Ever think back on stupid things you've done and wonder why you did them. Answer's easy: Seemed like a real good idea at the time.
After work, I was headed home up Goodlette Road. Had the weekend off, kinda, and was as happy as a fat kid with a chocolate bunny. Kinda, because being one of only two Detectives I was on call-out. But it was the summer and business was slow so maybe I'd skate.
Up ahead a young, red-headed W/M, in a green shirt, bolts across Goodlette and heads into the auxiliary City Dump, south of where the PD now stands. I was wondering what was chasing him when a BOLO came over the radio. For a young red-headed W/M, in a green shirt, who'd just robbed a merchant on 10th Street South. Caution was advised as the perp had brandished a revolver.After work, I was headed home up Goodlette Road. Had the weekend off, kinda, and was as happy as a fat kid with a chocolate bunny. Kinda, because being one of only two Detectives I was on call-out. But it was the summer and business was slow so maybe I'd skate.
So I said to myself, Self that sounds like the dude that just ran in front of you. Maybe you better check this out. (An example of my keen perceptive powers, and relentless pursuit causing criminals to jump in my lap) I accelerated and notified dispatch of the situation.
Pulling into the small dump, I could see the man struggling to climb over a pile of trash. He'd take two steps, lose footing, and fall back three. I stopped the unmarked Chevy and reached for my duty weapon, a Colt Detective Special. Whoops, since I was off for the weekend, I'd locked it in my desk. No problem, there was an extra revolver, for just such occasions, in the glove compartment. Keeping an eye on the suspect, I fished around blindly in the glove compartment. Nothing there. I looked to be sure. Nope, no gun. Turns out my partner's pistol was at the gunsmith's and he'd borrowed that one.
Now what?
Just then, the perp turned and I could see his face. I'd arrested him before. Knew him. And he knew me. I couldn't see a gun in his hands. Not having many options except getting the hell outta there, I decided to try and bluff him. Opening the door, I stooped down behind it, and pointed my finger at him like kids do when they play cops and robbers. And hoped, at this distance, he thought it looked like a gun.
"Okay, Roho," I yelled, "you know the drill. Toss the gun, on your belly, hands behind your head.
Roho looked at me for what seemed an hour, then lifted his shirt, and reached toward his trouser's waistband.
I was sweating now. "Don't be stupid Roho. Don't make me shoot you. Take out that gun, with two fingers on the grip, and drop it."
He responded with, "I'm doin' it, I'm doin' it" and did just that. And, like a good dog, he flopped down on his belly. I moved on him quickly and picked up his gun. It was just an old Saturday Nite Special but, at that moment, it felt very welcome. Pointing it at him, I got him up, and walked him back to the car where there was a set of handcuffs hanging on the emergency brake lever.
On the way to the station, Roho got religion and started confessing. "Knew it was a bad idea but did it anyway. Before I leave the house, my wife says, 'don't do anything stupid.' She knows me. Shoulda listened. But, no, put the gun in my pocket and start walkin' around, no place in particular. Come on the store, some reason it looks good. Then, I start to think maybe not. Come an ace of not goin' in. But I did."
"Yep," I muttered, not wanting to slow him down. (We didn't use Miranda back then or other asinine warnings that slow confessions. Ignorant us, we thought cops were supposed to get confessions.)
Roho went on, "Things had been different, not an assed up deal to begin with, I might not've been so easy to bring in. The gun, it's empty. I forgot to load it. If I had . . ."
Long as it was confession time, I probably should've told Roho the truth. But I didn't. Truth was, it was a day for dumb plays. A dumb robber. And a dumb-lucky cop, arresting thugs with a .38 caliber finger.
But it did seem like a good idea at the time.
Now what?
Just then, the perp turned and I could see his face. I'd arrested him before. Knew him. And he knew me. I couldn't see a gun in his hands. Not having many options except getting the hell outta there, I decided to try and bluff him. Opening the door, I stooped down behind it, and pointed my finger at him like kids do when they play cops and robbers. And hoped, at this distance, he thought it looked like a gun.
"Okay, Roho," I yelled, "you know the drill. Toss the gun, on your belly, hands behind your head.
Roho looked at me for what seemed an hour, then lifted his shirt, and reached toward his trouser's waistband.
I was sweating now. "Don't be stupid Roho. Don't make me shoot you. Take out that gun, with two fingers on the grip, and drop it."
He responded with, "I'm doin' it, I'm doin' it" and did just that. And, like a good dog, he flopped down on his belly. I moved on him quickly and picked up his gun. It was just an old Saturday Nite Special but, at that moment, it felt very welcome. Pointing it at him, I got him up, and walked him back to the car where there was a set of handcuffs hanging on the emergency brake lever.
On the way to the station, Roho got religion and started confessing. "Knew it was a bad idea but did it anyway. Before I leave the house, my wife says, 'don't do anything stupid.' She knows me. Shoulda listened. But, no, put the gun in my pocket and start walkin' around, no place in particular. Come on the store, some reason it looks good. Then, I start to think maybe not. Come an ace of not goin' in. But I did."
"Yep," I muttered, not wanting to slow him down. (We didn't use Miranda back then or other asinine warnings that slow confessions. Ignorant us, we thought cops were supposed to get confessions.)
Roho went on, "Things had been different, not an assed up deal to begin with, I might not've been so easy to bring in. The gun, it's empty. I forgot to load it. If I had . . ."
Long as it was confession time, I probably should've told Roho the truth. But I didn't. Truth was, it was a day for dumb plays. A dumb robber. And a dumb-lucky cop, arresting thugs with a .38 caliber finger.
But it did seem like a good idea at the time.
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