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Captain Black:

True Stories of a Small Town Cop

Captain Black:
True Stories of a Small Town Cop

Edward G. Black

Edward G. Black


Copyright © 2018 by Edward G. Black

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2018

ISBN-13: 978-0-9997256-1-0

Edward G. Black
2950 S. Washington Street
Kaufman, Texas 75142

Ordering Information:

Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, educators, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the above listed address.

U.S. trade bookstores and wholesalers: Please contact Edward G. Black at:


To my babies

Chelsea, Reagan, and Garrett

If Daddy can write a book,

Imagine what you can do.

Table of Contents



It’s Different Now

Documentation Is No Longer Just A Report

“My” Kaufman Police Department

First Day On The Job

The Old Lady With The Mouse In The Wall

From One Old Lady To The Next

I Got Your Ass!

Hand Me Some Cuffs & Possession Is 9/10th’s Of The Law

The Girl In The Middle Room

Thank God For The Dog Catcher!

Something Is Not Right Man

I Need You In Route To An Animal Related Call

How Pissed Off Can You Get At 3 In The Morning?

Where Are Your Clothes Man?!?

Death In The Garden Center

Finally Justice- A 22 Year Old Cold Case Solved

He May Be Small, But He’s Got Meth On His Side!

The Bloody Van

Having A Gay Old Time!

Pumping Away At The Pump House!

Neither Snow Nor Rain Nor Heat Nor Gloom Of Night

I Dropped My Keys

He’s A Friend Of The Family

The Story Of Kelley O

How To Start A Day

Good Lord He’s Deformed

Difficult Story #2. The First Time I Had To Really Fight For My Life

6,208 Days Before I Had To Pull The Trigger

Crazy Ass Woman At Circle K

Mr. Bacon Has Been Robbed Again

Largest Drug Find Of My Career

Difficult Story #3- The Murder Case Of Kelley Osgan

The Standoff On Main Street

The Hardest Story To Tell

Pit Bulls Suck!

If That’s Not A Bag Of Dope I’ll Salute You!

Working The Hurricanes

Pearland & Beaumont, Texas

Houma, Louisiana

Houston, Texas

The Kaufman County Da Murders…..My Perspective

The Incident Command Post

The Nightmare Continues

The Prime Suspect

The Conviction


Aubrey Wright Hawkins 1971-2000

The Captain’s Take On The State Of Law Enforcement In 2017

Final Thoughts


I have kicked around the idea of writing a book for many years but never thought that I was intelligent, or educated enough to make the words say what I wanted them to say. So I started thinking about what I could write that might interest people, and what do I know enough about that I could pull it off without looking like a dummy.

It finally came to me that people are always asking me about my career and things that have happened during my time as a cop so why not write about that? This is my attempt to do just that.

This book could never have been written if it weren’t for the many people whose contributions, in one way or another, allowed my dream to become a reality.

Above all else I want to thank the good Lord above for keeping me alive over the last 20-plus years. Only he and I know how close I’ve come to meeting him in person.

I want to thank my amazing, beautiful bride Leslie. Without you being my sounding board and taking care of me, I don’t know where I’d be. I love you.

To my three beautiful children I want to say thank you for letting Daddy look at you beautiful faces each day and remember why I do this job. Daddy worships the air you breathe.

I want to thank my Mom, Charles, Kevin, and Tim for going easy on me when I wasn’t able to make it to family functions because of the job. Some families don’t understand, but mine always did.

To my “Work Family”; Robin, Joel, Lori Lynette, T. Bohn, Dian, Fletcher, Big Jim, Les, T. Black, Jason, Kandice, Sharna, Colter, Nick, Johnny, Connie, Chief James Michael Smith, Laney, Billy, and every other officer that I have stood on the line with, Thank you for everything we’ve been through together, especially the laughs!

To the Police Chief’s that I have served under I thank you for the opportunities and the lessons.

I especially want to thank Doug Barker. Life threw us a curve ball in the end, but for all of those hours spent together laughing and saving each other’s asses, I thank you brother.


Growing up, I had always wanted to be the good guy. Whenever my friends and I would play cops and robbers, or space rangers, I was always on the side of right. The one that saved the day, the one that helped people.

I always wanted to be a Police Officer as far back as I can remember. Well, that’s not entirely true, I wanted to be a Game Warden first but the college that they required put that goal well out of my reach. Not necessarily financially out of reach, but energy wise, it was WAY out of reach. I didn’t want to work that hard at college. I did manage to get through one semester of “Introduction to Criminal Justice” at Trinity Valley Community College in Terrell, but I never could figure out how my knowing what happened in England in the early 1800’s was going to help me be a good cop in 1990’s Texas.

So I did my research and found out that I could attend the police academy at Eastfield College in Mesquite, Texas to become a certified peace officer. At the time, I had a wife and baby girl to feed, so I attended evening classes five days a week and worked full time at the Pep Boys Distribution Center in Mesquite during the day. The academy was dry and mostly boring book work, but the war stories told by the instructors about their experiences as cops on the streets kept the fire inside me burning brightly.

I would be remiss if I didn’t give some of the credit to my first wife Michelle for pushing me through the academy. There were times when I wanted to give up and quit. It was exhausting working all day and then going to school at night, but she kept me focused on my goal and I thank her for that.

I completed the academy, passed the state test and was awarded a Basic Peace Officer license, which is quite ironic because the last damn thing you have as a cop is peace. I went to work as a Reserve Officer (volunteer) for the City of Kaufman, Texas in 1996. I was hired on as a full-time Police Officer in 1998

and have spent my entire career in this little town. I went from a Reserve Officer, to a Full-Time Police Officer, to a Detective, to a Sergeant and then took a huge leap to Captain.

Being a Police Officer in a small town forces you to make a huge decision right at the beginning, before you do anything else. You see, every small town in the world is filled to the brink with the “P” word………..Politics. The most disgusting, and despicable, word in the English language. When you become a small town cop you must decide immediately if you are going to play along with the politics, where the law only applies to certain people, or if you are going to fight the small town establishment and enforce the law equally for the entire time you wear a badge…………………. I chose the latter.

Something that has always fired me up is a person who thinks that they are somehow better than everybody else. You know them, they are the ones who will complain to the city council about how having cops working traffic is a waste of their tax dollars, yet they never seem to mention the 27 false alarms we have had to answer at their residence the last couple of months because they refuse to have the piece of shit alarm unit repaired.

I have seen people stand up and protest about how it would ruin the community to have an adult novelty store near the city "because people who shop at those places are low-lives and trash", when I know for a fact that the person doing the complaining has a bedroom full of sex toys and a sex-swing hanging from the ceiling! (Those alarm calls we answer when people accidentally rush out and leave their door open, can reveal a lot about them.) Being a cop in a small town teaches you real quick that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, has at least one skeleton in their closet.

When you are training to become a Police Officer, they don’t explain to you that you are not just putting on the "police" hat, you are putting on a whole shit-load of different hats! When you pin that badge to your shirt you become a Cop, Marriage Counselor, Financial Advisor, Big Brother, Father Figure, Handyman, Race Car Driver, Stunt Car Driver, Cowboy, Chef, Taxi Driver, Caretaker, Delivery Man, Doctor, Game Warden,

Firearms Expert, Psychic, Referee, Messenger, Fireman, Mechanic, Social Worker, Translator, Electrician, and many, many more. Sometimes you are forced to be judge, jury, and even executioner (of injured animals, not humans for those of you that may be a little confused).

The most important thing you will do, aside from staying alive, is learning how to understand the many different types of people that you will be interacting with, and how to deal with each type of person in a different, and appropriate manner. What may be perfectly acceptable to one person is often not tolerated by the next. Some words are fine with some people, and offensive to others. One example is the word “Mexican”. Some people take great pride (rightfully so) in calling themselves, and being called a Mexican, while others will jump down your throat and tell you that they are “Hispanic, NOT Mexican!” even if they are from Mexico. That’s just the way it is.

When all is said and done though, when you get through the cultural, societal, and racial differences, there are only two kinds of people. Oh sure, some people have a lot more money than others, or a bigger house, or nicer cars, but when it gets down to the nut-cuttin, you are either a good person or a bad one. For an officer of the law, the real challenge comes in sorting out who’s who.

Another thing you have to figure out quickly is how to stay alive. Throughout the last 20 years, I have come close to dying more times than I can count. A couple of times I’ve come just about as close as you can come to death and still walk away. I will tell you about some of those events in this book, along with some of the hilarious, crazy-ass experiences that go along with being a small town cop.

My hope, more than anything else, is that I make you laugh, and at the same time help you better understand what it’s really like to wear a badge. I also want to try to open myself up beyond my comfort zone and give you a glimpse at some of the messed-up crap that I’ve kept to myself for a long time.

WARNING: If you are easily offended, step back, put the book down, and walk away! If you don't take yourself too seriously, can laugh at a joke, and want to read about what goes on in Kaufman, Texas and small towns everywhere…..turn the page and enjoy.

Captain Edward Black

It’s different now……

Being a Police Officer in 2018 is a world away from being one in 1998 when I began my career in Kaufman, Texas, (Pop 7400 according to the government, a lot more in reality) a small town about 30 miles southeast of Dallas for all you non-locals. Back then, people respected the police. They looked up to police officers and appreciated the job we did. Parents raised their kids to look to the police when they were lost or needed help. Today they teach them how to flip us off before they even begin kindergarten. They teach them to fear us, they tell them that we are the bad guys, and they teach them their most important life-lesson of all, “NEVER talk to the cops, and never snitch”.

As I write this book, I am amazed at how we, as a society, have allowed ourselves to fall this far. I listen to all of the people out there on television who are supposed to be “experts” telling us that the reason we don’t respect one another is because of all the chemicals in our food, or the atmosphere is warming up……BULLSHIT! I have paid attention over the last 20 years to the changes in the way people think, the way they accept and deny responsibility, and I believe I know why we are in the shape we are in. (Just hear me out and stop rolling your eyes)

The reason there is no longer any respect among people in America comes down to one thing………babies started having babies.

That’s right, 13 and 14 year old children started having children. Girls (and of course boys) started having sex at younger ages and suddenly we have 26 year old grandparents. These girls were not ready to be parents, of course, and they have no intentions of giving up their carefree way of life just yet. So what happened? The teenagers that suddenly have real life babies to take care of decide that, instead of taking responsibility as parents and staying home on Friday and Saturday nights, they would just take their babies along with them while they went out and partied.

Now, all of a sudden, her friends think it’s cool that she is getting all of the attention because she has a baby, so they go out and get pregnant. The result of this new “fad” is that we now have young women dragging babies along with them while they get drunk, smoke dope, get tattoos all over their necks, and act like trash. The impressionable little minds soak all of this up, thinking it is the way they are supposed to behave, and the fuse is lit.

But the gravy on the biscuit, is that these babies are raised by immature, selfish, juvenile parents who pound it into their head that the only thing that’s important is “ME ME ME”. To hell with everyone else, all I care about is what benefits me, and only me, right now! They were taught that they should do whatever they want to do, when they want to do it, and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. They were taught to spend every penny they have to buy that new phone, and worry about your bills, rent, and diapers later. Fast forward to 2017 and the fuse has burned down causing an explosion of a generation that is the epitome of selfishness.

Most of the younger people of today have no compassion for one another. These young men and women have been raised in a society that drenches them in violence day after day, hour after hour. Video games where they learn the art of decapitating a human being, television shows that empower heartless killers, and music that preaches to them that it’s okay to “Kill a muthafuckin cop” are what they ingest on a daily basis, beginning the day they are born.

This generation that we call the “millennials” are the first generation to ever believe that it is more important to video record the old lady getting the hell beat out of her, instead of stopping the abuse, or even calling for help. They believe that taking a picture of the man lying on the ground bleeding, and posting it on social media, is far more important than giving their fellow human being first-aid. They also believe whole-heartedly that their rights vastly outweigh anyone else’s.

I’m not a genius by any stretch of the imagination, but I am smart enough to know that if you beat on a kid every day of his life, he’s going to believe that he is supposed to be beaten on. I’m also smart enough to know that if your parents smoke and drink, then you are more likely to smoke and drink. It’s simply human nature. When a child is raised by parents that wouldn’t know respect if it came in a bottle, how is that child supposed to learn how to respect others? That is what I believe, if you don’t believe the same way, that’s perfectly fine with me.

Documentation is no longer just a report.

So yes, being a cop today is a lot different, and more difficult, than it used to be. There used to be a time when a law enforcement officer’s testimony in court actually carried some weight, but not anymore. If it isn’t recorded in crystal clear video that you can show a jury, then you can pretty much forget that case ever going to trial. And it better be good video. If you can't see the dimples on a gnat's ass, don't even bother.

Most officers of today wear body cameras on their uniforms. They have cameras in their patrol vehicles, cameras on their guns, cameras on their sunglasses, and cameras on their Tasers. We are quickly approaching the time when a crime will only be prosecuted if the entire offense is recorded on video.

The reason for all of this is simple; bad cops. There are many bad cops out there, just like there are many bad firefighters, doctors, and teachers out there. The only difference though, is if a single cop, in a back alley, in a small town in California is caught beating on someone, then ALL cops everywhere are doing it as well. We are the only profession where every single member is judged by the actions of one. This of course is just my opinion, but there has been no one yet that has proven to me that it’s not a justifiable statement.

What people do not understand, even in Kaufman, Texas, is that good law enforcement officers hate a bad cop. We despise them. They go against everything that a good cop believes in and they tear down, in an instant, the good relationships with the community that take us months or years to build. Our small department is not immune from bad cops either. We have had to deal with the issue of an officer that shouldn’t be wearing a badge, just like a lot of departments do. Most of the time we handled the problem very well, sometimes, we flat ass blew it.

“My” Kaufman Police Department…

The reason I say “My” Kaufman Police Department is because I am strictly speaking for myself in this book. The words and thoughts expressed are mine and mine alone. Neither the City of Kaufman, nor the Kaufman Police Department has anything to do with this little project of mine in any way.

I also say that because I will be telling MY stories, from MY perspective, with MY words, and MY opinions, from MY memories. There are certain people that will get offended or pissed off about some things that I am going to say in these stories, and that’s okay, but everything that I say will be said the way it happened from my recollection. I don’t plan on purposely kicking anyone under the bus, or embarrassing anyone, but if I’m going to write a book, I’ve got to tell the bad with the good.

Like any workplace, there have been good times, and there have been horrible times. For the first 12 years of my career the Police Department was the step-child of the city. We were an unwanted necessity, and the city leaders up front never let us forget it either.

One example is when the Lieutenant, I, and a couple of other officers were outside with the hood up on one of the squad cars that was giving us problems for the umpteenth time. (The city didn't believe in buying new cars for the police department until we completely ran out of duct tape and bailing wire)

The Finance Director of the city at the time walks by and decides to give us her unsolicited opinion. She asked us what was wrong and the Lieutenant told her that the car was just worn out because it had over 100,000 miles on it. She then stated “well my van over there has 112,000 miles on it and it still runs great because I've taken good care of it”. The Lieutenant turned around and said to her “well exactly how many 100 mph pursuits have you been in in that van, huh?

Another example, and this one is my favorite, is the time a past City Manager told the Chief of Police that he didn’t like the Police Officers wearing sunglasses because it made us look too militant and we intimidate the citizens.

That was the mentality of city hall back then. They had no fucking clue about law enforcement or what it involved, yet they had full control of the police department and our budget. That’s a dangerous combination that has resulted in many lawsuits around the country.

Over the years things have improved quite a bit, but there is still a long way to go to get to where we need to be. The leadership at city hall has improved dramatically, but there are other areas that need a lot of work. (That’s a topic for another book)

Getting older makes being a cop a lot harder than it used to be. One day you are out there chasing bad guys, feeling like a superhero, and the next day just putting on your duty-belt is like fighting a 10 foot python. Getting older also means you have to do things that you never, ever, thought you would be doing. I learned this the day my doctor walked in the exam room pulling on a glove and telling me to drop my pants and bend over the table……..Huh? The man had giant, swollen, arthritic knuckles and he violated me before I could even get ready!

From pinning on that first badge to pinning on Captain’s bars seems like no time at all had passed. Reflecting back on it today though, I can see it has actually been one long ass journey!

First Day on the Job…

It was my very first day on the job as a real-life, gun-totin, badge wearing Police Officer! I was assigned to ride in a patrol vehicle with a day-shift officer for a couple of hours and then hang over and ride with a night shift officer for a while. I was in the car for two hours when I was in my very first pursuit…….two hours! We were attempting to make a traffic stop of an old Chevrolet pickup that had three men in it. As soon as we turned on the red and blues they took off like a teenager caught in his girlfriend’s bedroom in the middle of the night!

We chased them down Mulberry Street, up Dallas Street, across Grove Street and then they tried to cut through a ditch to lose us but we were right on their bumper! The old Chevy got stuck and we lock up the brakes and slid to a stop right behind them. I bailed out of the car and stand there like a dumbass looking at the guys in the truck. I look over at my training officer and he has his gun pointed at the truck. Damn! So I unholster my weapon and stand there shaking like I’m having an epileptic seizure. I’m thinking to myself, “Shit, did I even load this damn thing? Do they have a weapon that I can’t see? If I have to shoot, which one do I shoot first? I feel a draft, are my pants unzipped, because if I get shot I damned sure don’t want my fly to be open when everybody looks at me, hell this is my first day for God’s sake!!”

Thank goodness my training officer took charge of the situation and directed me on what to do and everything turned out good. Bad guys went to jail and I got in the car with my night shift trainer for a few hours. There couldn’t be any more excitement on this day……….right?

My heartbeat had finally started slowing down from the pursuit and arrest when we were driving up East First North Street, (yes, that’s the real name of this street). East First North Street is in an area called “The Hill” and it was your typical drug infested high crime area at that time. Lined with run down, plank-board houses on each side and a funeral home sitting right smack dab in the middle of the block, it was a continuous block party at all hours of the day and night.

We were driving up the street and spot a large group of people standing in the road, drinking their beer and smoking who knows what. We pass the group and the other officer asks me “Did you see the guy in the red shirt? We have a warrant for his arrest”. He circles the block and pulls over to the side of the road, about 30 yards from the crowd, and we get out. The training officer calls out “hey cornbread, come here”. The guy in the red shirt then walks over to us. The training officer tells him that he has a warrant and he is under arrest so I put my handcuffs on him.

He starts raising hell saying that he is not Cornbread and that he is promptly going to sue our asses for false arrest. After about 10 minutes of checking into his claims it turns out that he really isn’t Cornbread. His name is June bug. We release the guy and he walks off cussing us like we kicked his dog and we drive back to the station. We walk into the station and there stands June bug! He had beaten us back to the station to file a complaint against us! My first day and I’m getting a complaint filed against me, are you freakin kidding me!?” Well the training officer goes and finds a picture of Cornbread and brings it out and shows it to the Chief and June bug. They could be twins. Then the Chief asks June bug, “Why did you answer to the name Cornbread when the officer’s called you over to their car?” His answer….”Sometimes I go by cornbread”. I decided that I’d had enough for my first day and took my ass to the house!

The Old Lady with the Mouse in the Wall…

I was working the night shift along with my sergeant and another officer. It had been a pretty quiet night up until midnight. That’s when I got the call to respond to Wayne Street for an “Assist a Citizen” call. Now, we all hated “Assist a Citizen” calls because they could be anything from a barking dog to a psychotic clown in the attic, you just never knew.

I walk up to the house and notice that there doesn’t appear to be any lights on inside. I knock on the door and after a minute or so a hunched over little old lady who appeared to be about 97 years old answered the door. As I had summarized, there were no lights on inside the residence except for one small lamp that I could see down the entryway into the living room area. I introduce myself and she looks me in the eye and says “follow me”.

I said “ma’am can I ask what the problem is before we go inside?” But she keeps walking and repeats her earlier command, “Follow me”. I ease my way down a long hallway and into the living room area and she walks across the room and turns around. “Smell that?” Still a little uneasy, I asked “smell what ma’am”? So she points her long bony finger towards a wall and says “there’s a dead mouse in that wall”. I stood there for a second trying to make sure I had heard her correctly, and then I said in my best professional police officer voice “Ma’am?”

She again points at the wall and says “there is a dead mouse in that wall; I can smell him from my bedroom! I want you to take this sledgehammer and knock a hole in the wall and get him out. He stinks!” I then realize that she had walked over by a door and was trying to drag a 20 pound sledgehammer toward me. She couldn’t lift it. I said “ma’am where did you get that sledgehammer?” And she promptly informs me that it doesn’t matter where she got that sledgehammer and for me to get busy with it!

Now keep in mind that it is after midnight, in a dark house, with a woman that’s older than retail shopping is and she wants me to knock a hole in her wall to get out a dead mouse, that she says she can smell from her bedroom! I tried to explain to her that I simply couldn’t knock a hole in her wall and that she should call an exterminator or maybe a family member to help her. I said “Ma’am I don’t smell anything, are you sure there is a dead mouse in your wall?” Well, that was a mistake!

Are you telling me that I don’t know what I smell young man? I have been smelling dead critters since before you were even born, I know what I smell! I may be old but my nose still works, now you catch hold of that sledge and get to work! I pay my taxes!” Right about then, I hear a knock at the door. I excuse myself, as she continues her rant, and I walk to the door. I open the door and there stands my Sergeant. He asks “hey, what’s going on?” I said “she wants to speak to my supervisor, I’ll catch ya later.” I then make a prompt exit and hit the road as fast as I can!

I caught all of the shit calls for a few days but it was well worth it. And it wasn’t the last time I would use the “she wants to speak to my supervisor” bit either!

From One Old Lady to the Next

Anyone who is familiar with Kaufman, Texas knows about “The Curve”. We have this huge curve in the highway where Highway 175 and Highway 243 meet. The road not only curved, but it dropped down a hill as well. This location was notorious for being dangerous in wet weather. And I don’t mean normal “dangerous in wet weather” either, I mean if someone spit on the road, there was a crash!

We used to go out when the rain started and video record crashes at the curve while they happened. I would go out to the service road, turn on the video camera and wait. I wouldn’t have to sit there long either. You could almost set your watch by it. Whenever it started raining, we would automatically head to the curve. It took years for the state to finally decide that enough carnage had occurred to justify going out there and making the road safe.

One day it had been raining off and on for hours and I was dispatched to a crash out there. When I arrived on scene I observed a car, facing the wrong direction, up against the guardrail at the bottom of the curve. I parked my car up the road about seventy-five yards and walked down, keeping a very close eye out behind me, just waiting for the next car to come around and lose control.

I made my way down to the car and found an 83 year old woman trying to climb over to the passenger side, because the driver’s door was up against the guardrail and she couldn’t open it. Now, I have had a lot of experience working accidents in the curve, and I knew it was just a matter of time before someone comes along, loses control and possibly takes out this car. I had already heard several cars skidding their tires on the wet pavement as they attempted to slow down when they rounded the curve and spotted us. I knew I had to get her out of there and off of the highway fast.

I got half-way inside the vehicle and manage to practically lift her over the center console and hauled her out of the car. I got her to her feet and while she is trying to catch her breath she was trying to talk to me, but I interrupted her and tried to explain to her that we had to get off of that highway as fast as possible. Now, where we were, there was a guardrail that’s about 2 feet tall and she was not going to be able to easily get over this thing. As I am attempting to walk her to the end of the guardrail, I heard it. The unmistakable sound of tires skidding sideways on wet asphalt!

I glanced up to see a U-Haul box truck sliding straight at us. It has already passed my patrol car and was almost on top of us. We were still 30 or 40 feet from the end of the guardrail and there was no way she was going to be able to jump over it by herself. I grabbed her in a bear hug and dove over the guardrail with her in my arms. Just as we hit the ground, the truck slammed into the guardrail and then her car and both vehicles went sliding and grinding along the guardrail for about 60 feet before coming to a stop.

When I came to my senses, panic instantly overwhelmed me because I think that I have killed this poor old lady by grabbing her, diving over the guardrail, and landing on top of her! I jumped up and grabbed her arms, “Ma’am can you hear me? Can you talk to me, breathe! Breathe! Can you hear me!?!” She then opens her eyes, looks at me, smiles and says “Young man I haven’t had a thrill like that in 40 years!” If I’m lying I’m dying.

She brought me some home-made chocolate chip cookies to the police department about a week later. You can’t make this stuff up!

I got your ass!

One of my proudest accomplishments was getting a pedophile off the streets of Kaufman and into a jail cell where he belonged. This is how it happened…

The front door of the police department opened as I was standing in the dispatch area and I knew immediately that whatever this woman wanted to talk about, she meant business. She looked passed the dispatcher at me and said “I want to talk to you!” I had never before seen this woman, so as I walked out to the lobby area I was trying to think of who I had pissed off recently. But it had been a good couple of weeks and I didn’t remember anyone that stood out with their pissiness.

I opened the lobby door and said “Yes ma’am, what can I do for you?” Then she started crying! She told me that her little girl had come home from school and said something to the effect of “Mommy, that man showed me his thing again”. She asked her daughter what she was talking about and the child began telling her about a man in a White pickup truck that would drive by her and her friends while they were walking home from school and lift himself up in the truck to show them his “thingy”.

I managed to calm the woman down and got her to tell me all of the specifics. We set her daughter up to be interviewed by a special child advocate, but that wasn’t going to happen for a few days. I drove around the schools for the rest of the day looking for a White pickup driven by a man, (that’s all we knew at that point) without any luck.

A few days later, another woman brought her daughter in to file a report. The little girl told us that an older, heavy set, white man drove by her and her friends the day before, while they were walking home from the same school as the other child, and when he passed them, he rose up and showed them his penis. But there was one key difference; he was driving a Blue Ford Mustang, not a White truck.

I finished my report and went to my Sergeant. “I want to try to catch this guy and the best way to do that is to be in the area in a regular car, not a marked patrol car”. He said “we don’t have any regular cars to use” and before he could say anything else I volunteered to use my personal car. I told him if he would cover the streets, I would catch this guy. He hesitantly agreed (mainly because he was the laziest damn cop on earth and there was a risk that he might have to actually take a call while I was trying to catch this prick) and I took off my uniform shirt, got in my car and went to get into place to wait.

I drove over to Nash Intermediate School on South Houston Street and parked in the parking lot of the school administration building, which was right next to the school. I was either looking for a White pickup truck or a Blue Mustang, but either way, I was looking for an older white male. To my amazement, I didn’t have to wait long.

From where I was parked I could see straight down West Second Street. The second little girl had told us that she and her friends were on that street when the man had shown them his “thingy”. I hadn’t sat there more than 10 minutes when I see an older model, white colored truck coming up West Second Street toward me. As he approached the stop sign I saw that the driver was an older looking white male, with white hair, just as the little girls had described. He stopped at the intersection and looked around for just a few moments longer than he should have in my book, so I decided to follow him.

He turned right on Houston Street, drove a short distance, turned right onto Seago Street, then turned right again on South Jefferson Street. He was circling the block! He went down to West Second Street and turned right, headed straight back the way he had come when I first spotted him. THEN HE DID IT!!! As he passed a group of 5 or 6 little girls who were walking on the side of the road, he lifted himself up as far as he could in the truck and was staring at the kids. You sorry pedophile bastard!

I got on the radio “9117 to all units, I GOT HIM! He just did it right in front of me! Get me a marked unit over here to stop this guy!” I continued following this perverted piece of shit as he was making the exact same trip around the area again. One of the Criminal Investigators who had red and blues in her car managed to catch up to us and get the truck stopped. I ran up to the truck, almost pushing the Detective out of the way and told him “I GOT YOUR ASS you piece of shit!” (We didn’t record everything back then so if you were a piece of shit, sometimes you got told you were a piece of shit)

After I regained my professionalism, we got him out of the truck. He was wearing a tank-top and a pair of giant shorts that could have fit a 2 year old elephant, and no shoes. It was the perfect outfit for him to be able to pull his shorts down and yank out his mini-me to flash little kids.

We identified him but had to let him go for the time being, because we needed an arrest warrant to solidify the case. However, before we let him leave, he agreed to come to the station to be photographed, (you know, because he is a dumbass) and we then used his picture to build a photo lineup. Later that day we showed the photo lineup to the little girls and they both picked him out immediately! Kids are AWESOME witnesses, they never forget anything!

The next morning, the Detective and I went to this hell-bound child molester’s house and I had the pleasure of arresting him right in front of his wife. But the excitement of getting this sick prick off the streets was short lived. You see, unbeknownst to me, this pedophile was a friend of the Kaufman County Sheriff that held office at the time, and he was quietly released after spending a whopping 45 minutes in jail.

I had put everything I had into getting this man arrested, off the streets and away from those children and the highest law enforcement officer in the county let him walk out the back door in less than an hour. This was my first lesson in Kaufman County politics, but it was far from the last. The “good ole boy” system was alive and well in Kaufman County back then!

Well, the bastard’s high ranking buddy couldn’t protect him from the rest of the judicial system for long. He was convicted and sentenced to several years in prison. It was nowhere near enough time, but at least we got him away from the community’s kids. His wife, who had cussed me out when I arrested him that morning, later divorced him because he got caught in a public bathroom stall in Houston shoving a carrot in some guys poop chute or something to that effect.

Hand me some cuffs & Possession is 9/10th's of the law…

This was one of those nights that you just love being a cop! My best friend Doug and I were working together one night covering the night shift. We were both Criminal Investigators at the time; however, for one reason or other both of the regular night shift patrol officers needed to be off and Doug and I loved to get out of the office to play every once-in-awhile so we volunteered to work for them.

Let me start by saying that this two-day shift ended up with an article being written about us in the local newspaper, that’s how much fun it was!

The first night started out with me spotting a car with one of the small, rear “vent” windows broken out. This is a good sign when looking for stolen vehicles. As I turned around the driver took off and the chase was on. I notified dispatch that I was in pursuit and began tailing the car all through a neighborhood that we called “New Town”. I could see that there were 4 or 5 people in the car, and I was hoping they wouldn’t all bail out before I could get some help close to me.

The driver made a mistake and turned into an apartment complex where a truck parked across the road blocked them in, with me right behind them. I yelled at the man who was standing next to his truck to get the hell away from there. To my relief, he did just as I asked. I think the old gentleman hurdled a dumpster trying to get out of there.

Also to my relief, nobody bailed out of the car! They all sat there long enough for me to get out of my squad and get them at gunpoint. When Doug arrived soon after, we removed the driver from the vehicle first. As he got out of the car I immediately recognized him as a local doper and thief that I had arrested several times before. I also knew that he was a convicted felon and was not afraid to fight the police.

We removed the suspects from the vehicle one at a time and put them face down on the pavement. I placed the first two suspects into custody using my handcuffs. When I went to arrest the third suspect I asked my buddy for his handcuffs. He looks at me real funny and says “wait a second” and walks to his car! Here I am with five suspects on the ground, trying to handcuff one of them, keep an eye on the other two that aren’t handcuffed yet, and he tells me to wait a second?? It seems that my partner, who by the way is a great cop, had left his handcuffs at the police department. So here we sit, needing three pairs of handcuffs and having none.

At about this time, dispatch advises me that the car is stolen out of Dallas. I did the only thing that I could do and got on the radio and asked if there were any officers in the area that could bring me some handcuffs. After about five minutes goes by, my friend Big Jim, who is the Animal Control Officer, shows up with an arm load of handcuffs.

So as we cuffed up the last of the suspects, I was messing around with the driver of the stolen car and asking him “what kind of cop shows up at a bust with no handcuffs?” He really didn’t know what to say so after I had thoroughly embarrassed my co-worker, I let it go. Shit happens.

We booked this group of fine citizens into jail for stealing the car, possession of drugs, and a gun I found in the front seat and then hit the streets again. We both decided to drive out to a piece of property that the city owned that was about 2 miles outside the actual city limits that went down to a huge lake. People liked to go out there and use drugs, have sex, and do who knows what else. I had made many arrests out there while I worked the streets. We got to the dirt road that goes back down to the lake and before we drove down in there we blacked out and drove by the light of the moon. We eased down the road in order to sneak up on anyone that may be out there and as we reach the main area near the water, I see a faint light coming from inside a car. We soon learned why the light was so faint and hard to see!

Doug and I parked and stealthily walked up to the car. There were three teenagers in the car, a girl and two guys, and they were smoking enough weed to fog up a magic show in Vegas! The smoke was so thick in the small car that we could barely make out what they were doing. I looked at my buddy Doug and as we both smiled, I tapped on the window.

It was hilarious watching them all try to stash their dope with cops standing on each side of the car. The brain surgeon in the backseat had stuffed a lit joint under his coat and it started to flame up. I was laughing my ass off. I told Doug to get the driver out first and as he opened the door, the smoke came out of the car and into the spotlight beams from our squad cars and it looked exactly like a Cheech and Chong movie! Doug looked over at me and had a look on his face like he was having a flashback to high school!

We cuffed them up (Doug had brought his cuffs this time) and collected all of their Marijuana. We made them stand at the rear of their car as we both got back in our cars to check them through dispatch and to warm up because it was cold standing out there with that wind coming off of the lake.

As I am sitting there waiting for my returns to come back, I looked up and could not believe my eyes….the little douche bag that I had removed from the back seat was wearing a t-shirt with the phrase “Possession is 9/10th’s of the law”!! I called Doug on the radio and said “Read his shirt!” He got out of his car, ran over to the turd and was dancing around in front of him, laughing his ass off and asking the kid “how stupid do you feel right now dumbass?!?”.

We kept that kids’ booking photo for years and laughed about it every time we saw it. That same kid was arrested several times after that and every time my partner would see him he would yell at the top of his lungs “Possession is 9/10th’s of the law!!! How the hell are you?”

We ended up making 12 arrests in those two days. The local paper The Kaufman Herald, wrote an article about how Doug and I cleaned up the streets that weekend. Of course we caught hell from all of the other officers, but it was worth it. Thinking about that weekend makes me miss the streets again!

The girl in the middle room

It was the middle of summer and it was hot as usual. I was doing my best not to be out in the heat more than I had to and was hoping for an easy day….yeah right. I received a call regarding a “Welfare Concern” on a quiet street in town and headed that way.

When I arrived at the residence, a little frame house with a carport attached, I met with a couple of people who told me that their friend, Miranda, had not been heard from in 2 days. Her truck was parked under the carport, the doors were locked, all of the windows on the house were locked tight with the screens screwed into the house, and the blinds were drawn. Looking through the small window on the front door, I could see a purse and a pair of tennis shoes.

Her friends told me that Miranda never went anywhere without her purse, or without taking her truck, she always wanted to drive wherever they went. I knocked on the front door, the back door, and every window on the house, but there was no answer. I asked if she had family that may have picked her up or if maybe she had been dating someone that she may be with? The answer was always “absolutely not, she is in that house!”

The friends told me that they had been in contact with everyone they knew; including her family and nobody had heard or seen her in 2 days. I was beginning to get concerned that we were going to find a dead body once we got inside the house.

I called my Lieutenant and asked for assistance. He arrived a short time later with my shift partner. We again went to every door and window and performed the loud “police knock” but still no answer. The decision was made to put me through the kitchen window (I was the youngest and had less seniority than anyone else, so I drew the short straw).

We unscrewed the window screen over the small, and very high, window and they lifted me up enough for me to grab the window sill and pull myself through. As you can imagine, climbing through that small kitchen window with 30 pounds of gear strapped around me, I wasn’t very subtle or sneaky about it! I knocked a drinking glass off of the counter and it broke into dozens of pieces while also announcing my presence to anyone who might be in the house.

I finally made it to my feet and took a second to gather myself and draw my weapon. The house was immaculate. The glass that I had broken was the single thing in the entire house that was out of place. There were no lights on, no television or computer on. It was dead silent. The only good thing was I didn’t smell anything!

I slowly made my way around the kitchen into the living room where I could see the front door. To my left was a hallway with two doors on each side, all of them closed. The floors were all hardwood so every step I took made noise. I crept over to the front door and unlocked it. One thing that immediately caught my eye was that the chain had been latched; meaning whoever locked the door did it from the inside.

Once I opened the door, the Lieutenant and I started easing our way down the hallway, using signals so we didn’t have to speak. I reached the first door, which was on the left side of the hallway. I slowly opened the door not knowing what the hell to expect. Bathroom, it was clear. As the Lieutenant approached the first door on the right side of the hallway, I eased up toward the next door on my side.

Suddenly I hear my Lieutenant……”psst”. I turned around and he pointed with slow motions into the room where he was standing. I crossed over and eased back to the door and peaked around the corner. The room was stacked from floor to ceiling with boxes, with only a small walkway past them to the closet. There she sat. A chill went down my spine like you would not believe.

She was sitting there in the floor cross-legged, staring into the closet. She never made a sound. She was not injured, there were no signs of drugs or alcohol anywhere in the house, and she had to have known we were in the house. What the hell!?

My Lieutenant started speaking to her very softly, it was obvious she was in some kind of shock or depressed state, and we wanted to be as gentle as we possibly could. I made my way back outside the residence in the hopes of not scaring her by two of us standing there looking at her. As I walked outside the house her friends came rushing at me wanting to know if she was dead.

No she is not dead. She is in there, but there is something wrong with her and we do not know what it is yet”. I called her pastor, who she was close friends with, and a medical team to stand by. We still had no idea what was going on with Miranda yet and we wanted to be prepared for anything.

It took the Lieutenant 45 minutes just to get her to respond to him and agree to walk to the couch in the living room. At that point, her pastor and the medical team took over.

Miranda had fallen into a deep state of depression. She withdrew from everyone and everything, in her mind, all at once. This is unusual, but it does happen. We spent a couple of hours with her that day and I was glad to learn later on that she had made a great recovery with the help of her support system.

If you or your loved one suffers from depression of any kind, or have thoughts of harming yourself, please talk to someone. There is help out there.

Thank God for the dog catcher!

I was working the street and running traffic out on Highway 175 one afternoon. I stopped a 4-door Chevrolet pickup for swerving in and out of his lane. The driver didn’t stop immediately and I thought for a minute that the traffic stop was about to turn into a pursuit when he finally pulled over to the side of the road. The windows on the truck were blacked out and I couldn’t see how many people were inside the vehicle.

I got the driver out of the truck because he was acting a little pissy. When he was getting out of the truck, I saw that there were 5 other men inside. I told them to stay inside the vehicle and walked to the side of the road with the driver. He was instantly pissed off because I had stopped him and we were discussing his attitude when he turned to the truck and said something in Spanish.

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