cop o'ding

Cop tazers himself

dumb cop

Speaks volumes.

You import your own emoticons and call other people lame? It's also gay, by the way. YAY!

No you don't. Douchebag.

I've paid a grand total of $23 into the traffic ticket piggy bank....in my entire life.

And THAT is undeniably the result of some very forgiving cops and judges.

Not bad for a sober alcoholic......seems somebody wants me around because I'd have been dead a long time ago. Go figure.

lol

i don't have too many negative cop stories, other than when i was 13, and fishing at a little lake down the street from where i lived. it was a week before the "general" lake opener(this is a year round lake) and i had one of lacey's finest come down and tell me i had to pack up my gear and go home because it was closed. he was a real dick about it too. that one still pisses me off...especially since my dad called up the lacey PD and they said they had no jurisdiction over such matters.

i've never been arrested, or even gotten a ticket(outside of parking tickets at SPSCC). been pulled over 3 times in 9 years of driving...got nailed coming down the hill into cosmopolis a few months back, 49 in a 35, and the guy let me go. karma, i guess...

I had just flown back to North Carolina from Seattle after having gotten married on my spring break. I'm with my new wife in the middle of BFE, prolly half way between Raliegh and the coast, heading to a house on the water for our honeymoon...its about 3 in the morning...prolly doing somewhere between 80 and 90. I get pulled over by a good old boy:

Redneck NC cop: What's the hurry?
Wife (sounding bubbly): Oh we just got married (she shows him the ring) and we just got back in town and we are so excited to start our honeymoon that we decided to head to the coast tonight rather than wait until tomorrow.
Redneck NC cop: I see you have Washington plates, what are you doing in Carolina?
SciGuy: We moved here recently for school...this is my Spring Break.
Redneck NC cop: Is that so? Well, where exactly do you go to school?
SciGuy: UNC
Redneck NC cop: OK! Good! I'm going to let you off with a warning. Had you said "DUKE" I would have written you a ticket. Ha! You kids take care now, ya here?
SciGuy: Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Have a good day, Sir.

The moral of the story is:



...and...

The time - January 1978, the place - Colorado. I had been visiting friends in Durango and was hitchhiking back to Leadville to meet another friend who would take me to the airport in Denver the next day. My ride dropped me off about 3 miles South of Buena Vista. It was dark, cold, and snowing. I am walking up the right side of the road with my thumb out when a car stops about 100 feet behind me. I start walking back and am confronted by 2 Colorado State Troopers with their guns drawn! I stop (even as a young man, I was pretty savvy). They check my ID, ask me a few questions, tell me that if I want to walk I need to be on the left side of the road, if I want to hitch on the right side, I would need to stand still. I did not let them know that I would turn into a popsicle if I didn't keep moving! I asked them to give me a ride to Buena Vista (you don't get if you don't ask!) and they declined. I then said, "Guys, you scared me damn near to death, why did you draw your guns on me?" Their reply - "We figured that the only person STUPID enough to be hitchiking in these conditions was Ted Bundy!" He had escaped from the Glenwood Springs jail the week before.

How about taking a short cut through an alley, yes I had been drinking and wasn't 21, when screech a cop car blocks the entrance to the alley in front of me and roar screech another from behind. Then two more cars. They slam me up against the car...handcuff me, frisk me, put me in the back then start searching one of the two buildings for a "reported" break in while another calls me in for what nots. No break in and spotless record so they let me go. Kind of surreal.....one moment walking, all hell breaks loose, let you go and dissapear, then your walking again.

My buddy was home on leave from Ft. Bragg, and while he was home he bought a late 90's 3 series BMW. All black with dark tinted windows. I road tripped it with him back down to NC from here taking shifts driving so that we could make it straight through. I was asleep as we were going through South Dakota, and at 3am my buddy wakes me up, "Hey, wake up man, I'm getting pulled over. I might have been speeding." We get pulled over to the side of the freeway, and as soon as the police officer opens his door, we hear the tell tale, "I want to eat your face off" bark of a German Shepard. We were totally clean of course, but the officer came to the door and immediately separated us pulling my buddy out of the car and telling me to "sit tight." Five minutes go by and he comes over to ask me where we're coming from, what we're doing, where we're going, etc. He leaves, my buddy gets back in the car and we were a couple a high fivin' white guys - he got a warning telling him to slow down. Must have looked kinda weird to have a blacked out beemer doing 95 down the freeway with WA plates at 3am. Even though we had nothing to worry about other than the speeding, the dog sure scared the [censored] out of me.

Another story involving one of the two superior court judges mentioned above and the WDFW.

The judge owned a nice large chunk of property on the local river that I used to fish quite a bit. After fishing on his private property and catching/release quite a few fish, I stopped by the house to let him know that there were some fish down there. I knew that this judge had never caught a steelhead, so I figured I'd show him the ropes down there.

He get's all excited, grabs his yeller Eagle Claw rod and coffee grinder reel and away we go. We get down to the river and rig up his rod with a some bait under a Flow-At. Steelhead are porpoising all over the slush so I know this won't take too long. I pointed at where he should cast, instructed him to freespool his coffee grinder and set the hook when the Flow-At went under the water.

Took all of about 2.3 seconds after his cast until his Flow-At just shot under water. Fish on! His first steelhead. A nice fish about 10 pounds comes quickly to the shore, where before I realize what is about to happen, he pounces on the fish and bonks it on the head with a rock. No biggie...except that it was a WILD fish....and wild fish were not legal to keep on this river at this time during this particular year.

Uh....... Crap. Didn't see that one coming.

I politely tell this judge that one is not allowed to keep unclipped wild fish. He promptly ignores me and casts back out the half-bat that was left over and pulled out of this dead fishes mouth.

Another 3.4 seconds later, Flow-At down, fish in, and killed under my protest.

As a high schooler, I wasn't about to tell a judge what the laws were, so I left it at that. He took his two fish home and he was as proud as anyone I've ever seen on the river.

Time goes by........a couple of months.

I'm fishing with my buddy and I hook and land a small hatchery steelhead. Nice little chrome fish (for that time of year), but I didn't want it and was going to release it. Held it for the Grip-N-Grin and the fish leapt out of my hands and straight in to the sand. Not cool. To make it worse, as we were trying to wrestle this land-locked flopping hatchery fish, my buddy accidently kicked it in the head during the scuffle. Dead fish.

Oh well, no worries. I'll just punch the fish. I go to grab the pen that I always had tied on to a string to my vest to punch my card, and notice that the pen is gone. Crap. I try using the end of a slinky to write on the card. Yeah, as if. Oh well. I tried to punch the fish and didn't think anything of it past that.

We eventually left that area and went up river where we ran in to our high school teacher. He asked me how we were doing and I said that I had one in the truck and off we went fishing. Coming back to the truck a few hours later, I notice two officers standing next to my truck. Two WDFW officers. One of them is /was the eventual head of the WDFW Enforcement.

I instantly realize that I didn't punch my fish, but since I have nothing to write with, I just accept my fate.....

Anyways, as I get there, the junior guys asks/tells me: "Got any fish in the truck?" I instantly realize that he's been talking to my teacher, as he's trying to get me to say "no". I say "yes", but then tell him that I didn't punch the fish because my pen fell off of the string on my vest and show him the string with the loop on it.

Apparently, that doesn't mean crap, as they pull out the fish and measure the dorsal fin to verify that it was a hatchery fish. Back in the day, the dorsal fin on an unclipped fish had to be greater than this white card that the WDFW issued in order for it to be "wild". Fortunately for me, the fin was about 2mm under the card, so it was *just* a hatchery fish.

Anyways, the officers ask to search my truck, which I let them do.

Junior Dillhole looks everywhere and in searching behind and underneath my seat, pulls out a half-used golf pencil and asks me what that was and why I didn't use it to punch the fish.

I politely tell him that I'm on the high school varsity golf team, that it was a lost golf pencil and that I obviously didn't look under my damn seat for lost pencils to mark my fish with. He then proceeded to lecture me about how I could have used some pencil lead to mark the card with and I told him I was using a slinky and not hard lead. Next came the "use the tip of a hook to mark you card", followed by you name it. I was doomed.

The senior guy then gave me the lecture of: "I know you and your buddy catch a lot of fish. You only have X marked. Either you are lying to us that you don't keep a lot of fish, or you are poachers that finally got caught not punching fish."

I always punched (and still do) my fish. Bastards. I was pissed.

End result was a $105 citation for not punching a hatchery fish.

So, the next day, I go in to see the judge mentioned above. I walk in to his office with the citation in hand, and he just looks up and says "What did do now?"

I told him my story.

Citation got dropped but I had to pay a $5 "processing" fee.

I have had about all of them. Good and bad and interesting. Worst one was about 15 years ago. My brother and I had taken out a boat owned by my dads business and failed to see that the trailer tabs had expired until that night. We were heading from tacoma to his place in Purdy. I was hauling the boat with a beat up pick up while he was following me in a used pontiac firebird he had just bought. He warned me that a few weeks ago he had a run in with a state trooper that pulled his 65 mustang over at 2 am for excessive exhaust. When he pointed out that the officers car was kicking out more, the officer lost it. He warned me he definitely did not want to run into him agian. Well, fate has it that the officer and a trainee pull me over for the tabs. My brother stops behind me and immediately all attention is on him. The officer leaves me behind and starts going over my brothers car with a fine tooth, finally writing me a small ticket for the tabs and my brother one twice as steep because he claimed he could see a tread bar one tire. Didn't matter that my truck was litterally falling apart with defective turn signals, bald tires, and headlights that would flicker on an off. My brother was so pissed of he stated he would refuse to sign the ticket and would like to be transported to the station so he could deal with the sargent in charge. At that, the officer swung him around, shoved the night stick up against the back of his neck and then looked over at me and said, "Wow, is your brother stupid. It's a long way to the station. If you love him, I suggest you start begging him to sign this ticket." I have no doubt he was serious and started to beg. In the end he signed the ticket. We filed a complaint and they actually had a formal hearing, but I don't think they ever told us the outcome.

One of the more interesting involves Deputy Mundell, who just died. His mom and My dad were great freinds, so I knew who he was by name, but that was it. Well, one day I went to check on a house were buying. As I pull up, Mundell is getting up off the ground and then pulls up a handcuffed guy. Seems a neighbor saw something and called it in. When Mundell walked up to the house the guy ran out and did a flying tackle at him. Mundell had caught him mid-air, swung him around and pinned him. At his memorial they kept saying he was a magnet for stuff. Guess it was true.

After high school graduation, having never gone hardly anywhere, my buddy and I decided we'd drive down to CA, visit San Francisco, Fisherman's Wharf, Haight-Ashbury, the Boardwalk at Santa Cruz, and Monterey. So we did, camping illegally wherever we found ourselves, discovering that while the sun and beach sand were hot, the ocean was cold. I mean it's California, shouldn't the ocean be warm? Oh well, . . .

On the return trip we got off course, and must have been around Sacramento and were at a stoplight in a little town called Auburn. The Pontiac GTO in front of us had 4 teenage boys, not that that had anything to do with us. But at the green light they took off burning rubber, accelerating like they were drag racing. My buddy was driving and sped up also, not that the other car had anything to do with us. Just that we were 18, and the only reason for driving 80 mph was if conditions weren't suited to going 90, or more.

Mostly I was reading the map, looking to get us back on route, when I looked up ahead and over the slight hill crest saw a huge dust cloud and flying toothpicks. As we crested the hill, we could see that the GTO had gone off pavement on the right, over-corrected and flew off the road on the left, striking and breaking a utility pole nearly 10 feet above ground level. This was an ugly scene. My buddy thought we should leave, so we did, as other cars stopped, and other people seemed to have a better idea about what to do. After we left, I thought we should return because we were nearly eye witnesses, and maybe the police would want to talk with us. OK, so I wasn't the brightest hillbilly from south county.

We drove back to the scene of the accident, and everything proceeded to go downhill. The driver of another car reported that we had been racing the wrecked car because both our car and the GTO had passed him going over 100 mph. At 18 I was more than slightly sarcastic. I asked the driver how he could possibly know we were going over 100 mph unless he was going 100 mph, at which point the country deputy separated the other driver, me, and my buddy.

Apparently all this mattered because at least in those days, if two cars were racing and there was an accident involving only one, the drivers of both vehicles could be held responsible. We didn't know this at the time. And one of the other 4 kids died, and one other looked like he might not make it. And the deputies didn't know that it was perfectly normal for me to study a map and not pay attention to our speed as we cruised along over 90 mph, therefore being able to truthfully say I had no idea how fast we were going. And I wasn't going to mention that.

So we visited the county jail in the little town of Auburn, me driving my buddy's car following the deputies, and were interviewed, interrogated, but not waterboarded, and eventually the local district attorney came in after hours to visit us tourists and talk more with us. One of the deputies commented to me about my attitude toward the situation, and I replied I had serious attitude issues with being wrongly accused. I told him we were just tourists trying to find the right road back home, that I really didn't know how fast my buddy was driving, that I wasn't about to speculate on it either, since it didn't appear to be in our interest to do so. They gave us a hard time, because the circumstantial evidence could be interpreted as two cars with teenage drivers racing. But in the end, the DA decided we didn't need to stay the night in their jail and could leave, which we did.

As my buddy backed up his car to leave, I said we should probably wait until we were out of the jail parking lot before getting a couple well-deserved beers out of the trunk that they never asked to search.

The story didn't end because even after getting back home, weeks and months later, I was subpeoned to testify locally at my buddy's dad's attorney's office about the accident. I guess I was a hostile witness because I thought they were still trying to pin something on us, but I think there was a criminal and civil trial and lawsuit of the GTO driver.


My next police experience was with local county deputies and had a much happier ending. The next autumn four of us turned 19 and decided to have a kegger b'day party one friday night. We were getting things set up at the gravel pit as other friends drove back into town to bring more kids to the party. We got the keg pumping smoothly and sang a few traditional drinking songs. Then after a couple small beers I got in my car to drive out the railroad access road to go pick up my GF when a county mountie car drove in lights ablazin' and telling me to stay in my car, and my friends to not move. While they were putting the four of us and the confiscated keg in the back of the patrol car (yeah, quite funny) the kids who'd gone to town came back and started down the dirt road, saw the patrol car and reversed out of there, but for a friend who'd been riding on the hood of the lead car ran off across the field to the house of a good farmer friend.

Anyway we were questioned about the source of the keg, to which I replied that it doesn't matter -- Oh you tell us where you got it and it'll go a lot easier on you guys -- and on and on, so I asked if they had any cups or something so we could drink as much of the keg as possible before we got to the jail, since it was sitting in our laps. So we get to the jail, and the keg is sequestered for some upcomming deputy party we think, and we all get fingerprinted and now have criminal records to go with our high school diplomas, SAT scores, and basketball trophy, etc. Fortunately is was pay day, and between us we came up with the $25 bail apiece, and were allowed to leave.

However, my car was still out at the gravel pit. And my GF was at the high school waiting for me to pick her up, and I was very late. And by coincidence a deputy on the radio talking with the deputy at the jail drove by my GF and asked what she was doing (the event she'd been there for was long over). So I told the deputy to tell the other deputy to tell my GF what happened, so she walked downtown from the school and called her dad, and she and he drove to the county jail to pick me up. I thought this was gonna' be the end of going out with this girl, but her dad was really cool and said if this was the worst trouble I ever got it, things were gonna' be all right. I knew I liked her dad. And things were all right. But most of that keg of beer was enjoyed by someone other than the birthday boys.

Sg

Let's see....

Do you want to hear about blowing up the ex nextdoor neighbor's mail box two nights in a row, the numerous speeding tickets that turned into warnings, the only time I pulled a gun as a civilian on another human and was asked by the cops, "why didn't you shoot the asshole?", the time myself and two other deputies had a Ruger SP101 (in .357 Mag) pulled on us as we went to help a guy who caught a small pet carrier upside the head, the time the WSP "piited" a scumball tweaker off the raod in fron of our current house, when said scumball's dad came back looking for drugs a month and a half later, or......?

Honestly, I've ad more good experiences with officers than bad, and as many have stated, every negative one was most certainly my fault.

Best 'good' story:

About 1991ish Myself a couple highschool friends and our girlfriends decide to head out to Grayland beach with some sleeping bags and what must've been a case of Boone's Stawberry Hill. It was our teenage girl panty remover. So we get to the beach, park our late '70's toyota schitboxes nearby set up shop in the dunes, build a beach fire and start getting cozy.
Everything's going great, playing tonsil tennis with my new GF by the fireside, when the cream of the Twin Harbors crop come tearing up the beach in their life-size Hot Wheels truck. KC lights, 12" lift, glasspacks, and a bed full of toothless morons hoopin' & hollering and spraying everything in sight with .22 fire. All 6 of us bailed over the dune as the bullets kicked up sandaround our fire, and the Hillbillies did a few doughnuts on the beach in front of our spot and then took off.
So after awhile we saw the coast was clear, shook the sand off our blankets and went back to drinking around the fire.
Everything's quiet for the next hour or so and the adrenaline's wearing off, when--

"Good Evening!"

Up behind us out of the dunes steps an older looking cop. We all stuff our Boones bottles under our blankets.

"You kids been shooting guns out here?"

"No Officer!"

We relay him the story of the Night of the Living Rednecks

"Yeah, that sounds about like what I was told. Where you kid's from?"

He then proceeded to come sit down by our fire and talk with us for a good hour.

Turns out he was THE Pacific County Sheriff. Stars on the collar & everything.

He told us about a vacant beach house the renters had abandoned a puppy in. Told us Pacific County had no Animal Services and that he had to go out in the morning and shoot the poor thing. Asked us all repeatedly to adopt the thing, but all of our dads would've hided us for bring home another pet. Told us how Pacific County's so broke they only had him & two other full time deputies and one reservist for emergencies or something like that. Had a good long talk with the guy and it was a stark contrast from the Police we were used to. It was like growing up used to the LAPD and then meeting Andy Griffiths.
After he finally left no one said a word for a long time. Then I pulled my Boones bottle out from under my blanket and and drew a deep breath. All my friends did the same. We stayed up to watch the sun rise then we headed home. I never made it past 2nd base with that girl. I heard she married some abusive jerk, got slapped around, then turned Lezbo.


I always wondered what happened to that Sheriff. I hope he's enjoying a long retirement and hasn't had to put any more strays down.

excluding the [censored] heads in family that are leo

in issaquah's past circa the 70's
cops i knew as a kid
mott= a arrogant but straight up dude
keith moon= a good guy who wanted to correct all of our paths
andersen?= cant remember if it was gary or barry as they were brothers
one sold out pot dealers in high school and the other one busted them
the cop andersen would give the younger bro the goods to resell in the highschool
now he is the renton city cheif?
anyway, if you doubt my recollections?
do a search, it's all true
at this point i have a bad taste regarding leo
goinfishin is a great ambassador changing my negative opinions though
a good man he is
some do remember "protect and serve"