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…