Anyway,  she agreed to meet me at a somewhat respectable hotel in San Francisco.  She was also kind enough to bring a large duffel bag filled with an assortment of sex toys, condoms, rubber gloves and pathetic lingerie. Rubber gloves? I don’t dare ask. This presents a minor problem because most jails don’t like to store luggage for their residents and some have even refused to take it. I suggested we leave the bag in her car and asked her to show me where she parked. She took us to a garage about three blocks from the hotel and instructed me to start driving up the ramps towards the top of the garage. As we passed through each level I could see she was looking intently for her car and, with each turn would tell me to keep going. The garage was not too populated so it couldn’t have been too difficult for her to see her car.

Just as we finished the last level I could see the roof of the garage and asked her if she parked on top. She said “oh no, it’s a level or two down”. The bells in my head start ringing. Something is not right. There is no way she missed her car. What’s she up to? I turn my car around and start driving back down. One of the many lessons I learned when I started this job was to keep a prisoner distracted, make conversation with them, don’t allow them the time or ability to plan an attack or an escape. Watch their body language. There are signs, if you’re paying attention.

As I start to drive down to the next level, it happens. I see the rear passenger side door swing open and watch as she bails out of my car and tumbles across the pavement. What the hell just happened? I immediately stop the car and jump out. My partner jumps out too and starts chasing her. It was kinda funny to watch this girl running up towards the top of the garage, struggling to run in black high heel boots. It only takes a second for my partner to catch her and all he has to do is trip her and she goes tumbling again. I land on top of her and we struggle for a bit to get the cuff back on her hand. This girl was so thin and flexible that she was able to slip one side of the cuffs over her hand, unlock the door and jump. Lucky for her I was only going about 10 mph.

I guess I should have known better, she’s looking at Federal prison and has a $400,000 warrant out of San Mateo County. Yes, I made a few stupid mistakes that I guarantee I’ll never do. She could have been killed when she jumped from the car or worse, my partner and I could have been injured. I asked her what she was planning to do if she made it to the top of the garage and she replied, “jump”.

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 knew it was going to be tough to find him but was confident that he would get picked up by the police. It’s pretty tough to hide from a warrant when you’re living in a car. John was another example of how I get to know someone without actually meeting them. When you’re trying to find someone you spend a great deal of time talking to their friends and family and you inevitably learn a lot about them – their habits, where they hang out and what kind of person they are. I never judge anyone because they have been arrested, I judge them on how they live their life and how they treat the people around them. I learned that John was a decent guy who, like most of us, was struggling with life.

The most recent information told me that John left the San Jose area and went to Richmond to find work. I continued to check in with his friends and family and was hoping that he would either call me or tell someone where he was working. I was just waiting for something to point me in his direction. That never happened and last week I learned that John had been brutally murdered in Berkeley. I can’t go in to too many details about his murder but it touched me and I wonder, if I had worked this case a bit harder would he still be alive?

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.

Melinda was a lady that I arrested twice in 3 months and prior to that she was arrested by another investigator out of our office. My last arrest would be the last time we bailed her out. You will understand why we wanted nothing to do with her after this.

When I was assigned the first case I did little to check on any previous cases. It seemed simple enough. She lived in a wealthy peninsula city and had been at the same address for 20 or so years. She was in her early 50’s and thus had no reason to worry about my safety. After all how much damage could a 50 something female actually cause? Ha!

One thing I’ve learned on this job is to never underestimate a female. Some of the worst struggles I’ve been in involved women. They are much dirtier fighters and for some reason react differently to control holds and restraint. They will fight you to the death and have no problem gouging your eyes out or kicking your balls up into your stomach. Trust me, I know.

My partner and I arrived at her house in the early morning and set up for surveillance. Her house was on a well to do cul-de-sac lined with multimillion dollar homes and expensive luxury cars. After sitting there for only an hour or so her garage door opened and she drove out in an older model European sedan. It didn’t take much effort to follow her and we could tell she had no idea we were behind her.

After a short drive, 3 miles or so, she pulled into a mall parking lot near a grocery store. We stopped about 50 feet behind her and waited for her to exit the car. Sometimes you don’t want them out of the car but in this case I wanted her to get away from the vehicle.  As soon as she got out of the car we made our move. This is were everything I assumed about her changed.

While walking towards her I called to her, “Melinda?” and she looked directly at me and yelled “Fuck You” and ran back to her car. Unfortunately, we didn’t wait long enough so there wasn’t enough separation between her and the car and she was able to jump back in the driver’s seat and start the engine. I ran after her, jumped through the open driver’s and struggled to shut the motor off.

The whole time I was struggling with her she had this bizarre, almost possessed look in her eye and a weird sinister smile. I’m thinking “This crazy bitch is gonna drive off with me hanging out the window, shit! Is this how my life’s gonna end?” Lucky, I was able to turn the key off before she could kill me and, following a brief struggle, was able to get her out of the car, cuffed and off to jail.

On a side note: There were 4 or 5 people watching this unfold and not a single one tried to help her. Two thugs dragging and old lady out of a car isn’t enough to get people involved? They watched briefly and just turned and walked away. Maybe they knew her.

There was obviously something wrong with her. During the entire 20 minute ride to the jail she was calling me every name in the book, explaining why I just broke the law and that she was going to have me arrested. I have never heard a woman use the words that she used. She had no concept of missing court rambled on and on about the judge in her case. I am not kidding when I tell you that she did not stop talking long enough to take a breath. I was one of the most painful transports ever, I even felt bad for the deputies at the jail.

Ok, so we got her book and figured we never see or hear from her again. Boy was I wrong. About 2 weeks later I received a call on my cell phone. I remember it like it was yesterday. My partner, me and another investigator were sitting at an In-n-Out Burger (hmmm) in Mountain View when my phone rang. “It’s her, it’s the psycho” I tell them. She was calling to speak to a girl in our office that assigns our cases. She was calling to complain about me.

Let’s have some fun, I thought. I told her to hang on and I simply changed my voice to sound like a girl. I don’t do a really good job sounding like a girl but It was funny nonetheless. I let her go on and on about me and how I was nothing more then a security guard and that she was going to have me arrested, sued and killed. At one point in the conversation she asked why my voice sounded funny and I just responded, “I have a cold”. All three of us laughed hysterically.

Is it over with? Not hardly. One month passes and my boss, laughing, calls me into his office and hands me a new case. He says, “You’re gonna love this one”. I look at the file and tell him to give it to someone else. It’s her. We re bailed her and she didn’t go to court again. “I don’t want it.”, I tell him. “Too bad”, He says. “I’ll go with you”. Off we go; my partner, boss and I. Back up the peninsula we go.

This time I do a bit more research on the case and see that she was originally arrested for apparently harassing a neighbor over a fence and violating a restraining order against her. This case is 5 years old and she just refuses to go to court. Something is wrong with her. She doesn’t belong in jail, she needs psychiatric help.

This time I am going to take a different approach, instead of going straight to her house I decide to talk to her mom first. After all, she’s the one who keep cosigning for her and probably paying the premium too. Her mom lives farther up the peninsula in Millbrae. I need to talk some sense into and see if we can resolve this peacefully. I really don’t want her to get hurt.

When we get to Millbrae I tell the other two to wait in the car but watch the front door in case Melinda is there. I certainly don’t want to get my ass kicked by a 50 year old psycho.  As I approach the door I hear yelling  coming from inside the house. It sounds like a woman but I can’t make out what they are saying. I knock on the door and the yelling stops. A minute or 2 later an elderly woman answers the door and tells me that she is Melinda’s Mom.  I can immediately tell that Mom is a bit kooky too and now know where Melinda gets it from.

Suddenly, from inside the house the yelling starts again. I look in towards the kitchen and I can see another female, mid 30’s,  sitting at the table, rocking back and forth like a 6 year old. The girl gets and and walks to the door. She is obviously stricken with something turrets, down syndrome, autism, I can’t really tell. Oh, please don’t mistake my description of her as being insensitive,  I’m just trying to paint you a picture. I’m in no way making fun of her.

The girl walks to the door and asks over and over again who I am and why I’m there, she won’t stop. Her mom his babbling on about Melinda and won’t answer this other girl. I’m getting irritated, I can’t hear anything but her asking who I am. I can feel my blood boiling feel like yelling, “Shut up!, Shut the fuck up!” to both of them. Just then the girl, who turns out to me Melinda’s sister reaches out and grabs my hand. What the fuck? I pull away but her mom tells me “oh no, it’s OK, that’s how she gets to know someone”. What? She now has my hand and starts smelling it. Not just smelling it, but rubbing her nose against the top of my hand, back and forth.

I look out at the car and my partner and boss are laughing uncontrollably, pointing at me. I hate this case. I got nothing out of this but humiliation. I decide just to head to her house and get her there. I did learn that Melinda has had a history of depression. She had problems for some time and her mother feels helpless. I beg her not to bail her out again.

We get back to her house and I decide to just knock the door and hope she answers. Nothing. We wait a few minutes down the street and out she comes again from the garage again. She sees us and takes off, we follow as close as we can but I know that this is not going to end well. We follow her to a large mall in Palo Alto but we have to stop because she is running red lights.

I decide to call Palo Alto Police and get them to make a car stop. While I’m on the phone with dispatch we catch up to her again. This time, though, Palo Alto Police are with us and they turn on the lights and sirens. She won’t stop. They chase her for a few blocks, again through the mall but she refuses to stop. Palo Alto Police decide to stop the chance and let her go. What? Why? She wasn’t even speeding! I speak to the cops and they tell me it’s too dangerous. You’ve got to be kidding me.

We immediately go back to her house and wait for her. I call the San Mateo Sheriff’s office who dispatch a couple of deputies to her house. We wait and as I’m talking to the deputies, my partner see her drive and decide to go after her, leaving me at the house. They are too far for the deputies to catch up so the deputies leave me at the house, alone. I’m furious.

My boss and partner are now on the phone with the CHP, trying to get them to stop her. They end up following her all the way to Millbrae, apparently heading to her mom’s house, when Millbrae Police get into a chase with her. This does not end well because she ends up smashing into a brand new patrol car. They’re not happy with us. We can never bail her out again, this is the last I will ever see of her.

A few weeks later I run into the deputies from the San Mateo Sheriff’s office and they told me that she had a warrant on the same case again. They were told my thier supervisiors to leave her alone. Apparently he mom bailed her out again at another bail company.

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…

My tactics are always the same. I find them on Craigslist.com or Erosguide.com or Cityvibe.com or sfredbook.com and simply make and appointment with them and make my arrest. My advice is either go to court or take you ads down until you grow up and turn yourself in.

There are not too many choices for parking so we’re closer to the house than we would like. There are lots of people in the neighborhood and an old man paces back and forth in front of the house. You can tell he is trying to figure us out.

The neighbors pull up, I think I’ll ask them if they know the fugitive. Nope, they’ve never seen him. Not sure I believe them because she just looked at the photo and immediately said no. It’s also an indication they may be lying when they don’t ask you who he is or what he did. Most people will ask, most people are nosy and want the details. I would ask.

We decide to make contact at the house and see what they say. Knock, knock… Your adrenaline always gets going a bit when you knock on someone’s door. You never know who’s going to answer or what’s going to happen when the door opens. Is the fugitive just going to run out and start fighting, do they have a gun, how many people are inside and the bigger question – do they have big dogs? You always have to be planning for the worst. You have to be watching all around you.

It’s also difficult when there’s only two people, someone has to watch the side yard in case the fugitive decides to jump the fence and someone has to be at the door when they answer. So I watch the side yard and try to peek though the fence until someone answers the door. Dogs are barking and it smells like sewage. I am trying to watch both the yard and my partner. It’s tricky.

The large Hispanic woman opens the door and I can hear my partner ask for the fugitive. She tell us that she is the his sister and has not seen him in 9 months. 2 small children are also standing at the door. My partner asks if we can search the house. She refuses. Sometimes this is an indication that the fugitive is in the house. However, after talking with her we decide that she’s telling the truth. I want to search. I love searching houses. I love finding people hiding under beds or in closets. Most people are not that creative when it comes to hiding.

On to Dad’s house in South San Jose. This is a nicer neighborhood and were not too concerned about being discreet. Again, we make contact at the front door and talk to yet another sister who confirms the other sister’s story about him disappearing 9 months ago. I get the feeling that none of his siblings likes him too much. He sounds like a dirt bag. He thinks he’s a gang banger and pedal dope.

I always get disappointed when we hit a wall. There’s nothing more exciting then getting a solid lead and you know your close. After all we do this because we like hunting people. We like outsmarting people who think they can hide forever. I love the surprised look on their face when you tell them their under arrest. Were done with this case for the day.