THE OTHER BARNETT

  Scott Barnett, an old friend and veteran cop with the Collier County SO, recalls one of his early arrests. As he tells it. . .

 In the Spring of 1980, I was a recent graduate of the Police Academy and, now free of a Field Training Officer, on my own. I was on a solo midnight shift in District #6 (Marco/Goodland) when I was dispatched to a bar fight at the Little Bar in Goodland--a small fishing community off Marco.  

 Pulling into the parking lot, I could see a huge man inside the bar take a swing at one of the other fishermen. Knowing my nearest backup was at least 20 miles away, I went in, riot stick in hand.

 I found the combatants out of breath from fighting. Busted-up around the bar were tables, chairs, and a few patrons. The bartender, pointing at a commercial crabber--we'll call Crabs Mash--said, "He started it." 

 This riled Crabs, who I feared was about to renew the mayhem. I quickly eased him outside. There, he calmed down, and I was eventually able to convinced him he'd have to go to jail. 

 I was glad he was compliant. The man was a giant. To give you an idea of his size, when I got out my handcuffs, to shackle him, he started to laugh. Thinking he'd changed his mind and I was either going to get my clock cleaned or have to shoot him, I asked him what was so funny. 

 My almost prisoner held out his wrists and said, "They don’t fit. I’ve been arrested before and they tried. Won't go around."

Looking at his fence post wrists I had to agree. There was no way the cuffs were going to encircle them. Reluctantly, I told him go ahead and get in the back of the car. But, he wouldn’t fit. 

 We were driving compact cars, Plymouth Volaries, and with the cage he couldn’t get in the back seat. Knowing that there were only a few other deputies on duty in the whole county and none were driving anything bigger than I was, I asked Crabs if he would be good and sit in the front seat. That, or we'd have to wait for hours for someone to show up with a bigger vehicle. He agreed, barely able to even fit up front.

 About half way to the Naples Jail, Crabs asked me my name, then asked if I knew a city policeman also named Barnett. I made a non-commital grunt and asked why. 

 Crabs said. "A few years back, I got arrested at the Anchor Lounge for fighting with the Naples PD guys and this city cop, named Barnett, hit me over the head with a stick or flashlight. My head still hurts and I'm still waiting to play some catch-up with him."

 It's a great asset for a cop to have a good memory. But, sometimes a selective memory works better. I told him I'd never heard of this other Barnett and couldn't understand why any one would want to hit him on the head--the nice, cooperative gent that he was. 

 After I booked him into jail, I called the other Barnett and asked if he remembered the incident at the Anchor and Mister Crabs Mash. He said he'd never forget it. Crabs was the meanest, ugliest, and wildest thing he'd ever run into. I told him Crabs remembered him, too.

So that's it. An arrest from long ago that has stuck in my memory. 

Oh, yeah. The other Barnett? 

His name's Ray. 

He's my Dad.