JOE HUNTER

Florida once had the Constable/Justice of the Peace system of law enforcement, especially in rural areas. Collier County was divided into three JP Districts, each with a Constable and Justice: Naples, Immokalee, and Everglades. This was a fee system, in that what pay the Constable and JP made was predicated on fines, and fees collected for serving process.  The obvious fault was if you were arrested by a Constable you were damn sure gonna be found guilty by his JP or neither got paid. The shameful system had pretty much died out by the late 70's in Florida along with municipal courts and jails. It was used longer elsewhere.

Collier County wasn't as crooked as most, with stop signs behind bushes or traffic lights hidden in trees. And unlike Georgia, a Yankee license plate didn't guarantee a traffic citation.

One of our last Constables was a colorful gent named Joe Hunter. Joe's law enforcement career included stints as a wildlife officer, Constable, CCSO Deputy, and Detective with the Ft. Myers PD. The character actor, Warren Oates, always reminded me of Joe. Both had a Depression era look about them. Tough, shrewd, enduring.

Joe was a teller of wild tales, usually about himself and always true. He once, while a wildlife officer in Everglades, was forced to transfer to Monroe County to escape the Seminole Indians. It seems Joe had become amorous with an Indian maiden, making him very unpopular on the reservation. Joe told me they were gonna capture him and take him to the Green Corn Dance, a powwow where important matters were settled. Among them justice for offenders. "Hell," Joe said, "I was afraid they were gonna stick-roast me like a possum, something like that." So he lit a shuck and beat it to another county until the war drums quit beating.

Most of my dealing with Joe happened when he was a detective with the FMPD and I with the NPD. All were entertaining and unique. 

As an example, I was working on a B&E and had a suspect in Fort Myers. Calling Joe, he erupted, "I know that bunghole and he's probably good for it."

I caution that he was one of several suspects, but Joe advised me to scurry up to Ft. Myers and we'd talk to the rascal. There, Joe walked up to the front door, kicked it off its hinges (first time I'd ever seen that done) and strode inside. He grabbed a terrified man up from in front of the TV, talked to him until the suspect collapsed, then began a search. His search technique involved turning every thing in the house upside down. Everything!

Finally, panting from the exertion, he turned to me, said, "He don't know nuthin' or he'd have coughed it up by now," and he started out the door. I looked around in disbelief at the tornado-like destruction and the lumped up suspect. "Don't worry," Joe said, "he ain't sayin' a thing or he knows I'll come back. Would you want me to come back?"

I had to admit he had a point.