View from the cop: Crime & punishment
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AJC.com > Metro > View from the cop > Archives > 2007 > December
December 2007
My post-holiday feeding plan
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
I don’t know about you but I’m miserable. You eat all that junk just after you tell yourself that you’re not going to eat all that junk because you want a guilt-free after-Christmas feeling. Good luck.
I tried it one year, choosing to stuff myself with turkey instead of all the sweets and starches but I ate too much turkey and fell asleep until February. Actually that myth is disputed by many. Tryptophan, the amino acid in turkey, is a natural sedative but they say you would have to have a lot more than the normal person eats and it would probably have to be on an empty stomach which isn’t likely. Actually the sleepy part comes from the five pounds of stuff lying around the table, walnuts, dip, candy, cookies, and large quantities of “Grandma’s special medicine.”
You don’t eat but instead you actually feed. After feeding you sit. You don’t do anything else but sit. Why? Because you’re just realized that you ate so much you could injure yourself by moving too quickly. It’s so bad that if you had a colostomy bag and a catheter, you’d be in heaven.
Whatever your feeding situation is, the usual end-result is that you find yourself miserable don’t you? You want to go on one of those diets where you lose twenty pounds in just four hours. Bulimia seems worthy of consideration for a moment? It’s crazy.
But, just when you thought that all was lost and you’re on the way to becoming Subway’s Jared, the before picture, your common sense makes a brief cameo and you say to yourself: “That’s it!! I’ve bottomed out. This is the time to make my stand. I’m getting up off the couch and I’m going over to the gym and I’m signing up! I’m going to be somebody that others look to and say “I want to look like THAT guy!”
Oooh, lookie. Leftover pumpkin pie!
“First thing tomorrow I’m getting up off the couch and I’m going over to the gym and I’m signing up! I’m going to be somebody that others look to and say “I want to look like THAT guy!”
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Crime & punishment
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Some, but not all, incidents reported to the Sandy Springs Police over the past week.
The victim said that she was making a deposit, for her restaurant, at the drive through night drop and ATM location just after 10 a.m. A man approached her on the driver’s side and pulled a gun on her and then took the deposit bag. He was last seen running north. It seems odd that this happened at 10 a.m. but this particular Wachovia location on Sandy Springs Circle is isolated and across the street from the bank itself. During banking hours, I would definitely NOT use this location but instead use the bank itself. After dark, I wouldn’t even think of using this ATM location. It’s too isolated.
At ANY bank deposit location or ATM, carefully check the location out and look at the surrounding landscaping where someone could hide. Parked cars and any other obstructions should be looked at closely, while you’re in motion in that car. Do a lap and check it out, especially late or when no one is around. It’s well worth the extra 30 to 45 seconds! At night I like to let Roxy, my Rotweiller, out to stretch her legs. Anything hiding will soon move. Well, maybe not but you need to look at ATM visits a little differently from now on.
The victim said that he was robbed around 11 p.m. by a man whom he knows. The victim and his friend were going to visit someone when they were jumped by two men as they walked into the apartment. They handcuffed the victim and his friend who was with him, together, and then, took his house key. The perps then went to his apartment and took a laptop and $600 cash. The victim said he knows the perps because he bailed one of them out of jail. He said the other is the first suspect’s father! Sounds like the village idiots are going on a crime spree.
A man reported that his cell phone was stolen from the counter of the Waffle House on Northridge Road. He was sitting on the counter stool and when he turned his back, someone swiped the phone.
Crooks aren’t taking a holiday
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
It is the day after Christmas Day and soon the highways will be lined with discarded Christmas trees left by people too lazy to drop them off at the recycling places. Just take a minute or two and you’ll find a spot, usually at a shopping center or church, or school, where they’ll take them and give you some seeds or something to plant.
Based on the activity at work, most of the crooks didn’t take too much time off. There were plenty of thefts, especially from cars. Same old thing-new products. Garmin and Tom-Tom GPS units are the popular items. Use the suction cups holders for the windshield and then take them down when you get out of the car. They’re not big so stash them in your purse or Hugo Boss man bags or something with big pockets. Be careful you don’t get mistaken for a shoplifter. Just think ahead some.
Retail stores will start getting those scams where the bad guys pick up a receipt from the parking lot or garbage just outside the store and then walk in, find the item, match it to the receipt, and then try to return it for cash. Most of the store security people have as much after-Christmas duty as before-Christmas duty, manning the cameras and locking up thieves.
For those of you with really big cardboard boxes at the curbside waiting for the garbage dudes to come by, try and conceal the descriptions and nice photos of the new computers, laptops, PS3, X-Box 360, and all that other stuff that is now in your house and will be in your house when you eventually leave. Some burglars like to troll, right about now, looking for them. Use those box-cutters and then slice and dice—hopefully not your fingers.
View from the cop’s Christmas memory: Uncle Dewey and the North Georgia Rockettes
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
I hope you all have a great holiday and get everything you want.
This reminds me of my Uncle Dewey who used to sit by the campfire and tell us stories of Christmas and how he had the world’s greatest Nativity scene set up in his yard every Christmas season at his home, lot 21 at the Deer Valley Mobile Home Community just outside of Coal Mountain.
Everyone liked Dewey’s Nativity scene for the first couple of Christmases until he started expanding the whole “scene” of Nativity, going with a different theme each season. The response was okay at first but when he added stuff like the pink flamingos and the live Elvis impersonator, they stopped coming.
The next Christmas Dewey changed gears, promising a lavish Christmas Parade with none other than the North Georgia Rockettes, dressed in red Santa costumes with dresses trimmed in white fluffy fake fur, wearing high heels and dark stockings.
The Rockettes were composed of some nice women he met at the American Legion Halloween party a few weeks earlier. They were supposed to arrive in the volunteer fire truck but Skeet Patterson, the volunteer fireman on call, had to let them off while he took the truck over to Red Bill’s house to put out the fire on Red’s stomach after Arleen, his common-law wife, squirted lighter fluid on it while he was passed out in his recliner and then set him on fire.
This of course was in retaliation for the time Red got mad at her for smoking his last pack of Tareytons. He tied a rope around her and then drug her around the yard with his pickup truck. Neighbors said that Arleen, who had a low raspy voice, thanks to her two-pack-a-day habit, sounded like a chain saw as she bounced up and down the hills in the field , behind Red’s truck, on the other side of the road from the duplexes.
Red was not an easy man to put a fire out on. For one thing, he woke up and realized he was on fire and like most of us would, he started running in no particular direction. The problem was that Red was so awful drunk that he wouldn’t stop running long enough for Skeet to douse him with the fire hose. Skeet now wished that he had kept at least one of the North Georgia Rockettes on board to point the hose.
Skeet finally drove up ahead of Red and stopped, pulled the fire hose out, but then had to drag it back some twenty feet after Red ran smack into a phone pole and knocked himself out. Skeet got the flames doused and then left one of those BellSouth orange traffic cones next to Red so the cops would know where he was, and then headed back to find the North Georgia Rockettes.
In the mean time, The North Georgia Rockettes walked about a mile to a convenientce store and passed the time playing video poker and drinking beer, courtesy of Bobby Winkfield, the young employee on duty, who thought that he had died and gone to heaven.
By the time Skeet found the North Georgia Rockettes, they were drunker than a box of frogs. He loaded them up but twice had to stop and pick up a Rockette who had fallen off the back of the volunteer fire truck. When they finally arrived at the Deer Valley Mobile Home Community, Skeet parked the truck so he could explain to Dewey and Dewey’s neighbors, why he was an hour and a half late.
The North Georgia Rockettes, tired of sitting still in the truck, and still drunk, decided to take the truck for a ride. As Dewey, Skeet, and the other neighbors of the mobile home community watched, the Rockettes drove the volunteer fire truck, with lights and sirens going full blast, down the main road and outside the gated entrance to Deer Valley. The neighbors, not knowing that this was not supposed to be happening, cheered and clapped and waved to the Rockettes who were hanging off every corner of the truck as they drove past the mobile homes and out the front gate, and slowly disappeared down Highway 53 and into the darkness.
Skeet and Dewey assumed the worst and prepared for it by stepping into Dewey’s mobile home for a conversation with Mr. Jack Daniels. It wasn’t long before they heard the cheers of Dewey’s neighbors. When they stepped back outside of Dewey’s mobile home, they saw, in the distance, the volunteer fire truck coming back up Highway 53 toward the main gate, the red lights and sirens blasting. They pulled into the main road and as they drove by, Rockettes waving and yelling and Dewey’s neighbors yelling and clapping, Skeet noticed that no one was behind the wheel.
It was, therefore, no surprise to him when the truck slowly, made its way off to the right side of the main road and into the recreational pond alongside the dumping station. The truck sank to about halfway up the driver’s door, its siren, now underwater, sounding like something between Godzilla and the Loch Ness Monster. The red lights were still rotating, sending a red glare along the surface of the water. Floating Rockettes, swimming in no particular direction, gave the effect of a poorly choreographed water ballet as they sort of swam and then waddled back onto shore, all to the applause of the residents of the Deer Valley Mobile Home Park.
Uncle Dewey was hailed as the master of all Christmas celebrations, a title he held for only a short year as a result of the North Georgia Rockettes and Skeet Patterson’s refusal to ever participate in anything that had to do with Uncle Dewey again.
Still, he has his Christmas moment, even if it was a bit hard to believe.
Have a good Christmas moment or two!
Merry Christmas!
The art of conversation…with animals, cultists and maybe even someday with teens
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Recently I had a conversation with some girl who introduced herself as “Moon.”
In my experience, having lived in California during the early 70’s, conversations with someone named “Moon” probably didn’t involve math or intense political content but the word “Universe” would be used over a dozen times.
True to form, this conversation went in the following direction: “Someday we’ll be able to communicate with animals.” It was out of nowhere.
It went that quick.
“Hi. Nice evening.”
“Yes, lovely.”
“Wow, it’s never going to rain is it?”
“Doesn’t look like it—you know, some day we’ll communicate with animals.”
“Of course. Excuse me, Waiter?—another round.”
This was a harmless social setting so I was up for the entertainment.
There is nothing I hate more than predictable conversations, the ones that you know what they’re going to say before they say it? It’s brutal. I would rather listen to someone’s conspiracy theory about aliens than yet another affirmation that Vick is a (%$#) and now Petrino is a (@#&%). (I know, I know!!) In other words, conversation is best when you have to think about it a little. Sometimes “off the wall” is very enjoyable. It’s the opposite of an IBM Christmas party.
One of my most enjoyable conversations happened about 20 years ago when some young girl came to the door and wanted money for her religion, which I had never heard of and one that I suspected she had only recently been introduced to. The whole thing smelled like some half-baked attempt at a cult. I suspected this because it was based around asking me for money some ten seconds into her speech.
She was probably all of 19. Her hand-out material was made from a second-rate copier. I was, in those days, working runaways and youth drug investigations and had become very comfortable in conversation with kids who were influenced about something just enough to talk as if they were very knowledgeable about it. I found that the more you listened the better the chance they would suddenly realize “Hey wait a minute, I’m full of (#%$&)!!”
As I expected, this girl asked me about my religious beliefs. I told her that my beliefs were not as important as hers since it was she who came to my door to convince me to financially support hers. Therefore, I wanted to her about her beliefs and why I should adopt them. (This is known as the basic “turnaround” response.)
We talked about God and the Devil, and how I was sure the Devil made the American League adopt the designated-hitter rule, and how I chose to live, opposed to how she chose to live her life in this new found way. She pointed out that I had conformed to my luxuries of my home and comfortable life. I wanted to, but hesitated, telling her that my home was less than 1400-hundred square feet and I was working three extra jobs to make the payments on it.
I went from thinking that I wanted her to leave and leave now, to actually enjoying listening to her and watching her try to rationalize my opinion compared to hers. We actually had a nice conversation until about a half-hour later when my then wife, who had been down the street, returned to the house and made scary evil faces at me.
I told the young lady that I enjoyed talking with her but that I thought she was in some made-up, half-baked cult and to prove it, I asked her to tell the leader of her group that I had convinced her to take a vow of celibacy and then see how long it was before she was kicked out. I gave her my card. She read the card and was floored that I was a police officer. My then-wife was floored that I would give this girl a card, meaning to her, “Call me sometime,” and I was floored that I gave her my card in front of my then-wife given all the explaining I would have to do to get out of trouble.
A couple of months later the girl sent me a letter telling me that she left the group and returned to Illinois where she was from. It seems that getting high was part of the religious experience with the group. She didn’t comment on the celibacy angle.
Having daughters and knowing how the male semi-brain works, my standard lecture to young girls was always the same: “You should take a vow of celibacy!”
Anyway, how this ties into “Moon” and conversation content? I guess my point is that even if you’re off the wall, there are people like me who won’t dismiss it so quickly. Even if it’s for my entertainment, I usually let someone get their theory, as whacky as it is sometimes, out there.
Moon said that now we can communicate with monkeys. She said we should be able to bridge the communications gap to other animals in due time. She asked me what I thought about it. I told her that I hoped so and if we do, someday, maybe we’ll be able to communicate with teenagers. She seemed confused.
There’s still so much work ahead of us.
Garage door opener alert
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Our crime analyst has found that some of the victims of burglaries that we’ve had the past few weeks were previous victims of thefts from their cars. One of the items stolen was the garage door opener.
The thieves later returned to the house when the victim was gone. They opened the garage door, drove inside, and then closed the door to hide the car while going through the house.
If you have the unfortunately luck of losing the garage opener in a theft, make sure to re-program the opener.
Crime & punishment
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Some of the incidents reported to Sandy Springs police in recent days:
Road Rage
A man reported that on December 7th he pulled out of his apartment complex and onto Roswell Road near the 5000 block. The car behind him began to tailgate him. The victim said that the car pulled around and came alongside and the driver then shot at his car two to three times. The victim pulled into the Fountain Oaks Shopping Center. The car followed but then broke off and re-entered Roswell Road. Two bullets entered the car through the upper part of the driver’s side rear window. One of the bullets grazed the victim. The victim and witnesses described the car as a 1990’s dark green Honda Accord with tinted windows, black custom wheels and a lowered suspension.
Christmas-Party Gone Wild
Around 11 p.m. a man came to the police department and reported the following sequence of events: Bradley was attending the company Christmas party and walked outside to talk to Zack. Soon they began to exchange not-so-pleasantries. As a result, Zack hit Bradley in the mouth before the altercation was broken up by other employees. Fortunately the copy machine was not broken and later, many butts were immortalized.
How I spent Monday night
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Happy Monday Night
9:13 p.m.
Falcons 0 Saints 0.
I hate the fact that it gets dark somewhere around 3 p.m. By the time I get home I feel like it’s time to go to bed. I am forcing myself to take my beloved Roxy, born of Satan—you know the rest, and walk. With the warm weather on us this week, what excuse do I have not to? None. I mean even NFL doesn’t hold water as an excuse. Falcons vs. Saints? Don’t think so.
9:16 p.m. Saints 7 Falcons 0. Like I said, I hate the early darkness. We walked at a local walking area near one of the parks. Good walk; just under three miles. Roxy didn’t kill anyone or anything. She’s had a good week.
9:22 p.m.
Saints 7 Falcons 7.
You know the old saying: With age comes wisdom. (In my case: With age comes less dumbness—most of the time—no guarantee however.) I’m at a point where I have to work out to stay out of shape. I’m trying to get home and get changed and get into my Dodge Ram pickup truck, the one with the big toolbox on it, the manly one— the one that screams: “Manly———whatever” on it, and go walk before I change my mind. I stop into the convenient store, packed with people and moving at a pace that is anything but convenient, so I can get a bottle of water. I need the water so I can hold the bottle of water and talk to people saying things with the word “hydrate” in the sentence.
In front of me is this really ugly dude who asks for a pack of some cigarette, specifically requesting the “hard pack” version of that brand of cigarette.
The counter-cash-register technician checks but can only find the “soft pack” version of that brand.
The little (he was really short) guy gets mad!
“How come you people (was he talking about all counter-cash-register technicians or other humans in general?) can’t stock the hard pack??!!
I’m thinking to myself: “Well, smack my ass and call me Judy!” (I don’t know what that means and who is Judy?)
9:41 p.m.-Saints 10 Falcons 7. What’s this guy thinking? Not only does he insist on slowly killing himself but apparently he’s a man of style. He prefers the hard pack to the soft pack because he’s a man—a man’s man! He won’t sacrifice his standards—life? Yes but not his standards. He’s a man who demands the hard pack so he can pack those cigarettes, slam ‘em down on his palm and push that tobacco down hard so that he gets that full tobacco experience!! I guess in a few years when he looks like a piece of beef jerky, he’ll look back and say “I did it my way!” Adios pal. Other Monday developments: The folks at Court TV have been calling. They want old police videos as part of their programming. When cases have been disposed of in court, departments will provide old videos to these shows. What I noticed in the paper today was the article that Court TV was going to change to TruTV.
10:03 Saints 17 Falcons 7 TruTV brings a different format to the audience. “True Engagers” they call they call this target audience. Here’s a sample of the format: “Sky Racers,” the story of a woman helicopter pilot who jockeys for position during police chases, or what we call in Atlanta, “We’re Just Seriously Following You.”
“One False Move,” which follows people who live “at the brink of disaster,” such as rescue crews who work two miles below the Earth’s surface and construction workers named “Chad.”
“The Real Hustle,” about experts who can steal a person’s identity and turn it into something called “Hannah Montana.”
You know, I actually talked to some TV people about writing some goofy wacky police and dumb criminal stuff. Too bad it didn’t go anywhere but I got a free omelet at IHOP after I showed for the meeting. Really though, I’ve got ideas.
“Lilburn Vice,” about the never ending battle against illegal Karaoke and Trivia.
“The Lone Strange Ranger,” about one woman’s quest to rid the world of Harry Potter books all the while going through life labeled as “the opposite of a party.”
10:38 p.m. Saints 31 Falcons 7 So much for Monday.
No sympathy for this now unemployed informant
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Now and then I get on the soap box which is what I’m doing after reading that Alex White was suing the City of Atlanta and the APD. No surprise but ridiculous none the less.
So now I need to tell you that this is my opinion and not that of the police department in Sandy Springs or the City of Atlanta or anyone else but me. This includes my Shih Tzu and Roxy the Rotweiller, born of Satan, who hunts the silly people in my neighborhood, late at night, for unspeakable rituals at our house involving Jell-o and scuba flippers.
Alex White, professional snitch, is suing Atlanta Police.
First, let’s get this out of the way: Should he have told on those narcotics cops? Damn right! No doubt. They got what they deserved. There’s plenty of dope out there without having to fabricate facts and doing what they did. Kathryn Johnston should not have been shot and killed that night. Alex White should have told the truth and Alex White did what he should have done. Whether or not he did it because it was the right thing to do or doing to cover his fanny is a matter of discussion I’m sure. Maybe it was the lesser of two evils.
Alex White’s “credibility” as a confidential informant has been damaged due to the fact that his face was on television. Now he can’t get a job as a confidential informant. That’s horrible. Is there some sort of pie chart or graph showing the dramatic decline of confidential informants? Those guys need a union.
Alex is trying to play the role of victim. I think it was Alex who let the Fox-5 camera person in the car while he drove around talking on his cell phone—driving and talking as if that phone call couldn’t wait five minutes until the filming was done? I’ll bet he had at least a dozen DVD’s made of him driving around with the camera in his face. Did he not think people wouldn’t recognize him?
The article in the AJC said that the lawsuit “requests that the 25-year-old White be compensated for lost wages, emotional distress and attorney’s fees.” The lawsuit he filed asks for lost wages (well, this is America), compensation for emotional distress? Wait a minute. What about all those dopers White burned when he was snitching? They lost wages. They should sue him. I’m sure they’d like to do more than that to him but hey, we’re all victims here right?) Attorney’s fees? (Well, this is America.)
Alex chose to be a snitch. It’s not like he went to community college to get his Associates in Snitching degree and now he can’t use his trade. Snitches work deals to get themselves out of trouble and then if they want, they make a few bucks at it.
If you’re a confidential informant, the after effect of putting your face on television will include a sharp decline in the request for your services. Don’t forget, the key word is “confidential.” It was his choice. Hopefully this will be a wake up call for Alex. Maybe he’ll be inspired to do great things. Who knows but I don’t buy the “victim” spin. Nope.
Preparing to be tasered
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Today is the day I get the taser. We’re doing taser training. Part of it includes the five-seconds of personal relationship with the business end of it. Naturally I was concerned so I asked the training officer if, being 55 years old and all, I would have any embarrassing side effects like my head exploding? Should I or should I not stop off at CVS for some Depends?
“Oh no.” He replied. “You don’t do this.” As he holds his hands wide open. “You do this.” As he clinches his fist very tight. “You don’t expand” he says as he does weird things with both hands, “you do this” as he curls up in a ball.
“Okay-okay, I get it.”
Part of taser training includes the video taping of your experience. This accomplishes two things: 1. satisfies your natural curiosity of what you would look like as you try to form a pretzel, and 2. You get to see the people behind you laughing as you do your impression of Joe Cocker on steroids.
How bad could it be?
Mondays are weird days
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Happy Tuesday
I think the planets have aligned for the day. Dunkin Donuts had a good stock of banana walnut muffins and I actually got one.
How does it work out for you on a Monday? I don’t like the phone calls that come in over the weekend. Too many people call me without really thinking through it first.
“Hello, I need a police officer to sit all day at my intersection because Gladys runs the stop sign every Tuesday between 8 a.m. and 10 p.m. I tried saying something to her but she flipped me off.”
“Hi, We’d like to hire an off-duty officer to keep the drunk kids from leaving my son’s party. We’re taking their keys and letting them drink but we would like the officer there to stop them from leaving because we feel like that’s the responsible thing to do. We’re trying to set an example.”
“Hi, we would like to hire an off-duty officer for an after-party for our employees, starting at 1 a.m. and going until about 5 a.m. We’d like someone who isn’t offended by nudity. Thank you.”
Arrest report: Preying on purses
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
These are some, but not all, incidents reported to the Sandy Springs Police over the past week.
I hate to pick on victims but doing this makes it so easy to steal:
The victim reported that someone took several items from her pocketbook that was under her desk. Wallet, credit cards and $11 cash. For those of you who work in the Perimeter Center West area, we have had two of these close together in time and location meaning an office creeper is working the area. DO NOT put your purse under the desk. Although this may come as a shock, that area is not invisible. Don’t make it easy. Don’t keep your credit cards and cash, driver’s license and other sensitive items there. Put them in your pocket.
A woman reported that while she was placing items in her car in the 6300 block of Roswell Road, she placed her purse on the bumper of her car. Another car drove by and a man grabbed the purse. The car he was in, a gold Chevrolet Malibu, drove away.
HERE ME NOW! The purse should be the FIRST thing you put in your car.
Getaway cart Howard Hunt, 30, was arrested at the Kroger Store on Sandy Springs Place, after he did a mad dash with a shopping cart full of Bic lighters, soft drink bottles, and a deli chicken. It’s hard to successfully run away with a shopping cart because they have a lousy turn radius. Their design is for low speed and cargo. Running at top end and turning presents the likelihood that it will tip. By the way, he had 32 lighters.
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