Montgomery county police consortium

Maryland

2015.09.27 00:58 SonofaBitchVanOwen Maryland

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2011.01.04 02:26 insomniacagent Muskogee Subreddit

Optimized for **Old** Reddit (old.reddit.com) News and information for Muskogee, Oklahoma, and Green Country. [Click here](https://www.wunderground.com/weatheus/ok/muskogee/35.77,-95.37) for local weather via Weather Underground, or [visit Mesonet](http://www.mesonet.org/).
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2023.04.02 06:34 Square_Topic_2112 Police seize nearly 80 pounds of illegal drugs in Gaston County 😢🤧

During the search in late March, authorities seized 53 pounds of fentanyl, and more than 26 pounds of cocaine in
submitted by Square_Topic_2112 to GastoniaNCgossip [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 06:13 Adventurous-Plant419 Michael Alcock King, Joshua Myers, Andrew Cash, Mark Essick, Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers, David Ratner, with overt deliberate negligence on the part of the entire Board of Sonoma County Supervisors, stole 6 years of my life, after their employee Virgil Smith almost killed me and caused me serious injury.

I just want people to know that the Sonoma County government is corrupt. They spent 186 million dollars on a "new courthouse" that is 163k square feet, which works out to $1,100 per square foot, which is over double the second most expensive building I could find was, and over four times the average price per square foot of palaces and museums. And it's just going to look like a giant portable. This is to house some of the most corrupt people in this County, who all make $200-350+k per year (I am including their benefits in that, but not their pension). The entire DA's Office has a vendetta against Civil Rights in general, and will literally knowingly commit criminal violations of laws for the purpose of covering up serious criminal misconduct on the part of Sonoma County employees.
Lynda Hopkins took money from the law enforcement unions, and turns a willfully blind eye to it.
The County Office of Legal Counsel is literally a crime syndicate.
In 2015, the Sheriff's Office had a veritable torture ring in the jail.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izcHIv5Y4z8
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYrGChrW5HM&list=TLPQMzAwMzIwMjMv0QAOPDy1Lw&index=2
This is just the tip of the iceberg. They lied about the existence of these videos, and "lost" the one where they gave one of the inmates internal bleeding, with a knee to their back.
There was a lawsuit about it. It was called the "Yard Counseling Case". There are news articles about it.
There was an official, written policy, called "Yard Counseling", later its name was changed to "Behavior Counseling" which dictated that for arbitrary punitive measures, Sheriff's Office personnel should extract inmates from their cells individually (which meant slamming their heads onto the door frames on the way out and other abuse), and isolate them, and putting them into "pain compliance" techniques (literally, by definition, torture) for extended periods of time while "counseling" them, which meant wearing no name tags, ski masks and riot gear, carrying a shotgun with them, and insulting them in explicit language for over 20 minutes.
This official written policy was acknowledged by Rob Giordano in a video, where he lies that no inmates where injured, uploaded to YouTube in 2018, when they finally addressed this official written policy, and the practice of torturing inmates without reasonable cause (leading exercise routines, for example).
In 2021, they saw one of the victims of this torture ring, who had sued them and had won, at a peaceful protest, and shot him with a grenade launcher while hiding on a rooftop in the face with a crowd control grenade, which exploded on impact and caused horrific injury that I don't care to describe.
In 2017, I was almost killed by application of a "carotid hold" / lateral vascular neck restraint, by a sheriff's deputy, for literally no reason. A knee was placed on my lower back while I was on the ground on my stomach as well, which caused a serious injury to my kidney, which was the worst injury of my life. I have also been diagnosed with an organic brain injury and cognitive impairment. I was tested for the same type of cognitive impairment before the incident and there is a marked difference, and I have about 30 pages describing the differences I've noticed / troubles I've had in my cognitive functioning. There was no probable cause to arrest me, and I was polite and compliant with all the instructions given to me, and this was confirmed by witnesses. I was punished for invoking my right to remain silent, then my arm was grabbed and yanked up behind me, and then a carotid hold was applied because my body pivoted after the deputy grabbed and yanked my arm.
This occurred UNDER A CAMERA and IN FRONT OF WITNESSES. I called the Sheriff's Office the next day said I want to "make an official complaint in writing". I was transferred to Captain of Internal Affairs, Captain Mark Essick. I repeated my request, verbatim. He responded, verbatim: "We don't do that. Why don't you tell me what happened." I did. I told him it happened right under a camera. He said "The camera can't record." I asked for confirmation. He said the cameras "Don't have recording technology installed."
I asked the County for a claim form. They ignored my request, and instructed me to report the incident to IOLERO. IOLERO requested I meet with Internal Affairs, and I said fine.
Sgt. Andy Cash called me and scheduled me for a meeting at the Sheriff's big station. I was made to walk first and guided upstairs to a meeting room, and then patted down for weapons, and the interview was recorded. For 75 minutes I was deposed about happened. He asked me repeatedly about my mental state after the incident. I admitted that I was upset after the incident, and he acted like that justified the whole incident. He explicitly promised to interview the 4 deputies who witnessed the event in addition to the 2 deputies who participated, as well as the arresting officer (who I told him would confirm that I was polite and cooperative), which he agreed "would confirm [my] demeanor", and a bystander witness I told him about.
I complained to IOLERO director Jerry Threet. Mr. Threet agreed that that was inappropriate, then resigned without reviewing the investigation.
For about 4 years review of the investigation was put on hold because IOLERO staff quit, and when more staff was hired, they complained of being understaffed. They had a budget of over a million dollars but only had 2 employees. They only reviewed one case per four months. And they put off "backlogged" cases and focused on new cases. My complaint was finally reviewed by Interim Director Garrick Byers who clearly stated that the investigation was not conducted appropriately. I have the letter from him. That still has never been made public.
After the interview with Internal Affairs, I corresponded with Lynda Hopkins, and she refused to give her opinion on the matter. I specifically complained that the carotid hold was being used recklessly, and it is a dangerous technique. This was in 2018. She forwarded me to Janell Crane, who then had me meet with Kristi Schultz.
I contacted the DA's Office and spoke to Richard Celli (who made $346k in 2017, and has gunned down two unarmed people, and was convicted by a jury in one of the civil cases brought against him by one of the victim's family, but the sentence was overturned by a judge, while working for the SRPD). The first time I spoke to Mr. Celli, he told me that another law enforcement agency should take my case. After that first time, him and the rest of the DA's Office openly refused to comply with the Victims' Rights Laws (CA Con Art. 1 S. 28), and the "policies" (which are legally binding under CA Con Art 5 S. 13) of the Attorney General stating clearly that they are to take complaints from victims if it can't be resolved with the department.
After the first talk with Mr. Celli, I called Rohnert Park Police as I was instructed, and they 3-way called the Sheriff's office and then transferred me. I spent about 30 minutes reporting the incident to a deputy, and he asked me questions in a fair manner. The incident report from the 30 minute phone call was "directed" to Andrew Cash, and was then destroyed, which is literally a state and federal crime. I called RPPD back and talked to the arresting officer and he positively clearly confirmed that I was "polite, calm, compliant, and cooperative" (or something nearly verbatim, I can't remember exactly any more).
Andrew Cash called me the next day, at precisely 7:00 AM. He told me he was driving. He was extremely confrontational with me. He said "There were 6 deputies [referring to the two who used excessive force on me, and 4 witness deputies]. You were combative." This was false. He had only interviewed one of the 4 witness deputies, and the other 3 had provided written statements. They said that they had witnessed force being used, that they had not participated in the use of force to the best of their memory, and that I "did not appear to be resisting". But again, he had promised explicitly to interview the 4 deputy witnesses, and the arresting officer, and the other witnesses (such as the bystander witness who saw the whole incident, the nurse, etc.).
Internal Affairs exonerated the officers. The letter was signed by Eddie Engram, captain of Internal Affairs at that time. I called Mr. Engram, and had an hour long conversation with him, and he told me to contact Sgt. Cash after April 1st.
I filed a federal claim on the last day that it was due.
Mr. Cash referred me to Legal Counselor, Kara Abelson.
Ms. Abelson spent a year and a half refusing to comply with the Public Records Act, the Rules of Procedure, and the Rules of Professional Conduct. She refused to provide me documents that I was entitled to under law, including the incident report written by Deputies Jacquelin Fazzio and Virgil Smith, and the recorded interviews that he promised he would conduct, and stated pretty clearly that he had conducted.
Kara Abelson spent a year and a half trying to claim that my federal complaint was time barred by 1 day when it wasn't. The judge (Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers) entertained this and forced me to respond SEVEN TIMES, before she finally admitted that the "law wouldn't allow [her] to dismiss [my] complaint".
After a year and a half, Kara Abelson finally withdrew from the case after I started citing the Rules of Professional Conduct to her that require her to resign or withdraw from the case rather than defend a civil case where defense isn't warranted. Nobody had disputed any of the allegations I had made. In fact, Eddie Engram had confirmed that what I said happened was not disputed by the evidence.
At some point around this time, either before or after Ms. Abelson withdrew, the 2 incident reports written by the two deputies, the written statements by 3 of the 4 witness deputies, and the recorded interviews with me, the 2 deputies who assaulted me, and 1 of the eye witness deputies, were provided, along with various other records from the facility. In the recorded interview, and the incident report, the deputies admitted that Virgil Smith had applied the carotid hold.
I had also reported the incident to the State Attorney General Public Inquiry Unite (Lupe Zinzin). She had told me, over and over and over, that the local DA's are required to take complaints from civilians in these situations. She refused to call the DA's Office, though. The DA's Office (Richard Celli, Mark Azzouni, David Kahl, and the anonymous receptionists who all refused to provide their names) refused to take a complaint from me. They (including the receptionists) hung up on me every time I called after no more than 2 minutes, for no reason, transferred me to dead lines, never returned any voicemails I managed to leave, told me explicitly that if I send a complaint, they will throw it away, and didn't care, at all, what the laws were. The receptionists also refuse to provide their names. The Attorney General's Office told me to send them a complaint, so I did. The DA's Office acknowledged receiving the complaint. But later said that they did not have a record of it, meaning they threw it away.
The Attorney General's Office finally agreed to take a complaint from me. It sat on their desk for a year. I finally called them, concerned that evidence was being destroyed, and left a voicemail for Casey Hallinan requesting that they request copies of the physical evidence from the Sheriff's Office. Literally 2 days after that voicemail, a letter was sent to me signed by Sharon Loughner with Casey Hallinan CC'ed on the letter, stating that they would "take no action", and blamed the incident on me. I had not received the letter though, and called and spoke to Ms. Hallinan, who was extremely rude. After that, the Attorney General's Office hang up on me as soon as they find out it's me, for no reason. There has since been a bystander witness who saw the whole thing, and it has come to light that the cameras did record, that no upgrades were ever performed like Ms. Abelson alleged, the cameras do continuously record (as of 2019), and they just lied through their teeth about the camera for 4 straight years. The Attorney General's Office does not care. They violate the laws, and do not care what the laws are.
Sonoma County Office of Legal Counsel attorney Michael King took over after Ms. Abelson withdrew. Right off the bat, Mr. King told me that my motions were deficient - a contention he has repeated frequently, since then. I asked him how. He changed the subject, and to this day has NEVER given any explanation as to how any of my motions are deficient.
He continued to claim that my claim was time barred, filing frivolous motions, in blatant violation of the rules of professional conduct, after I cited the rules to him, constituting explicit legal misconduct.
As I said, the judge finally agreed to open Discovery after a year and a half of full time work trying to fight for my right to not be nearly murdered for no reason.
Lawyers do not take these cases unless there is undeniable proof of blatant guilt, along with undeniable proof of catastrophic injury. Multiple law firms have confirmed that it takes over a million dollars worth of legal work to get these cases to trial.
The judge also promised me a pro bono attorney "if you make it past summary judgment".
The judge scheduled us for Alternative Dispute Resolution (ADR) hearing with a magistrate judge. Mr. King elicited an offer from me, which I spent about 2 weeks working on, trying to make it as agreeable as possible. But then for the hearing, his written offer was to waive charging me his attorneys fees. The ADR magistrate confirmed that there was no legal basis for him to do that - it would be illegal. He had been ordered to participate in this hearing, and there was a legal obligation under the Rules of Procedure to try in good faith to settle the case. He violated the order and the rule of procedure (26 (f)).
All of my motions were completely ignored for no reason.
Mr. King / Defendant Virgil Smith lied about the cameras. They said "Denies the existence of cameras capable of recording in the vicinity", in writing, under oath. They never disputed that he put his knee on top of my back with all his weight on it.
Mr. King refused to comply with his Discovery obligations. I had to file about 4 different motions pertaining to their refusal to comply with the laws regarding disclosure of evidence.
Upon receiving an official Discovery request for records of camera equipment, I received a letter signed under oath by Mr. King (nearly 4 years after the incident) stating that the cameras CAN RECORD. But stating "tasks must be performed" to start the recording function, and stating that all records pertaining to the equipment that was installed at the time HAD BEEN DESTROYED (literally a federal and state crime, a civil tort violation, and a sanctionable act of legal misconduct).
Mr. King refused to schedule any of the witnesses for deposition, demanded MY deposition BEFORE he would even schedule the two deputies who assaulted me, even though I had been requesting depositions with other witnesses for over a month, and refused to schedule anyone else, he refused to answer interrogatories, he refused to provide copies of the policies from the time of the incident. He tried to pass off a weird spreadsheet with the word camera on it as proof that upgrades had been done to the cameras. He refused to provide complete training records for the deputies. He refused to provide details about the training. He refused to provide blueprints of the facility, refused to provide photos of the cameras at the location, refused to provide still images showing which direction the cameras were pointing, was caught lying under oath (and "penalty of perjury") multiple times, refused to provide photos of the deputies so I could schedule depositions efficiently.
The judge erroneously dismissed my Equal Protection claims, construing them as Due Process and Employment Discrimination claims, which are different types of claims than Equal Protection claims against a government actor. The government cannot arbitrarily treat anyone disparately. The Court also dismissed my "Monell" claim against the municipality for their "policies, customs, or practices", but left me leave to amend that claim. And she waited until Discovery opened over 1.5 years into litigation, to do this, forcing me to amend the complaint DURING DISCOVERY which was only open for a limited amount of time, instead of any point in the 1.5 years prior to that.
In the recorded interview with Andrew Cash and one of the witness deputies, she spontaneously states that Mr. Cash instructed her to review the written statements made by the two deputies who assaulted me prior to the interview. Another deputy witness confirmed that Mr. Cash had instructed her to review the written reports by the two deputies who assaulted me prior to her providing Mr. Cash with a written statement as well.
The judge finally retaliated against me, without rational basis, for filing motions, which I had filed because I was being illegally obstructed from preserving evidence, by withdrawing leave to amend regarding the "Monell" claim (I had stated a clear Monell claim to begin with, but the judge literally has an aversion to reading, and relies on guessing, and is biased against pro se litigants; I am summarizing well over 100 pages, if not well over double that, of motions, objections, and replies and the judge's responsive orders).
She did however, finally schedule a hearing with a Discovery referee magistrate. All my motions (and the months of work I was required to do dictated by the various rules) was completely disregarded, and both me and Mr. King were given 2 pages each (double spaced) to go over discovery issues, even though I had filed about 4 different motions about various issues, and he hadn't filed ANY, about Discovery issues, and never did.
During conference I was required to do in accordance with the Rules, Mr. King repeatedly tried to establish that I had committed crimes during the course of conferring which was my legal obligation, without having any rational basis to believe what he was trying to establish. He demanded evidence that would exist, and he kept repeating every lie he could come up with to the judge. The judge would either get annoyed at me if I addressed any of Mr. King's baseless accusations, or take his statements at face value for being 100% true.
Mr. King finally "compromised" and agreed to schedule depositions with me (as long as Mr. King wanted to) and the two deputies who had assaulted me (for 25 minutes each or something) all simultaneously, but refused to schedule anyone else, even though this was grossly advantageous to him, and in blatant violation of Rule 26 of Civil Procedure. One of the eye witness deputies later confirmed that he had "consulted" her over 4 times prior to the trial. During this deposition, Mr. King asked me where a family member of mine works. He had spent about 30-40 minutes trying to convince me that I can tell him anything, that the entire record was designated confidential, that I had nothing to worry about - and at a deposition, you are obligated to answer the questions unless they are harassing. Mr. King also requested contact information for counselors from over 10 years ago, and that was the only question I didn't answer - I told him to provide the request in writing. At some point after that, I told Mr. King to not contact my family member at her workplace, and Mr. King responded "unless you fully and completely cooperate" with his request for contact information for counselors from 10 years+ ago, he would do exactly that - harass my family member with subpoenas sent to her workplace, as I had requested he not do, without EVER REQUESTING A DEPOSITION WITH HER, just using it as leverage.
At the hearing, the Discovery Magistrate (Donna M. Ryu) discussed matters only with Mr. King, without including me. He told her that the 4 eye witness deputies "saw nothing" and "weren't there" (verbatim) trying to get her to deny me my request to take their deposition. She asked him if he would get them to sign fresh "sworn declarations", "under oath" (Judge Ryu's words, verbatim) stating this. Mr. King said yes, absolutely, he would. Judge Ryu asked me "Would that be okay?" I said "No." She started laughing, and asked me why, and I explained that I had explicitly described various interactions with them that had taken place while the carotid hold was still being applied to me, and that they had stated in their written statements that they had witnessed force being used, and that I was "not resisting". She confirmed that this was all true with Mr. King and that he already knew all of this, and ordered him to cooperate with scheduling them for deposition. Mr. King then repeated the same phrases "saw nothing", "weren't there" to Judge Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers prior to the trial.
After that, they went back to discussing matters only with eachother, and I was excluded from discussion. This was an hour long hearing, and at about the 45 minute mark, Mr. King was again lying to the magistrate judge, and when he had finished, I interjected, "That's not true". Judge Ryu shouted "Stop! Stop stop stop stop stop!" And then very assertively explained to me the importance of not interrupting people for the convenience of the court reporter / transcriber. I was excluded from the rest of the hearing.
At some point at either this hearing or the next one, I cited the legal requirement for the parties to disclose contact information for witnesses. I cited the rule of procedure. Judge Ryu responded, "Mr. King is a lawyer!" as if that alone justified his refusal to provide me contact information for EYE witnesses who saw the event. Mr. King and Ms. Abelson had also claimed that they did not have the contact information for the bystander witness (which was a lie), and refused to provide the contact information for the nurse. And when Magistrate Ryu ordered them to provide that, they only gave me the company name he used to work for.
Mr. King refused to provide both fresh written statements from the eye witness deputies as he had promised the magistrate, and to schedule them for deposition, and stated that if he provided written statements, they would be copied and pasted versions of the same statements previously provided, signed under oath (nowhere saying that they "saw nothing" or "weren't there").
Mr. King kept threatening to go to my family member's workplace unless I provided him contact information for counselors from 10+ years ago, DURING a DEPOSITION, without him providing any written request for the information.
He also interfered with scheduling the witnesses for deposition, with the Court reporter that I had hired, disregarded the schedule that I had set, and set them according to his own schedule, which raised the cost of deposition from an estimated about $700 to about $4,000, and said this was my one and only chance.
The Federal Pro Bono Project / the Justice & Diversity Center is an organization that receives seven million dollars a year in public funding and is under contract with the Federal District Court to work with the Court to provide legal consultation to pro se litigants. I had about 19 appointments with them, about 18 with Abby Herzberg, and 1 with Rosemarie Maliekel. Ms. Herzberg was precisely 15 minutes late to every single appointment, repeatedly gave me horrible advice ("just wait", do nothing, "don't file this", despite admitting that the entire motion was valid, directly causing excessive delay and the spoliation of crucial evidence). She also yelled at me aggressively on two occasions because I had brought up state laws, which were being currently violated against me, because the Court had dismissed my "state claims" because Sonoma County refused to supply with a state tort claim form when I first asked, reasoning that was not relevant to the state laws being currently violated against me. After Ms. Herzberg yelled at me the second time, I requested an appointment with Rosemarie Maliekel. Ms. Maliekel spent the entire appointment ranting at me about irrelevant issues, and kept talking over me and interrupting me. I was polite but eventually asked "can I finish what I was saying?" She responded "No!" and kept ranting at me.
I had repeatedly asked about how to properly get medical evidence, and about expert witnesses. Ms. Herzberg ignored my questions and spent nearly the entirety of almost every single appointment reading (or pretending to) through the rules, without letting me speak at all, even to summarize the relevant sections of the rules that I had read.
On a video on their webpage (on the Court's website, because they are a "partner project" with the Court), Abby Herzberg explicitly demonstrates a clear understanding of the fact that the Court provides funding for expert witnesses, despite ignoring my questions about that and spending nearly the entirety of almost every single appointment either reading rules or pretending to.
Discovery was closed.
Mr. King rehashed the legally baseless and frivolous "time barred" claim in a Motion for Summary Judgment. I was required to respond to it twice, and it was obvious Judge Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers wanted to dismiss my claim, and I was required to disprove their baseless legal claims with several tens of pages of case laws. I was required to answer all his "undisputed material facts" under threat of terminating my entire case, but he refused to answer mine. He lied over and over to the judges. As I said, the judge ruled that the laws "wouldn't allow [her] to" dismiss my entire case and rejected his Motion for Summary Judgement.
The Court ordered the Federal Pro Bono Project (FPBP) to put me on a list for attorneys seeking clients. Ms. Herzberg told me that if I filed any motions, that the FPBP would not cooperate with the Court's order, until 1 month before my trial, instead of 6 months before. She also said that a law firm had reached out to them about my case over a month prior to that, and that the staff at the FPBP had not followed up. My filing privileges were then revoked by the Court.
An attorney, David Ratner, reached out to me, and scheduled an initial consultation, over Zoom, at which he stated he "hates cops", and gave a showing of being enthusiastic. I explicitly told him that I wanted to make sure we were on the same page as far as what to "aim for". I told him that I had been working for FIVE YEARS, that I had almost died, that I had suffered two different extremely serious injuries (though I was up front about the injuries being surreptitious and that there had been major delays and flaws with medical evaluation, due to the hospitals not taking my insurance at the time, and ongoing delays because of Covid, and other reasons). I told him that what I asked for was consistent with the most similar case (the Esa Wroth case of 2013) that I knew of (an ask of three million dollars). This was coincidental. I was not aware of the Esa Wroth case when I came up with that number. I agonized over the number to ask for, and had tried SEVERAL times to resolve the case for a tiny fraction of that amount, with Kristi Shultz, with Janell Crane, with Lynda Hopkins, several times with Ms. Abelson who refused to even hear me out, and SEVERAL TIMES with Mr. King, and spent a lot of time trying to come up with a amount that would be MUTUALLY AGREEABLE, EACH TIME and described the methods I used to come up with that number in detail in court documents. Mr. Ratner explicitly agreed to aim for that at the trial. During the Zoom conference, his partner Shelley Mollineaux, showed up about 15 minutes late, stayed for about 3 minutes without saying anything, Mr. Ratner made an awkwardly flirtatious remark to her, and she left without saying anything at all.
Mr. Ratner, and Ms. Mollineaux, who was set to represent me at trial under Mr. Ratner's supervision, then both went dark for over a month. They ignored my emails, voicemails, and messages that I left with their receptionists. There was a hearing, and then Mr. Ratner emailed me demanding "all the documents" that I had. I had over 50 gb of files across thousands of files, and spent about a month working with his paralegals sending them batches of files, and providing all the information they asked me for. Mr. Ratner forwarded me an email from Mr. King where King accused me of violating a court order regarding providing medical providers and the physical addresses of my entire family and my friends, which was false -- the Court had ordered me to provide him CONTACT information, at a second hearing, which wasn't significant, and I had fully and completely complied in good faith with all the Court's orders. Mr. Ratner accused me of not sending him "anything", after I had spent at least several weeks with his paralegals sending them batches of files and information, and he simultaneously threatened to ask the judge for leave to withdraw.
There had been major delays with medical evaluation due in large part to Covid, as well as delayed discovery of brain injury, which is very common, and other factors.
With trial set, Mr. Ratner forwarded me an offer from Defendants for $5,000. Upon discussion (which was 100% in email because he refused to talk over the phone and Ms. Mollineaux completely ignored me), he accused me of not doing Discovery right. I pointed him to the video I referred to earlier, which I had found since Mr. Ratner took my case, but wasn't aware of when I was interacting with the FPBP, where the FPBP (Abby Herzberg), and various District Judges from the Court I was litigating in, state that it is general policy (and it is official policy under the Court's General Order 25) to REOPEN DISCOVERY when a pro bono attorney comes onto the case, and to FUND DEPOSITION AND EXPERT WITNESS FEES.
Mr. Ratner stated he "won't file any motions" and ultimately elected to withdraw from the case over fulfill his legal obligations under the Rules of Professional Conduct. Judge Gonzalez Rogers IGNORED MY REQUEST FOR A HEARING, and in her order granting him leave to withdraw about 2 months before my trial, thanked him. I had spent a ton of time trying to find private attorneys and trying to talk to the FPBP, telling them very clearly that I expected to be put back on the list.After Mr. Ratner withdrew, the FPBP refused to put me back on the list. I was forced into trial BY MYSELF, at 1-2 months prior to trial, after 3 months of my time being completely wasted by Mr. Ratner and his law firm.
I went through the appropriate legal process to submit an expert witness. Judge Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers, as usual, completely ignored my motions, but allowed me to use him after I went through the entire legal process, and paid him thousands of dollars without knowing if I would be granted permission or not, and provided the Court a report stating that the carotid hold was ILLEGAL unless the subject exhibited "assaultive behavior" and that Defendants had never alleged any behavior of mine that constituted "assaultive behavior" (under POST Basic, during 2017). The expert was a Master level instructor at a police academy and former SWAT.
Mr. King provided his pre-trial disclosures, and it contained a document from Rohnert Park police department which had been extensively redacted on the copy that they had provided to me. The new copy contained the contact information for the bystander witness. I called him, and he confirmed that he saw the entire thing, that I had never yelled at the deputies before the first deputy grabbed my arm, and that I was not resisting at any point in time. I told the judge this. She had me call him at a hearing, and both me and Mr. King were allowed a couple of minutes to ask him questions, where he refused to admit that I was even "wiggling" when Mr. King badgered him.
RPPD later sent me the email correspondence between them and Mr. King and Mr. King clearly stated that he had that copy in his records without them sending it, but wanted them to send it to appear official, meaning they had the contact information for the bystander witness the entire time, when they repeatedly lied that they didn't have it.
The judge then refused to allow him to appear at the trial over Zoom (during the height of Covid, even though she let one of the deputies), and refused to summon him to the trial.
Just prior to the trial, the Judge accused me falsely of firing my attorney, and explicitly prohibited me from telling the jury about ANY of the Defendants previous statements about the camera's ability to record (that they had lied about it for 4 years). She explicitly prohibited me from submitting scientific evidence about the carotid hold. She allowed Mr. King to make extremely defamatory false remarks about me and my past which had a huge impact on the jury's perception of things. At a pretrial hearing, we had gone over about 110 documents that I wanted to present at the trial. She vetted about 40 as admissible at the hearing, but at the trial she only let me submit about 4. Defendants were allowed to submit a SECOND expert witness, both of whom worked for the Sonoma County Sheriff's Office. The first was Andrew Cash. The second was James Naugle who had been disclosed literally a week before trial, without a report, and without allowing me to take his deposition. She refused to allow me to ask Mr. Naugle about case laws, or about information pertaining to the carotid hold. The Court refused to summon any of my treating physicians, whom I had provided the names and contact information for in my disclosures at the end of Discovery and some in my initial disclosures, and I had complied with Mr. King's written requests for information or objected within the boundaries of the laws (which I quoted and cited), in good faith, and complied with the Court's orders, in good faith.
I had informed the Court that I was scheduled for medical evaluations for brain injury AFTER THE TRIAL. The Court completely ignored this.
So it was my word against theirs. 5 years, at the time of the mistrial, to get a mockery of a trial, and have the jurors' time completely wasted. The jury wrote me a letter thanking me or something, but awarded me nothing.
I was diagnosed with organic brain injury after the trial. I had a similar test prior to the incident and had absolutely no problems and answered every question with no trouble. I now score in the FOURTH PERCENTILE on those areas.
Despite its length, this has been a short summary of all the events over the past 6 years. Much has been summarized, and much has been left out. I tried my best to balance completeness with leaving out irrelevant details.
There is no record of any misconduct on the part of anyone involved in this that is available to any law enforcement agencies or to the public. Nobody has been disciplined. No investigation was ever conducted. I was almost killed and was seriously injured, under a camera, and in front of witnesses, and spent 6 years working with the government. The government has done precisely NOTHING.
The County now routinely retaliates against me whenever we interact, in blatant violation of various laws.
submitted by Adventurous-Plant419 to FascismAlert [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 05:56 Perfect-Face3785 Witchcraft in Henderson County, NC.

Witchcraft in Henderson County, NC.
https://preview.redd.it/ksfgugyf9era1.png?width=819&format=png&auto=webp&s=7db3b9ba222ee1bf30439d7044ad1db475a60f93
Some time ago three bodies were found on the side of a mountain near Green River in Henderson County. The bodies had been beaten and mangled and left to rot near a garbage dump. The whole community was stunned and police on local, state, and national levels set to work to find the murder or murderers. Hundreds of leads poured in and all were followed, but none 1 brought even a suggestion of who the killers might be.
There had been rumors about the victims. All three, two men and a woman, were known to have engaged in occult practices, ranging from selling charms, Voodoo dolls, an spells, to holding seances for the benefit of high school students and tourists. Almost a year later, the case is still unsolved. It has entered into, the body of folklore surrounding this region, a folklore already rich in witchcraft--most of it dating back to the first settlers around the time of the Revolution, but some tales and beliefs no older than the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The most memorable of the stories told by my family by the fireside when I was young concern a family still thriving in the community and thought since pre-Civil War times to be steeped in witchcraft.
One is the story of a famous deer hunter named Baynes, who for years tried to kill a giant ten-point buck. Though one of the best shots in the area, he was never able even to wound the animal. Always it leapt off int the woods, his bullet disappearing in the thicket. Finally, enraged by merciless jokes and endless jibes, he melted a silver dollar into a bullet and left home one November morning before dawn. On a high plateau called the Flat Woods, he waited near a spring. When the buck appeared, he took careful aim. As he was about to squeeze the trigger, the deer burst open at the shoulders, and a woman emerged, begging him to spare her. She was the oldest member of the "witch" family, and as a boy he had laughed at her odd looks.
Another rumor held that a woman of the same family could cure milk-si, a deadly infection caught from the milk of a cow which had eaten nightshade. The cure involved an ax which the "witch" stuck in a fresh pine log, then in an oak on top of a certain small hill. Once the ax was secure in the oak, she placed a pail beneath the handle and made the motions of milking in the air. The milk that squirted from her hands into the pail was given to the fevered victim. Also associated with the family was the ability to predict death and disaster: who would die in the Civil War, the burning of Chicago, the death of President McKinley. When one of their kin died, they were rumored to keep the body in the house six days, supposedly attempting to raise it from the dead--with no known success.
Other legends of the Henderson County area are associated with places and the time of year. One ancient hunting cabin on the north side of Pinnacle, the area's highest peak, is said to contain the ghosts of all the dead animals killed and skinned on the mountain. At night the squirrels , quail, bobcats, coons, possums, deer, bears, and panthers come back to bite and torment whoever stays there. A woman passing it while pregnant might have children who looked like animals
The legends of panthers are endless--especially of a gigantic black panther Large enough to kill two curs with a slap of its paws, it prowled around the cabins on windy nights and stole meat from the smoke houses. It could pick locks and eat through doors. • My great-grandmother kept a fire blazing all night long once to keep a panther from jumping down the mud and-stick chimney.
According to my grandfather the most unusual annual occurrence in nature was Old Christmas, celebrated here at one time in early April. At twelve o'clock on Old Christmas Eve, all cattle and horses were supposed to kneel toward the east and low or neigh. Chickens and other animals were awake and silent. An extremely bright star appeared in the east, and time stopped for at least an hour. Lilies burst into bloom in the spring woods, and buds opened on the trees. In most parts of the mountains Old Christmas was celebrated in early January. I know of no place outside Henderson County where it was observed in April.
A great amount of the folklore of this area concerns metamorphosis. A typical story by an old-timer may run as follows: "When I was a boy, my brother and I were standing by the gap on Panther Mountain waiting for Pa to come back from the mill. It was getting late in the afternoon, and we saw a man approaching us across the pasture. He was dressed in black, and we suspected he was a peddler. After looking in another direction, talking about who it might be, we looked back to say hello, as he was right near us. But he was gone, and there was nothing but a quail in the field where he had been. That bird was tame as it could be, and we made it a pet." Birds are the usual animals involved.
Another tale runs: "We were serenading a couple after their wedding, throwing tin cans, ·firecrackers and stuff down their chimney. We'd all been liquored up a bit and someone clumb up on the roof in the dark and shot down the chimney. We heard a scream inside. The bullet ricocheted and killed the girl. We all rano After that, on every anniversary of that wedding night a dove would come and sit on the chimney. It was covered with blood."
Another time it is a bear: "When R. P. was laying out during the First World War, living in a cave with his hair and beard long as Methuselah's, we were nearly all afraid to meet him in the woods, he looked so bad. The Military Police searched for him several times but never found him. One of the M--(family of witches) women lost her son in France and put a curse on R. P. Nobody saw him again. After the war some of us went up to the cave where he had stayed and found a bear living there. It had a beard and eyes just like R. P,'s."
Source: 'NORTH CAROLINA FOLKLORE' Volume XV. May 1967.
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2023.04.02 05:16 slugline Census Bureau estimates Harris County population grew by 45,000 in 2022, the second-largest numeric growth of any U.S. county last year. Also in the Top 10 list: Fort Bend (+29K) and Montgomery (+28K).

Census Bureau estimates Harris County population grew by 45,000 in 2022, the second-largest numeric growth of any U.S. county last year. Also in the Top 10 list: Fort Bend (+29K) and Montgomery (+28K). submitted by slugline to houston [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 03:43 cwcobblestone "A Maid's Diary," Chapter 5

“A Maid’s Diary,” Chapter 5
by c.w. cobblestone


Dear Diary,
It’s been several days since my last entry. The family is running me ragged and there’s been no time to write. Luckily, I finished before midnight tonight, so I finally have a few minutes to myself before I have to crash.
This schedule is ridiculous, but that’s the least of my problems. Not only does my workload keep increasing, but I’m being treated worse than ever. Since Mike gave the girls permission to hit me, they’ve become drunk with power, often slapping me for no reason. Especially Olivia. Usually, Kelsey is just bitchy and demanding, and will only hit me if I’ve done something wrong, whereas her impish younger sister invents reasons to punish me, like the other night when she gave me one across the chops at dinner because she said the tater tots on her plate weren’t lined up properly. But I don’t have to even do anything wrong; Olivia will sometimes just slap me out of the blue and say “that’s for nothing,” emulating her father.
While I never had any authority over Kelsey and Olivia even before their real dad moved in and became head of our household, I nonetheless can tell the girls are thrilled to be allowed to slap the shit out of their sissy of a stepfather any time they feel like it.
Mike encourages it. So does Jen. Just last night, when Kelsey complained about a smudge on the heel one of her shoes, my wife told her, “I’d smack the bitch if I was you.” Kelsey obliged. After her stinging backhand, I stood before the family holding back tears as Olivia pointed at me cackling and Jen called me a pathetic little faggot. Meanwhile, Mike sat back proudly surveying the evil he’s fomented in our home.
I constantly fantasize about running as far away as I can from these terrible people and leaving this madness behind. While I never had what you’d call a loving, supportive family, my situation at home has turned into a nightmare since Mike showed up. Jennifer no longer resembles the woman I married, and Kelsey and Olivia have become like spawns of the devil. More and more, I’m beginning to wonder if that isn’t literally true. It’s as if Satan himself is sleeping in my bed, exerting his dark influence on Jen and the girls, encouraging them to abuse me in the most unthinkable ways.
My treatment has become so bad, Mike told his daughters the other day that they should keep our household dynamic a secret from everyone but their most trusted friends. Although I will be coming out at the wedding as the family maid, Mike said he doesn’t want people knowing everything that happens in the privacy of our home. That’s because folks would probably alert the authorities if they knew the kind of abuse that goes on in our dysfunctional domicile.
But the police wouldn’t be able to do anything because it’s all consensual. I hate myself for it, but it’s true. I just can’t say no to the prick, even when obeying him means destroying myself.
When I went to the County Center on my lunch hour last week to drop off the divorce papers and formally file to have my name changed, I stood outside the building entrance for several minutes, completely paralyzed. I somehow sensed that if I went through with Mike’s demand and changed my name to Buffy Jameson, the loss of my former self would be more than symbolic; it would mark the literal death of Lester Edwin Bradford — not exactly the manliest man in the world, but at least a man.
Of course, I ended up doing it. I had tears in my eyes, and the clerk asked if I was okay, but I filed the paperwork like a good little sissy bitch. Nobody twisted my arm. Sure, Mike has twisted my brain, but legally speaking I’m acting under my own free will. Everything that happens to me is completely my fault because I could walk away anytime but choose to stay. Why, I don’t know. I’ve racked my brain and agonized over the matter, but I can’t understand this hold Mike has over me. It’s not just me, though. He has that effect on everyone. And he’s turned them all against me, just because the evil sonofabitch thinks it’s funny to ruin my life.
Work has become a welcome escape. By now, everyone at the bank has gotten used to me dressing as a woman, and while it’s still highly embarrassing for me, I’m able to tune it out for the most part. I go straight to my desk in the morning, sit in a nice, soft chair, and try to concentrate on stock trends for 8 hours.
No matter how deeply I dive into the NYSE and NADAQ tables, though, it’s always in the back of my mind that when quitting time comes, a veritable house of horrors awaits me.
In a nutshell, my life really sucks right now. All I can do is go to sleep and hope that when I wake up, this will all have been just a dream.


Dear Diary,
Two thugs harassed me after work today while I was walking back to my car. They started following me about a quarter-mile out of downtown. I tried to walk faster but they quickly caught up.
“What’s your hurry, sweet-cheeks?” one of the men asked. “I want to be your boyfriend.”
“I like how your ass looks in that dress,” the other one said.
“Come on, bitch, you know you want it,” the first sleazeball added. “You trannies are all the same.”
“Yeah, you’re all sluts who like guys with big dicks, and we both got huge ones.” The man flashed a crooked-toothed grin. “Wanna see?”
I was scared to death and quickened my pace to a near trot, not an easy task in heels. The two men stayed with me, grabbing my ass and making lewd comments the entire time, until finally, thankfully, I reached my car. The brutes slammed their fists on my hood and screamed obscenities at me as I peeled away.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and gripping the steering wheel proved difficult. During the ride home, I debated whether to tell Mike what had happened. There was no real need for him to know, but he has me so brainwashed I’m scared to keep anything from him.
In the end, I gave in and told my master about my encounter with the two ruffians. Big mistake. He thought the whole thing was hilarious.
“You were probably shaking your ass at them, you sissy whore,” he crowed, and I was glad Jen and the girls weren’t there to witness this latest embarrassment.
Since no one was around to provide an audience, Mike left me alone to tidy up the house. I later found out through his telephone conversation that Jen and the girls were out looking at wedding dresses.
My heart was in the gutter while I cleaned, knowing that Jen and the girls were out shopping to find a dress so my wife could look beautiful on her wedding day. I’m trying to put Jen’s happiness first, and she’s made it clear that she’s thrilled to be marrying the only man she’s ever loved, but it’s impossible. The vision of my beautiful, soon-to-be-ex-bride exchanging vows with Mike brings tears to my eyes and makes me want to puke.
As I tidied up a house that is no longer mine, clad in high heels and an outlandishly short slave dress that doesn’t cover my ruffled panties, topped by a faggoty cap and apron, I didn’t think my mood could get any worse.
It got much worse.
I was cleaning the toilet when my master rushed into the bathroom unzipping his pants. “Move, sissy!” he yelled.
As I started to back away, he grabbed my shoulder. “Hang on a sec. Turn around and bend over the toilet with your face up.”
I obeyed, leaning uncomfortably backward so that the rear of my head was inside the bowl. I knew what was coming as he whipped out his dick with a sneer.
“Open wide and say ah,” he said an instant before the yellow stream started burning my eyes. I opened my mouth, instantly tasting his bitter urine, which overflowed my mouth, running down my forehead and soaking my hair.
“Say ah, goddamn it,” Mike growled.
“Aggggggghhh,” I gargled, choking from his stream of pee, which elicited a chuckle from my tormentor.
It was the longest 60 seconds of my life. When Mike finally finished urinating, he shook the last few drops on my face before zipping back up.
“I just gave you a present, bitch What do you say?”
“T-thank you sir.”
“You’re welcome, now clean yourself up,” he said over his shoulder as he strolled out of the bathroom. “I don’t want my maid smelling like piss.”
Crying my poor little eyes out, I ran to my basement shower and washed that piss right out of my hair. After changing to a new frock, I cleaned the upstairs bathroom where Mike had missed the toilet and made a mess, and then got on with the rest of my housework with my spirits about as low as they’d ever been.
Of course, in the Jameson household things can always get shittier. And they did.
Jen and the girls returned at about 8, and I was surprised to see them accompanied by the Henderson family. Leigh Henderson has been Jen’s best friend for years; her daughters Carmen and Peyton are Kelsey and Olivia’s age, and the four girls are like sisters, having known each other since kindergarten.
Jen proudly introduced her new man to the Hendersons.
“You can trust them,” my wife told Mike. “You know … about Buffy.”
Mike grinned at Leigh and her daughters. “Nice to meet you all. So, you guys know about our little maid?”
“Jen told us some stuff,” a starry-eyed Leigh said, clearly under Mike’s influence only seconds after being introduced to him. Her giggling daughters were similarly entranced.
Mike snapped his fingers. “Sissy! Get over here.”
I rushed to the spot in front of him.
“How long have these beautiful ladies been in our home, Buffy?”
“Um, sir … a few minutes, sir.”
“Then, why don’t they all have cold drinks in their hands? Why don’t I have a beer? Are you not the maid around here?”
“Uh, yes, sir.” I glanced around at the five smirking females who were all enraptured by Mike’s display of power.
Mike shook his head at our guests. “I’m sorry, ladies. We still have a lot of training to do with little Buffy here.”
Jen scowled. “And still the sissy stands there without asking everyone what they want to drink!”
“Ooh, that deserves a slap!” Olivia piped in. She turned to her friends. “Which one of you wants to do the honors?”
“Why not let ‘em both smack the stupid sissy?” Jen suggested.
Everyone thought that was a capital idea.
Carmen went first, and she wasn’t shy about rearing back and slapping the taste out of my mouth. Not to be outdone, her little sister pinched my cheeks with one hand while striking me several times on the nose with the other.
I’ve known the Henderson family since the girls were babies, and because Jen, Kelsey and Olivia had always treated me with disdain, their friends had followed suit. But after falling under Mike’s spell, they were becoming outright cruel, and taking great delight in my humiliation. Mike has that effect on people.
I scurried to fill drink orders when my punishment was over. After everyone was set, Mike showed off in front of company by making me get on all fours to serve as his footstool while he held court.
I remained stock-still, eavesdropping on the conversation.
“Carmen says Buffy should be the flower girl instead of the ring-bearer,” Kelsey said. “That’s usually for little boys.”
“I thought about that,” Jen said. “I just don’t know any little boys who could do it, so I figured Buffy could do both.”
“Tommy could do it,” Peyton said, referring to her little brother. “He’d love to. When we told him about your wedding, he kept saying how he wanted to put on a tuxedo and be the ring-bearer because his friend at school was.”
Jen shrugged. “Shit, I don’t care, that solves the problem. What do you think, hon?”
“I think flower girl for Buffy would be more appropriate.” Mike tapped his foot on my back. “Hear that, sissy? Change in plans.”
“Yessir,” I said, trying to remain still.
“You guys can help us find an outfit for Buffy to wear,” Olivia told her friends, who giggled at the prospect.
I knelt there listening to Mike regale everyone with stories about the time he dodged terrorists in Afghanistan, or when he hid from the Russian police by burying himself in a Siberian snowbank. It sounded like bullshit to me, although my master has an air of mystery about him, and nobody knows exactly what he did during the 15 years he was out of Jen and the girls’ lives. Nobody asks. He’s always cagy about his past, and Jennifer doesn't push him for details. For all I know, he could’ve been some kind of spy. Maybe he still is.
By the time the Hendersons left our house, they’d fallen completely under Mike’s spell, just like everyone else. And I didn’t like the way Leigh had openly flirted with my master — or how Jen seemed to be egging her on. The girls picked up on it, too, and Carmen teased her mom about having a crush on Mike. Leigh threw it right back at them, insisting that they, too, were smitten by him. Meanwhile, Mike relaxed with his feet on my back, drinking in the open, cringeworthy adulation.
I want to hate Mike. But if I’m being completely honest, I envy the sonofabitch. How I wish I could be more like him.
Instead, I’m … this. A downtrodden pansy.


Dear Diary,
Well, add another hardship to the growing list. Tonight, Mike came home with a little box and told me it was a present for me. I knew that didn’t portend anything good, and I was correct. Inside the box was a spiked cock cage.
“Jen says how you like to play with your little dick,” Mike told me in front of the whole family. “That stops immediately.”
I opened the box and gasped. The girls giggled.
“Put it on,” Mike said.
I cleared my throat. “Um … you mean right here?”
“No, dumbass, do it in Niagara Falls.” He scoffed. “Yeah, do it right here.”
I dropped my drawers and absorbed the taunts from Kelsey and Olivia.
Olivia pointed at my exposed penis. “Ewwwww, it looks like a worm.”
“Ugh, what a disgusting little loser,” Kelsey added.
I actually felt relieved when I clamped the cage onto my dick, because it was no longer exposed. With my head bowed, I handed over the key to Mike and pulled up my pants.
“Say good-bye to cumming,” Mike said, making me blush talking about sex in front of the girls. Despite all that had happened, they were still my stepdaughters, and I feel uncomfortable discussing such topics with them.
Not that Mike gives a shit. The man has no morals whatsoever.
So, now, I can’t even touch my own penis, and I have to ask Mike’s permission to take this fucking contraption off once a week to wash.
It’s damn near impossible to get to sleep wearing this thing, but I need to try. I’ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow.
Ugh.


Dear Diary,
Mike told me I have to compose a speech to read out loud during the wedding reception. I’ve just finished writing it, and will run it by my master tomorrow for his approval. It’s going to kill me to have to stand up in front of everyone and read this, but because I have no free will when it comes to the man who’s ruining my life, I know I’ll end up making a fool of myself — and lying my ass off in the process. The speech was written to absolve Mike and the family of any blame for how far I’ve fallen, and it makes my horrifying sissy maid lifestyle seem almost idyllic. That’s exactly how Mike wants it.
I’ll copy the speech here for future reference, although it’ll probably be etched into my brain for as long as I live.
“First of all, I’d like to thank everyone for being here tonight to share in this union of two wonderful people. I’m sure a lot of you were shocked at the ceremony when I came out as a five-year-old flower girl, but I’m pansexual, and earlier today, that’s how I identified. As you can see, I’ve changed clothes and now I identify as a maid. I’ll be your server tonight, because this is my wedding present to Jennifer and Mike; I told them they didn’t have to worry about hiring waitstaff because I’ll take care of it myself. It’s a small thank-you for all they’ve done for me. And, believe me, they’ve done a lot. They’ve both been wonderful about supporting my transition to womanhood. After I came out as trans and asked Jen for a divorce, I begged her to let me stay with the family as a woman, so I could be something like a live-in aunt to the girls, who, by the way, have also been awesome and supportive. I didn’t see the reason why my family should have to break up just so I could live my true self. I’m the one who turned our lives upside down, and they didn’t deserve any more instability by having me move out. And frankly, I love my family dearly, and didn’t want to move. Jennifer was kind enough to grant my request and let me stay. Then, when Mike came into the picture, he couldn’t have been more understanding and sympathetic. Not every guy would be so open-minded about this situation, but Mike has been great. While Jen does have feelings for me, I always knew her one true love was Michael, the father of her two beautiful daughters. So, now, they’re married and restarting their family, and I’m proud to announce that I will be staying on and serving them as their maid. This is something I not only want, but consider a great honor. I feel this is the best way I can serve my family moving forward, and Mike, Jen and the girls are all happy with the arrangement. So, I hope you’ll all be happy for us, too, while you eat, drink and be merry — and don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything, because it’s my honor to serve.”
Every stinking, rotten word is a goddamn lie. I come off looking like some pathetic sap, while Mike, Jen and the girls are all the good guys for being so understanding of my transition after I laid my sexual preference on them out of nowhere.
No! I don’t want any of this! It’s all Mike’s doing!!
That’s the speech I want to make: “Help! Somebody call the fucking police! An evil man has taken over my home and brainwashed everyone! He made me come out as transgender. He made me change my name! I don’t want to do this! I hate wearing fucking dresses!! I hate being a woman!! Help!!!!”
Yeah, right. That’ll never happen. Mike DOES have me brainwashed.
I guess I’m fucked. Oh, well. Good night.
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2023.04.02 03:30 Horror-Use9765 Court costs that accrue more every month,

Have been done with a petty misdemeanor charge since 2013, got clean and turned my life around, but due to multiple life events happening close together, I am, going to miss this month's payment on my payment plan that's been in place since 2014. I need 50 dollars to prevent my license being suspended due to non payment of court costs. Yes, Montgomery county, in TN, will absolutely tell the DMV to suspend for one single payment missed. I am barely making it right now, lost my wife to Pneumonia in January, and I can't even pay for groceries really. But I cannot afford to lose my license over 50 dollars. If anyone can help, I can repay at the beginning of May, with interest. Help with 50 dollar payment is the most urgent, could also really use some help with food and other essentials for the month. Cash app is $tgeezy1990, and i have PayPal as well if it would be preferable. Can pay up to $150 back on May 3rd, but any amount can and will help, and I am greatful you even toom the time to read my list!!
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2023.04.02 03:12 abusdhobo The Westfield Indiana WPD Cover Up what they believe to be Kidnaping or Human Trafficking in front of Sherifs house during pandemic. Victim is Ex Twink Porn Star Jamie Knight.

This is becoming a federal case. Thoughts on firms that can handle this in Chicago? My geuss is a Civil Rights Attorney any other idea post it here for consideration and why.
More videos at the link but not al evidence available as WPD has been caught editing the evidence. The FBI has been notified and directs abuse and civil rights concerns to Hamilton Country IA and WPD. There has been no follow up on these allegations by IA or any detective or form of law enforcement.
https://www.facebook.com/groups/mycivilrights/permalink/9310827518958907/


https://preview.redd.it/cnbsi5lsgdra1.png?width=1600&format=png&auto=webp&s=cba2d36a3ffd6abe1550127c077411a6b0f37190


Description from link. This doesn't work on phone.
Hey
GRAPHIC TRIGGER WARNING! \This warning has ben ad at moderators request.]This was police fake arest and felony misconduct with WPD Westfield Indiana and the county on 07 18 2020 to 2021 case was dismied without prejudice. Yes I am safeish cat 1 homeless and sueing them.)
Why this matters is obvious defamation and that I did not do all of that work on my reputation and nothing on my record and not hitting this wackjob after every bipolar rant he has and threats for 2007 to 2020 just to have the police lie and say I did conveniently on his brhda right before I get to leave.
Story.
In 2007 I moved in with someone online in different state due to money issues that didnt tell me he had a murderous roomate and was then kept against my will by this man a bipolar psychopath ptsd sociopath 450 lbs morbidly obese 50 yo man with diabetes recent bariatric patient on 2 antipsychotics felon ex con for capitol offence extortion with threat of homicide was thron into mental institute for criminaly insane its on his record police kno that etc... had always been threatening me that if I leave he would make a false charge against me to protect himself from prosecution for kidnaping and atempt murder because roomate going to throw him out if I was to leave. The roomate want me to stay to replace him so roomate said oh your going to leave and fck me then by leaving me alone with him. I said didnt want anything to do with the guy and have nothing and have to get out of there.
Story Continued.
The acuser man threw all my clothes out and in 2010 to 2020 had fake swatting calls to the police telling them I would murder police and had a gun or one cal was that I was dancing naked in public in front of families or another was that I was threatening him with a murder video that if he didnt let me go I was going to send him to jail etc... all trying to get me arest on various false charges with a different story every tim.
04 10 2010 Phoenix police record fake swatting call by acuser about officers in danger that I am armed with weapon and going to kill them so have their guns ready when arrive... That call 04 10 2010 Phoenix. WPD and Phoenix denied FOYA request by attorney for reports and videos from previous calls.
2013 Westfield police record fake insanity call by the man acuser about OCD and threats of prosectution for attemted murder
2016 Westfield police record fake 911 call by the man acuser about me dancing naked in public in front of families in westfield in atempt to get me arrest because was in argument with witness about why clothes were stashed that acuser didnt kno about. The call fails and acuser calls police a bunch of fagots
**2018**Witness kicks out the man acuser and is threatened by him with murder as acuser is insane. Witness gets intoxicate and bashes head in outside on acident. The Man acuser calls police and 911 and sheriff comes into house and evaluates situation and sends witness to hospital then leaves.

04 10 2020

begged the police to get me out of there that he was threatenening fake acusation if was to leave asked for detective and camera or ride out of there etc... officers denied.
**06 10 2020**The Mans sisters makes Human Traffiking call against acuser and roomate saying The Man molest her as a kid and is abusing males in his house and posting legal BDSM videos of teens and selling them on internet WPD refuse the caller to WPD go into the home for welfre so they not only refuse to go into house the report they make says that they list acuser roomate and a victim on the police report one of the officers from this sho up on scene in next call WPD tried to delete and remove this part from aresting officers cam video but forgot to edit it out of the other officers video.
On 07 18 2020
The police fake arrest. The evidence here is from this scene.The Man acuser brhda less than 2 weeks before I can leave The Man gets into argument and fightwith roomate who was a intoxicate witness and during that fight and argument with he man about money the witness tells the man that I am going to leave in 2 weeks and get 100K inheritance and nothing the man can do to stop me and that the witness roomate changed his mind abot me staying there and that he is going to assist me in doing so and wont deal with the mans threats anymore.
The man acuser says I dont get to leave without some kind of police involvement and that we are lying to him that I am not leaving in 2 weeks im leaving that wekend and trying to screw him on his brhda.
The man argues with the witness and the witness says dont plug in a computer cant handel that lethal amount of stres right now as the witness has high blod presure and a lethal stress diag by the VET and as the witness goes to rom the man did it anyway and didnt like me there witnessing it because makes him the bad guy then he attatckd me and tried to take my cloths off and shed them as usual before his fake police cals because didnt like that I was still wearing them and wouldnt take them off because knew that he was going to do it again because he insanly wants me naked in front of the police he bleieves that is going to discredit anything that I say against him like the atempted murder and because he is always caled a mental patient by roomate in arguement so wants me to be one also but the witness was there during the threashing about because I was saying hes assaulting me repeatedly and came out of rom as I was on the flor and the man didnt know the witness was there as he was doing that to me and once found out the man got angry then called 911 says we ruin his brhda and says I picked him up off of the ground and full contact body slamed him to the ground and punched him in the face and threw a peor cord at him 100% BS. The witness is a felon ex con and on parol for DUI scared of the cops and just repeats what the acuser says because he is intoxicate.
The police arive I go out and change my destroyed clothes to the only par of clothes I had stashed let for my get away so that I wasnt completely naked as The Man intend and The Man angry with that informs 911 that I was doing so. I couldnt leave them on or the police would have been like WTF and forced me to go to the hospital and arest the guy and not what I want.
He was cleared of any injuries by medical on scene and no ability to tell if injury with aresting officer.
The officer desperately attempts to validate ability to arrest with other officers then decides yes and instructs new to WPD officer bowel to transport because stinks to much for her and she should stay behind and with no evidence arrest is made and officer manufactures a false police statement and illegally signs a arrest affidavit and coaches witness to change written statement to add SAW as in witnessed manufactures the witnesses written statement further herself when the change wasn't enough for use in court and the edit the bodycam evidence later to remove human traffiking conversation and medical talking to her in addition is the only silenced cam video.
Westfield
The City of Westfield Indiana and WPD covered up what they believed to be Human Traffiking going on at 319 Park Westfield neighbor to the Sherrifs house who in 2019 list his house for 5 x its value at $1.2 Million because the City has done a lot of work in front of his house in addition the city has built a hospital nearby and grand park and the YMCA was deciding to put a $35 Million facility there and would make everyone's house values go up and westfield has been trying to get the YMCA to build that 2018 to 2022 recently they offered YMCA $5 Million to build it. The police kno that and are also havign issues with not getting arrest due to the pandemic and is evident by the evidence that could be the motive so WPD manufactured false evidence against me on camera pretending to be authentic and valid and coached a Intoxicate witness who was on parole for DUI to change his written statement to say he witness me battery a guy in a domestic dispute and it wasnt enough so she actualy changed the witnesses statement herself and signed her name to it and completely lied about everything that happened on scene including talking to another officer who told her he recently responded to a Human Traffiking call there less than a month prior.
Add Info
WPD may have instead of officer edited the cam videos silenced arresting officers video and removed some completely including when she use their ID's as you can tell from the evidence and found out both were ex cons and they may have instead of her have removed completely the human trafiking video portion of her bodycam but they forgot about this officers video and left it in so you have the evidence.
She denied on reports that the conversation ever happened under felony perjury charges and that both felon ex con's statements acording backgrond on their ID were both and their statements credible and that she had no evidence or say so otherwise and that no other officer told her anything that would lead to believe otherwise. She shood that officer away intentionaly lying to him about fake drugs and aspergers claims 100% lies and silenced her bodycam repeadedly as asked him and other officers to do the same so what she says couldnt be heard by anyone later. Then in evidence her entire bodycam is silenced.
The Lawsuit
If anyone knows a Civil Rights atorney let me know I have contact the ACLU but they are too busy with other cases and I guese and they dont care about me. The county also tried to murder me negligently at the jail and by forcing me to wheeler mission instead of legaly releasing me and the hering judge after getting angry that I didnt asnwer yes or no to him gave me a lawyer who was practically disbarred for trying to have sex with his clients and his wife worked against me for the diversion part of the prosecutor's office who then voice mailed me and extorted me saying that she listened to my voice mails and emails to her husband threatening if he is working agaisnt me with the prosecutor that could be federal jail for him and she said that it didn't sound like I was too interested in pleading guilty to divert my case and if I did not hurry up and pay her $400 to divert my case that I could be convict of a crime.
I kno that some guys in the facebok group queering indi are from wheelers mission in Indianapolis that witnessed me being raped and abused in person in front of them and 250 other guys where the police forcibly drop me of at during a pandemic with no phone or trnsport or ID or job 45 miles from court. The nurses in the jail asked why I wasnt sitting in the medical cell I said because I have OCD and there is fecal everywhere and mold and I have open bleeding wound on my fet that they took pictures of and tel me if I didnt sit down in fecal matter that could contain lethal pandemic residue and rust and mold in the cell that they would inject me with vitamins to pass out and I said thats not legal and they came back with more nurses and chemicles that could kill you and they said because you have ocd then you wouldnt mind cleaning up the cell for us... BECUASE IF HAVE OCD 7th most devistating mental condition I WOULDNT MIND CLEANING THE POTENTIONALY COVID 19 INFECT LETHAL FECES AND MOLD AND RUST.... FOR THEM not because I have a disorde no because I have a disorder I wouldnt mind doing it.. not for me but for them and ridding of the evidence of that medical cell and put that disorder to work... That is attemt murder not endangerment but murder many counts of that.
I am going to be sueing WPD the city of westfield and hamiltn county in federal court as a user said to do. If you kno a civil rights atorny that is LGBT let me kno because ACLU is useless and I have no money and am category 1 homeless but staying someplace saf. The statue of limitation is not over yet this happened in 07 18 2020 was homeless in wheelers until case got dismissed because of witness recanting story and accuser lying. The acuser is insane and not liable for anything and the witness was intoxicate and abused by police and financial punitive is due to be paid to both of them and I will be trying to get that. This was a corrupt police and the county. The judges prosecutor officers and jail and with FBI and county sherrif refusing to do anything and passing the buck that is a royal flush in the law if there is one.
Here is some evidence for you I wouldnt make claims that couldnt be proven in and out of court by my atorneys.







The officer coaches witness to change statement so say he directly witnesses battery and then thats not enough so she later edits the witnesses written statement herself and signs her name to that.
https://reddit.com/link/1295b73/video/o1aqwpyybdra1/player
I do not have Aspergers the police kno that I have OCD and have caught the acuser lying about it the officer knows that continuesly using Aspergers as excuse to decredit my claims and explained that to police that acuser trying to get me arrest many tims before the guy made aspergers up becuse he watched Osark Seson 2 that gave him the idea to make up aspergers to 911. The shoes I am wearing... The pile of clothes to the right of car are the ones guy was tryingto rip off of me because wante me naked for police as usual. The guy didnt kno that I had a last par of clothes stashed that he couldnt find and throw away like everything else but did tell 911 was changing my clothes as if that would decredit any of my claims more that that.
The officer never mentions the men are both felon ex cons for extortion and witness is on parol for DUI also purposely forgets to mention acuser is bipolar psychopath sociopath with PTSD on 2 antipsychotics and recent bariatric patient also has dentures glasses and diabeties a fall could kill him but yet was injured and punched in the face and body slammed to the ground with no marks of any kind and cleared from medical also already caught by police lying about Aspergers and intoxicate witnesses story changing and suspect claiming kidnaping matching another officer that described human trafficking call by acusers sister.
https://preview.redd.it/nrtxn2rzcdra1.jpg?width=1202&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=822e16f10a0535ce4efb5299d162cbcb3b0aad43
This is felony perjury here or is it not.
This is felony perjury here or is it not.
This is Officer bowels report and proves that he knew I did not have Aspergers that I had OCD and that he had evidence that the acuser was lying and did not inform the arresting officer.
This proves it to be a legal arrest the accuser and witness 100% credible got it or is it not you decide. Also a lot more happened at the jail than just an irregularity in the scan wouldnt you say.
You should blow up your car officer.
https://reddit.com/link/1295b73/video/37aore5iedra1/player
submitted by abusdhobo to Corruption [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 03:03 Most-Butterscotch871 Elected Sheriff and Police Power

Does the sheriff have full police power like his/her deputies? In my criminal justice class, I was taught that only county coroner can arrest the sheriff. Since the sheriff can only be arrested by county coroner in certain states and jurisdiction, is that mean the Fed cannot touch the sheriff?
submitted by Most-Butterscotch871 to AskLE [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 02:45 DallasShen [Arkansas, USA] Would I be at risk of my brother and SIL trying to take back the dog they gave me?

I have a 2.5yo dog (Denver) that I got from my brother and his wife. Out of 18 animals that my brother and his wife have gotten in the past 4 years, this dog is the 4th animal that started out with them and came to me for some period. They asked me to take care of a hamster, a turtle, and a beta fish. After a certain amount of time (about 2 weeks for the hamster and 10 months for the fish and turtle), they asked for the animals back. The hamster 'escaped' (knowing my brother and his wife, it was not properly contained) ate rodent poison, and died. The fish and turtle thrived with me for 10 months, but within 2 months of being returned to my brother and his wife, were dead as a result of not being fed appropriately and their habitats weren't cleaned. 11 of their 18 animals have died due to neglect (5 rabbits, 2 birds, a dog, a fish, a turtle and a hamster). Out of the 7 living animals (4 cats and 3 dogs), they rehomed 2 cats and 3 dogs. One of those dogs is the one I have.
The verbal agreement between me and my brother was that I can have Denver with one condition: if I'm ever not able to take care of her, she goes back to them. There was never any written agreement.
I actually still have several dozen pictures and videos that span over 8-10 months that show neglect of the cats and dogs - litter boxes that 4 cats have been using and haven't been touched in 2+ weeks, lack of watemuddy water you can't see an inch down in for the dogs, poop in the kennel that the dogs were kept in 23+ hours a day. I have called animal control, but they did nothing.
I know dogs are considered property, and I have vet records for my dog that go back to her being a puppy. My brother and SIL had Denver from the time she was 6 weeks old until she was 13 months old (October 2020-October 2021). The vet records from October '20 to October '21 have my SIL's parents' names on the paperwork, and my brotheSIL's names show up nowhere on any vet paperwork since they never took her to the vet, SIL's parents did. I got this dog in October '21, and all vet records since are in my name. The records with SIL's parents' names have my dog's old name (not Denver) on it.
SIL's parents really pressured my brother and SIL to give Denver to me because they saw how my brother and his wife were neglecting their animals, and knew I was capable of not only appropriately caring for her, but training her as well. I've put hundreds of hours in training Denver, and while she's not police dog trained, she's a minimum of 95% reliable on over 2 dozen commands, whereas she was 40% reliable at best on 4 commands when I got her. She's genuinely thriving and healthy now.
The issue is my brother is currently trying to get Denver back, and threatening to call the police to get her back. Do they have any right to try to take her back, and what would I need to do to protect my dog from going back to that neglect?
ETA: I know paying for a dog license is something mandatory in my town, but I currently live about a mile outside of city limits in the county where a dog license isn't mandatory. Would paying for it anyways help me out? Knowing brother and SIL, they didn't do this, or if they did, don't have any paperwork for her at all.
submitted by DallasShen to legaladvice [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 02:22 sacfamilyfriendly Slow clap for the ever competent Shasta County Sheriff (and Shasta Fair District) for using their resources to search far and wide for…a goat being spared from 4-H slaughter. Wish this were an April Fools prank.

Text in case the link at end gets paywalled:
A 9-year-old girl didn’t want her goat slaughtered. California fair officials sent deputies after it
BY LA TIMES STAFF WRITER PUBLISHED MARCH 30, 2023
Every day for three months, Jessica Long’s young daughter walked and fed her goat, bonding with the brown and white floppy-eared animal named Cedar. But when it was time for Cedar to be sold and slaughtered at the Shasta District Fair last year, the 9-year-old just couldn’t go through with it.
“My daughter sobbed in her pen with her goat,” Long wrote to the Shasta County fair’s manager on June 27, 2022. “The barn was mostly empty and at the last minute I decided to break the rules and take the goat that night and deal with the consequences later.”
Long purchased the goat for her daughter to enter into the 4-H program with the Shasta District Fair. Children are taught how to care for farm animals. The animals are then entered in an auction to be sold and then slaughtered for meat in hopes of teaching children about the work and care needed to raise livestock and provide food, as farmers and ranchers do.
In her letter, Long pleaded for the fair to make an exception and let her and her daughter take Cedar back. Aware that Cedar had already been sold in auction, she also offered to “pay you back for the goat and any other expenses I caused,” according to the letter obtained by The Times.
Instead, officials reached out to the Shasta County Sheriff’s Office. Armed with a search warrant, detectives drove more than 500 miles across Northern California in search of the goat.
According to the search warrant, deputies believed Cedar was staying at Bleating Hearts Farm and Sanctuary in Napa County, based on the fact that the sanctuary had posted on Instagram its support for Long and urging people to call the Shasta District Fair to convince them to spare Cedar. But Long had taken Cedar to a farm in Sonoma County because she and her family live in a residential area in Shasta County and are unable to keep farm animals there.
Echoing language used when law enforcement search a home for drugs, the warrant allowed deputies to “utilize breaching equipment to force open doorway(s), entry doors, exit doors, and locked containers” and to search all rooms, garages and “storage rooms, and outbuildings of any kind large enough to accommodate a small goat.”
Cedar was taken and slaughtered.
Long has since filed a federal lawsuit against Shasta District Fair officials and the county, arguing it committed an “egregious waste of police resources” and violated her and her daughter’s 4th Amendment and 14th Amendment rights protecting them from unreasonable searches and seizures, and due process. Long and her attorneys allege the dispute was a civil matter she was willing to resolve.
Letters, text messages, a search warrant and other court documents reviewed by The Times show how a dispute over a 9-year-old girl’s pet goat quickly escalated, and that Shasta District Fair officials resorted to using police resources after noting that their handling of the dispute over Cedar had become “a negative experience for the fairgrounds as this has been all over Facebook and Instagram.”
“It was never about money,” said Vanessa Shakib, an attorney for Advancing Law for Animals who represents Long. “County officials were clear that they wanted to teach this little girl a lesson.”
Shasta District Fair and county officials did not respond to requests for comment.
“This matter is in active litigation, and as such neither the County nor its legal counsel can provide a comment,” Christopher Pisano, an attorney representing Shasta County, said in an email.
Shakib argues that county and fair officials abused their power in what should have been a simple breach of contract.
Attorneys for Long also argue the county’s response to use law enforcement personnel and resources was disproportionate, considering they were dealing with a family who was trying to keep a goat from being slaughtered.
“It’s shocking,” said Ryan Gordon, an attorney with Advancing Law for Animals. “It’s a little girl’s goat, not Pablo Escobar.”
Gordon and Shakib argue that Long tried to resolve the issue from the outset, writing an email to fair officials the day after.
In it, Long pleaded her case, pointing out that the last year had been a particularly difficult one for her young daughter.
“Our daughter lost three grandparents within the last year, and our family has had so much heartbreak and sadness that I couldn’t bear the thought of the following weeks of sadness after the slaughter of her first livestock animal,” she wrote to Shasta District Fair Chief Executive Melanie Silva.
But Shasta District Fair officials threatened to call police the next day and rebuffed Long’s attempt to find another outcome for Cedar other than it being returned, slaughtered and donated for a barbecue.
“Making an exception for you will only teach [our] youth that they do not have to abide by the rules,” Silva wrote back to Long in an email reviewed by The Times dated June 28, 2022. “Also, in this era of social media this has been a negative experience for the fairgrounds as this has been all over Facebook and Instagram.”
That same day, B.J. Macfarlane, livestock manager for the Shasta Fair Assn., sent Long a text message.
“We need to make arrangements to get goat back today,” the text read. “If not law enforcement is going to be brought in on this.”
Long also offered to repay the fair district and the bidder whatever costs had been incurred. That included the winning bid of $902 made by state Sen. Brian Dahle (R-Bieber) and the 7% cut that the fair was entitled to of $63.14.
(Continued in comments)
https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2023-03-30/goat-slaughter-shasta-county-fair?fbclid=PAAaa2md-GFGfBlM4msq6gCLMs60V3JE85TgD4G_s8_Q3bfT36wPLzfCxr8IM
submitted by sacfamilyfriendly to Sherri_Papini [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 02:04 sacfamilyfriendly Slow clap for the ever competent Shasta County Sheriff (and Shasta Fair District) for using their resources to search far and wide for…a goat being spared from 4-H slaughter. Wish this were an April Fools prank.

Text in case the link at end gets paywalled:
A 9-year-old girl didn’t want her goat slaughtered. California fair officials sent deputies after it
BY LA TIMES STAFF WRITER PUBLISHED MARCH 30, 2023
Every day for three months, Jessica Long’s young daughter walked and fed her goat, bonding with the brown and white floppy-eared animal named Cedar. But when it was time for Cedar to be sold and slaughtered at the Shasta District Fair last year, the 9-year-old just couldn’t go through with it.
“My daughter sobbed in her pen with her goat,” Long wrote to the Shasta County fair’s manager on June 27, 2022. “The barn was mostly empty and at the last minute I decided to break the rules and take the goat that night and deal with the consequences later.”
Long purchased the goat for her daughter to enter into the 4-H program with the Shasta District Fair. Children are taught how to care for farm animals. The animals are then entered in an auction to be sold and then slaughtered for meat in hopes of teaching children about the work and care needed to raise livestock and provide food, as farmers and ranchers do.
In her letter, Long pleaded for the fair to make an exception and let her and her daughter take Cedar back. Aware that Cedar had already been sold in auction, she also offered to “pay you back for the goat and any other expenses I caused,” according to the letter obtained by The Times.
Instead, officials reached out to the Shasta County Sheriff’s Office. Armed with a search warrant, detectives drove more than 500 miles across Northern California in search of the goat.
According to the search warrant, deputies believed Cedar was staying at Bleating Hearts Farm and Sanctuary in Napa County, based on the fact that the sanctuary had posted on Instagram its support for Long and urging people to call the Shasta District Fair to convince them to spare Cedar. But Long had taken Cedar to a farm in Sonoma County because she and her family live in a residential area in Shasta County and are unable to keep farm animals there.
Echoing language used when law enforcement search a home for drugs, the warrant allowed deputies to “utilize breaching equipment to force open doorway(s), entry doors, exit doors, and locked containers” and to search all rooms, garages and “storage rooms, and outbuildings of any kind large enough to accommodate a small goat.”
Cedar was taken and slaughtered.
Long has since filed a federal lawsuit against Shasta District Fair officials and the county, arguing it committed an “egregious waste of police resources” and violated her and her daughter’s 4th Amendment and 14th Amendment rights protecting them from unreasonable searches and seizures, and due process. Long and her attorneys allege the dispute was a civil matter she was willing to resolve.
Letters, text messages, a search warrant and other court documents reviewed by The Times show how a dispute over a 9-year-old girl’s pet goat quickly escalated, and that Shasta District Fair officials resorted to using police resources after noting that their handling of the dispute over Cedar had become “a negative experience for the fairgrounds as this has been all over Facebook and Instagram.”
“It was never about money,” said Vanessa Shakib, an attorney for Advancing Law for Animals who represents Long. “County officials were clear that they wanted to teach this little girl a lesson.”
Shasta District Fair and county officials did not respond to requests for comment.
“This matter is in active litigation, and as such neither the County nor its legal counsel can provide a comment,” Christopher Pisano, an attorney representing Shasta County, said in an email.
Shakib argues that county and fair officials abused their power in what should have been a simple breach of contract.
Attorneys for Long also argue the county’s response to use law enforcement personnel and resources was disproportionate, considering they were dealing with a family who was trying to keep a goat from being slaughtered.
“It’s shocking,” said Ryan Gordon, an attorney with Advancing Law for Animals. “It’s a little girl’s goat, not Pablo Escobar.”
Gordon and Shakib argue that Long tried to resolve the issue from the outset, writing an email to fair officials the day after.
In it, Long pleaded her case, pointing out that the last year had been a particularly difficult one for her young daughter.
“Our daughter lost three grandparents within the last year, and our family has had so much heartbreak and sadness that I couldn’t bear the thought of the following weeks of sadness after the slaughter of her first livestock animal,” she wrote to Shasta District Fair Chief Executive Melanie Silva.
But Shasta District Fair officials threatened to call police the next day and rebuffed Long’s attempt to find another outcome for Cedar other than it being returned, slaughtered and donated for a barbecue.
“Making an exception for you will only teach [our] youth that they do not have to abide by the rules,” Silva wrote back to Long in an email reviewed by The Times dated June 28, 2022. “Also, in this era of social media this has been a negative experience for the fairgrounds as this has been all over Facebook and Instagram.”
That same day, B.J. Macfarlane, livestock manager for the Shasta Fair Assn., sent Long a text message.
“We need to make arrangements to get goat back today,” the text read. “If not law enforcement is going to be brought in on this.”
Long also offered to repay the fair district and the bidder whatever costs had been incurred. That included the winning bid of $902 made by state Sen. Brian Dahle (R-Bieber) and the 7% cut that the fair was entitled to of $63.14.
(Continued in comments)
https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2023-03-30/goat-slaughter-shasta-county-fair?fbclid=PAAaa2md-GFGfBlM4msq6gCLMs60V3JE85TgD4G_s8_Q3bfT36wPLzfCxr8IM
submitted by sacfamilyfriendly to thepapinis [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 01:50 leoofalexandria Announce YOURSELF

Station 9 to 1711.
Mother fucker. I just want 10 fucking minutes. Give me that please, God. Just put a fresh dip in, opened one of the new “sugar free,” Monsters (different from the “lo-carb,” option,) and fired up a knock off game that’s similar to candy crush. Just parked in my favorite hideout too. Backed in, in between a couple school buses in my cities elementary school. NO one comes here during my shift, which is graveyard.
Spitting out my chew and taking a big swig of Monster, I ripped the mic off of its magnetic plate. Hesitating, closing my eyes, and clearing my head, I respond. Something about closing your eyes when you answer a call seems to make the response clearer. I don’t know, ask other cops. They should understand.
  1. Go ahead.
10-90 at 1300 Roosevelt. Front door and basement motion. Any available county car for a back?
Great. My “me,” time got interrupted for a stupid home alarm. The burglar alarm business sure has made our lives hell, on their way to making millions for themselves. Every residence now has a ring, a chime, or even the old-school brinks or ADT system. Most of the time, excuse me, almost ALL of the time, it’s a false alarm.
County 3, I’ll head out there.
Station 9 copy. Thanks County 3.
Ok, that’s cool. County 3 tonight is Ramirez, I think. I hope. We’ve always gotten along, working in the same area for the last decade or so. We’re not like drinking buddies or anything but usually we will meet up for a coffee or a diner breakfast every now and then. More than I can say for most of my department. Well…. Let’s clear this call so I can get back to crushing this candy.
The address was only three miles away. I pulled up, threw it in park, and checked my CAD to see where Ramirez was. I shouldn’t have parked right out in front. Academy first day stuff. “Don’t get complacent.” I know. I know. My wits are still about me, I’m ready, but it’s just easier to make my life easier sometimes. And nothing really happens in this small town. Hell, there’s only 4 of us local cops. Thankfully we do have some help from the County. And by help we usually just let them handle most of our issues. They’ve got the equipment and resources so, fuck it. I’ll happily go and take care of dog off leash calls and folks complaining about their neighbor’s grass being too high. I’ve had my fill of Policing already. But that’s a story for another time.
1711, station 9, I’m up.
10-4.
County 3, show me pulling up.
10-4.
That’s weird, I don’t see that black and yellow sheriff car anywhere close- oh, here we go. Maybe CAD is messing up. It showed county 3 like 2 miles away just a minute ago. Time to get this dumb shit over with.
With a creak of the open driver side door and a creak in the back, I get my happy ass out of my cruiser. The back that sounds and feels like a 50-year-olds. Which would be fine if, you know, I was 50. I’m 33. It doesn’t feel like it.
The headlights dim from the County car. We’re parked with both our bumpers facing each other. Usually doesn’t happen like that, but, whatever, I guess. Not very tactical but not like we need to be. The door opens..
“Hey Rami-“
A tall, built guy steps out, towering out of the car. How the hell does he even fit inside? I’ve never seen this dude. He looks like god dang Arnold.
“Oh, hey bud,” I offer, “I figured Ramirez was County 3 tonight. I’m Happy.”
Obviously not my name, but it was a name given to me when I was back in SWAT. Another lifetime ago. And I loved that name, so I kept it. Just easier than getting too personal.
Arnold looked at me and broke an awkward smile. Kind of an odd first encounter from a fellow lawman. He pulled his shades up and placed them on his immaculate high and tight fade. It’s like 2 am, so that’s kind of weird. Lot of weirdness already. Maybe I’m just tired.
“Hey brother. Arnold. I used to cover the south end but asked to be out here. I hear it’s pretty chill.”
I do a slow nod and make sure to keep a tight smile. Inside my head I’m thinking “are you freaking serious, your name actually IS Arnold?” Straighten up. “Good to meet you, man. Guess we should cut the pleasantries and check out this house, eh?”
Arnold nods, checks his gear and extends his left hand, palm up, towards the house. A “Go ahead cochise,” gesture. I smirk and make my way up to the front of the house. “So, I was expecting Ramirez, did she just call in, or?”
“Not sure. Really don’t know much about her to be honest. I heard you two were pretty close though.”
This hit me in a weird way. Full disclosure, we are just friends. Partners in blue. I stopped, not really meaning to. I could feel Arnold stop himself from running into me, as he was not at all expecting me to stop walking toward the front of the house.
“I’ll say this. I don’t know what that means, but I’ll let it go. Don’t mention her again, ok?” I turned my head slightly, just to see his facial reaction.
“Whooooah, man. I’m sorry , I meant literally nothing by that. Just heard you guys worked good together. I won’t mention it again.”
I went over what I wanted to say in my head. I shouldn’t come off like this to some new boot just out of the academy. That shouldn’t have struck a nerve like that. These uniforms are hot. And uncomfortable. Add on the vest, the belt, the camera, the gun, etc. etc. I could feel the heat coming from my chest, out of my collar, toward my face. Disgusting. Like every day. Even when it’s winter, it’s hot wearing this shit. What happens when you’re hot and uncomfortable all the time? You get irritated. You get aggressive. Thankfully I learned a small trick from Joe Rogan. Breath. Open your mouth a little bit, and breathe. Get oxygen into your brain to calm yourself down. It worked.
“It’s fine… sorry to go off, that was uncalled for. I’ll buy your big ass a donut after this as an apology.”
Arnold laughed. Even though this Adonis could clearly fold me into a pretzel (and I’m no small guy myself,) he seemed to have some sense and recognize that I’m just not the type to be played around with. I appreciated that.
“Ok, good.” Something from the original call hit me just then. The burglary alarm tripped the front door and a basement motion. If someone has motion detectors set up, they have them in every hallway, every room. Usually. How could you conceivably break into the front door and then set off no alarms until the basement?
1711, Station 9.
9, go ahead.
Myself and County 3 will be checking the area.. shit.
Damnit. I hope that didn’t make the air. Between mentally sparring with myself and dealing with this newcomer, I didn’t notice the front door to 1300 Roosevelt was wide .. fucking .. open. I don’t think this is going to be a usual 10-90.
1711, Station 9, apologies. We have a front door open. Myself and 3 are going to make entry.
9 copies. Do you need additional units?
I’ll advise. We should be all set.
“You sure? Maybe having another car might be a good idea?” The big Oak says.
I stood frozen in place, not taking my eyes off of the front door. I’ve never been to this address. No issues. Why tonight. What has happened tonight. “No. We can handle it. You up to it?”
This always gets the rookies. They can’t have their pride be broken so early in their career. He rolls his head from side to side, and flexes his chest, probably involuntarily, but funny either way.
“Fuck yea I’m up to it.”
That’s what I thought.
Walking up to an open door is always going to be dicey. Little behind the curtain disclosure here. From day one to day 11,000, you will ALWAYS be afraid when you walk into a house. Door open, door closed, doesn’t matter. No one calls the Police to say “Hey, I’m having a really good day, I just wanted to let you know.” Something wrong has to happen for me to be called. For me to be standing here right now.
As I attempt to bang on the open door and announce that Police are coming in, it moves slightly. I didn’t touch it. At least I don’t think I did. Shit.. either way I don’t have time to think about it. Focus.
POLICE, if there’s anyone inside, make yourself known. Silence. Arnold, are you behind me? I hear a short shuffling and feel him moving to my side. I quickly glanced toward him. Damnit, son, get your gun out. We could be dealing with anything.
“Sorry,” he says as I hear his service weapon getting taken out from his holster. “I’m ready.” “Stay on me and do as I say. We have an open room with a hallway slight left. Looks like two or three rooms ahead, can’t exactly tell.” I feel him shake his head and grunt something.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about Arnold’s demeanor has changed.
“Ok, I’m moving toward the hallway, keep your eye on the room. When I move up toward the hallway, you look behind those couches. We proceed slowly, and he indeed does as I say. The living room is clear. When I feel him come back, I move up to the first room.
POLICE, announce yourself.
Annnnooouuunce yoooourself..
Every hair on my body stands on end. Something answered me. The voice sounded human, but off. Like something trying to sound human. Its tone was mocking.
“What.. what the hell was what?” Arnold said in a hushed tone.
SHH. What kind of an answer would I have for that? I’m just trying to think of where it wa-
Thump thump thump THUMP THUMP
Footsteps. Running away from us, damnit I hope it was away from us. It must have been? I’m too confused.
“Fuuuuuck man, what is all this?” My partner that I just met 10 minutes ago said. Too loudly, I may add.
Just then the same footsteps appeared to be overhead. Wait.. is there a second floor to this house? How can’t I remember that? I might have considered Arnold’s questioning of having another unit here if there was more space to search. I thought it was a ranch house. I take a pause to get my mental back. “Ok,” I said out of the side of my mouth to Arnold, like it would make him hear it better. “We know someone is here. We can’t just stop searching though. I’m going to open this door and you contact, ok?”
He nods. I look over him quickly, doing a silent “1,2,3,” countdown and then rip open the door. He draws, and sees.. stairs. I took a deep, stressful breath. And we have a basement here too. Just keeps getting better. Perfect. Now we have a real issue. We can’t just go upstai—
Station 9, 1711 status check
Hach-e mach-e, I gasped. Damn radio scared the shit out of me. And let’s just ignore the fact that I actually said hach-e mach-e. That must have been what I said as a kid when I got scared.
Deep breath. 1711, Station 9, we are secure and working. Please send another unit, we have possible suspect in home.
We’ll try, we have all units tied up right now
1711 copy.
Well that’s perfect. Ok, back to the present. We can’t just leave but we have to be as safe as possible searching a house with just two people. “Ok, big guy. You stay here and hold this basement. I know we should search every room, but we don’t have time for that right now. I’m going up stairs to search for our suspect.” Oak just stares at me, trying his best to remain brave. No shame big guy, we’ve all been there.
Remaining vigilant, I made my way upstairs. At the base I, again, made my announcement. “SHOW YOURSELF AND HAVE YOUR HANDS VISIBLE”
ShoooOoOOw YOURssssself…
Now I’m just getting pissed. This can go so wrong, but I’ve always been good at using anger to remain focused and hyper aware. But that doesn’t mean this is still creepy as fuck.
Leading by the light equipped to my handgun, I made my way up the stairs. Lucky for me it’s corner fed right, which means there’s only one side to go once you reach the second floor. I’ll take any victory I –
BANG
I draw in that direction. My streamlight sees one closed door. What the fuck kind of second floor has ONE room.
Tap… tap…. Tap….
Guess it doesn’t take the smartest of cops to realize where my guy is. I yell out downstairs. “I got ‘em here man, just hold that basement and call again for an extra unit.”
No response.
HooOOOOld the … the.. BAAsemeeeeeent..
This one was different. It sounded like some old scary story where the mimic alien thing is trying to actively learn human speech. Fuck this. Without thinking I booted the door with everything I had. Perfect connection. The door flies open, revealing a child’s room. Kind of. There’s a mattress on the ground, the kind would fit into a crib. There was a lamp in the corner, with some kind of children’s cartoon characters adorning it. What there wasn’t, was a person in here.
“He needs help.”
Something whispered into my ear. The goosebumps on my flesh almost hurt. I holster and fly back down the stairs to Arnold. I’m sure it’s nothing but.. Arnold’s not there. The basement door remains open.
A million thoughts race through my head, like it’s 100’s of Daytona 500’s, and they’re all going different directions, racing at speeds of well over 200 mph. That’s a lot of numbers. Focus. How many times have I said that to myself tonight. Focus.
First thought: leave. Shameful thought. He might be hurt or in trouble down there. Second thought. Call once again for immediate backup. This I actually tried.. and the radio does not transmit. Perfect. How many times have I said that tonight. Clearing my mind, I know what I have to do. I have to go downstairs.
GooOOOoo DoooOOwn…
“Fuck you.” That’s my response.
Each stair creaks. Almost more worried about falling through and splitting my fat head than what lies beneath. But they hold. And now I’m on the .. dirt floor? No one has a basement like this in this neighborhood. I was so enamored on the dirt floor that I almost didn’t register that a dark figure moved quickly from left to right in front of my eyes. Time to be stupid or brave. Maybe both.
“ARNOLD… are you down here, are you ok?”
I’m ok…. I’m hurt.. follow my voice… I can’t move.
Good, he’s ok. “Where are you?”
Right… in.. front of you. Help me. I can’t..
I’m coming buddy. I can’t reach dispatch, they must be –
Station 9, 1711… Station 9, 1711? ..
Station 9 TO 1711, PLEASE RESPOND
County 3, Station 9, I’ll swing by his location. Just send me his whereabouts.
Copy that County 3, thank you Deputy Ramirez
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2023.04.02 01:47 RuinAngel42 Goatbusters

Goatbusters submitted by RuinAngel42 to ImFinnaGoToHell [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 01:43 leoofalexandria This House was my Last Call

Station 9 to 1711.
Mother fucker. I just want 10 fucking minutes. Give me that please, God. Just put a fresh dip in, opened one of the new “sugar free,” Monsters (different from the “lo-carb,” option,) and fired up a knock off game that’s similar to candy crush. Just parked in my favorite hideout too. Backed in, in between a couple school buses in my cities elementary school. NO one comes here during my shift, which is graveyard.
Spitting out my chew and taking a big swig of Monster, I ripped the mic off of its magnetic plate. Hesitating, closing my eyes, and clearing my head, I respond. Something about closing your eyes when you answer a call seems to make the response clearer. I don’t know, ask other cops. They should understand.
  1. Go ahead.
10-90 at 1300 Roosevelt. Front door and basement motion. Any available county car for a back?
Great. My “me,” time got interrupted for a stupid home alarm. The burglar alarm business sure has made our lives hell, on their way to making millions for themselves. Every residence now has a ring, a chime, or even the old-school brinks or ADT system. Most of the time, excuse me, almost ALL of the time, it’s a false alarm.
County 3, I’ll head out there.
Station 9 copy. Thanks County 3.
Ok, that’s cool. County 3 tonight is Ramirez, I think. I hope. We’ve always gotten along, working in the same area for the last decade or so. We’re not like drinking buddies or anything but usually we will meet up for a coffee or a diner breakfast every now and then. More than I can say for most of my department. Well…. Let’s clear this call so I can get back to crushing this candy.
The address was only three miles away. I pulled up, threw it in park, and checked my CAD to see where Ramirez was. I shouldn’t have parked right out in front. Academy first day stuff. “Don’t get complacent.” I know. I know. My wits are still about me, I’m ready, but it’s just easier to make my life easier sometimes. And nothing really happens in this small town. Hell, there’s only 4 of us local cops. Thankfully we do have some help from the County. And by help we usually just let them handle most of our issues. They’ve got the equipment and resources so, fuck it. I’ll happily go and take care of dog off leash calls and folks complaining about their neighbor’s grass being too high. I’ve had my fill of Policing already. But that’s a story for another time.
1711, station 9, I’m up.
10-4.
County 3, show me pulling up.
10-4.
That’s weird, I don’t see that black and yellow sheriff car anywhere close- oh, here we go. Maybe CAD is messing up. It showed county 3 like 2 miles away just a minute ago. Time to get this dumb shit over with.
With a creak of the open driver side door and a creak in the back, I get my happy ass out of my cruiser. The back that sounds and feels like a 50-year-olds. Which would be fine if, you know, I was 50. I’m 33. It doesn’t feel like it.
The headlights dim from the County car. We’re parked with both our bumpers facing each other. Usually doesn’t happen like that, but, whatever, I guess. Not very tactical but not like we need to be. The door opens..
“Hey Rami-“
A tall, built guy steps out, towering out of the car. How the hell does he even fit inside? I’ve never seen this dude. He looks like god dang Arnold.
“Oh, hey bud,” I offer, “I figured Ramirez was County 3 tonight. I’m Happy.”
Obviously not my name, but it was a name given to me when I was back in SWAT. Another lifetime ago. And I loved that name, so I kept it. Just easier than getting too personal.
Arnold looked at me and broke an awkward smile. Kind of an odd first encounter from a fellow lawman. He pulled his shades up and placed them on his immaculate high and tight fade. It’s like 2 am, so that’s kind of weird. Lot of weirdness already. Maybe I’m just tired.
“Hey brother. Arnold. I used to cover the south end but asked to be out here. I hear it’s pretty chill.”
I do a slow nod and make sure to keep a tight smile. Inside my head I’m thinking “are you freaking serious, your name actually IS Arnold?” Straighten up. “Good to meet you, man. Guess we should cut the pleasantries and check out this house, eh?”
Arnold nods, checks his gear and extends his left hand, palm up, towards the house. A “Go ahead cochise,” gesture. I smirk and make my way up to the front of the house. “So, I was expecting Ramirez, did she just call in, or?”
“Not sure. Really don’t know much about her to be honest. I heard you two were pretty close though.”
This hit me in a weird way. Full disclosure, we are just friends. Partners in blue. I stopped, not really meaning to. I could feel Arnold stop himself from running into me, as he was not at all expecting me to stop walking toward the front of the house.
“I’ll say this. I don’t know what that means, but I’ll let it go. Don’t mention her again, ok?” I turned my head slightly, just to see his facial reaction.
“Whooooah, man. I’m sorry , I meant literally nothing by that. Just heard you guys worked good together. I won’t mention it again.”
I went over what I wanted to say in my head. I shouldn’t come off like this to some new boot just out of the academy. That shouldn’t have struck a nerve like that. These uniforms are hot. And uncomfortable. Add on the vest, the belt, the camera, the gun, etc. etc. I could feel the heat coming from my chest, out of my collar, toward my face. Disgusting. Like every day. Even when it’s winter, it’s hot wearing this shit. What happens when you’re hot and uncomfortable all the time? You get irritated. You get aggressive. Thankfully I learned a small trick from Joe Rogan. Breath. Open your mouth a little bit, and breathe. Get oxygen into your brain to calm yourself down. It worked.
“It’s fine… sorry to go off, that was uncalled for. I’ll buy your big ass a donut after this as an apology.”
Arnold laughed. Even though this Adonis could clearly fold me into a pretzel (and I’m no small guy myself,) he seemed to have some sense and recognize that I’m just not the type to be played around with. I appreciated that.
“Ok, good.” Something from the original call hit me just then. The burglary alarm tripped the front door and a basement motion. If someone has motion detectors set up, they have them in every hallway, every room. Usually. How could you conceivably break into the front door and then set off no alarms until the basement?
1711, Station 9.
9, go ahead.
Myself and County 3 will be checking the area.. shit.
Damnit. I hope that didn’t make the air. Between mentally sparring with myself and dealing with this newcomer, I didn’t notice the front door to 1300 Roosevelt was wide .. fucking .. open. I don’t think this is going to be a usual 10-90.
1711, Station 9, apologies. We have a front door open. Myself and 3 are going to make entry.
9 copies. Do you need additional units?
I’ll advise. We should be all set.
“You sure? Maybe having another car might be a good idea?” The big Oak says.
I stood frozen in place, not taking my eyes off of the front door. I’ve never been to this address. No issues. Why tonight. What has happened tonight. “No. We can handle it. You up to it?”
This always gets the rookies. They can’t have their pride be broken so early in their career. He rolls his head from side to side, and flexes his chest, probably involuntarily, but funny either way.
“Fuck yea I’m up to it.”
That’s what I thought.
Walking up to an open door is always going to be dicey. Little behind the curtain disclosure here. From day one to day 11,000, you will ALWAYS be afraid when you walk into a house. Door open, door closed, doesn’t matter. No one calls the Police to say “Hey, I’m having a really good day, I just wanted to let you know.” Something wrong has to happen for me to be called. For me to be standing here right now.
As I attempt to bang on the open door and announce that Police are coming in, it moves slightly. I didn’t touch it. At least I don’t think I did. Shit.. either way I don’t have time to think about it. Focus.
POLICE, if there’s anyone inside, make yourself known. Silence. Arnold, are you behind me? I hear a short shuffling and feel him moving to my side. I quickly glanced toward him. Damnit, son, get your gun out. We could be dealing with anything.
“Sorry,” he says as I hear his service weapon getting taken out from his holster. “I’m ready.” “Stay on me and do as I say. We have an open room with a hallway slight left. Looks like two or three rooms ahead, can’t exactly tell.” I feel him shake his head and grunt something.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about Arnold’s demeanor has changed.
“Ok, I’m moving toward the hallway, keep your eye on the room. When I move up toward the hallway, you look behind those couches. We proceed slowly, and he indeed does as I say. The living room is clear. When I feel him come back, I move up to the first room.
POLICE, announce yourself.
Annnnooouuunce yoooourself..
Every hair on my body stands on end. Something answered me. The voice sounded human, but off. Like something trying to sound human. Its tone was mocking.
“What.. what the hell was what?” Arnold said in a hushed tone.
SHH. What kind of an answer would I have for that? I’m just trying to think of where it wa-
Thump thump thump THUMP THUMP
Footsteps. Running away from us, damnit I hope it was away from us. It must have been? I’m too confused.
“Fuuuuuck man, what is all this?” My partner that I just met 10 minutes ago said. Too loudly, I may add.
Just then the same footsteps appeared to be overhead. Wait.. is there a second floor to this house? How can’t I remember that? I might have considered Arnold’s questioning of having another unit here if there was more space to search. I thought it was a ranch house. I take a pause to get my mental back. “Ok,” I said out of the side of my mouth to Arnold, like it would make him hear it better. “We know someone is here. We can’t just stop searching though. I’m going to open this door and you contact, ok?”
He nods. I look over him quickly, doing a silent “1,2,3,” countdown and then rip open the door. He draws, and sees.. stairs. I took a deep, stressful breath. And we have a basement here too. Just keeps getting better. Perfect. Now we have a real issue. We can’t just go upstai—
Station 9, 1711 status check
Hach-e mach-e, I gasped. Damn radio scared the shit out of me. And let’s just ignore the fact that I actually said hach-e mach-e. That must have been what I said as a kid when I got scared.
Deep breath. 1711, Station 9, we are secure and working. Please send another unit, we have possible suspect in home.
We’ll try, we have all units tied up right now
1711 copy.
Well that’s perfect. Ok, back to the present. We can’t just leave but we have to be as safe as possible searching a house with just two people. “Ok, big guy. You stay here and hold this basement. I know we should search every room, but we don’t have time for that right now. I’m going up stairs to search for our suspect.” Oak just stares at me, trying his best to remain brave. No shame big guy, we’ve all been there.
Remaining vigilant, I made my way upstairs. At the base I, again, made my announcement. “SHOW YOURSELF AND HAVE YOUR HANDS VISIBLE”
ShoooOoOOw YOURssssself…
Now I’m just getting pissed. This can go so wrong, but I’ve always been good at using anger to remain focused and hyper aware. But that doesn’t mean this is still creepy as fuck.
Leading by the light equipped to my handgun, I made my way up the stairs. Lucky for me it’s corner fed right, which means there’s only one side to go once you reach the second floor. I’ll take any victory I –
BANG
I draw in that direction. My streamlight sees one closed door. What the fuck kind of second floor has ONE room.
Tap… tap…. Tap….
Guess it doesn’t take the smartest of cops to realize where my guy is. I yell out downstairs. “I got ‘em here man, just hold that basement and call again for an extra unit.”
No response.
HooOOOOld the … the.. BAAsemeeeeeent..
This one was different. It sounded like some old scary story where the mimic alien thing is trying to actively learn human speech. Fuck this. Without thinking I booted the door with everything I had. Perfect connection. The door flies open, revealing a child’s room. Kind of. There’s a mattress on the ground, the kind would fit into a crib. There was a lamp in the corner, with some kind of children’s cartoon characters adorning it. What there wasn’t, was a person in here.
“He needs help.”
Something whispered into my ear. The goosebumps on my flesh almost hurt. I holster and fly back down the stairs to Arnold. I’m sure it’s nothing but.. Arnold’s not there. The basement door remains open.
A million thoughts race through my head, like it’s 100’s of Daytona 500’s, and they’re all going different directions, racing at speeds of well over 200 mph. That’s a lot of numbers. Focus. How many times have I said that to myself tonight. Focus.
First thought: leave. Shameful thought. He might be hurt or in trouble down there. Second thought. Call once again for immediate backup. This I actually tried.. and the radio does not transmit. Perfect. How many times have I said that tonight. Clearing my mind, I know what I have to do. I have to go downstairs.
GooOOOoo DoooOOwn…
“Fuck you.” That’s my response.
Each stair creaks. Almost more worried about falling through and splitting my fat head than what lies beneath. But they hold. And now I’m on the .. dirt floor? No one has a basement like this in this neighborhood. I was so enamored on the dirt floor that I almost didn’t register that a dark figure moved quickly from left to right in front of my eyes. Time to be stupid or brave. Maybe both.
“ARNOLD… are you down here, are you ok?”
I’m ok…. I’m hurt.. follow my voice… I can’t move.
Good, he’s ok. “Where are you?”
Right… in.. front of you. Help me. I can’t..
I’m coming buddy. I can’t reach dispatch, they must be –
Station 9, 1711… Station 9, 1711? ..
Station 9 TO 1711, PLEASE RESPOND
County 3, Station 9, I’ll swing by his location. Just send me his whereabouts.
Copy that County 3, thank you Deputy Ramirez
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2023.04.02 01:42 leoofalexandria No Police call is routine (Announce Yourself)

Station 9 to 1711.
Mother fucker. I just want 10 fucking minutes. Give me that please, God. Just put a fresh dip in, opened one of the new “sugar free,” Monsters (different from the “lo-carb,” option,) and fired up a knock off game that’s similar to candy crush. Just parked in my favorite hideout too. Backed in, in between a couple school buses in my cities elementary school. NO one comes here during my shift, which is graveyard.
Spitting out my chew and taking a big swig of Monster, I ripped the mic off of its magnetic plate. Hesitating, closing my eyes, and clearing my head, I respond. Something about closing your eyes when you answer a call seems to make the response clearer. I don’t know, ask other cops. They should understand.
  1. Go ahead.
10-90 at 1300 Roosevelt. Front door and basement motion. Any available county car for a back?
Great. My “me,” time got interrupted for a stupid home alarm. The burglar alarm business sure has made our lives hell, on their way to making millions for themselves. Every residence now has a ring, a chime, or even the old-school brinks or ADT system. Most of the time, excuse me, almost ALL of the time, it’s a false alarm.
County 3, I’ll head out there.
Station 9 copy. Thanks County 3.
Ok, that’s cool. County 3 tonight is Ramirez, I think. I hope. We’ve always gotten along, working in the same area for the last decade or so. We’re not like drinking buddies or anything but usually we will meet up for a coffee or a diner breakfast every now and then. More than I can say for most of my department. Well…. Let’s clear this call so I can get back to crushing this candy.
The address was only three miles away. I pulled up, threw it in park, and checked my CAD to see where Ramirez was. I shouldn’t have parked right out in front. Academy first day stuff. “Don’t get complacent.” I know. I know. My wits are still about me, I’m ready, but it’s just easier to make my life easier sometimes. And nothing really happens in this small town. Hell, there’s only 4 of us local cops. Thankfully we do have some help from the County. And by help we usually just let them handle most of our issues. They’ve got the equipment and resources so, fuck it. I’ll happily go and take care of dog off leash calls and folks complaining about their neighbor’s grass being too high. I’ve had my fill of Policing already. But that’s a story for another time.
1711, station 9, I’m up.
10-4.
County 3, show me pulling up.
10-4.
That’s weird, I don’t see that black and yellow sheriff car anywhere close- oh, here we go. Maybe CAD is messing up. It showed county 3 like 2 miles away just a minute ago. Time to get this dumb shit over with.
With a creak of the open driver side door and a creak in the back, I get my happy ass out of my cruiser. The back that sounds and feels like a 50-year-olds. Which would be fine if, you know, I was 50. I’m 33. It doesn’t feel like it.
The headlights dim from the County car. We’re parked with both our bumpers facing each other. Usually doesn’t happen like that, but, whatever, I guess. Not very tactical but not like we need to be. The door opens..
“Hey Rami-“
A tall, built guy steps out, towering out of the car. How the hell does he even fit inside? I’ve never seen this dude. He looks like god dang Arnold.
“Oh, hey bud,” I offer, “I figured Ramirez was County 3 tonight. I’m Happy.”
Obviously not my name, but it was a name given to me when I was back in SWAT. Another lifetime ago. And I loved that name, so I kept it. Just easier than getting too personal.
Arnold looked at me and broke an awkward smile. Kind of an odd first encounter from a fellow lawman. He pulled his shades up and placed them on his immaculate high and tight fade. It’s like 2 am, so that’s kind of weird. Lot of weirdness already. Maybe I’m just tired.
“Hey brother. Arnold. I used to cover the south end but asked to be out here. I hear it’s pretty chill.”
I do a slow nod and make sure to keep a tight smile. Inside my head I’m thinking “are you freaking serious, your name actually IS Arnold?” Straighten up. “Good to meet you, man. Guess we should cut the pleasantries and check out this house, eh?”
Arnold nods, checks his gear and extends his left hand, palm up, towards the house. A “Go ahead cochise,” gesture. I smirk and make my way up to the front of the house. “So, I was expecting Ramirez, did she just call in, or?”
“Not sure. Really don’t know much about her to be honest. I heard you two were pretty close though.”
This hit me in a weird way. Full disclosure, we are just friends. Partners in blue. I stopped, not really meaning to. I could feel Arnold stop himself from running into me, as he was not at all expecting me to stop walking toward the front of the house.
“I’ll say this. I don’t know what that means, but I’ll let it go. Don’t mention her again, ok?” I turned my head slightly, just to see his facial reaction.
“Whooooah, man. I’m sorry , I meant literally nothing by that. Just heard you guys worked good together. I won’t mention it again.”
I went over what I wanted to say in my head. I shouldn’t come off like this to some new boot just out of the academy. That shouldn’t have struck a nerve like that. These uniforms are hot. And uncomfortable. Add on the vest, the belt, the camera, the gun, etc. etc. I could feel the heat coming from my chest, out of my collar, toward my face. Disgusting. Like every day. Even when it’s winter, it’s hot wearing this shit. What happens when you’re hot and uncomfortable all the time? You get irritated. You get aggressive. Thankfully I learned a small trick from Joe Rogan. Breath. Open your mouth a little bit, and breathe. Get oxygen into your brain to calm yourself down. It worked.
“It’s fine… sorry to go off, that was uncalled for. I’ll buy your big ass a donut after this as an apology.”
Arnold laughed. Even though this Adonis could clearly fold me into a pretzel (and I’m no small guy myself,) he seemed to have some sense and recognize that I’m just not the type to be played around with. I appreciated that.
“Ok, good.” Something from the original call hit me just then. The burglary alarm tripped the front door and a basement motion. If someone has motion detectors set up, they have them in every hallway, every room. Usually. How could you conceivably break into the front door and then set off no alarms until the basement?
1711, Station 9.
9, go ahead.
Myself and County 3 will be checking the area.. shit.
Damnit. I hope that didn’t make the air. Between mentally sparring with myself and dealing with this newcomer, I didn’t notice the front door to 1300 Roosevelt was wide .. fucking .. open. I don’t think this is going to be a usual 10-90.
1711, Station 9, apologies. We have a front door open. Myself and 3 are going to make entry.
9 copies. Do you need additional units?
I’ll advise. We should be all set.
“You sure? Maybe having another car might be a good idea?” The big Oak says.
I stood frozen in place, not taking my eyes off of the front door. I’ve never been to this address. No issues. Why tonight. What has happened tonight. “No. We can handle it. You up to it?”
This always gets the rookies. They can’t have their pride be broken so early in their career. He rolls his head from side to side, and flexes his chest, probably involuntarily, but funny either way.
“Fuck yea I’m up to it.”
That’s what I thought.
Walking up to an open door is always going to be dicey. Little behind the curtain disclosure here. From day one to day 11,000, you will ALWAYS be afraid when you walk into a house. Door open, door closed, doesn’t matter. No one calls the Police to say “Hey, I’m having a really good day, I just wanted to let you know.” Something wrong has to happen for me to be called. For me to be standing here right now.
As I attempt to bang on the open door and announce that Police are coming in, it moves slightly. I didn’t touch it. At least I don’t think I did. Shit.. either way I don’t have time to think about it. Focus.
POLICE, if there’s anyone inside, make yourself known. Silence. Arnold, are you behind me? I hear a short shuffling and feel him moving to my side. I quickly glanced toward him. Damnit, son, get your gun out. We could be dealing with anything.
“Sorry,” he says as I hear his service weapon getting taken out from his holster. “I’m ready.” “Stay on me and do as I say. We have an open room with a hallway slight left. Looks like two or three rooms ahead, can’t exactly tell.” I feel him shake his head and grunt something.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about Arnold’s demeanor has changed.
“Ok, I’m moving toward the hallway, keep your eye on the room. When I move up toward the hallway, you look behind those couches. We proceed slowly, and he indeed does as I say. The living room is clear. When I feel him come back, I move up to the first room.
POLICE, announce yourself.
Annnnooouuunce yoooourself..
Every hair on my body stands on end. Something answered me. The voice sounded human, but off. Like something trying to sound human. Its tone was mocking.
“What.. what the hell was what?” Arnold said in a hushed tone.
SHH. What kind of an answer would I have for that? I’m just trying to think of where it wa-
Thump thump thump THUMP THUMP
Footsteps. Running away from us, damnit I hope it was away from us. It must have been? I’m too confused.
“Fuuuuuck man, what is all this?” My partner that I just met 10 minutes ago said. Too loudly, I may add.
Just then the same footsteps appeared to be overhead. Wait.. is there a second floor to this house? How can’t I remember that? I might have considered Arnold’s questioning of having another unit here if there was more space to search. I thought it was a ranch house. I take a pause to get my mental back. “Ok,” I said out of the side of my mouth to Arnold, like it would make him hear it better. “We know someone is here. We can’t just stop searching though. I’m going to open this door and you contact, ok?”
He nods. I look over him quickly, doing a silent “1,2,3,” countdown and then rip open the door. He draws, and sees.. stairs. I took a deep, stressful breath. And we have a basement here too. Just keeps getting better. Perfect. Now we have a real issue. We can’t just go upstai—
Station 9, 1711 status check
Hach-e mach-e, I gasped. Damn radio scared the shit out of me. And let’s just ignore the fact that I actually said hach-e mach-e. That must have been what I said as a kid when I got scared.
Deep breath. 1711, Station 9, we are secure and working. Please send another unit, we have possible suspect in home.
We’ll try, we have all units tied up right now
1711 copy.
Well that’s perfect. Ok, back to the present. We can’t just leave but we have to be as safe as possible searching a house with just two people. “Ok, big guy. You stay here and hold this basement. I know we should search every room, but we don’t have time for that right now. I’m going up stairs to search for our suspect.” Oak just stares at me, trying his best to remain brave. No shame big guy, we’ve all been there.
Remaining vigilant, I made my way upstairs. At the base I, again, made my announcement. “SHOW YOURSELF AND HAVE YOUR HANDS VISIBLE”
ShoooOoOOw YOURssssself…
Now I’m just getting pissed. This can go so wrong, but I’ve always been good at using anger to remain focused and hyper aware. But that doesn’t mean this is still creepy as fuck.
Leading by the light equipped to my handgun, I made my way up the stairs. Lucky for me it’s corner fed right, which means there’s only one side to go once you reach the second floor. I’ll take any victory I –
BANG
I draw in that direction. My streamlight sees one closed door. What the fuck kind of second floor has ONE room.
Tap… tap…. Tap….
Guess it doesn’t take the smartest of cops to realize where my guy is. I yell out downstairs. “I got ‘em here man, just hold that basement and call again for an extra unit.”
No response.
HooOOOOld the … the.. BAAsemeeeeeent..
This one was different. It sounded like some old scary story where the mimic alien thing is trying to actively learn human speech. Fuck this. Without thinking I booted the door with everything I had. Perfect connection. The door flies open, revealing a child’s room. Kind of. There’s a mattress on the ground, the kind would fit into a crib. There was a lamp in the corner, with some kind of children’s cartoon characters adorning it. What there wasn’t, was a person in here.
“He needs help.”
Something whispered into my ear. The goosebumps on my flesh almost hurt. I holster and fly back down the stairs to Arnold. I’m sure it’s nothing but.. Arnold’s not there. The basement door remains open.
A million thoughts race through my head, like it’s 100’s of Daytona 500’s, and they’re all going different directions, racing at speeds of well over 200 mph. That’s a lot of numbers. Focus. How many times have I said that to myself tonight. Focus.
First thought: leave. Shameful thought. He might be hurt or in trouble down there. Second thought. Call once again for immediate backup. This I actually tried.. and the radio does not transmit. Perfect. How many times have I said that tonight. Clearing my mind, I know what I have to do. I have to go downstairs.
GooOOOoo DoooOOwn…
“Fuck you.” That’s my response.
Each stair creaks. Almost more worried about falling through and splitting my fat head than what lies beneath. But they hold. And now I’m on the .. dirt floor? No one has a basement like this in this neighborhood. I was so enamored on the dirt floor that I almost didn’t register that a dark figure moved quickly from left to right in front of my eyes. Time to be stupid or brave. Maybe both.
“ARNOLD… are you down here, are you ok?”
I’m ok…. I’m hurt.. follow my voice… I can’t move.
Good, he’s ok. “Where are you?”
Right… in.. front of you. Help me. I can’t..
I’m coming buddy. I can’t reach dispatch, they must be –
Station 9, 1711… Station 9, 1711? ..
Station 9 TO 1711, PLEASE RESPOND
County 3, Station 9, I’ll swing by his location. Just send me his whereabouts.
Copy that County 3, thank you Deputy Ramirez
submitted by leoofalexandria to mrcreeps [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 01:41 leoofalexandria Announce yourself (The call of dread)

Station 9 to 1711.
Mother fucker. I just want 10 fucking minutes. Give me that please, God. Just put a fresh dip in, opened one of the new “sugar free,” Monsters (different from the “lo-carb,” option,) and fired up a knock off game that’s similar to candy crush. Just parked in my favorite hideout too. Backed in, in between a couple school buses in my cities elementary school. NO one comes here during my shift, which is graveyard.
Spitting out my chew and taking a big swig of Monster, I ripped the mic off of its magnetic plate. Hesitating, closing my eyes, and clearing my head, I respond. Something about closing your eyes when you answer a call seems to make the response clearer. I don’t know, ask other cops. They should understand.
  1. Go ahead.
10-90 at 1300 Roosevelt. Front door and basement motion. Any available county car for a back?
Great. My “me,” time got interrupted for a stupid home alarm. The burglar alarm business sure has made our lives hell, on their way to making millions for themselves. Every residence now has a ring, a chime, or even the old-school brinks or ADT system. Most of the time, excuse me, almost ALL of the time, it’s a false alarm.
County 3, I’ll head out there.
Station 9 copy. Thanks County 3.
Ok, that’s cool. County 3 tonight is Ramirez, I think. I hope. We’ve always gotten along, working in the same area for the last decade or so. We’re not like drinking buddies or anything but usually we will meet up for a coffee or a diner breakfast every now and then. More than I can say for most of my department. Well…. Let’s clear this call so I can get back to crushing this candy.
The address was only three miles away. I pulled up, threw it in park, and checked my CAD to see where Ramirez was. I shouldn’t have parked right out in front. Academy first day stuff. “Don’t get complacent.” I know. I know. My wits are still about me, I’m ready, but it’s just easier to make my life easier sometimes. And nothing really happens in this small town. Hell, there’s only 4 of us local cops. Thankfully we do have some help from the County. And by help we usually just let them handle most of our issues. They’ve got the equipment and resources so, fuck it. I’ll happily go and take care of dog off leash calls and folks complaining about their neighbor’s grass being too high. I’ve had my fill of Policing already. But that’s a story for another time.
1711, station 9, I’m up.
10-4.
County 3, show me pulling up.
10-4.
That’s weird, I don’t see that black and yellow sheriff car anywhere close- oh, here we go. Maybe CAD is messing up. It showed county 3 like 2 miles away just a minute ago. Time to get this dumb shit over with.
With a creak of the open driver side door and a creak in the back, I get my happy ass out of my cruiser. The back that sounds and feels like a 50-year-olds. Which would be fine if, you know, I was 50. I’m 33. It doesn’t feel like it.
The headlights dim from the County car. We’re parked with both our bumpers facing each other. Usually doesn’t happen like that, but, whatever, I guess. Not very tactical but not like we need to be. The door opens..
“Hey Rami-“
A tall, built guy steps out, towering out of the car. How the hell does he even fit inside? I’ve never seen this dude. He looks like god dang Arnold.
“Oh, hey bud,” I offer, “I figured Ramirez was County 3 tonight. I’m Happy.”
Obviously not my name, but it was a name given to me when I was back in SWAT. Another lifetime ago. And I loved that name, so I kept it. Just easier than getting too personal.
Arnold looked at me and broke an awkward smile. Kind of an odd first encounter from a fellow lawman. He pulled his shades up and placed them on his immaculate high and tight fade. It’s like 2 am, so that’s kind of weird. Lot of weirdness already. Maybe I’m just tired.
“Hey brother. Arnold. I used to cover the south end but asked to be out here. I hear it’s pretty chill.”
I do a slow nod and make sure to keep a tight smile. Inside my head I’m thinking “are you freaking serious, your name actually IS Arnold?” Straighten up. “Good to meet you, man. Guess we should cut the pleasantries and check out this house, eh?”
Arnold nods, checks his gear and extends his left hand, palm up, towards the house. A “Go ahead cochise,” gesture. I smirk and make my way up to the front of the house. “So, I was expecting Ramirez, did she just call in, or?”
“Not sure. Really don’t know much about her to be honest. I heard you two were pretty close though.”
This hit me in a weird way. Full disclosure, we are just friends. Partners in blue. I stopped, not really meaning to. I could feel Arnold stop himself from running into me, as he was not at all expecting me to stop walking toward the front of the house.
“I’ll say this. I don’t know what that means, but I’ll let it go. Don’t mention her again, ok?” I turned my head slightly, just to see his facial reaction.
“Whooooah, man. I’m sorry , I meant literally nothing by that. Just heard you guys worked good together. I won’t mention it again.”
I went over what I wanted to say in my head. I shouldn’t come off like this to some new boot just out of the academy. That shouldn’t have struck a nerve like that. These uniforms are hot. And uncomfortable. Add on the vest, the belt, the camera, the gun, etc. etc. I could feel the heat coming from my chest, out of my collar, toward my face. Disgusting. Like every day. Even when it’s winter, it’s hot wearing this shit. What happens when you’re hot and uncomfortable all the time? You get irritated. You get aggressive. Thankfully I learned a small trick from Joe Rogan. Breath. Open your mouth a little bit, and breathe. Get oxygen into your brain to calm yourself down. It worked.
“It’s fine… sorry to go off, that was uncalled for. I’ll buy your big ass a donut after this as an apology.”
Arnold laughed. Even though this Adonis could clearly fold me into a pretzel (and I’m no small guy myself,) he seemed to have some sense and recognize that I’m just not the type to be played around with. I appreciated that.
“Ok, good.” Something from the original call hit me just then. The burglary alarm tripped the front door and a basement motion. If someone has motion detectors set up, they have them in every hallway, every room. Usually. How could you conceivably break into the front door and then set off no alarms until the basement?
1711, Station 9.
9, go ahead.
Myself and County 3 will be checking the area.. shit.
Damnit. I hope that didn’t make the air. Between mentally sparring with myself and dealing with this newcomer, I didn’t notice the front door to 1300 Roosevelt was wide .. fucking .. open. I don’t think this is going to be a usual 10-90.
1711, Station 9, apologies. We have a front door open. Myself and 3 are going to make entry.
9 copies. Do you need additional units?
I’ll advise. We should be all set.
“You sure? Maybe having another car might be a good idea?” The big Oak says.
I stood frozen in place, not taking my eyes off of the front door. I’ve never been to this address. No issues. Why tonight. What has happened tonight. “No. We can handle it. You up to it?”
This always gets the rookies. They can’t have their pride be broken so early in their career. He rolls his head from side to side, and flexes his chest, probably involuntarily, but funny either way.
“Fuck yea I’m up to it.”
That’s what I thought.
Walking up to an open door is always going to be dicey. Little behind the curtain disclosure here. From day one to day 11,000, you will ALWAYS be afraid when you walk into a house. Door open, door closed, doesn’t matter. No one calls the Police to say “Hey, I’m having a really good day, I just wanted to let you know.” Something wrong has to happen for me to be called. For me to be standing here right now.
As I attempt to bang on the open door and announce that Police are coming in, it moves slightly. I didn’t touch it. At least I don’t think I did. Shit.. either way I don’t have time to think about it. Focus.
POLICE, if there’s anyone inside, make yourself known. Silence. Arnold, are you behind me? I hear a short shuffling and feel him moving to my side. I quickly glanced toward him. Damnit, son, get your gun out. We could be dealing with anything.
“Sorry,” he says as I hear his service weapon getting taken out from his holster. “I’m ready.” “Stay on me and do as I say. We have an open room with a hallway slight left. Looks like two or three rooms ahead, can’t exactly tell.” I feel him shake his head and grunt something.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about Arnold’s demeanor has changed.
“Ok, I’m moving toward the hallway, keep your eye on the room. When I move up toward the hallway, you look behind those couches. We proceed slowly, and he indeed does as I say. The living room is clear. When I feel him come back, I move up to the first room.
POLICE, announce yourself.
Annnnooouuunce yoooourself..
Every hair on my body stands on end. Something answered me. The voice sounded human, but off. Like something trying to sound human. Its tone was mocking.
“What.. what the hell was what?” Arnold said in a hushed tone.
SHH. What kind of an answer would I have for that? I’m just trying to think of where it wa-
Thump thump thump THUMP THUMP
Footsteps. Running away from us, damnit I hope it was away from us. It must have been? I’m too confused.
“Fuuuuuck man, what is all this?” My partner that I just met 10 minutes ago said. Too loudly, I may add.
Just then the same footsteps appeared to be overhead. Wait.. is there a second floor to this house? How can’t I remember that? I might have considered Arnold’s questioning of having another unit here if there was more space to search. I thought it was a ranch house. I take a pause to get my mental back. “Ok,” I said out of the side of my mouth to Arnold, like it would make him hear it better. “We know someone is here. We can’t just stop searching though. I’m going to open this door and you contact, ok?”
He nods. I look over him quickly, doing a silent “1,2,3,” countdown and then rip open the door. He draws, and sees.. stairs. I took a deep, stressful breath. And we have a basement here too. Just keeps getting better. Perfect. Now we have a real issue. We can’t just go upstai—
Station 9, 1711 status check
Hach-e mach-e, I gasped. Damn radio scared the shit out of me. And let’s just ignore the fact that I actually said hach-e mach-e. That must have been what I said as a kid when I got scared.
Deep breath. 1711, Station 9, we are secure and working. Please send another unit, we have possible suspect in home.
We’ll try, we have all units tied up right now
1711 copy.
Well that’s perfect. Ok, back to the present. We can’t just leave but we have to be as safe as possible searching a house with just two people. “Ok, big guy. You stay here and hold this basement. I know we should search every room, but we don’t have time for that right now. I’m going up stairs to search for our suspect.” Oak just stares at me, trying his best to remain brave. No shame big guy, we’ve all been there.
Remaining vigilant, I made my way upstairs. At the base I, again, made my announcement. “SHOW YOURSELF AND HAVE YOUR HANDS VISIBLE”
ShoooOoOOw YOURssssself…
Now I’m just getting pissed. This can go so wrong, but I’ve always been good at using anger to remain focused and hyper aware. But that doesn’t mean this is still creepy as fuck.
Leading by the light equipped to my handgun, I made my way up the stairs. Lucky for me it’s corner fed right, which means there’s only one side to go once you reach the second floor. I’ll take any victory I –
BANG
I draw in that direction. My streamlight sees one closed door. What the fuck kind of second floor has ONE room.
Tap… tap…. Tap….
Guess it doesn’t take the smartest of cops to realize where my guy is. I yell out downstairs. “I got ‘em here man, just hold that basement and call again for an extra unit.”
No response.
HooOOOOld the … the.. BAAsemeeeeeent..
This one was different. It sounded like some old scary story where the mimic alien thing is trying to actively learn human speech. Fuck this. Without thinking I booted the door with everything I had. Perfect connection. The door flies open, revealing a child’s room. Kind of. There’s a mattress on the ground, the kind would fit into a crib. There was a lamp in the corner, with some kind of children’s cartoon characters adorning it. What there wasn’t, was a person in here.
“He needs help.”
Something whispered into my ear. The goosebumps on my flesh almost hurt. I holster and fly back down the stairs to Arnold. I’m sure it’s nothing but.. Arnold’s not there. The basement door remains open.
A million thoughts race through my head, like it’s 100’s of Daytona 500’s, and they’re all going different directions, racing at speeds of well over 200 mph. That’s a lot of numbers. Focus. How many times have I said that to myself tonight. Focus.
First thought: leave. Shameful thought. He might be hurt or in trouble down there. Second thought. Call once again for immediate backup. This I actually tried.. and the radio does not transmit. Perfect. How many times have I said that tonight. Clearing my mind, I know what I have to do. I have to go downstairs.
GooOOOoo DoooOOwn…
“Fuck you.” That’s my response.
Each stair creaks. Almost more worried about falling through and splitting my fat head than what lies beneath. But they hold. And now I’m on the .. dirt floor? No one has a basement like this in this neighborhood. I was so enamored on the dirt floor that I almost didn’t register that a dark figure moved quickly from left to right in front of my eyes. Time to be stupid or brave. Maybe both.
“ARNOLD… are you down here, are you ok?”
I’m ok…. I’m hurt.. follow my voice… I can’t move.
Good, he’s ok. “Where are you?”
Right… in.. front of you. Help me. I can’t..
I’m coming buddy. I can’t reach dispatch, they must be –
Station 9, 1711… Station 9, 1711? ..
Station 9 TO 1711, PLEASE RESPOND
County 3, Station 9, I’ll swing by his location. Just send me his whereabouts.
Copy that County 3, thank you Deputy Ramirez
submitted by leoofalexandria to creepypasta [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 01:40 leoofalexandria If anyone's there, announce yourself.

Station 9 to 1711.
Mother fucker. I just want 10 fucking minutes. Give me that please, God. Just put a fresh dip in, opened one of the new “sugar free,” Monsters (different from the “lo-carb,” option,) and fired up a knock off game that’s similar to candy crush. Just parked in my favorite hideout too. Backed in, in between a couple school buses in my cities elementary school. NO one comes here during my shift, which is graveyard.
Spitting out my chew and taking a big swig of Monster, I ripped the mic off of its magnetic plate. Hesitating, closing my eyes, and clearing my head, I respond. Something about closing your eyes when you answer a call seems to make the response clearer. I don’t know, ask other cops. They should understand.
  1. Go ahead.
10-90 at 1300 Roosevelt. Front door and basement motion. Any available county car for a back?
Great. My “me,” time got interrupted for a stupid home alarm. The burglar alarm business sure has made our lives hell, on their way to making millions for themselves. Every residence now has a ring, a chime, or even the old-school brinks or ADT system. Most of the time, excuse me, almost ALL of the time, it’s a false alarm.
County 3, I’ll head out there.
Station 9 copy. Thanks County 3.
Ok, that’s cool. County 3 tonight is Ramirez, I think. I hope. We’ve always gotten along, working in the same area for the last decade or so. We’re not like drinking buddies or anything but usually we will meet up for a coffee or a diner breakfast every now and then. More than I can say for most of my department. Well…. Let’s clear this call so I can get back to crushing this candy.
The address was only three miles away. I pulled up, threw it in park, and checked my CAD to see where Ramirez was. I shouldn’t have parked right out in front. Academy first day stuff. “Don’t get complacent.” I know. I know. My wits are still about me, I’m ready, but it’s just easier to make my life easier sometimes. And nothing really happens in this small town. Hell, there’s only 4 of us local cops. Thankfully we do have some help from the County. And by help we usually just let them handle most of our issues. They’ve got the equipment and resources so, fuck it. I’ll happily go and take care of dog off leash calls and folks complaining about their neighbor’s grass being too high. I’ve had my fill of Policing already. But that’s a story for another time.
1711, station 9, I’m up.
10-4.
County 3, show me pulling up.
10-4.
That’s weird, I don’t see that black and yellow sheriff car anywhere close- oh, here we go. Maybe CAD is messing up. It showed county 3 like 2 miles away just a minute ago. Time to get this dumb shit over with.
With a creak of the open driver side door and a creak in the back, I get my happy ass out of my cruiser. The back that sounds and feels like a 50-year-olds. Which would be fine if, you know, I was 50. I’m 33. It doesn’t feel like it.
The headlights dim from the County car. We’re parked with both our bumpers facing each other. Usually doesn’t happen like that, but, whatever, I guess. Not very tactical but not like we need to be. The door opens..
“Hey Rami-“
A tall, built guy steps out, towering out of the car. How the hell does he even fit inside? I’ve never seen this dude. He looks like god dang Arnold.
“Oh, hey bud,” I offer, “I figured Ramirez was County 3 tonight. I’m Happy.”
Obviously not my name, but it was a name given to me when I was back in SWAT. Another lifetime ago. And I loved that name, so I kept it. Just easier than getting too personal.
Arnold looked at me and broke an awkward smile. Kind of an odd first encounter from a fellow lawman. He pulled his shades up and placed them on his immaculate high and tight fade. It’s like 2 am, so that’s kind of weird. Lot of weirdness already. Maybe I’m just tired.
“Hey brother. Arnold. I used to cover the south end but asked to be out here. I hear it’s pretty chill.”
I do a slow nod and make sure to keep a tight smile. Inside my head I’m thinking “are you freaking serious, your name actually IS Arnold?” Straighten up. “Good to meet you, man. Guess we should cut the pleasantries and check out this house, eh?”
Arnold nods, checks his gear and extends his left hand, palm up, towards the house. A “Go ahead cochise,” gesture. I smirk and make my way up to the front of the house. “So, I was expecting Ramirez, did she just call in, or?”
“Not sure. Really don’t know much about her to be honest. I heard you two were pretty close though.”
This hit me in a weird way. Full disclosure, we are just friends. Partners in blue. I stopped, not really meaning to. I could feel Arnold stop himself from running into me, as he was not at all expecting me to stop walking toward the front of the house.
“I’ll say this. I don’t know what that means, but I’ll let it go. Don’t mention her again, ok?” I turned my head slightly, just to see his facial reaction.
“Whooooah, man. I’m sorry , I meant literally nothing by that. Just heard you guys worked good together. I won’t mention it again.”
I went over what I wanted to say in my head. I shouldn’t come off like this to some new boot just out of the academy. That shouldn’t have struck a nerve like that. These uniforms are hot. And uncomfortable. Add on the vest, the belt, the camera, the gun, etc. etc. I could feel the heat coming from my chest, out of my collar, toward my face. Disgusting. Like every day. Even when it’s winter, it’s hot wearing this shit. What happens when you’re hot and uncomfortable all the time? You get irritated. You get aggressive. Thankfully I learned a small trick from Joe Rogan. Breath. Open your mouth a little bit, and breathe. Get oxygen into your brain to calm yourself down. It worked.
“It’s fine… sorry to go off, that was uncalled for. I’ll buy your big ass a donut after this as an apology.”
Arnold laughed. Even though this Adonis could clearly fold me into a pretzel (and I’m no small guy myself,) he seemed to have some sense and recognize that I’m just not the type to be played around with. I appreciated that.
“Ok, good.” Something from the original call hit me just then. The burglary alarm tripped the front door and a basement motion. If someone has motion detectors set up, they have them in every hallway, every room. Usually. How could you conceivably break into the front door and then set off no alarms until the basement?
1711, Station 9.
9, go ahead.
Myself and County 3 will be checking the area.. shit.
Damnit. I hope that didn’t make the air. Between mentally sparring with myself and dealing with this newcomer, I didn’t notice the front door to 1300 Roosevelt was wide .. fucking .. open. I don’t think this is going to be a usual 10-90.
1711, Station 9, apologies. We have a front door open. Myself and 3 are going to make entry.
9 copies. Do you need additional units?
I’ll advise. We should be all set.
“You sure? Maybe having another car might be a good idea?” The big Oak says.
I stood frozen in place, not taking my eyes off of the front door. I’ve never been to this address. No issues. Why tonight. What has happened tonight. “No. We can handle it. You up to it?”
This always gets the rookies. They can’t have their pride be broken so early in their career. He rolls his head from side to side, and flexes his chest, probably involuntarily, but funny either way.
“Fuck yea I’m up to it.”
That’s what I thought.
Walking up to an open door is always going to be dicey. Little behind the curtain disclosure here. From day one to day 11,000, you will ALWAYS be afraid when you walk into a house. Door open, door closed, doesn’t matter. No one calls the Police to say “Hey, I’m having a really good day, I just wanted to let you know.” Something wrong has to happen for me to be called. For me to be standing here right now.
As I attempt to bang on the open door and announce that Police are coming in, it moves slightly. I didn’t touch it. At least I don’t think I did. Shit.. either way I don’t have time to think about it. Focus.
POLICE, if there’s anyone inside, make yourself known. Silence. Arnold, are you behind me? I hear a short shuffling and feel him moving to my side. I quickly glanced toward him. Damnit, son, get your gun out. We could be dealing with anything.
“Sorry,” he says as I hear his service weapon getting taken out from his holster. “I’m ready.” “Stay on me and do as I say. We have an open room with a hallway slight left. Looks like two or three rooms ahead, can’t exactly tell.” I feel him shake his head and grunt something.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about Arnold’s demeanor has changed.
“Ok, I’m moving toward the hallway, keep your eye on the room. When I move up toward the hallway, you look behind those couches. We proceed slowly, and he indeed does as I say. The living room is clear. When I feel him come back, I move up to the first room.
POLICE, announce yourself.
Annnnooouuunce yoooourself..
Every hair on my body stands on end. Something answered me. The voice sounded human, but off. Like something trying to sound human. Its tone was mocking.
“What.. what the hell was what?” Arnold said in a hushed tone.
SHH. What kind of an answer would I have for that? I’m just trying to think of where it wa-
Thump thump thump THUMP THUMP
Footsteps. Running away from us, damnit I hope it was away from us. It must have been? I’m too confused.
“Fuuuuuck man, what is all this?” My partner that I just met 10 minutes ago said. Too loudly, I may add.
Just then the same footsteps appeared to be overhead. Wait.. is there a second floor to this house? How can’t I remember that? I might have considered Arnold’s questioning of having another unit here if there was more space to search. I thought it was a ranch house. I take a pause to get my mental back. “Ok,” I said out of the side of my mouth to Arnold, like it would make him hear it better. “We know someone is here. We can’t just stop searching though. I’m going to open this door and you contact, ok?”
He nods. I look over him quickly, doing a silent “1,2,3,” countdown and then rip open the door. He draws, and sees.. stairs. I took a deep, stressful breath. And we have a basement here too. Just keeps getting better. Perfect. Now we have a real issue. We can’t just go upstai—
Station 9, 1711 status check
Hach-e mach-e, I gasped. Damn radio scared the shit out of me. And let’s just ignore the fact that I actually said hach-e mach-e. That must have been what I said as a kid when I got scared.
Deep breath. 1711, Station 9, we are secure and working. Please send another unit, we have possible suspect in home.
We’ll try, we have all units tied up right now
1711 copy.
Well that’s perfect. Ok, back to the present. We can’t just leave but we have to be as safe as possible searching a house with just two people. “Ok, big guy. You stay here and hold this basement. I know we should search every room, but we don’t have time for that right now. I’m going up stairs to search for our suspect.” Oak just stares at me, trying his best to remain brave. No shame big guy, we’ve all been there.
Remaining vigilant, I made my way upstairs. At the base I, again, made my announcement. “SHOW YOURSELF AND HAVE YOUR HANDS VISIBLE”
ShoooOoOOw YOURssssself…
Now I’m just getting pissed. This can go so wrong, but I’ve always been good at using anger to remain focused and hyper aware. But that doesn’t mean this is still creepy as fuck.
Leading by the light equipped to my handgun, I made my way up the stairs. Lucky for me it’s corner fed right, which means there’s only one side to go once you reach the second floor. I’ll take any victory I –
BANG
I draw in that direction. My streamlight sees one closed door. What the fuck kind of second floor has ONE room.
Tap… tap…. Tap….
Guess it doesn’t take the smartest of cops to realize where my guy is. I yell out downstairs. “I got ‘em here man, just hold that basement and call again for an extra unit.”
No response.
HooOOOOld the … the.. BAAsemeeeeeent..
This one was different. It sounded like some old scary story where the mimic alien thing is trying to actively learn human speech. Fuck this. Without thinking I booted the door with everything I had. Perfect connection. The door flies open, revealing a child’s room. Kind of. There’s a mattress on the ground, the kind would fit into a crib. There was a lamp in the corner, with some kind of children’s cartoon characters adorning it. What there wasn’t, was a person in here.
“He needs help.”
Something whispered into my ear. The goosebumps on my flesh almost hurt. I holster and fly back down the stairs to Arnold. I’m sure it’s nothing but.. Arnold’s not there. The basement door remains open.
A million thoughts race through my head, like it’s 100’s of Daytona 500’s, and they’re all going different directions, racing at speeds of well over 200 mph. That’s a lot of numbers. Focus. How many times have I said that to myself tonight. Focus.
First thought: leave. Shameful thought. He might be hurt or in trouble down there. Second thought. Call once again for immediate backup. This I actually tried.. and the radio does not transmit. Perfect. How many times have I said that tonight. Clearing my mind, I know what I have to do. I have to go downstairs.
GooOOOoo DoooOOwn…
“Fuck you.” That’s my response.
Each stair creaks. Almost more worried about falling through and splitting my fat head than what lies beneath. But they hold. And now I’m on the .. dirt floor? No one has a basement like this in this neighborhood. I was so enamored on the dirt floor that I almost didn’t register that a dark figure moved quickly from left to right in front of my eyes. Time to be stupid or brave. Maybe both.
“ARNOLD… are you down here, are you ok?”
I’m ok…. I’m hurt.. follow my voice… I can’t move.
Good, he’s ok. “Where are you?”
Right… in.. front of you. Help me. I can’t..
I’m coming buddy. I can’t reach dispatch, they must be –
Station 9, 1711… Station 9, 1711? ..
Station 9 TO 1711, PLEASE RESPOND
County 3, Station 9, I’ll swing by his location. Just send me his whereabouts.
Copy that County 3, thank you Deputy Ramirez
submitted by leoofalexandria to scarystories [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 01:40 leoofalexandria Announce Yourself (A true-ish Police call)

Station 9 to 1711.
Mother fucker. I just want 10 fucking minutes. Give me that please, God. Just put a fresh dip in, opened one of the new “sugar free,” Monsters (different from the “lo-carb,” option,) and fired up a knock off game that’s similar to candy crush. Just parked in my favorite hideout too. Backed in, in between a couple school buses in my cities elementary school. NO one comes here during my shift, which is graveyard.
Spitting out my chew and taking a big swig of Monster, I ripped the mic off of its magnetic plate. Hesitating, closing my eyes, and clearing my head, I respond. Something about closing your eyes when you answer a call seems to make the response clearer. I don’t know, ask other cops. They should understand.
  1. Go ahead.
10-90 at 1300 Roosevelt. Front door and basement motion. Any available county car for a back?
Great. My “me,” time got interrupted for a stupid home alarm. The burglar alarm business sure has made our lives hell, on their way to making millions for themselves. Every residence now has a ring, a chime, or even the old-school brinks or ADT system. Most of the time, excuse me, almost ALL of the time, it’s a false alarm.
County 3, I’ll head out there.
Station 9 copy. Thanks County 3.
Ok, that’s cool. County 3 tonight is Ramirez, I think. I hope. We’ve always gotten along, working in the same area for the last decade or so. We’re not like drinking buddies or anything but usually we will meet up for a coffee or a diner breakfast every now and then. More than I can say for most of my department. Well…. Let’s clear this call so I can get back to crushing this candy.
The address was only three miles away. I pulled up, threw it in park, and checked my CAD to see where Ramirez was. I shouldn’t have parked right out in front. Academy first day stuff. “Don’t get complacent.” I know. I know. My wits are still about me, I’m ready, but it’s just easier to make my life easier sometimes. And nothing really happens in this small town. Hell, there’s only 4 of us local cops. Thankfully we do have some help from the County. And by help we usually just let them handle most of our issues. They’ve got the equipment and resources so, fuck it. I’ll happily go and take care of dog off leash calls and folks complaining about their neighbor’s grass being too high. I’ve had my fill of Policing already. But that’s a story for another time.
1711, station 9, I’m up.
10-4.
County 3, show me pulling up.
10-4.
That’s weird, I don’t see that black and yellow sheriff car anywhere close- oh, here we go. Maybe CAD is messing up. It showed county 3 like 2 miles away just a minute ago. Time to get this dumb shit over with.
With a creak of the open driver side door and a creak in the back, I get my happy ass out of my cruiser. The back that sounds and feels like a 50-year-olds. Which would be fine if, you know, I was 50. I’m 33. It doesn’t feel like it.
The headlights dim from the County car. We’re parked with both our bumpers facing each other. Usually doesn’t happen like that, but, whatever, I guess. Not very tactical but not like we need to be. The door opens..
“Hey Rami-“
A tall, built guy steps out, towering out of the car. How the hell does he even fit inside? I’ve never seen this dude. He looks like god dang Arnold.
“Oh, hey bud,” I offer, “I figured Ramirez was County 3 tonight. I’m Happy.”
Obviously not my name, but it was a name given to me when I was back in SWAT. Another lifetime ago. And I loved that name, so I kept it. Just easier than getting too personal.
Arnold looked at me and broke an awkward smile. Kind of an odd first encounter from a fellow lawman. He pulled his shades up and placed them on his immaculate high and tight fade. It’s like 2 am, so that’s kind of weird. Lot of weirdness already. Maybe I’m just tired.
“Hey brother. Arnold. I used to cover the south end but asked to be out here. I hear it’s pretty chill.”
I do a slow nod and make sure to keep a tight smile. Inside my head I’m thinking “are you freaking serious, your name actually IS Arnold?” Straighten up. “Good to meet you, man. Guess we should cut the pleasantries and check out this house, eh?”
Arnold nods, checks his gear and extends his left hand, palm up, towards the house. A “Go ahead cochise,” gesture. I smirk and make my way up to the front of the house. “So, I was expecting Ramirez, did she just call in, or?”
“Not sure. Really don’t know much about her to be honest. I heard you two were pretty close though.”
This hit me in a weird way. Full disclosure, we are just friends. Partners in blue. I stopped, not really meaning to. I could feel Arnold stop himself from running into me, as he was not at all expecting me to stop walking toward the front of the house.
“I’ll say this. I don’t know what that means, but I’ll let it go. Don’t mention her again, ok?” I turned my head slightly, just to see his facial reaction.
“Whooooah, man. I’m sorry , I meant literally nothing by that. Just heard you guys worked good together. I won’t mention it again.”
I went over what I wanted to say in my head. I shouldn’t come off like this to some new boot just out of the academy. That shouldn’t have struck a nerve like that. These uniforms are hot. And uncomfortable. Add on the vest, the belt, the camera, the gun, etc. etc. I could feel the heat coming from my chest, out of my collar, toward my face. Disgusting. Like every day. Even when it’s winter, it’s hot wearing this shit. What happens when you’re hot and uncomfortable all the time? You get irritated. You get aggressive. Thankfully I learned a small trick from Joe Rogan. Breath. Open your mouth a little bit, and breathe. Get oxygen into your brain to calm yourself down. It worked.
“It’s fine… sorry to go off, that was uncalled for. I’ll buy your big ass a donut after this as an apology.”
Arnold laughed. Even though this Adonis could clearly fold me into a pretzel (and I’m no small guy myself,) he seemed to have some sense and recognize that I’m just not the type to be played around with. I appreciated that.
“Ok, good.” Something from the original call hit me just then. The burglary alarm tripped the front door and a basement motion. If someone has motion detectors set up, they have them in every hallway, every room. Usually. How could you conceivably break into the front door and then set off no alarms until the basement?
1711, Station 9.
9, go ahead.
Myself and County 3 will be checking the area.. shit.
Damnit. I hope that didn’t make the air. Between mentally sparring with myself and dealing with this newcomer, I didn’t notice the front door to 1300 Roosevelt was wide .. fucking .. open. I don’t think this is going to be a usual 10-90.
1711, Station 9, apologies. We have a front door open. Myself and 3 are going to make entry.
9 copies. Do you need additional units?
I’ll advise. We should be all set.
“You sure? Maybe having another car might be a good idea?” The big Oak says.
I stood frozen in place, not taking my eyes off of the front door. I’ve never been to this address. No issues. Why tonight. What has happened tonight. “No. We can handle it. You up to it?”
This always gets the rookies. They can’t have their pride be broken so early in their career. He rolls his head from side to side, and flexes his chest, probably involuntarily, but funny either way.
“Fuck yea I’m up to it.”
That’s what I thought.
Walking up to an open door is always going to be dicey. Little behind the curtain disclosure here. From day one to day 11,000, you will ALWAYS be afraid when you walk into a house. Door open, door closed, doesn’t matter. No one calls the Police to say “Hey, I’m having a really good day, I just wanted to let you know.” Something wrong has to happen for me to be called. For me to be standing here right now.
As I attempt to bang on the open door and announce that Police are coming in, it moves slightly. I didn’t touch it. At least I don’t think I did. Shit.. either way I don’t have time to think about it. Focus.
POLICE, if there’s anyone inside, make yourself known. Silence. Arnold, are you behind me? I hear a short shuffling and feel him moving to my side. I quickly glanced toward him. Damnit, son, get your gun out. We could be dealing with anything.
“Sorry,” he says as I hear his service weapon getting taken out from his holster. “I’m ready.” “Stay on me and do as I say. We have an open room with a hallway slight left. Looks like two or three rooms ahead, can’t exactly tell.” I feel him shake his head and grunt something.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about Arnold’s demeanor has changed.
“Ok, I’m moving toward the hallway, keep your eye on the room. When I move up toward the hallway, you look behind those couches. We proceed slowly, and he indeed does as I say. The living room is clear. When I feel him come back, I move up to the first room.
POLICE, announce yourself.
Annnnooouuunce yoooourself..
Every hair on my body stands on end. Something answered me. The voice sounded human, but off. Like something trying to sound human. Its tone was mocking.
“What.. what the hell was what?” Arnold said in a hushed tone.
SHH. What kind of an answer would I have for that? I’m just trying to think of where it wa-
Thump thump thump THUMP THUMP
Footsteps. Running away from us, damnit I hope it was away from us. It must have been? I’m too confused.
“Fuuuuuck man, what is all this?” My partner that I just met 10 minutes ago said. Too loudly, I may add.
Just then the same footsteps appeared to be overhead. Wait.. is there a second floor to this house? How can’t I remember that? I might have considered Arnold’s questioning of having another unit here if there was more space to search. I thought it was a ranch house. I take a pause to get my mental back. “Ok,” I said out of the side of my mouth to Arnold, like it would make him hear it better. “We know someone is here. We can’t just stop searching though. I’m going to open this door and you contact, ok?”
He nods. I look over him quickly, doing a silent “1,2,3,” countdown and then rip open the door. He draws, and sees.. stairs. I took a deep, stressful breath. And we have a basement here too. Just keeps getting better. Perfect. Now we have a real issue. We can’t just go upstai—
Station 9, 1711 status check
Hach-e mach-e, I gasped. Damn radio scared the shit out of me. And let’s just ignore the fact that I actually said hach-e mach-e. That must have been what I said as a kid when I got scared.
Deep breath. 1711, Station 9, we are secure and working. Please send another unit, we have possible suspect in home.
We’ll try, we have all units tied up right now
1711 copy.
Well that’s perfect. Ok, back to the present. We can’t just leave but we have to be as safe as possible searching a house with just two people. “Ok, big guy. You stay here and hold this basement. I know we should search every room, but we don’t have time for that right now. I’m going up stairs to search for our suspect.” Oak just stares at me, trying his best to remain brave. No shame big guy, we’ve all been there.
Remaining vigilant, I made my way upstairs. At the base I, again, made my announcement. “SHOW YOURSELF AND HAVE YOUR HANDS VISIBLE”
ShoooOoOOw YOURssssself…
Now I’m just getting pissed. This can go so wrong, but I’ve always been good at using anger to remain focused and hyper aware. But that doesn’t mean this is still creepy as fuck.
Leading by the light equipped to my handgun, I made my way up the stairs. Lucky for me it’s corner fed right, which means there’s only one side to go once you reach the second floor. I’ll take any victory I –
BANG
I draw in that direction. My streamlight sees one closed door. What the fuck kind of second floor has ONE room.
Tap… tap…. Tap….
Guess it doesn’t take the smartest of cops to realize where my guy is. I yell out downstairs. “I got ‘em here man, just hold that basement and call again for an extra unit.”
No response.
HooOOOOld the … the.. BAAsemeeeeeent..
This one was different. It sounded like some old scary story where the mimic alien thing is trying to actively learn human speech. Fuck this. Without thinking I booted the door with everything I had. Perfect connection. The door flies open, revealing a child’s room. Kind of. There’s a mattress on the ground, the kind would fit into a crib. There was a lamp in the corner, with some kind of children’s cartoon characters adorning it. What there wasn’t, was a person in here.
“He needs help.”
Something whispered into my ear. The goosebumps on my flesh almost hurt. I holster and fly back down the stairs to Arnold. I’m sure it’s nothing but.. Arnold’s not there. The basement door remains open.
A million thoughts race through my head, like it’s 100’s of Daytona 500’s, and they’re all going different directions, racing at speeds of well over 200 mph. That’s a lot of numbers. Focus. How many times have I said that to myself tonight. Focus.
First thought: leave. Shameful thought. He might be hurt or in trouble down there. Second thought. Call once again for immediate backup. This I actually tried.. and the radio does not transmit. Perfect. How many times have I said that tonight. Clearing my mind, I know what I have to do. I have to go downstairs.
GooOOOoo DoooOOwn…
“Fuck you.” That’s my response.
Each stair creaks. Almost more worried about falling through and splitting my fat head than what lies beneath. But they hold. And now I’m on the .. dirt floor? No one has a basement like this in this neighborhood. I was so enamored on the dirt floor that I almost didn’t register that a dark figure moved quickly from left to right in front of my eyes. Time to be stupid or brave. Maybe both.
“ARNOLD… are you down here, are you ok?”
I’m ok…. I’m hurt.. follow my voice… I can’t move.
Good, he’s ok. “Where are you?”
Right… in.. front of you. Help me. I can’t..
I’m coming buddy. I can’t reach dispatch, they must be –
Station 9, 1711… Station 9, 1711? ..
Station 9 TO 1711, PLEASE RESPOND
County 3, Station 9, I’ll swing by his location. Just send me his whereabouts.
Copy that County 3, thank you Deputy Ramirez
submitted by leoofalexandria to BlackeyedStories [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 01:16 No_Injury8609 Apparently this was a student who attended UCB, I can't believe I might have walked by someone like this going to class

Apparently this was a student who attended UCB, I can't believe I might have walked by someone like this going to class submitted by No_Injury8609 to berkeley [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 01:01 meet_me_at_the_barre [On Patrol: Live] Live Thread April 1, 2023

Welcome to the live thread for Saturday, April 1st, 2023

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Hosts: Dan Abrams, Sean "Sticks" Larkin, and Curtis Wilson
Episode Description: Hosts Dan Abrams, retired Tulsa Police Department Sgt. Sean "Sticks" Larkin, and Deputy Sheriff Curtis Wilson provide analysis as law enforcement officers on patrol across the country are followed in real time. Show airs from 9pm - 12am EDT
Tonight's lineup: Volusia County Sheriff’s and Daytona Beach Police - Fl; Wilkes-Barre Police - PA; Beech Grove Police - In; Nye County Sheriff’s - NV; Toledo Police - OH; Richland County Sheriff’s and Berkeley County Sheriff’s - SC

Fun Stuff:

We have a Discord server to chat about the show and bingo!
On Patrol: Live Bingo! Play bingo as you watch! Made by one of our own: BwanaRob

Important Stuff:

Suicide is no joke. Your life is worth living. If you or someone you know is having suicidal thoughts please get help. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available. Call or text 988
Your local hospital requires donor blood to give people in need the best chance at life. The need is constant, as there is always a shortage. You can find a blood drive here or by calling 1-800-733-2767
Reminder: Do not post personal information of people featured on the show. This includes Google street views, LinkedIn profiles, Facebook, arrest reports, etc...
submitted by meet_me_at_the_barre to OnPatrolLive [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 00:47 EMTLifeBringer12866 SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WATCH-EASTERN NEW YORK

SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WATCH OUTLINE UPDATE FOR WS 108 NWS STORM PREDICTION CENTER NORMAN OK 515 PM EDT SAT APR 1 2023 SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WATCH 108 IS IN EFFECT UNTIL 1000 PM EDT FOR THE FOLLOWING LOCATIONS NYC001-005-021-027-035-039-043-047-057-059-061-071-079-081-083- 085-087-091-093-095-103-111-119-020200- /O.NEW.KWNS.SV.A.0108.230401T2115Z-230402T0200Z/ NY . NEW YORK COUNTIES INCLUDED ARE ALBANY BRONX COLUMBIA DUTCHESS FULTON GREENE HERKIMER KINGS MONTGOMERY NASSAU NEW YORK (MANHATTAN) ORANGE PUTNAM QUEENS RENSSELAER RICHMOND ROCKLAND SARATOGA SCHENECTADY SCHOHARIE SUFFOLK ULSTER WESTCHESTER
submitted by EMTLifeBringer12866 to EmergencyAlertSystem [link] [comments]


2023.04.02 00:41 Starchless New Dawn Roleplay

Welcome to New Dawn Roleplay!! We are a new server looking for new members today! Within New Dawn Roleplay we strive for realism and expect professionalism. We look for members with a passion for RP within our newly emerging community that will get actively involved in unique RP scenarios. We welcome all from any backgrounds and we are excited to meet you in game!
Current Open Departments:
Los Santos Police Department
Blane County Sheriffs Office
Civilian Operations
Media Team
Development Team
📷 Requirements - 15+ (we do take people who are younger, if they are mature), - Obeying the rules and regulations, - Have a working microphone, - Being respectful to all members, - Being Active! Join now to make your mark. Link:https://discord.gg/6Jbb2U2vT9
submitted by Starchless to FiveMServers [link] [comments]