Category Archives: True Detective Stories

True Detective Stories

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Abe Vigoda In Barney MillerIn my line of work, the end of winter is a Catch-22. The good news is that the temperatures are rising. The bad news is that the sun brings the morons out in force. Take this guy, for example. I’ll call him Dave.

Dave came into the division to report someone pulled up his shirt and showed him the gun tucked into his waistband. This occurred during a neighborhood dispute. Natch, gun threats are serious business, so I interviewed Dave right away.

From the start, I was wary of Dave’s tale of woe…

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True Detective Stories

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Kangaroo CourtOne of my cases was scheduled for a preliminary hearing today, and much to my chagrin, it was scheduled for my day off. The good news was I would earn four hours overtime just for showing up – a contract perk served as a reminder to ADA’s that police officers have lives outside work. the bad news was I had to wake up at 5:45am – on my day off.

I figured it would be a quick day, since my testimony shouldn’t have been necessary. The responding officer and the crime scene detective’s testimony would be. After clocking in, I approached the ADA, who informed me that complainant was not subpoenaed. Because why would he be; he’s only the victim. Unfortunately, the responding officer was also not subpoenaed, and when I told the ADA his testimony was necessary, she shrugged me off.

So I played the waiting game…

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True Detective Stories

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My Cousin Vinny

So, last week I was scheduled to attend a preliminary hearing for one of my court cases. I checked in with the assistant district attorney, who said that while the victim was not subpoenaed (no, I don’t know why, either), the defendant was brought down from the prison, and the case was ready to go. That’s good news because nine times out of ten, our cases are continued for reasons ranging from a missing witness to a rainy day. (Criminals don’t come to court in the rain.)

After two hours, my case is finally called. As I am getting ready, the sheriff tells the judge that the defendant was NOT brought down from the prison. When the judge reminds said sheriff that she just told us he was downstairs, she gives him a shrug. Oh well, I guess I’m going home.

Then it happens.

The ADA approaches me and says, “We’re ready to go.” I started laughing and replied, “Yeah, right.” She was serious. She informed me that we were going to put on the prelim in absentia. Amazingly, the defense attorney agreed to this nonsense. So, we put on a hearing without a victim, and without a defendant.

I stepped to the stand, and expected the usual opening question: “Detective, is there anyone here you recognize from that day?”

“Um yeah, the empty space next to the defense attorney.”

Sadly, that question was never raised, and I gave my testimony. I’m not sure what I said, because I kept repeating, “This is insane” in my head. Inconceivably, the judge decided there was enough to hold the empty space, er, defendant, and the next hearing is scheduled for June.

True Detective Stories

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Jim Halpert Head DeskSo, yesterday I spent my tour downtown at MPO training. MPO is annual re-certification training that is mostly classroom instruction and testing.

That’s about as exciting a description I can craft. Truly, it is about as boring as a baseball game being called by Harry Reid.

The day started off swimmingly, as it rained all through rush hour. I-95 is bad enough without FAIL-driving douche canoes keeping my speed below 35mph. You see, our training center – which is separate from the spacious police academy – is a rented office building in Center City. It has a parking lot that holds about 20 cars, plus on-street parking for about 20 more. On normal days, at least 100 cops are stuck in training. As a result, you better be at the building well before 7am – training starts at 8 – or you’ll need a water bottle and a Sherpa to make it to the building.

Unfortunately, the on-street parking backs up to a methadone clinic, so you take your vehicle’s life into your hands if you park there. The plus side is the junkies will offer to “watch your car for you” if you offer them money . . . or Nacho Cheese Doritos…

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True Detective Stories

Dumb Blonde

So yesterday I was sitting in work when the phone rang. Like an imbecile, I picked it up.

(So you know, most of us avoid picking up the phone because there is always an idiot on the other end of the line. Yesterday was no exception.)

The officer on the other end was a female who works in my division, and is regarded as one of the most galactically stupid cops in the department. She solidified that title with this call:

Officer Barbie: “Yeah, I have a witness out here who states his neighbor fired shots into the air before running into his house.”
Me: “Okay, are there any injuries?”

Officer Barbie: “No, but we’re in the house with the doer. A gun and bullets are on the floor of his bedroom.”

This is usually the moment when I suffer my first brain aneurysm. Did I survive? Find out below the fold.

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True Detective Stories

When people ask me what it’s like to be a police detective in Philadelphia, they usually expect me to say it’s just exactly like CSI or NYPD Blue.

Hardly.

I tell them it’s exactly like Barney Miller. For those of you old enough to remember, Barney Miller was a sitcom about NYPD detectives that was based almost entirely inside the squad room. It was hilarious, and so true to life that it’s scary. The show had quirky detectives, bumbling cops, and equipment that barely worked; if at all.

The detectives pulled practical jokes on one another, made fun of each other, and rarely took themselves too seriously. We’re the same way, which is why this real photo (taken by me on Friday night) is so full of win.

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True Detective Stories

Night shift is always a thousand times busier than daywork. On Thursday night, I caught a stabbing job. According to the arresting officers, two women were arguing outside a residence when one of them pulled out a knife. A struggle ensued, and while the victim was trying to wrestle the knife away from the defendant, the defendant received a deep laceration to her hand. The defendant was arrested and transported to the hospital for treatment. I completed the necessary interviews and paperwork, bada-bing, bada-boom, bada-bam.

On Saturday, I received a call from the defendant who wanted to give me “her side of the story.” I never pass up these phone calls, because they’re usually comedy gold. This time was no exception…

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True Detective Stories

Working as a big-city detective certainly has its perks. For one, you can be your own boss. My jobs are mine alone, and I can do as much (or as little) as I want with them. Another perk is that we work in plainclothes; so when something happens we can either intervene, or turn around and call 911.

Because I deal with cops all the time – and in my case, a few dumb cops – I start to think I am smarter than I really am. Believe me, I’m an idiot that barely got through college. I’m not splitting the atom any time soon.

That train of thought was proven this afternoon when a fellow detective recovered a gun during a search warrant. I did him a favor by taking the gun out of stolen status, but to do so, I had to view the original stolen gun report. That report was written by “K.P.,” arguably the dumbest man ever to walk the earth. Miraculously, K.P. put in all the needed information for the gun, but he forgot to add a description. What did he write under “Description?”

“Other clothing.”

I took a few moments to throw out some sentence enhancers in his name and wondered aloud how I would add a non-existent description in the recovery message. For five minutes, I tried to find an answer to this perplexing solution. Then it hit me:

The gun was recovered . . . and it was sitting on the detective’s desk.

God, I’m a friggin’ moron.

Dead Man (Not) Walking

In the PPD, policy dictates that detectives respond to homicides, suicides, and sudden or suspicious deaths. We do not respond to deaths brought on by natural causes. Most officers with a brain know this. Tonight, I got a call that went as follows:

“Hi, it’s [Smith] from the [99th] District. I’m out here with a dead body and I wanted to know if you guys were coming out for it. The deceased is 75 years old.”

On the other end of the line, I was simply shaking my head. “Dude, does it look like a suspicious death? Is there anything that looks odd out there?”

“No, just the dead body, but it looks like the person has been dead for a while.”

I took a deep breath and responded, “Well if the person was 75 and there isn’t an axe in his head, do you think we’ll be coming out?”

The officer’s response aptly describes the current state of the Philadelphia Police Department: “Well, no, but my sergeant told me to call anyway.”

True Detective Stories

Tonight has been a very bad night.

At the start of my tour, I received a suicide call for one of our less-busy districts. A white male was found with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. The scene was located at the entrance of a park, a few blocks from the man’s residence. As you would guess, the scene was disturbing, and as the lead detective, I had to get up close and personal with the body. It is never something I enjoy doing, but that’s the job.

Members of the Medical Examiner’s Office arrived and transported the body to the morgue, while I had an officer recover the gun. Back at the division, I received a call that the male left suicide notes for his family. The notes were being brought to me, and I would forward them to the M.E. There were three notes in all, and one of them was addressed to the man’s daughter. The man, not much older than I, wrote that he was proud of his daughter and he loved her very much.

It was a difficult read.

So, here I sit, depressed and unmotivated, waiting to go home so I can hug my children. But in the meantime, I wanted to post the hotline number above. If any of you need help, or know someone who does, please give the number a call. Suicide affects so many people besides the doer.