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True Detective Stories

By Wyatt Earp | August 27, 2007

For those of you new to SYLG – and my cohort at Blogs4Bauer, Amy V – you may not know this, but I spend my free time as a Philadelphia Police Detective. It’s a hobby, since blogging pays so well. (Snark) Once in a while, I have to endure a brutal phone conversation like the one I am about to share. Be forewarned: you’ll need to get the duct tape after reading this one.

The following is an actual segment of an actual conversation I received in the Division this week:

“Detective Earp, may I help you?”
“Yeah, are you a detective?”

(Oh, here we go.)

“That’s correct, sir. May I help you?”
“Yeah, I got some information for y’all.”

“Okay, sir. Lay it on me.”
“Yeah. There’s this guy named Dizz who’s always got guns on him. You should pick him up at his house.”

“Okay. What’s his real name?”
“I don’t know. But he goes by ‘Dizz.’”


“Okay, where does Dizz live?”
“West Philly.”

“Can you be more specific? What’s his numerical address?”
“I don’t know. Just go pick him up.”

“Okay, sir. Thank you.” (Hangs up.)

This is some groundbreaking news. Some guy in Philadelphia – home of 273 homicides – is armed with a gun. I am over-frakkin’-whelmed. So, in case any of you find yourselves in West Philly, be careful: some guy named “Dizz” is armed with a gun.

Cripes, I don’t get paid nearly enough for this.

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