I told them we were actually in Fort Worth they got mad at me. They turned around and I bet we weren't 100 yards from that biker gang's hide out. I just didn't know it was even back there then. What do you think Barney ?

I pondered, " Well, I guess we better call those D.E.A guys. Maybe they'll furnish a swat team for us. All I want is to clear that homicide. Heck, that biker is going to walk anyway. He'll claim self defense sense our victim had pulled that gun. He'll just claim he didn't know the gun wasn't loaded. Heck, he may not of ? Our victim wasn't very smart to draw down on two bikers with an empity piece. I guess he won't do that again. "

We all three sat around in the Chief's office. I began to have alot of respect for both men. They were different okay, but they meant well. I guess maybe, I just realized what a difficult job they both had. It was time for me to be a team player.

Let's break here, Your Snazzy1.

 

Lt Pants needed more information for the search warrant. I voluntered to do that. We needed a good address, a good physical description of the head quarters, and some proof that our suspect biker stayed there. I went home and dressed up for the part. Yep, old jeans, a sleeveless shirt, and my old dented helment. Then I climbed onto my home built chopper. I had my snug nosed .38 stuffed inside my left boot and my handheld radio stashed inside one of the saddlebags. I rode over to the area of the head quarters and parked in some thick brush across the lake road. This was a good spot to see but not be seen. I hadn't been there long when our local postman came by. I knew her from when she delivered the department's mail. As she went by I hopped on my bike and followed her. She stopped about a half mile past the head quarters at a lake home. As she placed mail in the box I pulled up and flashed my gold Detective's badge.

She laughed, " Hey Barney, nice getup. What's up ? "
I explained, " We got a suspect that might be held up at that biker place. You ever deliver any mail there for a guy named, Guilty Dog ? "
She paused, " Yea, he gets alot of mail there. Is there a problem ? "
I lied, " Na, just some unpaid traffic tickets. Nothing much. "
She whispered, " Well you be carefull, that's a strange place. They are real wierd and don't like anyone to come by. I drove back there once to deliver a package. They turned those guard dogs loose and I had to run back to my jeep. From then on I just leave a slip in their box. They can come to the postoffice for thier big stuff. If it doesn't fit in thier box, that got to hop. I don't need to be eatten by no dogs ! "

I thanked her and returned to my hiding place. I had a .35 mm camera with a power lens. I took a few snap shots and dropped them off at the local Three Hour Photo Shop. I then went by the station and wrote up my findings. The Lt was impressed with my work and finished up typing his search warant. The warrant was to search for a .38 caliber handgun, serial number unknown, to be siezed and tested for comparison with a slug removed from our deceased. The Lt stopped by the Photo Shop and attached the pictures I had taken. They were presented along with the warrant to our Justice of the Peace. He signed the search warrant and the Lt returned to the station. The Lt called the Drug Enforcement Agents, who informed us to hold tight, they'd be there sometime later that night. We updated the Chief and the Lt went home. I stayed at the station and was to call the Lt as soon as the Agents arrived. The Chief went home around 3 pm and I sat in my office catching up on some paper work.

Let's break, Snazzy1.

 

Around 11:00 pm, my office phone rang. I figured it was Lt Pants again, he'd called me every 30 minutes since leaving for home. To my surprize it was the D.E.A. and they were here. Well, not here in the City of Idiots. Here as in, at the military airport base. Yep, they wanted me and the Lt to meet with them there. So, I picked up the Lt and we drove over. The base was about five miles South of our city and just off the Interstate Loop. When we arrived an airpolice Captain escorted us to a large hanger. Yep, there were at least 50 camouflaged commando types strutting around. The Head Agent made the introductions, A Col. Here, a Major There, Captain's So and So, Lt's One, Two, and Three, Sgt's One Thru Six, and of course Companies Alpha and Bravo. I stood in silence as the story was told by the Head Cheese.

" I'm Agent Head Cheese with the F.B.I. and ya'll already met the D.E.A. agents. The Agents to my left are U.S. Marshalls, the two over there are with the Secret Service, those men are with the A.T.F, and that female there Is Kind Of Cute. Anyway, here's the deal. You two Detective Idiots have thrown a monkey wrench in the works. We have a joint task force that was investigating that motorcyle gang. We code named our operation 'Hard Rider' and have been at this for over a year. Your cycle gang is one our nations top crime organizations. We were about to make our arrest and close this operation down. We can't afford to have some Local Yocal's mess this up. So, here's the deal, ya'll hand us that search warrant, and we'll serve it for you. We'll arrest your suspect Guilty Dog and ya'll can have him on that murder warrant. If that .38 is there you can have it for your evidence. Do you have any questions ? "

Lt Crap wasn't happy, " Hold the phone here ! We haven't thrown any monkies anywhere ! We had a homicide to work and that Biker Gang is involved. It's not our fault if ya'll got some kind operation going. Matter of fact we don't even need to be here. I'll just enter that murder warrant into N.C.I.C. and wait for ya'll raid the gang's head quarters. If that .38 is in there we'll just serve our search warrant later. So, what do you think Barney ? "

I studied the situation, " Well, that female Kind Of Cute is a knock out ! But, yep Lt, I agree, we might want to just call Fort Worth P.D. They'll serve our warrants, now that we have proof ole Guilty Dog stays there. "

Ole Agent Big Cheese had a big change of heart. He explained that all though they'd been working for over a year. They hadn't a shred of evidence to support a search or arrest warrant. Yep, they'd made plenty of arrest of some of the gang members for murder, robbery, kidnapping, counterfieting, arms trading, explosives, extortion, pandering, promotion of prostitution, white slavery, black slavery, dog fighting, littering, and such. But, not one bit of information needed for probable cause to search the head quarters. It seems that all the arrested gang members wouldn't rollover and talk. Some out of loyality, a few out of fear, and most just too stupid. So, me and the Lt were offered a deal. We'd supply our warrants and in turn be apart of the federal team. We were sworn in as Federal Agents, given I.D. cards, and issued our very own military style attire. We both looked like G. I. Joe's and felt silly.

Zero hour approached as the Lt and I took our posistions. We had picked an excellent spot in a field behind the head quarters. With our night vision goggles, we had a bird's eye view. I only wished, I'd brought some popcorn and a big gulp. This was going to be better than a movie. The swat teams moved in, they'd chosen to use stealth, instead of overwhelming force. The sneaky snakes used rubber rafts to float ashore from the lake. They then low crawled towards their objective. The first casuality was gruesome and drug feet from us. Yep, a guard dog had one of the swat members by his ankle. It was a scene like in the movie Jaws, a faint cry and then they disappeared into a raven. The second swat member, to fall in the line of duty, was a sniper perched high in a tree. Of course, cracking followed by a loud thud. Several others circum to the fire ants and retreated towards the lake. Finally the fireworks began, missle after missle, flash gernades, tear gas, and water baloons. The rear metal garage door raised, as 50 hard core bikers shot out into the dark. Dang near ran over me and the Lt., we were both in shock and awe. I waived as the leader of the pack flew by. What a deal !

Let's break, Snazzy1.