As the defendant jumps out of the car my partner and I approach him and immediately slap the cuffs on him. Now we already know the defendant has a warrant and failed to appear in court but he insists that he just appeared and everything had been taken care of. Being the nice guy that I am, I sit him on the curb and listen patiently to his story. He tells that his paperwork is in the house and wants to get it for us. He insists that he went to court. “No, send your Father in”, I tell him. “He won’t be able to find it. I know where it is and he doesn’t.”, he says. We go back and forth for a few minutes and I finally lose my patience and tell him to get up. “You’re going to jail”.I know he didn’t go and I’m not about to let him in the house.

I lift the defendant off the ground and escort him to the car. Once inside, he starts complaining that he needs to use the bathroom and is nearly begging me to let him go back into his house to use the restroom. I’m starting to get suspicious. There are really only two reasons why someone goes to great links to get out of handcuffs. One is so they can fight and run and the other is their hiding something and they want to get rid of it. My instincts and his body language tell me that he has drugs on him. He’s not getting out of these cuffs.

A few minutes into the drive he starts to close his legs really tight and is almost in tears. “I really need to use the restroom or I’m gonna pee my pants”, he tells us. My partner alerts me that he needs gas and suggests that we let him use the bathroom at the gas station. Okay, why not. As I’m walk him to the restroom I remind him that any attempts to fight or escape will result in an immediate taser deployment (I love my taser). He agrees but what he doesn’t realize is that I’m gonna accompany him to the restroom. Once inside I remove the cuffs and stand behind him and warn him not to even sneeze. “Pee”, I tell him. Nothing. “Stage fright?”. “I can’t pee with you standing behind me”, he says. On go the cuffs. “You can pee at the jail”, I respond.

Oddly enough he stops complaining about need to relieve himself. When we arrive at the jail I ask him if he has any dope on him. I already know he does, his body language says it all. He finally admits to holding Meth. I remove it and throw it away, giving him a major break. It’s a felony to bring drugs or alcohol into a jail and San Benito County Jail is famous for jamming people up for it. Not sure why I did it, this guy’s has been a jerk since we arrested him. I guess I just have a soft spot for drug addicts. The booking goes smooth and we go on our way.

Three days later I learn that the defendant called one of our offices and complained about how he was treated. You must be kidding me. I cut this guy a major break and he complains about me. I never get complaints and believe me there have been times that I should have. Not this time, though. Anyway, last week my partner calls me laughing. He tell me that this guy rebailed through us and didn’t go to court again. Unfortunately for me I can’t be there when he arrests him. I beg him to leave any drugs on him but I would be suprised if he makes that mistake again. A couple hours later my partner calls me and tells me that he had the defendant with him and he was holding quite a bit more dope then last time. He left if in his pocket even though he was begging my partner to throw it out. All my partner says to him is “Karma”. Yes, the jail charged him with bringing drugs into a jail and based on this guys past history, he’ll do some serious jail time. I bet we don’t see him again.

I thought I would share a funny story with you about my first real experience with pepper spray. For those who don’t know about pepper spay, we use it for what’s called pain compliance. In other words, if you don’t do what I tell you to do, your face is going to feel a shit load of pain. Unlike mace, which burns your skin, pepper spray effects the mucus membranes; eyes, mouth, nose. Pepper spray is made from the extract of hot peppers so it’s non-toxic and relatively safe.

It causes immediate closing of the eyes, difficulty breathing, runny nose, and coughing. The duration of its effects depend on the strength of the spray but the average full effect lasts around thirty to forty-five minutes, with diminished effects lasting for hours. With that said, it is one of the most painful things I have ever experienced. I remember when I got my first can of spray. I decided to “try it out” so I sprayed a bit in my hands and rubbed in on my cheeks. I was underwhelmed. I only felt a little bit of burning similar to what you feel when you get hot pepper sauce on you lips. It was no big deal so my fear of pepper spray was gone. Ha!

Fast forward a few months later when another investigator and I were attempting to arrest a three striker meth addict at a trailer park called Sleepy Hallow. Anyone who knows San Jose, knows this trailer park. It’s on Monterey Road in South San Jose and has been there as far back as I can remember. It’s so bad even the trailer trash are afraid to park their double wides here.

As we approached our defendant we noticed he was carrying a 2 or 3 month old yellow Labrador Retriever. We yelled at him to “drop the puppy” (just kidding) and attempted to arrest him.  He immediately pulled away from my partner who, for whatever reason, decided to spray this guy in the face. Well, unfortunately for me, I was standing to the right of my partner about 2 feet from the defendant. When the spray hit him it bounced off and hit me square in the eyes and mouth.

I was not expecting what happened next. My eyes immediately swelled shut and I felt the most intense pain I have ever experienced. As my eyes we closing shut I saw the defendant take of running with my partner following. I knew I couldn’t leave him alone, I have to deal with the pain and try to keep up with them. As I took of running I ran right through another cloud of pepper spray. This time I got a mouth and nose full and the pain was worsening. I yelled to my partner that I could not see so he was smart enough to yell “over here, over here”.

When we finally caught up with the defendant my eyes were now completely closed and an enormous amount of snot was coming from my nose. So much so that it looked like my head was leaking fluid. It was a stream of snot. Everything hurt, my eyes, my mouth and my nose. I was having trouble breathing and I was starting to panic. To make matters worse this guy wasn’t going to give up without a fight. We were on the ground trying to get hand cuffs on him when my partner started yelling “he’s trying to get my gun, he’s trying to get my gun”.

During the 3 or 4 minute fight, I could no longer catch my breath and I was getting scared. I couldn’t see anything and the pain was becoming almost too much to handle. I had to keep prying my eyes open with my fingers so I could see what was going on. So I could see just enough to get this guy in cuffs. When we finally got him under control I had to stand under a garden hose for 10 minutes to try and ease the pain. Every time I turned it off the pain came back.

Finally, after about an hour or so I started to feel normal again. It wasn’t until that evening when I took a shower did the pain return. It seems that pepper spray is reactivated when exposed to warm water. When I was assigned a taser I tossed my pepper spray in the trash, never to be used again (except on dogs). I would rather be tased then relive the pain I experienced that day.

I get the new case and we immediately drive to the wife’s house. She lives on the border of San Jose and Santa Clara with her mom and her 2 young children in a fairly nice neighborhood. It’s a single story house with a 2 car garage and a fairly large backyard. Since she was so cooperative in the first cast we decide to just knock the door and find out if she knows where he is.

It seems that things are a bit different now. She comes to the door and for some odd reason is not happy to see us. She is short with with her responses and will only give us one word answers to our questions. Hmmmm. My favorite question to ask when I think they are hiding the defendant is “So, is it OK if we do a quick search of your house and get on our way?”. At this point it’s really easy to find out if there lying. If the defendant is there they usually respond with “do you have a search warrant?” or “you’re not searching my house, I told you he/she is not here”.  On response is aggressive and the other passive. Now sometimes you can still tell that the defendant is not there ever if they refuse to a search so you have to use some judgment. However, a good investigator, if asked properly, can almost always get consent to search. You just have to know how to ask.

I ask her the question and she immediately tells me “I already told you he’s not here. I’m busy with the kids and don’t have time for this. Come back at 4:00 and you can search”. Yea sure, I’m not leaving now. She also gave us some lame story that the defendant had checked into rehab but her story made no sense. She had several significant details but could not remember the name of the facility.  I did my best to convince her to allow me to search but nothing was working. I can’t leave now, I am going to sit and wait.

We move 10 or 15 houses up the street and started watching the house. I was around 10:00am when we started and for several hours we did not see any activity. Luckily, I have an in dash DVD player so we watched Hancock with Will Smith. Pretty funny movie. Around 4:00pm a young girl emerged from the house and was looking up and down the street. That’s a good sign, they sent her out to see if we were still here. Either someone wants to leave or someone wants to come home and they nominated her to go check.

She looks around for a bit and then we see the wife exit the house and look up and down the street. She starts walking towards us and it becomes obvious that she has made us. I really don’t care because I am not leaving until he is in my car. Period. I know he is in there and he has nowhere to go. He’s mine. She walks right up to my car and is obviously irate and starts yelling at us to leave. Some bullshit about how we’re upsetting her kids rolls out of her mouth but I don’t hear shit. All I care about is getting him and I am not leaving.

I tell her that if she wants me to leave then let me search the house otherwise we have nothing to talk about. She basically tells me to f-off and goes back inside. I go back to my movie and continue waiting. Surveillance has always been fun for me. I will only do surveillance for extended periods if I believe the defendant is in the house or someone in the house may take me to the defendant. Otherwise I will watch a house for short periods of time, several times a week. I have too many cases to spend all my time on one.

It’s now around 10:00pm and I tell my partner to take off but I’m not leaving. I am going to wait him out and I am going to win. Four more hours go by and I am pretty sure that they are down for the night. I decide to go home, get a few hours of sleep and return early. If I get back at at 4:30 or 5:00 I should be OK. They’re tweekers so I know they won’t be getting up early to go to work.

Back at 5:00 and it does not look like anything has changed. I know the cars are in the same spot because I marked the tires before I left. I did this by placing a little rock next to a tire. If the rock is in the same spot then the car has not moved. It’s a pretty simple trick but it’s effective.

At around 11:00am the wife pokes her head outside I sees me again. When I returned, I parked a lot closer to the house. I need to start putting more pressure on them. For the next hour or so she goes in and out several times. She can feel the pressure. Enough so that she approaches my car again. This time she is yelling at me and her face is turning red. Nearly begging me to leave. No chance. This time I calmly tell her that I am just waiting for a couple of police officers who agreed to do a probation search of the house. She knows her husband is on probation and that the cops can search the house whenever they want.

She leaves a returns about 20 minutes later and her attitude has completely changed. She tells me that she is willing to let me search if I promise to leave and never return. I agree. Just then my partner arrives and we begin to search the residence. Oddly enough the wife is very helpful as she guides us through the house. When I wanted to search the attic, she fetched the ladder. All the while blabbing about how he is in some rehab place and that we are wasting our time.

I finally searched every room, under every bed, every closet and any possible place for him to hide. Nothing. Just as I am ready to throw in the towel I notice a bunch of stuff piled in front of what looks like crawl space access. As I start moving the stuff away from the door I can see her getting more nervous and fidgety. Perfect, he’s hiding under the house. I knew he was here. As I open the door I immediately see a spot of wet, almost muddy soil and notice fresh drag marks through it.

I just look right at his wife and tell her to ask him to come out. She tries to look perplexed and asks “what do you mean? He’s not in there. He has a bad back and would never be able to fit under there.” Yea, sure. I guess I’m going in. I crawl under this house with only my gun and a flash light. I can feel my Tommy Bahama shirt become soaked with wet, muddy soil. I’m pissed now. I get about 10 or 15 feet under the house and still don’t see anything but I know he’s in here. Just then I notice a silhouette of a person hiding behind some ventilation duct.

I yell out to him to come out or I’m going to taze him. I don’t have a taser with me but the threat worked nonetheless. He crawls out and we get him in custody. How I have mud all over my pants and shirt is odd. It hasn’t rained in months. Just then I notice a leaky sewage pipe. Perfect, I have shit all over my clothes….

Like most other Meth users this guy lied about where he lived, his job (or lack thereof) and just about anything else that we could use to locate him. Through the course of my investigation I locate his father who provides me with some crucial information about the defendant’s possible location.

I had also placed several calls to the cosigner, a female that was simply listed as a “friend” on the application, but she has not returned any of my calls. This is usually an indication that she may be hiding the defendant or knows his location and doesn’t want to tell me. After all she’s on the hook for the bail and most people who don’t want to pay the bond off call right away.

His father is not sure about the address of the “girl” he is staying with provides us with enough information about the apartment building that we are confident that we will find her. I am also sure that this is probably the cosigner, who also lied to us about her address.

Since it’s getting late, we decide to return to the apartment building in the morning. Early next morning we return and find a cosigners car in the complex garage and the defendant’s motorcycle. Score! The property manager gives us access to the garage and we sit and wait, hoping the defendant leaves.

An hour goes by and, again, I get impatient. Surprise! Let’s knock the door…. My partner and I arrive at the apartment door and knock. Shhhhh. I hear someone moving around inside so I tell my partner to go to the rear in case someone decides to jump. A female inside asks “who is it”. I tell her my name and why I am there. Surprise! The cosigner opens the door! She immediately starts making excuses for not calling me back. I listen impatiently while waiting for my partner to come back around front. I hear nothing she says, I smell blood. I just want search the apartment. I know he’s here.

She consents to a search and tells me over and over that the defendant is not here. Oddly enough I start hearing the song “Loser” from Beck in my head “I’m a loser baby”. Anyway, we go in to a dark apartment and start peeling off each room. First the kitchen… nothing. Then I realize that this idiot is turning off each light after we turn them on. I tell her to stop and have a seat on the couch.

We come to the master bedroom and notice that the bathroom door is closed. It’s funny that the closer to the master bedroom the louder the cosigner talks. Hmmmm. I tell my partner to stop, “let’s search the other rooms first.” One other bedroom and a bathroom are clear. Back at the master bath we start shouting “come out”, “let me see your hands”. Then we hear “I wouldn’t come in here if I was you”. Oooops, that’s a bad sign. Does this guy have a gun, a knife?

My partner starts to back out of the master bedroom but I jokingly block him. Unfortunately we both left our vests in the car and are not really prepared for someone with a gun. I tell my partner to call the police, we need more people. Meanwhile, the bitch on the couch starts babbling about her kids, “I don’t need this” blah, blah, blah. My partner pushes by me and starts dialing the PD.

Just as he starts talking to someone on the phone the bathroom door slowly opens, just a crack. The defendant peaks out. Big mistake. I kick the door as hard as I can and it strikes the guy right in the forehead knocking him backward. Now I start singing “Another one bites the dust, another one bites the dust”. I jump in the bathroom and grab him around his neck in a choke hold, dragging him out of the bathroom.

As I’m dragging him out I notice a small semiautomatic pistol laying on the sink. My heart skips a beat and I feel my adrenaline rise. I get cuffs on him and continue dragging him into the living area. Was this guy going to shoot it out with us? I need to start wearing my vest. All he had to do was fire a few shots through the door and one of us would have been hit.

A few minutes later the police arrive and find more stolen credit cards and drug paraphernalia. A more thorough search of the bathroom uncovers ammunition and… a penis pump. The whole time we were cuffing the defendant and securing the gun the bitch on the couch is silent. Remember, she was whining about her kids earlier but appeared indifferent to the gun. But a penis pump! She hit the roof. Huh? The gun, drugs and stolen property are cool but a penis pump is inappropriate?

These 2 idiots start arguing about the pump! I’m baffled. Because the defendant is on parole and has a gun the police want to take him. As it turns out the gun was stolen, now he’s looking at 5 or 10 years in prison. I need to start wearing my vest…

Meth is the worst drug to hit the streets in the US since the cocaine epidemic of the 80’s. However, I believe that Meth is having a far worse social impact on America. It destroys lives and the people around them. It’s an ugly drug and anyone connected to a Meth addict will tell you that the addict has little regard for themselves and even less for their loved ones. They are truly owned by the drug only care about thier next score.

I could tell you one hundred stories of the addicts that I have arrested but they would all be them same. Mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, children and siblings all tell me the same thing: “(insert addict’s name here) has changed and I don’t even know him/her anymore. We have tried everything and don’t know what else to do for him/her. I think jail is the best thing for him/her. I’m tired of worrying about his/her safety. Please let me know if you find him/her.”

When I do find them, the majority are living from house to house, living with people who are either using the addict or are being used by the addict. Most of them own nothing except the clothes on their back and no longer take care of themselves. They all smell like Meth.  I have also noticed that none of them see that they have a problem and when confronted about their family’s concern they shrug it off or pathologically justify their behavior. I wish there was more I could do but I think I am just wasting my time.

There is also an illusion by the families that the addict is going to recover by spending time in jail. I am afraid that all this does is delay an eventual relapse. The state and local government must do more to punish the manufacturers and distributors of Meth. They also need to do more to prevent the flow of Meth into the US from Mexico. Drug dealers need to spend serious time in jail.

I was told that the cosigner wanted her picked and knew where she was. She missed her court appearance and had 2 active warrants. I called the cosigner who was her ex boyfriend and he told me that she was staying with a heroin junkie at a house in Gilroy. He went into great detail about her personal habits, when she started her day and where she hung out or scored her dope. He talked a lot and was very interested to see that she got picked up quick. He also made several comments about wanting to be there when she was arrested.

I visited the address that she was supposedly staying at, a small duplex on the west side of Gilroy. I setup for surveillance (turned on my DVD player) and proceeded to wait until someone either went in or came out. It’s generally not a good idea to just knock on the door until you are sure the defendant is there and you even more sure someone is actually going to answer. If you attempt to make contact too early you risk tipping the defendant off. Remember, the idea is to go unnoticed and get your man, not knock on everyone’s door and burn yourself. The ideal situation is when they come out. That’s easy pickings’.

While I’m waiting the cosigner is calling me about every 5 minutes. It’s starting to get on my nerves. He is so interested to know where I am and constantly reminds me that he would love to see me arrest her. This is never going to happen. Having someone who you don’t know and is associated with the case stand by while you make an arrest is not a good idea. It’s just one more person you have to be concerned about. It’s a big safety issue for me.

After waiting for 3 or 4 hours a man comes out and starts chatting with the neighbor. This guys looked the part, disheveled appearance, several missing teeth and tattoos covering his body. This guy is obviously some kind of addict, probably heroin or meth. Time to make contact.  I approach him and ask about the defendant to which he responds by telling he has not seen her in a few days and consents to a search of his residence.

Wow, this is disgusting. His house smells like rotten food and dirty socks. It’s all I can do to keep from gagging. There is trash piled 2 or 3 feet high in every room. I one of the bedrooms the garbage was literally up to the ceiling. Since I’m alone I instruct him to park his butt on the couch while I search. It was tough because I didn’t want to touch anything, no hepatitis for me thanks. Nothing, she isn’t here so I make some small talk and ask him to have her call me is she shows up. What a disappointment, he obviously knows where she is but was not about to tell me.

Now what? I call the cosigner and he tells me that the defendant’s sister is staying in a nearby tweeker hotel. According to him the sister has been staying there for months and the defendant will often stay for short periods of time. He goes on to describe the sisters car and tells me that she never leaves the hotel. After a short drive I arrive at the hotel and immediately see her car. I identify myself to the hotel “clerk” and he points me to her room. The hotel is one of those older strip mall style hotels where all the rooms are on a single story and the doors face the parking lot.

I knock on the door and am greeted by a man in his early 40’s who obviously spent some time in prison. His body is riddled with gang tattoos and his body language tells me that he’s very uncomfortable with my visit. When your dealing with career criminals it’s important to show them respect. Society has already cast these people aside and if you expect to get anywhere with them you have to bring yourself to their level. You have to speak their language and you can’t show any fear. Remember, I am alone and no one knows where I am so if I get into trouble I’m on my own.

In the room I can see several kids and a woman sitting on the bed. I look at her and ask her if she is Jane Doe and tell her which bail company I am from. She stands and I ask her to come outside. It turns out she is also on bail with us and thinks I am there to take her back to jail. Perfect, I play along. She starts telling me how she’s trying to raise the money for her last payment and doesn’t want to go back to jail. I lean on her just a bit and ask her if her sister is on bail with us as well. “Yes, why?” she says. “Do you know where she is”, I reply.

During my conversation with her the male is walking in and out of the hotel with his right hand tucked under his shirt. I can tell he’s nervous so I decide to strike up a conversation with him. I ask him which prisons he was in and he tells me “the bay”. The bay is Pelican Bay, it’s a supermax in northern California and this is were the high-risk inmates are housed. You can read more about Pelican Bay here is you want. He also tells me that was released from parole almost 10 years ago but he’s working on his 3rd strike so he doesn’t want any trouble.

Now she is starting to look puzzled and realizes that I am not really there for her and that I want her sister. After a long discussion I determine that she is being honest with me and doesn’t know where she is. Another, strike out. The only useful information she provided was that her mother would definitely hide her and probably knows her location. However, Jane Doe does not even know where her own mother lives.

Yea, I have to call the rattle mouth cosigner again. Odd, he knows where the mom lives and tells me that he would be a million dollars that the defendant is there. Normally I would believe him but he’s already told me twice “for sure she’s there…”. Something just doesn’t seem right and I’m starting to get suspicious but I just can’t put my finger on it.. He’s tells me her mom is living in an apartment on the south side of San Jose but doesn’t know the apartment number. However, he can take me there and show me where it is. Awesome, I get to meet this guy.

I get to the apartment complex and he’s waiting in a beat up old truck. He’s has a tall, thin frame with tattoos covering both his arms. His teeth show the years of drug abuse and judging from his language skills and appearance I can tell he’s been in prison.  My very first question is “who’s your parole officer”. He tells me and it’s someone that I know. I don’t bother to ask his why he was in prison and just assume it’s for drugs. During our walk to the apartment complex he asks me if I will call his PO and tell him that he’s helping me. That was a strange request but I just shrug it off.

We arrive at the apartment and I tell him to go back to his truck, “can I watch”, he says. “No, I need you to wait at your truck”. When he is out of site I knock on the door. I can see through the window that all the lights are out and the apartment is a mess. I wait for a minute or so but no one answers. Another strike out. I’m getting frustrated and think it’s time to give this case a rest for a day or so. I’m trying too hard and am burning through addresses to quickly. I’ve got some good information and am confident I can get her pretty quickly.

Back down stairs the cosigner is standing at the bottom, not at his truck where I told him to wait. We walk back to the cars and I tell him to take off and that I am going to wait here for a while in case she shows up. It’s really just an excuse to get rid of him. He talks too much and am starting to get a pretty clear picture of the real story. It’s seems that he and the defendant were intimate and he is pissed that she split on him. He’s angry at her and his obsessive desire to have her arrested concerns me. I’m now starting to feel like I’m working to help him fill some twisted desire to “get her back”. I don’t want this to cloud my thinking and distract me from treating this like any other case. I need him to leave so I can focus on doing my job without being influenced by him. It’s easy to become “attached” to someone and can cause disastrous consequences if you become emotionally involved.

While he is standing next to my car (I’m seated) my cell phone rings from a blocked number. I answer and the man on the other end tells me he’s from a local law enforcement office and asks if this is “(….bail bonds)”. Odd, this is my personal cell phone. I ask who he is and tells me his name and asks if I know “John Doe”. John Doe is the cosigner and he’s standing right next to me. So I tell him that this is a personal call and to go ahead and leave. He walks to his truck and starts driving off, I follow. I tell the person on the phone that John Doe is with me. His voice becomes rattled and he starts talking faster. “What’s going on”, I ask. “Where are you”, he inquires. I tell him and again ask him why he want’s to know.

He begins to tell me that the cosigner is sending threatening message to the defendant, telling her that he is going to kill her. He’s also telling his friends that he want’s to kill her. Now I understand why he’s so interested in witnessing the arrest of his ex-lover. While on the phone with the officer I pull up along side the cosigner and motion him to pull over. The officer asks me if I can hold John Doe but I tell him I have no legal authority to do so but will try to stall him until they can arrive.

We pull off the freeway and I tell the cosigner that the call was from the defendant and I convinced her to meet me. Now I have to make sure he waits and doesn’t become suspicious. We pull into a somewhat secluded area off the freeway and I start making small talk with him. He’s seated in his truck with the drivers door open and I am leaning on the door talking to him through the open window.  He’s fidgeting with with a large folding knife and drinking a beer. I decide to ask him why he was in prison.

He starts rambling about his crappy childhood, about how he was abused by his father and he would make him “stand in the corner for days at a time”. He tells me he was beat by his father and then tell me he was in prison because his father “died”. “Died?”, I ask. “Yea, I beat him and he died”, he says. Last I checked the word is murdered not died. “Isn’t that murder?” I ask. In this long drawn out explanation he tries to explain that it isn’t murder because his father didn’t die while he was beating him but that he died a few days later in the hospital. Me being the smart ass that I am ask him “would your dad have died if you didn’t beat him”. “No” he says.  “Then isn’t that murder?”. I just get a blank stare.

Meanwhile, I’m getting calls from the officer who wants to know our exact location. It’s tough to talk to him without alerting the cosigner. It’s now been about 20 minutes and I sense that he’s getting nervous so I take a chance and tell him “you can leave if you want”. He decides to stay. As I am leaning on the door I can hear motors accelerating and tires screeching. I know it’s them. I slowly lift up my shirt exposing my gun and remove it from my holster. I rest it behind my left leg so he doesn’t see it.

Just then the cars come to a stop and the cosigners eyes start to widen. He looks almost suprised. I turn to see 8 officers jump from unmarked cars. With weapons pointed us they start shouting at him to get out of the truck and lay on the ground, I casually take a few steps back while they arrest him. As he lay on the ground in cuffs he looks up at me with this puzzled look, like I had just licked all the red of his candy. I just shrug and walk away.

It seems that the officers were concerned for the safety of my defendants life. Was he planning to kill her? He did have a large knife with him. Was he using me to get to her? I’ll never know. It really doesn’t matter to me. I have enough information now to find my defendant and to be honest, I was getting tired of this guy calling me anyway.

I am going to let my defendant rest over the weekend and try again on Monday…

We heard she was staying in a typical tweeker hotel in Seaside but when we arrived she was tipped off and already checked out. Off to the races. We knew she did not have a car so we started checking the local shopping centers, liquor stores and gas stations, looking for her begging for money or cigarettes. This went on for 2 hours until we received a call from an informant who told us the girl would be at a park around 1pm.

This sucks, we have to wait until 1:00 and I’m already irritated that we missed her at the hotel. Seaside was cold, I’m tired, and now I have to wait for someone that I’m giving a free ride to SLO. Luckily, she shows right at 1:00. She’s sitting in the park on the ground with her head resting between her knees. Dressed in jeans and a pullover sweater, you can tell that she’s already had a tough life. So, I walked right up to her with my cuffs in hand and she immediately starts crying. Great, this is all I need.

Before I can tell her she’s under arrest she goes into the typical rant about how were screwing up her life, why today, why are you doing this to me. Yada, yada, yada. Why didn’t you just go to court? I actually started to feel kinda sorry for her, though. She, her boyfriend and 16 month old are basically living on the street. She was arrested for burglary and for writing bad checks, 2 separate cases.

It was obvious to me that she wasn’t a bad kid but because she liked to talk I didn’t want to venture into her past, I just wanted to take a nap. It’s so easy for us all to whine about our lives but when you see how bad things can really get you appreciate what you have.

So I lighten up on her and try to get her to relax. What I did learn was that she was from Colorado and 2 kids from a previous relationship who were put up for adoption and now she has a new kid with a new boyfriend. Poor kid. This is the part about drugs that a lot of people don’t understand. Yea, health wise, drugs are bad but most people don’t get a chance to see the social impact. I can only imagine how her parents must feel. Then again maybe their tweekers too.

I just want to get back to home in San Jose. We finally get her to SLO and get her booked pretty quickly. Wow, I get to go home again. No bologna sandwich or Sanka for me, lol.  I would love to tell you about how we screwed with a freind during the 3 hour ride home. It involved sending him text messages from an anonymous number. Maybe another time. It was funny as hell. That’s what I do when we are doing a lot of surveillance or on a long drive. My partner drives and I screw with people. It passes the time and makes the day much easier. It may also be a way for me to avoid thinking about the people we arrest.

I felt bad for her kids, too. They stood there while I arrested their mom and pretended not to see what was going on. They just went about thier business almost like we were not even there. You could tell they have become numb to their mom and will probably result to drugs themselves. Something to ease the pain. It’s a vicious cycle.

Anyway, lot’s of other arrests since then, including this Somoan chick. We were watching her father’s house when this car pulled up. I notice the drive and a passenger in the back set of the car. When they saw us the passenger just laid down in the back. Hmmmm.. We followed the car and finally convinence the drive to pull over. She immediately exited the car and walked back towards me. I showed her a picture of the fugitive, who turned out to be her sister and told me that she had not seen her in months. So I walked to her car and asked her who was laying in the back. Hmmmm. “Um, that’s my other sister, yea.”. Same tatoo on the ankle? I don’t think so. Off to jail you go…