Back in the air... Part III

Well, Detective Mendoza and I went to the airport, armed and ready to start investigating as soon as we hit the ground.  We filled out the paperwork; BOTH of us said we were armed, and were ushered right thru security slick as a whistle; it was great!  We were told to come up to the final check-in gate 10 minutes before boarding, in order to be seated first.  So, the ground crew lady motioned us up early, and we went to the loading gate.  It was a full flight, and all the impatient people got up and lined up behind us; we were taken through the door and everyone else was told to sit down; it was like we were royalty!  After we had taken our seats in the plane, a stewardess walked by and made the comment, "Sitting together today?"  This evidently got to Mendoza, who realized that we were two guys, alone in a big plane right next to one another.  He got a worried look and said to the stewardess in all seriousness, "We're straight." 

It was a great flight (no crashes) and we were not confronted with any displays of stupidity.  This brought up the following thoughts:

1) The TSA guys we dealt with this time were fairly competent, showing a blend of professionalism and intelligence toward their job.  This made for a secure feeling, making me think that perhaps my last encounter with them was the exception, and that they are actually going to make our airports more secure.

2) What is funny about things going smoothly?  How can I keep you all entertained with "Competence"?  I need more "Ignorance", or even some nice "indifference" to keep the LOL's and ROFL's coming.  What is a writer to do....

Back in the Air (or... Have Gun Will Travel Part II)

Well, two days ago a lead in an investigation focused out of state.  Because the subject may be Spanish-speaking, I went to Detective Mendoza's desk and told him that we were on a flight for Sunday.  Now, may of you may recall the trouble with the TSA on "Have Gun Will Travel"

http://journals.aol.com/krisndave83/DeadInvestigations/entries/1247   

The first thing that Detective Mendoza said was, "I'm carrying a gun this time!"  Now I know that the TSA are doing their job to keep the skies safe; but because of  how bad they can make a trip go, I hope that their employment qualifications are more than 98.6 degrees F.  Speaking of how difficult they can make your trip... I sure hope none of them are regular readers to this column. 

Will advise on how the trip goes... especially the funny parts.

And The Winner Is....

Well, in spite of last week’s curry chicken, (that threatened to inflate my midsection) I am the winner of the Investigative Division’s “Biggest Loser” competition.  Two months ago I weighed in at 248 lbs; today it was 216; a total loss of 32 lbs! 

Now, I know that some guy named Billy Blanks came out with his “Billy’s Boot camp Workout,” so I was thinking, why not cash in myself?  Come out with my own weight loss secrets!  That’s right, for a mere $29.95, (plus shipping and handling) you too can get “Detective Dave’s Homicide Workout”.  Just think, you can pop in the tape and follow me as I do the things that helped me get in shape.  

Step one: we start with some light stretching in “Late Night Call-Out”.  In this portion you loosen up by stumbling around in the dark for 5 minutes, looking for your beeping cell phone, and then try on 4 pairs of your wife’s pants before finding yours, just like I do at 3:00am! 

Now you’re ready for some cardio in the fat-burning “Crime Scene”.  Keep that heart pumping while you bend down to pick up shell casings,reach up high to signal the rookie to bring some more coffee, then twist to see your partner slip in the pool of blood!  

After that comes the muscle-building weight training I like to call “Help The Coroner”.  This is where you squat to grab the body bag, lift and thrust it onto the gurney; feel the burn!  As you get stronger and stronger, the victims get fatter and fatter!  

Then we cool down with 5 minutes of “Press Release”; breathe in deeply, then slowly exhale by spouting platitudes and obfuscations about “Progress in the investigation”.  

After the doubtless successes, book deals, videos, DVDs and tours; I will need a “Part II” in all of this, and it will be all of my diet secrets in “Detective Dave’s Homicide Diet” video.  This will be an entire hour of bloody, violent crime scene video and full color autopsies; you just need to watch before each and every meal; the benefit should be obvious.  

After the smash success of my new workout and diet business, I may not have time to ever write in this blog again, so let me say, “Farewell” to all here and now.  

If you do read me again... that means that the video thing did not work out, and I’m still dog-paddling my sanity across a sea of confusion.

Dave

Dropping Like Flies

In the past 5 days there have been 3 homicides in our city.  Now, contrary to popular opinion, having lots of people die violently in your town is NOT good for business.  Sure, all of us detectives will be getting extra overtime in our checks; and the Coroner is going have to buy more rubber gloves for the autopsies; oh ya, the funeral homes will have extra business... but generally it’s bad. 

The first thing it’s bad for is marriage; with all of the 16-hour days, I don’t see my wife much; when I do come home, she’s asleep and I reactively outline her with chalk.  Next, it's bad for my diet; one night the Captain ordered out for pizza, which I can usually resist; however, for murder number two, it was catered Thai food; so the diet went down in flames, killed by some delicious curry chicken.  Finally, it’s bad on the sleep pattern: at about 2:30 am this morning, a bunch of loopy detectives (me included) watched the security monitor where Detective Jim was interrogating the murder suspect; due to sleep deprivation, all we could think about was how funny it was that the camera angle really showed Jim’s bald spot.  It was getting to Jim as well; 2 hours into the interview he was saying to the suspect repeatedly, “Tell me everything you don’t know!” 

Well, I’m three major reports behind, and I got another autopsy to watch tomorrow.  Hopefully the killing will stop long enough to:

1) Kiss my wife.

2) Lose some weight.

3) Get some sleep.

Good night....

Year End Report

Well, 2005 is almost over.  Time to clear up a few things about the flurry of posts over the past year.

Regarding Geek Wanna-be, Yes Felicia, I did pass the EnCase class (barely).

Hopeless Case, I did think about Gary Ridgeway (Green River Killer); can't reveal all of the facts, but not his style.  Also looked hard at Ted Bundy, but was in a Utah Jail at the time.

Family Trip to Morgue, The arm belongs to the Coroner, not the victim, and the skeleton is plastic.

Creative Writing:  Screaminremo is right, it did sound better than "Whacked him like a high fastball."  Also, Ally, I don't know where you're from, but I will tell you the secret about American humor: it is always about body parts and embarrassing sounds.  

Your fat or your Life.  I'm down 25 lbs; doing the SWAT physical is easier, and I think Officer Rich and I are going to make some money.  And Mrs. L... my wife tells me that I will not be posing for anyone in a wetsuit.

Equine Stealth.  The escapees are all back, and this time I think they all PROMISED not to run off, even if the doors are left open. 

Have Gun Will Travel.  The story got as far as an undersecretary to someone almost important in Washington DC in Homeland security, and they promised "An Investigation".  That made me laugh more that the original event.

And of Course... The Smell of Violence.  I have not seen Kenny for about a year, but I do know he comes into the station from time to time.  The clerks tell me he rants about listening devices in his apartment and poison in his food.  I guess the Democrats were right about Bush and The Patriot Act. 

God bless you all and Merry Christmas,      Dave K

El Perro Esta Loco

Don’t know why most of my memorable moments on this job have to do with dogs.  I actually am a dog lover; to prove it I own a miniature schnauzer (who is so jumpy, I suspect he makes himself double shots of Starbucks on our Latte’ machine every day while I’m a work).  

 

Anyway, one time I needed to speak with a 14 year-old kid who was a suspect in a robbery; he had allegedly punched another kid and took his BMX bike.  I happened to be training a young officer at the time (Officer N), so we both went to the suspect’s grandmother’s home, where he was suppose to be hiding out.  The house was in a poor neighborhood, and looked more like a farmyard with all the chickens running around inside the fence.  

 

I started to unlatch the fence to walk to the front porch when Officer N. stopped me, “There’s a pitbull in there,” he whined.  I saw the same pitbull, but also noticed that it had a length of chain attached to its collar.  “It’s tied up,” I told Officer N, and whispered “Wimp” under my breath.  I opened the gate and walked confidently into the yard, smiling at the pitbull, who now was snarling furiously at the end of the chain, looking like it wanted to chew on me like a Milk Bone.  I did notice that Officer N elected to stay outside the yard, and closed the gate behind me.  “What a coward,” I thought.  In talking to Officer N afterwards, he was thinking, “What an idiot,” because he saw that the dog’s chain was not attached to anything, and assumed that I saw the same thing (I didn’t).  The dog stopped barking and started running full steam at me, hindered only by a very short (unattached) chain.  I grabbed my gun, and just as I was pulling the trigger, I yelled, “HOLD IT!”  The dog evidently spoke English, because it stopped, turned around and trotted off to the other side of the yard.  

 

I felt pretty confident to stay in the yard and try to interview the kid, so I knocked on the door.  This ticked the dog off, because it started after me again.  But all I had to do was say “NO” while staring at the dog, and it would slink back off.  I did not get any response at the door after knocking several times, so I was just about ready to leave.  The dog made one more attempt to come at me, but again I yelled and stared it down.  

 

My authority was evidently having a negative influence on the dog’s psyche, because this time it turned aside and grabbed a chicken in its jaws.  This was immediately followed by the front door swinging open and an old woman slapping a teenaged boy out of the house towards the dog, screaming something about “Perro” and “Pollo.”  The kid got the dog to release the chicken (which was now dead but still looked as though you could save a couple drumsticks), then tied up the dog.  He was so embarrassed by us having watched his grandma beat the crap out of him that he readily told us of stealing the bike.  

 

We recovered the bike, and then decided to leave the kid there; grandma’s house looked to be much rougher than juvy anyway.

A Hopeless Case

I want to tell you of a project I’m working on; a murder from back when I was a high school sophomore buying Clearasil in bulk. 

I'm writing about this case at great risk to my reputation as an honest (mostly) blogger who writes the truth (usually) about police work.  You may, after reading this, cry “Bovine Scat,” and never read me again.  However, because I need something to keep all 3 of my loyal fans entertained, I will proceed. 

Last year I was going through some old homicide files when I came upon one that listed the victim as “Jane Doe.”  It piqued my interest, so I pulled it out and looked it over. 

1977; it is the summer of Saturday Night Fever and Star Wars. On the morning of July 25th, Officer W. was called to a dirt lot downtown; someone had found a decomposing body in the rear of a van there.  The body was that of a young woman; she had been in the van for at least two weeks, and all that could be determined was that she had been strangled and likely raped. There was nothing to identify her except for a small tattoo on the inside of her right thigh.  

The investigation began, and the problems started.  The clothing that she did have on was taken to the roof of the police station to dry.  A night janitor, following up on a complaint of bad smells in the building, found the clothing and threw them all away.  At the autopsy, the fingers were removed and prints were taken; x-rays of the jaw were made for possible identification, and the skull was de-fleshed and saved.  In the 27 years from that date, the finger print card has been misplaced, the jaw x-rays are gone, the fingers (which were saved in formaldehyde), are lost and I got no clue where the skull is.  In 1988, a property room supervisor took all the other evidence we had and ordered it destroyed to free up space in the property room.  

What a great case to work on!  No evidence, no name, no suspect, not even a dental x-ray.  Just a few faded photos of detectives in tight pants and lamb-chop sideburns.  We did exhume the body (which by now was a few bones and soup) and got a section of femur to send in for a DNA profile.  

The case was going nowhere until a couple of leads came in from some helpful detectives with the Felony Review Unit, formally known as The Green River Task Force.  Hopefully I will soon report that we at least know the name of this girl.