tickettosser

"Multi-Phasic"

2007-05-14T00:32:00.000-05:00

She had an active warrant for a bad check or something. I hooked her up and was bringing her in but that isn't why she had such an odd expression on her face in my rear view mirror. It was me, I was making her nervous. Apparently this gal was not used to being chauffeured by a guy that has his right foot on the accelerator, left knee steering, left hand holding the hand mic, and right hand scribbling notes for the next call. Then, on top of all this, looks up to the rear view mirror to check on his prisoner. My old FTO called it being "mulit-phasic". He was a Marine, God help me, but often spoke of the need for a law dog to do multiple things at the same time. So, no shit there I was; pulling away from a Holiday gas station, clipping my seat belt, holding a cup of coffee between my legs, and talking on the radio when I spill. Turning to check over my shoulder the lid pops off of my straight black Holiday brew. The molten liquid runs down the inside of both thighs and makes a B-Line for my A-Hole. Holly shit this is Hot! I do some hip thrusts and manage not to cause an accident. Lucky for me home was only 4 blocks away. I make it there without sitting back down.

Moral of the story: use the cup holder.

The Chase

2007-05-11T02:49:00.000-05:00

Routine patrol on a comfortable summer evening. I see a pickup parked on the road up ahead. Then the backup lights come on. This dope backs, swerves, and backs again stopping across the center line. Must be drunk. Better light him up and have a chat. Hit the cherries and give the siren a squawk. Pickup hesitates and then hangs a hard right down a dirt road. The chase is on. Lights are flashing siren is wailing and the adrenaline kicks in. Then a problem becomes apparent; this guy can hardly keep the truck from going off the road at a mear 35mph. The rig swerves wildly from side to side narrowly missing trees. This continues for about a mile before the dope pulls into a drive way and stops. I cut the siren and step out to do a felony take down. Besides the dope driving there are 2 passengers. Driver comes our first. The dope looks like a blueberry. Full Canadian tuxedo and he is round, has to be over 4 bills. Calling the fat man back I get him in position for the cuffs. First problem arises, can't get his fat arms together behind him. So I cuff in front, don't have a choice but always hate doing it. Now second problem, this fat dope will never fit in my Crown Vic. So I get a little momentum and stuff him in. The fit is so tight I am afraid that I will never get him out. He tests over .20 BAC, a gross misdemeanor, tack on the fleeing and fat dope is looking at some jail time. However, he gets a plea bargain misdemeanor DWI charge and nothing else. You have to love small town justice.

Surprise!

2007-04-02T05:41:00.000-05:00

I circle around the side of the home and find another door. Creeping in and posting on a corner I can see him. Standing in the living room with his arms crossed over his chest. In each hand a large kitchen knife pointed to his throat. Raising my pistol, the 3 dots of the sights come to rest on the dick head's right ear. He is screaming at my partner and then takes a few steps forward. My finger tightens on the trigger and my sights follow his ear. This dick head is has no idea how close his is to having his head turned into a sticky canoe. Checking the area behind him I confirm that my background is clear. The hammer on my weapon begins its last swing back before finally coming free and sending a 200 grain Federal Hydra Shock jacketed hollow point down range...but wait. He stops and is now stepping back. The yelling continues but my partner is out of harms way for now. Loosening the trigger my sights never leave dick head's ear. Twice more he advances and almost dies. Twice more he backs off. For about 5 minutes time I am convinced that this dick head is going to make me kill him. I doesn't happen. Dick head had smacked around his parents and then trashed the house. My partner does an excellent job of talking him down and coming peacefully. He demands one condition; that he not be hand cuffed. My partner agrees. The stand off ends. Just as I turn to leave I get the word, hey you can transport this guy. With no cuffs? Yep. Surprise. Then after 4 miles dick head starts to get squirrelly, great.

Real Class

2007-03-05T11:51:00.000-06:00

'There are two people I want to thank tonight; Jesus Christ, who stood up and died for our sins and the American GI, who stands up and fights for our freedom.'

-Randy Couture after winning the UFC Heavy Weight Championship

Dynamic

2007-02-28T03:43:00.000-06:00

A 'Dynamic' entry is what you see S.W.A.T. officers doing in movies. It is a fast paced, smash the door, run in and throw the bad guys to the ground, turbo charged, adrenaline pumping, violent act. The idea is to use surprise and speed to gain a tactical advantage on a shit bag's home turf. I was always told that dogs will turn tail and run as you rush in, even big nasty toothy mean bastards. So, no shit there I was, helping an Immigration Officer with a high risk felony warrant. We had to find a shit bag in a trailer house. Gun out. Stack on the door. It is open so we let our selves in. Immigra turns right so I turn left, room clear, now a hall way so I rush to the end. There is a piece of plywood in the doorway and behind that a dog. I pause for 1/2 a second and then hurl the wood across the room. The dog scooted past me like a streak. Guess they were right. I find shit bag under a pile of clothes and hook him up. This is why I love to do my job. Who else gets to do shit like this?

Plugged

2007-02-21T12:02:00.000-06:00

Carry ear plugs with you at all times. Nothing is worse than starting your shift and getting called to shoot a deer and then being deaf for the rest of the night. Can't hear my radio, can't talk on the cell phone and can't hear what the little old lady is saying as you take her complaint. After going a night asking everyone to repeat themselves I tossed a set in my kit. Only problem is that the kit is in the car and low and behold I found myself out in the brush next to another deer that needs the 'final solution'. So I go another shift with out the aid of my hearing. Now there is a set in my pocket and when ever I forget them I end up shooting something...

Need Sleepy Time (part II)

2007-02-12T00:22:00.000-06:00

The engine is running. I grip the steering wheel and attempt to focus on the darkness that I am plunging into. I don't know how long I was out but now I can't see a thing. Slam on the brakes. Can't see the road. Don't know how fast I am moving. Not long til I hit something hard. I brace myself and wait. And wait. Then it strikes me. I am parked. The car is in park and the headlights are off. Too tired to drive so I stopped, turned up the 2-way, set the alarm for 20 minutes, and took a power nap. Now I turn on the lights and put the cruiser in 'D'. Where the hell am I? I know this county inside out but have no idea. I turn right. The 2-way crackles and I respond with a guttural utterance. Now everyone knows. 3 miles of gravel road before I finally get it figured out. I need coffee before I kill myself.

Need Sleepy Time (part I)

2007-02-03T15:24:00.000-06:00

Researchers say that you can not 'bank' sleep to use when you need it. That sucks for the Law Dog on patrol all night. Regularly, we spar with the Z-Monster and some times he wins. I have tried to condition my self to stay awake and alert while working the graveyard. The radio helps, frequent stops to take short walks, and a cup of coffee will keep me going for 2-3 hours. One of the problems I have is that if I nod off behind the wheel I speed up. So, 'No shit there I was' driving home one early morning. The Z-Monster was giving me the beat down I was out. The squad begins to accelerate and reaches a cruising speed of 110 mph. I don't know why but that is how fast it always levels out at. Visions of Crushing Crime, free ammo, and a huge buck fill my mind. Huge buck? It is usually a fleeing suspect...That is when I see the largest damn white tail deer ever to stand in the middle of a road way. I pull on the wheel and miss the bastard by inches. Noticing that the speedo is showing 110, I throttle back and roll the window down. I am awake now.

Shiny Side Down

2007-01-27T06:22:00.000-06:00

It was actually a piece of shit, but my 1995 Chevrolet Caprice squad car could corner better than any Crown Vic. Nothing is happening one night so...Time to warm the tires up. Find a stretch of new pavement with a few curves and let her buck. Get a few miles done and the radio crackles to life: girl is gone and mom is afraid that she might be in a bad situation. I swing into the yard and hide my chariot, wait to see if girl comes home. I no sooner park when car pulls in, girl is in the passenger seat, some scroat is driving. Scroat sees me and takes off. I need a second to get the old Chevy pointed in the right direction and then I drop the hammer. Gravel road, get some speed going, little hill, T-intersection. Oops. Going too fast, can't stop in time, this is going to suck. The old anti-locks don't even slow me down. Try to make the corner. I get the car side ways and then I roll over. A huge post stops me from going all the way over and then it is quiet. I am shiny side down. Suspended from my seat belt blood fills my head. Seat belt won't release. Shit, I am stuck. Do a quick head to toe; no breaks, no missing pieces. The radio is dead, no cell phone coverage and I forgot my pocket knife that would have cut me free. Wedging my arm under the seat I manage to hold enough weight off the latch to finally get free. Crawl out of the side window that is now in a million sharp little pieces. Cut hand on glass, hike up to a farm house to use their phone. Think I freaked them out a bit as I bleed in their kitchen. This sucks, now I have to drive a Crown Vic.

The Second Time I Killed a Man

2007-01-15T16:18:00.000-06:00

I get called to respond to a personal injury accident. Some geezer decided to just go ahead and make his left turn regardless of on coming traffic. The geezer was most likely traveling at the break-neck speed of 8 when his failing eyes and diminished reflexes failed him. Luckily the other guy only had a bump or two. I clear the road, call the wrecker, get the needed info and then it is back to my favorite thing: Crushing Crime. The geezer is 100% at fault so I mail him a citation for inattentive driving. The ticket is bull shit but it will help the other guy get paid. Apparently when geezer opens the letter he is so blown away by the ticket he goes and has a heart attack and dies right there. No shit.

The First Time I Gave a DUI/Killed a Man

2007-01-15T02:23:00.000-06:00

I was a shiny new Deputy with the new Deputy smell and a .45. Get called to a single vehicle accident. Arrive to find that some meat puppet had driven off the roadway and perfectly severed a utility pole. My cherry ass almost walked into the wires that were draped over the road at chest level. Vehicle is empty and then I see him. Dip-shit ran out of the woods and is now crossing a field. Great tactical mind at work here. The Dip-shit is woefully out of shape and moving like you would expect an out of shape fat ass would move. I summon the power of 'Command Voice' and bellow at Dip-shit. He stops, his shoulders sag, then turns and shuffles his fat ass back to me. I hook him up and do the paperwork for his 4th DUI. Long story short; Dip-shit blames the cops (me) for his now ruined finances and he hangs himself. This would be the first time that I killed a man. Kind of.

Off to War

2005-12-01T16:51:00.000-06:00

Every little boy plays Army in the woods and dreams of being a hero. Some of these boys join the military and practice the trade of the soldier. Some of these soldiers go to war and some even become the hero of their youth.

Before I left home I was asked what I would be doing in Iraq. In the Infantry your job is to kill the enemy and that is what we will do. However, I will be very pleased if nome of my men become heros.

100 mph Club

2005-09-08T20:32:00.000-05:00

If I were to total it all up I would guess that I have spent about 25 days over 100 mph. OK, maybe not that mutch but it really adds up fast. Between code 3 calls, boring transports and straight up fucking around I have logged a lot of time in low level flight. I would have to say that the stupidest thing I ever did while at speed went something like this: sitting in the office of a small town cop, have to piss but don't get up, some time goes by and then a call comes in, we tear out and hammer down on the throttle, moving around and then getting into my car squeezes my bladder, can't take it have-to-piss, don't want to stop so I reach for the wide mouth water bottle... At over 100 mph I got my seat back and my dick out. I hold the bottle with one hand and slice through corners with the other. When I finish the cap goes on and then out the window. I kept thinking if I crash they are going to think I was jerking off. Maybe next time.

Running in Circles

2005-09-07T08:13:00.000-05:00

I got caught in an annoying phenomenon the other day. Got called to a domestic in progress, dood is smacking his bitch around again. Red lights and siren and 25 miles to go. I'm dodging cars at about 110 mph. Not just hauling ass but really making time. 3 miles from the scene get another call, different domestic, 15 miles away. I peal off, point the Ford north, and hit the afterburners. 130 mph and the world is a blur of shit screaming past me. When you pass a car at that speed, that is doing about 55, it might as well be standing still. This is why I love my job. 2 miles from the call, sliding around corners, and then a State Trooper checks out at my call. Says nothing is going on and I can cancel. Fuck. I just drove in a giant circle at dangerous speeds and got nothing for it. I call this Orbiting. Pisses me off.

Infantry

2005-08-03T07:33:00.000-05:00

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For I am the baddest mother fucker around.

-Proverbs, 11B

Tired

2005-07-26T22:25:00.000-05:00

I am Tired of: Domestic Assaults

I just don't get it. Guy smacks the hell out of his wife. She gets scared and mad and calls the Po Po. Guy gets thrown in jail. She refuses to give a statement and then bails him out. Probably even has his favorite meal waiting for him and then a dose of pussy. Doesn't make sense. Over and over this type of scene plays out all across America every day. The laws have been strengthened to protect women because it was clear they needed the help. The only problem is that many never wanted the help.

Now let me draw a clear line between a victim and not a victim;
Victim: Guy beats the shit out of girlfriend. She gets out of the home and guy stalks Her. He terrorizes her and continues to beat her and possibly even kill her.
Not A Victim: Guy beats the shit out of girlfriend. She calls the Po Po. They show up and arrest the guy, fight ensues and girlfriend attacks the cops. Either jumps on a law-dog's back with her fingernails across his face or maybe she grabs a knife out of the kitchen.

I have heard stories of abuse that go far beyond the torture found at the Hanoi Hilton. Then, in the next breath, she tells me she loves him and will forgive him. I am tired of this bullshit. Talked to a gal today that dated an abusive shit bag for 4 years. That is 1461 days (if you include leap year) that she woke up next to his guy and said "sure he smacks the shit out of me but I love him" and the funny thing is that HE kicked her out! WTF, Over?

Crack Whore

2005-07-17T14:36:00.000-05:00

So, no shit there I was, driving to a call with my partner. We pass a gal walking and I notice the loose fitting jeans, dirty blonde hair, and general look of shit bag. I say, "Look at that Crack Whore". I don't think much more of it and then my partner says that he has dealt with her in the past and she is a certified Crack Whore. We laughed and continued on to the call. On the way back we find said Crack Whore and stop her. She has an active warrant. Placing her under arrest I search her purse and find needles and other drug paraphanalia. Bonus.

Moral of the story; Profiling works

River Dance Version 2.0

2005-07-10T11:26:00.000-05:00

Cho-mo is running into the swamp. My fat little partner with his chubby little fingers is in hot pursuit (ok, he is at least waddling in the same direction). I am doing the River Dance with a not so grateful partner that is trying to use my leg as a chew toy. But it gets better...

I get away from the pit bull and leg it out after cho-mo. I pass my partner and then, like the highly trained operator that I am, use my face to knock the swamp trees out of my way. The fist one catches me across the cheek/forehead and stopps me cold. This sucks. Regaining some speed I close on cho-mo. The kid had a good head start but had the same difficulties in the swamp. I draw my .45. Getting closer we enter a small clearing. I draw down on him and yell something to the effect of 'If you don't stop I am going to blow your fucking head off'. He looks back and, with a moment of perfect clarity, sees the big gun pointing at his head being held by the raving mad deputy. He stops and the hands go up. Time to hand cuff. We have covered about 150-200 yards and my partner is nowhere to be seen. I put my gun to his head and inform my prisoner that if he runs it will be without the aid of his brains.

Then it hits me, a smell that can only be one thing...human shit. Cho-mo filled his pants. He shit himself in a very bad way and now I have to deal with it. Fuck. I cuff him and stand him up. I am not doing a pat down. If he has anything on him I will just aim in the direction of the smell and pull the trigger. Walking out to the road on this hot summer afternoon I am far to angry to appreciate my small victory. I am dripping with sweat, skunned up from the swamp, and now I have to put shit-my-pants-cho-mo in my car and drive for 15 minutes.

Moral of the story; You can out run the law but you can't out run the Infantry.

River Dance

2005-07-06T12:23:00.000-05:00

I feel it is my duty to keep some level of physical fitness given my chosen professions. However, working odd hours, eating fast/gas station food, and sitting on your 4th point of contact all night does not help out. That said, alot of cops are fat. Some are way fucking fat. Enter my 'No shit there I was' story.

18 yr old young indian buck decides to rape a 15ish girl. I am at the ER when she comes in, always sucks with crim-sex cases, she is very upset. She does her part though and gives a good statement to my partner. Our part now; find shit-bag and send him away to Pound-Me-In-The-Ass-Prison. For 10 days this cho-mo (jail slag for child molester) ou t runs my fellow Deputies. Now I get my turn. The plan is for me to flank the house he is hiding in so when he runs I can catch him.

We arrive at the house and I run left around the house. Couple people in the back yard, no cho-mo, and a pit bull. Next thing I know this dog is charging with a 'going to eat this brown dood in uniform look' on his nasty fang filled face. The pit starts in on my right leg, getting mostly boot in the face. To many people to pull the gun (used to cary a Ruger .45) so I try mace. I keep thrashing and going in circles, kicking like an Irish school girl at the River Dance festival, macing a pissed off mut. Not exactly in the law enforcement hand book. Next thing I see is fat little partner chasing cho-mo into the swamp 20 yards to my right. Fuck.

The Army Navy Game

2005-06-30T09:10:00.000-05:00

Some time ago I responded to a domestic in a shit hole Indian housing project. Yum-yum, home on leave Navy ass pirate, decided to prove his love to his mom by smacking her around. I show up and find yum-yum on the floor with a self inflicted, superficial, knife wound on his throat. Crying like the first time he was ass pounded aboard ship. I ask for the knife and get directed up stairs. Next thing I know yum-yum is running. I toss the dull kitchen blade under my squad and leg it out in pursuit.

This guy has a good head start but now enters one of the laws of life; You can out run the law, but you can't out run the Infantry. I am just about on him when he turns a corner around a house and lunges out at me. He gets thrown down and then Piss-Pounded Proper. I thump this guy hard. Just as the cuffs come out to secure for the ride, my partner shows up. All 6'4" 300 lbs of angry Norwegian you could ever hope for. He is at full stride and leaves the ground about 10' from the yum-yum. Landing knee first on the swabbies back I watch as this guys rib cage compresses to 1/2 its normal thickness. Cool.

Long story short; I call the USS Nimitz at 0230 local time and wake up some 0-5 (not sure what that is in the Navy). He apologizes for his sailors actions.

Moral of the Story: Army-1, Navy-0

The Flying Burrito

2005-06-26T18:59:00.000-05:00

So, two weeks ago I respond to this medical call. Some lady decided it was time to take all of her pills at once and end all of the pain, yada, yada, yada. Anyway, we are close so my partner and I haul ass on over. I pull into the yard, grab the O2 from the trunk and run to the house. Problem: the deck is really slick from the rain. At combat speed I slip and pile into the steps. That is OK though, for I used my elbow to break my fall. A little worse for wear and now very pissed, it is on to the house. Can't use the O2, broke the regulator on impact (always knew I was tougher than emergency medical gear). Got to get heart start pads on her, got to see her nasty boobs. No pulse, do my best to break all of her ribs. Lots of fun. Partner names my acrobatics; The Flying Burrito (Deputies wear brown and I was flying or something).

So, this week, we find John Q shit bag that needs to be arrested for breaking stuff. I dealt with this yum-yum when I worked in the jail and greatly missed his...never mind, I have wanted to Abu-Grabe torture this peter-pumper for a long time. Now we find him getting into a car. Hiding in the woods I draw my pistol, break cover, and run to about 8ft away before yelling at him to get down. He sees the gun in his face and screams like a bitch. I move in to put him down and promptly trip on his bags. Fuck, now he is running. I get up quick but my partner has got him under control.

Moral of the story is; don't fall down.

The End

Getting Started

2005-06-13T16:03:00.000-05:00

This blog will be more of a war story and bullshit posting site. I have some stories I would like to record for myself and others, kind of like a diary but not that gay. I will change the names, to protect the operators, but I will not lie. If you want to add your spin, side or bullshit feel free. If you don't like what I have to say, I will express my views, that is just fine. Just don't fucking whine. If you disagree with something and it get out of line, I will certainly meet you in an undisclosed location. Explain my point of view, why you are fucked, and then whip your silly tinker-bell ass.

Johnny Rooke