True Detective Stories
By Wyatt Earp | October 20, 2009
Last night, we had a King Ball Bag sighting.
King Ball Bag is easily the biggest tool in our division. The man should have “Craftsman” tattooed across his forehead. He is a know-it-all who is the best police officer in the city. Just ask him, he’ll tell ya. His “cocky” attitude has earned him the name King Ball Bag, and to a man, every detective despises him.
Last night’s shenanigans didn’t help his cause.
The King brought in a narcotics arrest, and immediately demanded that he be served, post haste. Unfortunately for him, most of us were watching the Yankees game, and being a Yankees fan, I had no interest in his pleas until the 11th inning was over. (And when the Yanks lost the game, my mood was even more sour.)
I asked him what he had, and he replied, “A narcotics arrest. Weed.” Fine. At least this idiot couldn’t screw that up, right? Wrong. As I read his report, I noticed something odd. According to King Ball Bag’s version of this story, he only recovered seven packets of marijuana from the defendant. Too bad.
You see, when an adult is arrested for marijuana possession and has seven or fewer packets on him, the entire arrest has to be processed by the police officer, not detectives. It is the department’s way of easing the detective division’s already heavy arrest burden. When I informed the King of this, he took it as expected.
“You’re wrong. You guys handle seven packets,” he cried.
I shot back, “Actually, I’m right, but feel free to ask any of the other detectives up here, or the supervisors.”
Of course, I am just a lowly detective who handles narcotics arrests all the time, and my two year’s experience IN THE EAST DIVISION NARCOTICS UNIT obviously didn’t mean anything. After all, I am not royalty.
“You’re wrong. You guys handle it,” he repeated.
Since the blood was starting to seep out of my ears, I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Okay, sure.” I directed the King to another detective, and he displayed the smirk of righteousness.
Until the other detective – with, oh, eighteen years experience – enlightened him. Nice try, pal, but it’s district level. Apparently, the King did not seek a third opinion, and as he walked by my desk with his tail between his legs, he felt bound to explain to me why the job was district level:
“Seven packets or less is district level. You guys don’t handle it.”
As if I didn’t just frakkin’ tell him that! Calgon, take me away!!!
Topics: True Detective Stories | 10 Comments »
October 20th, 2009 at 9:03 am
Weed’s illegal? When did this happen?
October 20th, 2009 at 10:27 am
But medical weed is O.K. Obama said so. So it must be. Just ignore the laws, willya?
October 20th, 2009 at 11:14 am
John D – Apparently after the hippies grew up.
Mike47 – Yeah, go figure he’d be all for the reefer. /snark
October 20th, 2009 at 11:41 am
7 packets?
Is their a limit on how much each “packet” can wiegh?
October 20th, 2009 at 11:51 am
Kaveman – 7 packets (or dime bags) or under 14 grams total weight is handled by the district. We handle everything else. It cuts down on idiot cops trying to waste our time by locking up a guy with a blunt.
October 20th, 2009 at 12:13 pm
Is this enough weed:
http://makefunofmyfriends.com/stoopid-friends/highlarious/
October 20th, 2009 at 12:18 pm
Randal – Yeah, I think that might qualify. Where do you find this stuff?
October 20th, 2009 at 2:12 pm
As luck of the draw would have it, you seem to get the guys swimming in the shallow gene pool at your desk.
October 20th, 2009 at 8:08 pm
That is funny stuff. I love how he felt required to come back and tell you the policy. And seven of Randal’s packets might get you in trouble here in California.
October 21st, 2009 at 12:28 pm
MeToo – I need some sort of sneeze guard installed to keep the idiocy at bay.
Ingineer66 – Yeah, he wanted to educate me to the policy I just explained to him. Idiot.