Archive for the ‘Police’ Category

The Police Report

November 22, 2008

First let me clarify… I am in no way involved in the report.

We were at a bar-b-que enjoying the fine Texas atmosphere of cold beer, half drunk women draped across boisterous manly men, who raved about their heroes on the football field. Ya know, Basic Texas stuff.

We were joined by a couple of Houston’s finest, Boys in Blue. (the Law)

It wasn’t long before they too had cups of …ummm… soda (yeah I am sure they wouldn’t be drinking on the job)

One of the officers began telling of a report that he had to file some time back. It was a terrible accident scene. The rider of the motorcycle had been thrown off his bike and an arm severed.

The officer said, “I found his arm laying in the esplanade, but I didn’t know how to spell esplanade, so I picked the arm up and tossed it in the ditch.”

I almost did an un-lady-like thing and spit my drink all over the place. It was so funny hearing him explain. (not funny that some poor soul was had his arm severed and was killed.) But funny that the officer was so…

I don’t even know how to describe him… It sounded like a screwball twisted line from Scary Movie.

The funny part was knowing it was a real event. Life is funnier than any writer could ever imagine in a script. (well, it is for me in my Twilight Zone existence)


A Weekend in the Hood

May 27, 2008


Let me try to recap my weekend. Saturday was lovely. Mr. J took me for a drive to Galveston. With the rising prices of gas, this is becoming more and more of a luxury. We don’t often cruise just for the fun of getting away for a few hours. We are much too consumed in tucking away every penny for our move out of the hood.

The  East end of Galveston was congested and the streets were tough to maneuver. We had packed our cooler with drinks and goodies and travelled on thru to the West end of the island. We cruised up and down the streets of Jamaica Beach, Sea Isle, and Bay Harbor… getting out and looking around the homes for sale. No, we are not moving to Galveston as the commute would bankrupt us. But, we had a blast acting as if we were looking for a potential weekend vacation home.

I wonder how it would be to have a vacation home on the Island. A home that could very easily be wiped out each and every hurricane season… and having enough money that you simply rebuilt the home with a shrug… because, after all the beauty of the ocean is worth the price at any cost.

We cruised over the little toll bridge that connects the West end of the island to the land mass East of Freeport and cruised the long way back home again…

Back to the hood.

Back to reality.

Back to the nonstop drug deals, the petty thievery, the street fights, the angry glares, the nervous walkers, the loud stereos, the barking dogs…

Craving a few more minutes of waves crashing and gulls screeching over fish in the bay.

We sat on the back patio and grilled beef for fajitas and sloshed down a pitcher of margaritas and dreamed of a vacation home on the beach.

Sunday Mr J had to go into work for a few hours. I crawled out of bed and cooked him breakfast and crawled back under the covers falling back to sleep. It was sinfully magnificent. About 9am I sheepishly threw the covers off and faced the day.

I caught up the stack of laundry and straightened up the piles of ‘stuff’ that seem to accumulate thru the week. All day long listening to my dogs barking as each doper came to the neighbor’s house for a fix. We try to tell each other that it is ok, as long as the crap does not effect us personally. As long as the crack heads don’t vandalized our cars or try to rob us for drug money… As long as bullets don’t fly in our direction… As long as they don’t come to the our house looking for drugs… As long as no one kills our dogs to keep them quiet… As long as no one hurts US!

But it is tough to sleep thru the barking, not knowing if this time someone is stealing a car stereo, or jacking up a car to steal the tires, or syphoning the gas out of the tank…

One can only take so much before they crack… We are so close to that stage and there is not enough tequila to smooth out the rough edges in our hood.

And then there was Monday… Memorial Day. A day when we should have reflected on the sacrifices of those who gave all for our country. A day when we would normally go to Uncle Joseph’s grave and put a flag and a wreath on his head stone.

But, we spent the day trying to refuel emotionally from the crazies in our lives. It was a good day…

Until the sun went down…

7:30 it all started again, the dogs were going nuts, leaping against the tall wooden fence. They were whipped into a frenzy. And so it began…

Mr. J would go out and talk to the druggy as he was trying to get Mike to come out and sell him some shit. Mr. J would stand there, making small talk, knowing Mike would not come out with him watching. It is almost funny having a drug dealer around who is scared of his own shadow. He puffs his chest out and carries his big 44 Magnum around, trying his best to act tough… But, Mike will run and hide at the first sign of trouble. I can make Mike duck his tail and run… Mr. J makes him piss his pants in fear.

This went on for a couple hours until I had had enough of the show and crawled into bed. Shortly after turning out the bedroom lights and relaxing into an almost sleep state, I am jarred by the familiar glare of helicopter search lights coming thru my window.  Fuck! This is going to be one of those nights.

About once a month or so, they bring out the police helicopters searching for a fool in my hood. The helicopters are shining the spot lights in the trees, bushes, around vehicles and, it appears, in my bedroom in search of the perp.  

This all gets my adrenaline pumping and it will be impossible to drift off to sleep so I wonder back down stairs to play solitaire, hoping  to lull myself back to sleep.  All the while my dogs are going crazy…

As soon as the helicopters move on, Mr. J went back out to see what was going on.

One of our neighbors was being beaten… Severely… In our driveway. He was being beaten to the point where he was no longer holding his hands up to deflect the blows. This man probably deserves a good ass whoopin or two, as he has a bad habit of stealing from the hood. He will break in and take your stove and refrigerator if he thinks you are going to be gone long enough. He has no problem filling his gas tank with the gas from your car… Or taking your screens for his house.

Mr. J stepped in and pulled the man off of George. “Man, it just isn’t worth it,” he told him. He helped George find his glasses and his shoe. I am not sure how he got the shoes beaten off of him…

“George, go home,” Mr J insisted. All the while, Mike and two of his drug buddies were crouched down behind the fence. It was only after Mr. J broke it up that they came out and said they were prepared to help if things got out of hand.

Out of hand? You stupid mutha-fuckas (excuse me… but, I have not slept all night and am a tad bit bitchy this morning) George was being beaten to a pulp and you stayed hidden while Mr. J faced an anger crazed man by himself.

Mike drove off with a man crouched down in the seat beside him… (We wondered what was up with that?)

We went back in the house and shortly after the dogs went off the hook again. At this point we are tired and just want them to shut up. It is almost midnight and we both need to be up by 4:00am.

Mr. J stepped out front, wanting to walk around the house and surprise the fools out there. Looking down the block in the direction of George’s house, we see George laying in front of his house… the same man was again beating him, this time using a can.

I hollered out, “Honey, be careful. The cops are on the way.” The guy dropped the can and took off on foot. At this time George’s wife opened the front door and helped him in. She had been too afraid to open the door. Maybe I am psycho, but I know I would have killed someone who was beating my husband in the head with a can.

We still have no idea why George came back outside after Mr. J helped in the first time. Was he trying to seek revenge? Was he out looking for the shit that had been knocked out of him the first time?

About this time, dumb ass Mike pulled back up. He was alone. Mr J asked him what was going on… Where did he go? Who was the guy in the truck. Mike explained that the guy in the truck was hiding from the police because he had just held up the corner store. (The helicopter in the hood earlier had been searching for him) All thru the first fight, he had been hiding under Mr. J’s truck and the son of a bitch was armed.

Mr J said, “Mike you know you just aided and abetted a criminal fleeing from the police. You are an accessory… You are a dumb ass.”   

Mile was so scared… “Uh No, Mr. J… I had to or he said he was going to shoot me.”

“Mike, I’m not stupid. This is your buddy. You are selling him shit every week. He is not going to shoot you.”

Mr. J came in and we had hot cocoa and tried to lay down for an hour…

We both fear this issue is not settled. George has too much insane pride and will try to kill the guy. The guy will be back to see if he can finish George off this time. The fool hiding from the police will be back to buy more dope and Mike will be out peddling.

Mr J will be out intimidating the fools who drop by and I will be lurking in the shadows with my gun, just in case he needs backup.

As we layed in bed I giggled, “Honey we are living  The Wire. 

He paused for a moment and said, “No Shit!”