I'm a Black Jew on my way to Texas to marry the queen of Shebah

C.O.P.S. has been on television for 21 years now, always shown on the Saturday night time slot of 7:00 pm to 8:00 pm on FOX. The show is exciting, and a glimpse of incidents police have to deal with, but it is only a small sliver. People love watching it, and I must admit that I still do as well, and enjoy watching the chases and fights....it may not be good to mention this, but I loved the fights! In my 10 plus years as a cop I was involved in somewhere around a hundred fights. 95 out of 100 of those were with normal people that mostly responded to pain, at least partially. Most of them would comply to demands if they were maced, struck with a baton several times, punched a few times....but 5 out of 100 were essentially like demonic demons and truly could not be hurt regardless of what we did to them. Also they seemed to possess super human strength and remarkable endurance. Today I will talk about one of them.

I was working midnights ( 10 pm-06 am) and it was around 3 am. I had just made an arrest off of a traffic stop I had just made, the driver had a simple warrant, not big deal. As I was traveling the 5 miles to the jail I had to drive on a 4 lane divided highway. Suddenly I had to swerve out my lane because there was a pedestrian walking south band in the traffic lane. I radioed for another officer to check on the subject as I was concerned for his safety. As I arrived at the jail entrance I heard officer Bruce Stamford go out with the subject. Just as I entered the jail I heard Bruce ask dispatch to start another car routine, which means simply that he wanted a second officer there but that he didn't have to run lights and sirens as there was no direct threat to the officer yet. My "spidey sense" started to go off and I quickly handed the prisoner off to a corrections officer and proceeded down the stairwell towards my car. Suddenly on the radio I heard a high pitched voice yelling , which I couldn't understand, and I could hear a second voice in a loud but calm voice saying "show me what you got pig, is that all you've got" and silence on the radio. Now at this point on I am running down the stairs and sprint to my patrol car. Just as I start my car and activate my overhead light bar I hear Bruce calling dispatch and his voice sounds different that I have ever heard it. ( a little back ground on Bruce. I had known Bruce for about 8 years and he had been a civilian police officer for about 6 years and had spent 6 years in the Air force before that as a SP Security Police. Bruce was 5'10" and weighed 240-250 and knew how to handle himself ) "Radio I need help! 10-37 radio, 10-37! 10-37 is the police radio code that means the officer is in danger and needs immediate assistance.....or in other words, "the shit has hit the fan!"

I leave a black mark as I peel out of the parking lot and activated my sirens. As I drive through the heart of town at 100 MPH I hear other officers dispatched to Bruce's location, but they are several miles further away than I am. It seemed like an eternity to drive the 5 miles to Bruce's location but only took about 2 1/2 minutes, I pulled on the highway northbound and punched it, I was soon up to 130MPH and quickly came upon Bruce's patrol car on the opposite side of the highway. At this point my adrenaline was really pumping as dispatch couldn't raise Bruce on the radio again. As my patrol car slid to a stop I saw something that left a lump in my throat. Bruce's flashlight was on and laying in the highway and the windshield in his patrol car was shattered. I was panicking because I couldn't find Bruce when I heard a weak transmission over the radio say "keep coming north" I floored it across the median and about 1/3 of a mile north found Bruce on his hands and knee's in the highway with his gun out pointing at a massive subject that was advancing on him. I was out of the car like a bullet and got in between the obviously injured Officer Stamford and this psycho I had my mace in one hand and my flashlight in the other, Bruce yelled out a warning " be careful I can't stop him! I sprayed him with a full can of mace and punched him and split his head open with my flashlight and nothing worked" I spray this fucker with a 3 second burst of mace and without seeing if it worked smashed him in the side of the head with my flashlight which resulted in a spray of blood from his ear but did little else. This son of a bitch was fast and kicked me in the stomach and swatted my flashlight out of my hand, I pulled out my ASP Baton, ( 26 inch long collapsible night stick) and began to strike him as hard as I could swing it in the approved locations ( legs, knees arms, elbows, hands etc, etc). I have hit other people with my ASP in other situations and it never took more than 4 strikes to gain compliance. I literally hit this monster 50 plus times, and was swinging it with both hands, so hard so that I became winded, and I was in good condition then. I backed off about 20 feet from the subject, as he slowly advanced on me and said in an icy chilly voice I will never forget " now what are you going to try pig, nothing seems to be working". I was beginning to think we were fighting the devil himself! Bruce had moved from his hands and knees and was now totally prone on his belly, obviously hurt, but still had his pistol out. I attacked the bastard again with a flurry of baton strikes, this time I was chopping at his collar bones and got a really nice strike in and heard him make an audible "ugh" like he was in pain, with that I kicked him as hard as I could in the groin, and got behind him and got him in a choke hold. This guy was big enough that I literally had to jump in the air to get my arm around his throat. After about 10 seconds of riding this guy like a bull the choke hold did it's job and the subject crumpled to the ground in a heap.......but I was so exhausted from this 5 minute fight that I was afraid if I released him to cuff him and he came to that my only option would be to kill him as I did not have the energy to protect myself from another assault. As I lay on top of this guy I can hear sirens coming (nothing sounds quite as good as sirens coming when you are in need of help), within seconds officer Richard Bear is at my side tapping me on my arm telling me to let the guy go, and I refused telling him I wouldn't until he had him in handcuffs, with that he quickly cuffed the subject up. As I rolled onto my back on the shoulder of the highway, gasping for wind I noticed something, a small purple Ford Ranger Pick up sitting on the shoulder of the highway not 50 feet from us. ( more about this later, but remember it) Now there are about 8 officers there and I crawl over to Bruce....Bruce thinks his ribs are broken and has labored breathing. I call dispatch and have them send an ambulance for Bruce. The bad guy is coming to and is trying to get up but the cuffs and the beating he took are slowing him down but he is yelling so crazy gibberish. One line in particular stays with me today (10 years later).....multiple times he yelled " I'm a black Jew on my way to Texas to marry the queen of Sheba "....the odd thing is he was white. Also at this point I realize the suspect has multiple lacerations on his head that are going to require stitches, also I notice that he has blood on the front of both of his shins that is heavy enough to bleed through his jeans. I found out later that this was from my ASP strikes and that I had literally broken both of his legs but that hadn't slowed him down.

Now the wrap up.....Bruce was transported to the hospital. He had several broken ribs on his left side ( consistent with being struck by a right handed person), his lip was split bad enough to need stitches, and he had a mild concussion. Not to mention lots of bumps and bruises. Bruce later stated that when he asked the subject for his identification that the subject said to him "it's time for you to meet my father, Lucifer" and attacked Bruce and literally picked Bruce up and threw him into his patrol car ( this is how the windshield shattered). As Bruce and him fought the guy kept trying to get Bruce's gun which is on his right side, Bruce bit the subject at one point to keep from losing his gun. Bruce eventually fled from the subject ( and there is no shame in that what so ever) to keep from being killed or killing him.

The bad guy was admitted into the hospital and later transferred to the inpatient psych unit then eventually the jail. Both of his legs had numerous fractures, and his collarbone was completely broken. He had to get over 50 stitches and had a serious concussion. Now most people that fight like this people assume that they are on PCP, acid, meth, and the like.........now here is the shocker. The toxicology report showed this guy was on absolutely nothing, he was just mean and crazy. His NCIC criminal history showed something disturbing....Besides the petty crimes it showed that he had been incarcerated in an Arkansas prison where he BEAT a prison guard to death......beat him to death! Much like he wanted to do to us. He served 20 years for this crime and had been out of jail less than 6 months when we dealt with him.

Remember the purple Ford Ranger I mentioned above? This is the thing about this story that pisses me off more than anything else. The guy in the purple truck had been driving home from work when he observed Officer Stamford fighting with this demon. Instead of helping Bruce he pulled over on the side of the road and simply watched the assault. He the story gets worse....if this guy was an average citizen I would say that he should have stayed in his truck as he wouldn't be experienced with these type situations.....but he wasn't a normal citizen! This yellow coward, this worthless piece of shit was a Police Officer, a Sergeant in full uniform from another agency, Branson to be specific, and instead of coming to a brother officers aid he just watched......and it gets worse. The day after this incident he called the police chief of my agency and made a complaint against me for excessive force! My chief had some choice words for him and told him I probably saved the bad guys life because the injured officer was about to use deadly force to stop the assault. I won't say what this piece of shits full name is, but here are some clues......He is Sergeant Richard B. and lives in a suburb of Springfield.

There you go....a story about my fight with a demon from hell. Me experiencing things like this is why I am quick to defend cops that use force quickly, because you never know who is going to be the next one to be superhuman. The bottom line is if you go in to soft with one of these guys you will end up in a flag draped casket.

"Shot's fired, shot's fired, shot's fired!"

Easter Sunday 2000...I was assigned to day shift, 0530-1400 hours (2 pm). I was a little upset that I wasn't spending Easter Sunday with my little girl, Allison, whom was 4 years old at the time...but I was thankful I would get to see her that evening. I was expecting a typical Sunday day shift which meant not much more than taking a couple of reports from crimes, mostly thefts and vandalism's that happened the night before and maybe write a few traffic tickets and not much else. In other words, especially being a holiday, I was expecting a slow shift....Boy was ever wrong.

Things had been going pretty smooth when I heard an officer with not much experience dispatch to a stolen car with suspect information. I assigned myself as back up and went with him on the call. We met the "victim" whom I immediately recognized from numerous prior calls, some with her as victim some as the suspect. Regardless, she was the victim this day. She stated that her boyfriend Joshua Comp had stolen her car after they had been involved in a verbal domestic. I was very familiar with her 19 year old boyfriend, having arrested him for everything from simple traffic charges, to pursuit, to possession of heroin and cocaine. Most recently I had contact with him when he attempted suicide ( and almost succeeded).

After getting all of the complaint forms signed we responded to Joshua residence, where he resided with his parent's, to attempt to affect an arrest and recover the vehicle. The vehicle was in the drive way and the garage and was standing open, but no one was to be found. We allowed the victim to recover her car and we decided we would try to catch up with Joshua later in the day.

45 minutes later I thought I would take a pass by the house. Low and behold Joshua was in the front yard. I radioed for another car and quickly exited my patrol vehicle, as I did so Joshua ran behind and along side the house. At this point it's probably necessary to describe the house. the home was about a 50-60 year old two bedroom with an attached two car garage that faced south. The back yard was entirely fenced and had two large aggressive dogs within. The home had a basement only accessible from the outside on the east side of the home. That entrance was partially obscured by bushes.

With back up arriving, the reporting officer and a Sergeant, I began to search the grounds for the suspect. All though I had arrested Josh numerous times in the past he had never physically resisted me. I was known throughout the department for having the best officer safety skills of any of the officers who worked there....bottom line is I knew how to handle myself and took officer safety very seriously. That being said, you can't always operate in a 100% safe manner, if you could, cops wouldn't be needed.

Whom ever a call is assigned runs the show at a call, regardless of rank. The rookie officer's first mistake of the day was not assisting in the search for the suspect, instead he decided to strike up a conversation with the parents of the suspect, for several minutes. At this point I observed Josh and of course he ran from me, retreating into the darkened basement. I notified the R/O (rookie officer) that I had the suspect on the east side of the house and needed his assistance. Instead of responding as he should he decided to continue to banter with the parents. After two or three more attempts he said the "mother" of the suspect was "responding" to talk him out of the basement. I was irritated at this point but didn't say much. The Sgt, R/O, and me stood back about 30 feet from the basement entrance. The mother was able to talk him to the door. At that point I observed that Josh was in shorts and a t-shirt and didn't appear to have any weapons ( all though you could never be sure). Josh asked me if he was going to jail, I told him we had to talk about it and hear his side but that there was a good chance. I asked him to step out from the basement, he refused and started back within, and turned out the basement light.

The rookie asked what we should do, I of course was disgusted at how timid he was and said "we fucking arrest him"....I put on my black leather gloves ( something that nearly cost me my life) expecting to have to drag him out of the basement. The R/O was complaining that he was having trouble with his vision and didn't want to be the first in. During this very short time I briefly thought about a Sgt. with the St. Louis County Police department that had been recently shot and killed going down the stairs in a basement after an armed suspect, and had chosen to go to save to rookie with him, and subsequently died for this choice....but I knew this wasn't the case today, it was Easter Sunday, around noon in s small city. Down the stairs I started, the bright sun from behind me and the darkness inside were throwing me off. About the time I got to the bottom stair I sensed movement to my 1 o'clock about 15 feet away. I also heard a sound that I will never forget, the bolt closing on a .270 rifle, as he brought it up to his shoulder in a firing position. All this happened so fast, and it is hard to describe, but my adrenaline hit me like a brick wall and totally focused everything directly in front of me. As I was yelling "gun, gun!" and pulling my Glock from it's holster I saw a bright explosion, felt a concussion, and heard a tremendous blast as I fired my own pistol ( which I don't really remember hearing) as I retreated backwards. At first I thought I must have been hit but realized I was still alive so I couldn't have been. In the 2 seconds it took for this whole scenario to happen I remember thinking that I always expected to be shot or shot at but it would be from a handgun that my body armor could easily stop, not a rifle designed for large game, something that could blow a whole through my vest, me, out my back, out my vest and into the next officer behind me.

Everybody was in high adrenaline mode. The Sgt. was shoving the scumbags parents back to safety as I was yelling for the rookie to find hard cover. I called on the radio ( in a pitch like a 10 year old girl I was later told ) "302 shot's fired, shot's fired, shot's fired"...."we need help!" As I have said before in this blog I react very well under pressure and I did this day to. I immediately asked the parents if the house could be accessed from the basement, because I was afraid he could get inside and maneuver for a better shot. Fearing that I might have shot the bad guy or that more people would be hurt I called for an ambulance to stand by in the area. I also called for the SRT team to be activated, and to call the MSHP to send a negotiator. As back up arrived I started assigning cover positions. I have to admit that it was comforting to see cops from other departments showing up with M-16's and shotguns. Other officers responding I assigned them to start evacuating the surrounding homes. A trooper that showed up told me I was bleeding. I don't know when it happened, and I didn't feel it, but I had bitten my lip rather badly and had bled pretty good onto my cheek and neck, he took me aside and checked me quickly and I was happy to see that I was "OK".

Finally a negotiator talked the subject out ( with his gun for awhile), after a few minutes he put it down and surrendered.

I had missed the subject when I fired at him, but I had hit the stock of his gun and showered him with splinters.

In the basement he had a suicide note written out. In it he talked about how much he hated me and that I had ruined his life. He also said how much he wanted to kill me and that he knew where I lived ( listed my address and apartment number) and that I had a daughter and he would kill her too. After being shown this later I drug him out of his jail cell and grabbed him by the throat and told him I would kill him if I ever saw him around my home or daughter......

Highway patrol investigated the shooting. They asked me how many times I fired my weapon during the incident. I told the investigator that I thought I had only fired once. Come to find out I had actually fired 5 rounds. I was quickly realizing that adrenaline was an odd thing.

Within 48 hours of his arrest I moved....some may say I should have stood my ground. Well I wasn't really worried about me. I was worried about my daughter.

I took a couple days off and when I returned was met with slaps on the back and the like. I laughed and acted like it was all fun, but it wasn't. This incident bothered me so much I really didn't talk about it to anyone outside of work. Part of me was embarrassed over the whole thing. Going down those stairs into the home was the classic "fatal funnel" they teach you to avoid in police work. Secondly, I had missed my target. I never miss as the range and almost always am the top shooter in the department. I learned that day that moving targets with guns firing at you are much harder to hit.

Another big thing that day..... I was afraid and felt fear, and felt guilty because of it. In the years that have passed since then I have realized that all of my feelings relating to that shooting are naturally and I acted in a brave, professional, if almost typical manner. It also taught me to never take for granted that things will be peaceful....after all this literally happened noon Sunday on Easter in a town of 20,000 people.

I could probably do better writing this, but I am getting sleepy.

One last note.....the guy who tried to kill ended up getting probation and ran down an officer with a car a couple years later....and last I knew out of jail. i truly regret that I didn't hit him when I shot at him that day.

The Silly season.......The Holidays........

As a Police Officer there is a big difference in our world than they are for those not involved in emergency services during the holidays. Most people look forward to it because it means there will be more days off work, and more happiness spread throughout their environment. Not for Cops....for us it means that every one who drinks, will drink significantly more, much more.....domestic violence calls go up 3 fold during the holidays, as do road rage incidents, and DWI's, common assaults and disturbances go up, about the only class of crimes that go down during the holidays is sex crimes, not really sure why. But the one area that goes up the most is suicides..... during the time from about Thanksgiving to just after New Years half of the yearly total of Suicides occur, a tenfold increase. A lot of people are in emotional pain, lonely, and sad. Broken hearts seem to become infected during the holidays and make the rest of the body sick as well ( I can relate). So tonight's blog entry will be about several different suicides that come to mind during the holiday season.

Case # 1. A little back ground info to get started. While working day shift in early December I worked a non-injury traffic accident. Upon arrival I observed that it was your fairly simple rear end type collision that occurred on a major thoroughfare. While obtaining both drivers ID's and insurance information I started speaking with the male-half of the accident around 35, whom we will call Donald, who happened to be the party at fault. He went on to tell me that his father worked for the City Works department and that he was on his way to his house,as he had been staying there since the divorce, and was supposed to have a visit with his kids. I returned to my patrol car and started writing down all of the driver info, vehicle info, a short summary, and a sketch of the accident scene and I ran the drivers and vehicles for registration and wanted information ( which is standard) and was sad to see that Donald had a felony warrant out of another jurisdiction for bad checks. I felt bad about doing it, but had no choice. I had to arrest him and tow his vehicle. Donald was upset, but understood. He had recently lost his job laying carpet and said he couldn't afford anymore tickets or the vehicle tow. Part of an officers job while towing a car is to do a complete vehicle inventory to safeguard the contents. In the process of doing so I found a small bag of marijuana and an improvised smoking device (pipe). After all was said and done I had cut him somewhat of a break. I didn't charge him for the drugs or paraphernalia ( two separate crimes), nor for his expired insurance card, or for not wearing his seat belt. I had to cite him for following too closely however, but set the court date for the first week in January, giving him about 5 weeks to take care of it.

Three days later while on day shift I, along with a couple other officer were dispatched to a residence reference to a "shot's fired" call and the report that a woman's son had been shot. While running code and responding to the incident ( I was acting SGT this day) we got additional information from the caller that said that her son was in the home and had been shot and that the shooter may still be inside. She was calling from her cell phone in the driveway. This changed the entire call, we now possibly had an active shooter in a residence with a child. All of day watch along with mutual aide from other agencies kicked in and we now had about 15 cars responding. Myself along with another officer arrived first. We paired up, and I notified dispatch that we weren't waiting and we were making entry. I was afraid that there was a child bleeding to death with a violent offender and new that once SWAT arrived everything would turn into a cluster-fuck, meaning it would take them sometime to make their plan and cold be hours before they entered.....regardless in we went. What we found really shows that calls are often dispatched much differently than they actually are. In a bedroom we found a middle age white male in bed partially covered up, his thumb from his right hand was still in the trigger well and the gun lay across his chest. blood hand trickled from his mouth, nose and eye sockets. A fist size hole was on the back of his head, marking where the shot from the .410 shotgun had exited after he had stuck the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Price is Right was playing on the television, and a half eaten hot dog on a bun lay on a paper plate on his chest. A hand written, poorly written suicide note lie on the bed next to him. Next to his wallet on the dresser a yellow copy of a traffic ticket could be seen. I picked up the ticket and read it. It was then that I realized that this was Donald, and this was the ticket I had written him a couple days before. The suicide note went on to say that he felt like a failure as a man because he couldn't find a job to pay his child support, and that his heart was broken because he seldom saw his kids and that he missed his wife. He went onto say he felt overwhelmed by his legal troubles and the financial burdens he was putting on his parents, and he was upset because he could find away to pay the impound fee to get his car out.

A horribly sad day that left me feeling guilty about doing my job.

Case # 2. A small trailer park is the scene of this next call. This trailer park was located near the Bass Tracker Marine plant, and this call takes place on Christmas eve around 9 PM.

As it was the holiday season all of the brass was off and since I was the most seasoned patrolman I was acting Sgt. again. I heard north side units dispatched to a trailer park reference to a dispute. Not a code three call, but units were responding. While en route the call was upgraded to a "shots fired" call. Several different reporting persons was reporting that gunfire could be heard inside a residents. North side had 4 cars responding and I responded from south side, and two area Sheriff's deputies were responding too. On arrival we entered the trailer park from different directions. I asked the deputies to start evacuating the trailers nearest the call. The 5 of us city officer made our approach, and one of our guys was on the swat team and had some of his gear. As we neared we could hear a woman screaming hysterically from within. I instructed the SWAT officer to deploy a couple flash bangs through a window in the kitchen area and the rest of us made a static entry. We were instantly met with chaos, and disorder. In a recliner in the center of the living room was a white male missing 90% of his head. Only the lower jaw, some teeth and part of the tongue remained. In his lap lay a 30/06 deer rifle, as well as a .357 revolver. A mountain of beer and filled the living room and kitchen. Obviously he was dead, but the screaming was coming from a back room. 3 of us advanced towards the screams to find a man in his 30's laying on a bed clutching his leg and a large pool of blood was pooling under him. He had been shot in the upper portion of the leg and was bleeding profusely. Fearing an artery had been hit we used a belt to make a makeshift tourniquet to stop the blood. In the corner of the room a little girl of about 12 had blood on her was screaming, holding her ears with her eyes shut.

Now the wrap up. Two brother had been drinking beer most of Christmas eve day. At some point they ended up in an argument and the deceased subject retrieved his two guns and set in the chair threatening to kill himself, his 12 year old daughter, and his brother. According to the surviving male and the little girl, the deceased had the .357 in his left hand and had been pulling the hammer back and letting down and periodically had been putting the gun to his head, his mouth, under his chin and aiming it at his brother, stating that he would kill anyone who tried to leave. He had a gun in each hand, and was acting like he was going to put the rifle under his chin when he almost dropped it, flinching, accidentally shooting his brother and himself at the same time. We removed tooth fragments from a fall wall 40 feet down range, and this little girl had been splattered by her fathers gore, brains, and blood.

Case #3. Most people assume that a middle aged male is the most likely candidate for suicide, and they are correct, but only by a slight margin. The second largest group to kill themselves is the elderly over the age of 70.

Christmas day 2000, about 5 pm.

I was assigned to the southwest part of town and had been on patrol for about 3 hours without answering a single call, or making a single car stop. I was listening to Christmas music on the radio and was thinking about returning to the police station for some goodies. Everyone that worked day shift had brought in something to eat and we were having a "potluck" of sorts. I could hear a slice of pecan pie calling my name. As I was pulling into a parking place at HQTRS a radio call came out. "302 1844 S. 18Th Avenue, Silver Acres Apt A-4 check the well being" A back up unit was assigned as a matter of routine. While en route dispatch provided further details stating that relatives in Ceder Rapids Iowa had been trying to call their mother for a couple of days and could not get a hold of her. The subject reportedly lived alone and did not have a car and rarely left the house. Upon arrival I realized that this was a senior independent living facility for low income elderly and disable subjects. No building manager or maintenance were on site. I noticed about a weeks worth of mail in the mail box, and a package from the USPS in front of the door. I could see some lights on through the windows and could hear the TV loudly blaring. As I knocked on the front door my partner went around to the rear and did like wise. Both of us got no response and the doors and windows were locked. I had dispatch try to locate a key holder for this property and have them respond. After about 15 minutes dispatch advised that the only key holder was in Clinton Missouri and would not be responding. Faced with no other choice I used the master key that all police officers are issued....My foot. I kicked in the front door and was quickly met with the smell of death. Without even seeing the body yet I had my back up call dispatch and have the coroner respond. In the back bathroom I found an elderly lady dressed in a christmassy night gown lying on the floor. She was obviously dead as levity had set in nicely. (levity is when all of the blood and fluids in the body react to gravity after death and pool in the lower portions in the body, causing a maroonish, bluish color along the area of the body that is closest to the ground), rigamortis had set in and left the body, and decomposition had began to set in. There were no obvious signs of foul play. On the sink in the restroom was two bottles of insulin and both were empty, along with a syringe. On the wall, written in red lipstick, was one of the saddest suicide notes I had ever seen. In short the note talked about how lonely this lady was and how much she missed her late husband. She talked about how her children had ignored her for years and that she was all alone. She stated that she was taking all of her insulin and was "going to be with Jesus".

As I helped the coroner prepare to load her into a body bag we both noticed how peaceful she looked. Both of her hand were folded up under her head and it looked like she had just gone to sleep.

Since a "key holder" wasn't responding we had the fire department come out and nail some plywood over her door. The rest of the forgotten "residents' had seen what had occurred. Feeling the weight of their sadness and loneliness the other Officer and I went to Walgreen's and bought 17 boxes of Chocolate Cherry's and left a box with each resident. For the total cost of about $20 we were able to brighten the lives of those imprisoned by their age, if ever so slightly.


To be honest there is much, much more I could write. I have seen more death, horrible death and misery, than any person should.

I will save the rest for another time....

Chapter Nine......Farewell to a friend

Today's blog entry is a somber, and yet current event one. At approximately 5:30 PM today my friend, and former co-worker Monte C. Ruby died from in the line of duty injuries received in an assault on August 2nd, 2008. (Please note that the top two photos on my blog are of Monte. The top picture was taken this year, and the second one was taken after pepper mace training in 1993)

Monte was a commissioned police officer for over 36 years in the state of Missouri. Monte's career began in 1972 as a reserve police officer for the city of Springfield. In 1978 he accepted employment as a commissioned officer with the Springfield School district and was assigned to Central High School. Central High was the most culturally diverse school in the district, and by far the poorest. Needless to say Central was the roughest assignment through out the district.

I myself was a student at Central from 1984-1988, and that is where my path first crossed with Monte's. I wasn't exactly an A student, and I was prone to suggestion, and often times that meant fights and the like. My first interaction with Monte occurred in 1986. I was with a couple friend on the back lot of Central, and we were about to assault some mouthy rich college students. Monte swarmed on us and broke it up before it started. he and I joked about that in later years.

Our paths crossed again in 1993 when Monte began working a commissioned police job with Cox Hospitals. (It may not be widely known, but Cox Hospital has it's own commissioned law enforcement officers, fully capable and professional as in area Police Department) Monte and I often worked some of the same shifts together, most usually at Cox North Hospital. Cox north was the only full-time, full service on the north side of Springfield, in the poorest area. Cox North could be a violent place, anywhere on campus, but the Emergency room was the epicenter of trouble. On a typical night Officers working there spent most of there time helping with dangerous physical altercations in the emergency department. Every crime you could imagine happened there at one time or another. Armed subjects, assaults, shots fired, sexual assaults, thefts, etc, etc......Often time shooting victims would be dropped off at the door by the shooting subject, and it was our job to apprehend them. Cox North had three different in patient psychiatric units, and a drug and alcohol rehab unit. All types of violent happenings occurred within those units. Furthermore Police Agencies within about 40 miles would bring their damaged, or otherwise injured suspects to the hospital and drop them off. So in short, Cox North was non-stop action, and dangerous. Most Officers assigned there had been assaulted more than a dozen times, and had to stay on their toes if they wanted to survive.

This past Saturday, August the 2nd, 2008, Monte Ruby was working day shift at Cox North when he received a call to the Emergency Room to assist an Officer from another agency that had brought in a violent felon for treatment, and was having trouble securing the subject.

Once arriving at the ER Monte realized it was a subject that he had dealt with for years, Jeffery Bolden. Jeffery Bolden was a couple of grades older than me in school, and had been a violent felon since before he received a drivers license.

All though the arresting agency had had to have 8 officers in subduing the suspect, and not to mention let a Police K-9 loose on him, they had only assigned one lone officer to secure the prisoner at the hospital. They originally were on a call where Bolden had been beating up his father and was trying to burn down the house when the police arrived. Of course he was naked when he fled, making apprehension even harder.

Now in the hospital, Bolden was handcuffed by both wrists to the bed rails in the ER. Having prior history with Monte Ruby Bolden taunted him. (Monte's daughter passed away in the late nineties) Bolden tried masturbating while in bed telling Monte that he was having "intercourse" with his daughter. All though the remarks were hurtful, he remained professional and tried to calm the crack addicted suspect down. The subject made remarks that he was going to kill Monte. Monte covered him up with a sheet in an effort to prevent him from touching himself, when Monte turned to walk away Bolden was able to curl on his side and delivered one powerful kick to the brain stem, upper neck area of Monte. Monte fell down but was able to come back to his feet and assist the other officers ( One SPD Officer, and another Cox Officer) restrain Boldens legs.....Within in a minute he began to stumble a bit. His partner asked him if he was ok and he answered that he was. Seconds later he collapsed unresponsive. ER staff began to work on him, and realized he was critically injured. He was transferred to Cox south to the Nuero Trauma Unit. Sometime during the 10 minute ambulance run between hospitals Monte stopped breathing on his own.

After arrival at the hospital he was put on a vent to help him breath, and testing began. Doctors soon reported the sad news that the kick had been the "golden BB" of sorts. Monte's brain stem had an uncontrolled bleed that was causing pressure on the spinal column, and was beginning to block signals from the brain to the body. Because of the location, it was inoperable, and the doctors soon reported that Monte was not going to survive.

On August 5th I went with a mutual friend of Monte's to see him in Nuero Trauma. He looked small and very fragile. Many machines were hooked up to him. His wife wore a brave face, but you could tell that she was in shock. His 14 year old granddaughter set quietly looking sad ( she is the daughter of his deceased daughter and he had been raising her). In the time I was there many family members and friends rotated through, as well as several police officers from different agencies wanting to pay their respects. Everyone was in shock.

His wife told me that Monte had worked two jobs, working 7 days a week, non-stop for the last 15 years.

Today at about 5 pm life support was stopped, and he died from his injuries by 5:30 PM.

Even knowing it was coming, when it happened it was like a shock. My former co-worker, and friend, a decent family man that always had a smile everyone, had been murdered by a cowardly, drugged out parasite of human being.

Somethings people should know about Monte. He was an avid golfer, and loved football. He had one wife for 40 years. He had a son, and a daughter. He had one granddaughter. He was loyal to his friends, and had hundreds of them. He was well known in the law enforcement community throughout Southwest Missouri.....and he will truly be missed.

Godspeed be with you Monte.............you can rest now.

Chapter Eight.....Children and the Devil......(warning graphic)

When I was a child I grew up with poverty, neglect, and physical and emotional abuse. I watched my mother get beaten, and use drugs. I have been tied up, beaten with an extension cord, locked in closets, and much worse. As a police officer I revisited my childhood several times a month. Meaning I responded to domestic violence calls, child abuse/neglect calls and dealt with children that had the same shell shocked look I had. I am not sure if most of you know what I am talking about so let me explain further.

In looking at my own 4Th grade school picture you will see that my skin is pale, and colorless, caused by poor nutrition, and often times hunger. There are bags under my eyes, and dark circles caused by the anxiety of another violent night at home, and not being able to sleep because of fear. My eyes are deep set, and look lifeless. There is absolutely no look of emotion about my face, and the only way you know that I am alive is because I am standing. My clothing is wrinkled, obviously a hand me down, worn and dirty. My hair is unkempt, and it is apparent that I haven't had a hair cut in a long time. Weekly as a cop I saw children just like this, and always had a soft spot for them, and a rough spot for the adult that put them in this situation.

Today I am going to share but one of many stories about child abuse from my time on the streets.

My district at the time was made up of mostly poor, and lower class wage families. Most received assistance from the state for food and shelter. Many of these families were good, and decent with some type of circumstance contributing to their dis-fortune. But I am sad to say at least an equal percentage were the result of alcohol abuse, and drug addiction, and more often than not, both. Drugs take a financial toll on a family. Addicts will sell their food stamps at a reduced rate (.50 cents on the dollar is common) so they will have money to get what they need. Presents children are given by relatives are often returned by the drug addicted parent to lets say Wal-mart, and without a receipt they receive a gift card with credit on it. Like the food stamps, they sell the gift card for a reduced rate to purchase narcotics.

I am working day shift when an assault in progress call in my district comes out. "Man beating a woman in the yard". After arriving I am greeted by a battered female with obvious injury, intoxicated, and staggering around in the yard. The male half is a fat white male, without his shirt on, multiple tattoos ( nothing against tattoos I have a few myself). He is obviously intoxicated, and is yelling and cussing. My back up goes to the female half, and I go to the male half. It's already obvious to me who the aggressor is, and that the male half is going to jail, but we go through the motions of asking the sordid details. The female is yelling "that fat motherfucker smoked all my pot"..... he becomes aggressive again and tries to shove past me to go after her again. I get him in an arm bar, and take him to the ground. He wont give me his hands, and I apply a burst of pepper mace to his face. He still really isn't cooperating, but he is no longer aggressive and I get him in cuffs. AS I am loading him into the backseat of my patrol car, I see two little faces looking out the front door. A little girl of about 5 and a little boy of about three, both in dirty clothes, and filthy themselves, with the little boy wearing a diaper only ( that obviously needs to be changed) are watching all of this. For a moment I have one of my little personal flash backs of my child hood when I see their empty eyes.......The other officer has already arranged for a sober friend of the victim to be en route to the scene to take charge of the children. I go through my typical speal with the un-cooperative victim, telling her where that we can take her and her children to a "safe-house" and how to apply for a restraining order against her other half. I also go through my speal about how children are fragile, and like sponges and that they are going to take their emotional cues from her, and that she needs to calm down and act decent so the children's fear, and anxiety will be reduced.....and the call is complete.

Two weeks later I am dispatched to the same residence for the same type of call, only this time the woman had thrown an electric frying pan with hot grease in it on the male half. Her nose is bleeding and we can't determine an aggressor so I arrest both, of course the male half was taken to the hospital first. Both were high and drunk again. Sadly enough the children witnessed this too. The little girl was crying, just sobbing and yelling for me to not to arrest her mommy. I took the children inside while other officers made the arrest. I waited with them while a relative from Camdenton was en route to take them ( about an hour and a half away). While in their home I had the overwhelming smell of dirt, stale tobacco, and sweat. I had not seen a home this dirty sense I was a child. All of the dished were dirty, and not all were in the sink. Their was mold growing on some of them, and their were live maggots on others, needless to say there were flies. Cock roaches ran free range by the thousands. Not one thing in this home was where it should be, and everything was dirty and on the floor. I looked through the fridge and found there to only be Milwaukee's best beer, and a tub of butter in the fridge. The cupboard was bare as well. I asked the little girl what they had for breakfast and she said her moms boyfriend had picked some green apples off of the neighbors tree and they had them, but they were sour. The little girl and boy shared a bedroom, and there were at least 50 dirty diapers on the floor. I

I couldn't take it anymore. I had dispatch call the responding party and have them pick the kids up at the police department, and with that loaded the kids up in my patrol car and left that shit hole of a house. I stopped at a Dollar General Store and bought them both a pair of clean shorts, and t-shirts, and underwear and diapers. I also went through McDonald's on the way and ordered them some food, and after returning back to the PD set them up in front of a TV playing the Disney channel. A dispatcher helped me clean them up, and change the boys diaper. After the grandparents arrived and picked them I called the hot-line for DFS (Division of Family Services) and reported the living conditions that the children were exposed to and suggested the children be taken out of the home. Needless to say I was devastated.

The following day I saw the mothers "boyfriend" walking down 3rd avenue. Feeling furious, I stopped my patrol car and unofficially told him to get out the kids lives, while suggesting bad things would befall him if he didn't.

He apparently didn't get the message, because I was called to the house the next day for another drunken, drug induced fight and where the POS (piece of shit) had broken the "victims" jaw. I was sad to hear also that DFS has came and gone without taken action other than a promise of a return visit in 14 days. I took the kids into emergency custody this time. As a police officer I could legally do it, but within 24 hours DFS had returned them again.

It was my day off and I got a page from the police department with "911" at the end. I hurriedly found a pay phone and called in. I was transferred to one of the Detectives who wanted to tell me that there had been another incident with the kids I was so worried about. Medical had been called to the home for an unresponsive child. When paramedics arrived they found the little girl unconscious, and bleeding from her ear, and rectum. Only the boyfriend had been home and he claimed that he had been playing with "his" children, wrestling like and she had fallen off the kitchen table. At the hospital doctors determined that she had been sodomized anally with an unknown object that had caused tearing and bleeding to her lower intestine. The bleeding from the ear was consistent with an open hand strike to the ear. The ear that was damaged was the girls right ear, that is consistent with a strike from a left handed person. The POS was left handed. He had been arrested at the seen , and the little boy had been taken into protective custody.

After several days the little girl was "out of the woods" and expected to make a full recovery. I visited her in the hospital several times. She was quiet and withdrawn. With the help of a therapist, and juvenile officer I tried to gently question her about the incident. She was too traumatized to answer, but would only say she fell, and while answering would look at the floor, and recoil into nearly a fetal position. In some of the training I have received on interrogating, and interviewing they say this is the response to someone that doesn't want to answer truthfully, and uses their body as a subconscious block, and I assumed this was the same with victims too.

POS had been released from jail after the mandatory 20 hours as the prosecutor said that there were no adult witnesses to the crime, no physical evidence, and the victim was to withdrawn to have aenough to get an arrest warrant.

Again on my day off I was paged by the PD. When I called in this time they asked me to come in, but wouldn't tell me why. 10 minutes the chief of detectives took me into his office and told me that the little girl had developed a staph infection, and had passed away. It was like lightening had struck me. I was floored. I began to sob, uncontrollably, and I punched a few holes in the drywall. I was sad, and furious at the same time. A couple of other officers were in the office were upset and crying as well, as we had all dealt with this family many times.

The detective also told me that the prosecutor said that since the staph had killed her that there would not be a charge of murder, or even manslaughter but they were "following up leads" on the Class D charge of child abuse.

10 minutes after leaving the PD, me and another off duty officer (female officer) went to the POS's house. We didn't knock, we didn't ring the doorbell. We kicked open the door, went straight to the living room where he was and began to beat him. His bitch of girlfriend called 911 I guess as soon as we came in. I wanted to kill this son of a bitch. We worked him over for about 2 minutes and left him in a pile in the floor, and then we left. Knowing we were going to get caught we went straight back to the PD.

The POS was taken by ambulance to the hospital. But other than a few cuts, and bruises he would survive.

AN internal investigation was launched, and a couple weeks later we found out our fate. I was afraid that not only would we get fired, but we may be charged with a crime. But I really didn't care, and thought it worth it.

The chief yelled at us for about15 minutes, the prosecutor yelled for 5 minutes. No charges were going to be filed. The female officer was suspended without pay for 1 day, and I was suspended without pay for 3 days. Matter closed.

After everyone left the Chief called me back in the office and closed the door. He told me that I knew his official position, but wanted me to know his private position. He said he was proud of me, and when he was a younger officer had done something similar. He asked me if anything similar were to come up in the future to talked to him first.

Just remember that the Devil doesn't always where his horns, carry a pitch fork, and have a bifurcated tale. Sometimes he is a shirtless, fat POS drinking a beer.

Chapter Seven....Officer down.

When you are in law enforcement, most of your friends are in law enforcement as well. Even friends you had before you were a cop. Certain personalities tend to attract like minded people for friendship. My best friend from high school on was a guy named Shane McDonald. I had been a police officer for about 5 years when Shane decided he was going to move to Portland Oregon to pursue a career in law enforcement as well. He had been gone now for a couple of years, but we still remained friends. I had flown out there a couple times, and he had flown back to Springfield a couple time. Well tonight he was back, and doing a ride-along with me during my shift at work.

It was late September, 1998 in the early evening. The evening air had a crisp quality about it that suggested fall wasn't too far off. It had been a busy shift, as this was a Friday evening, but Shane and I had been doing a lot of catching up. I am on the very north end of the city limits on 65 HWY when I hear another officer in a two man car call out 10-37 at the Center Park. 10-37 means officer needs assistance. A few seconds go by and an officer energized by adrenaline comes over the radio stating that there is a man down covered with blood near the boat ramps, with an hysterical woman ( later id'd as his wife) standing over him and screaming. I hear other cars come over the radio, including the watch commander ( Lt. Cole ) stating that they are en route to assist. Even though there several other units on the way I decide I will start to it as well. My spidey sense is telling something is out of the ordinary. I turn on my lights and sirens, do a U-turn in across the median, and I am soon cruising at about 100 MPH. Even at this speed it is going to to take at least 5 minutes to get to the area, giving Shane and I time to discuss the call. After a couple minutes a very panicky sounding officer comes over the radio again. I recognize his voice as one of the newer officer, and you can hear his voice cracking as he speaks. He states "301 is down, 301 is down".....well this dramatically changes everything about the response to the call, as well as my own adrenaline dump. 301 is the assigned radio number of the Chief of police for my department. The "hysterical" woman is his wife Susan, whom always bakes cakes for the officers for there birthdays, retirements etc, etc. These people are not the strangers that we have been taught to remain antiseptic towards, and stoic. These people were part of our family, the brotherhood of blue........30 seconds goes by and the new Officer comes over the radio saying that another officer is doing CPR on 301. In the back ground I can hear a lot of unorganized commotion.

If there is one ability that defines me it is this. I react VERY well under pressure. I am able to make decisive actions that are usually right. I am able to see the bigger picture and make sure we have the resources available for what ever task we face. I wait impatiently for about 30 seconds for a Sergeant, or the Lieutenant to start giving commands. After nothing but radio silence I do what I do. I act. I radio dispatch and tell them to start a medical Helicopter. I tell dispatch, per my authority ( which I had none, but people tend to listen when you act like you know what your doing) to go ahead and have the 2200 hours patrol watch come on duty ASAP. I instruct them to have the police chaplain called in, and our public relations officer. Not bad for 5 minutes in a flying police car.

Upon arrival I see the most unorganized mess of a critical incident you can imagine. I notice several patrol cars with there doors left open. A couple county guys are present too. knowing we are going to need an LZ for the helo which is 5 minutes out, I have the two county guys, and my friend Shane ( dressed in shorts, and a t-shirt) start moving patrol cars onto a nearby softball field ( game in progress). I run to where the Chief is. His wife is in a spasm of suffering with two officers trying to comfort her. 3 or 4 officers are standing around in shock, and two are fumbling about trying to do CPR. The Officer giving chest compressions is doing OK, but the officer giving mouth to mouth is freaked out, and understandably as he has been friends with the Chief for a decade, and had not yet given a single successful breath, as he was using a defective mouth piece. I push Olin aside and tell him I will take over. I throw the mouth piece away, sweep the mouth, remove his false teeth, and begin CPR. To get the entire picture you should know this. Besides the regular fluids one may have in their mouth, bile and stomach contents often get forced into the mouth during the compressions, and not to mention that when the chief fell, his lip had been busted, and with every chest compression was bleeding. Through all of this I did what I was taught to do. one point during this the Chief did make some noises, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Paramedics soon took over, the helo arrived and he was life Flighted to the ER at St. Johns hospital. Two other officers took the Chiefs wife by patrol car, running code all of the way, actually beating the helicopter to the hospital!

After the helo left I was left with a mouth that tasted of ass ( not that I know what ass taste like). I needed to wash my mouth out. The only thing I could find in my patrol car to do that with was a bottle of saline fluid from the first aid kit.......better than nothing.

I returned to the station to await the results, but there is no rest for the weary. Over the next 6 hours ( me working 3 hours late) I alone was dispatched to 15 calls. It was one of the busiest nights I have ever spent in law enforcement. Not one those nights where the calls are past stealing, or barking dogs. These were assaults in progress, assault on officers, shots fired....you name it. But at the end of my shift I learned the sad news. Chief Steve Marler had passed away. He was 55 years old, and had been concealing the fact that he had been having heart trouble for sometime.

I had to attend a mandatory debrief, and an offer to see a psychologist, which of course I refused.

Over the next 24 hours I got very little sleep, we, meaning the police department, had a funeral to plan.

The funeral was a very respectful end for a person that had dedicated 34 years as a police officer. Over 1000 police officers attended the funeral, from as far away as Cape Canaveral Florida.

The part that touched me most during the service was when one of his sons spoke. his son was about 30 years old, and simply said in front of a giant crowd, as he began to cry, " I miss my Dad. I love you Daddy." I cant say if there was a dry eye in the crowd or not, because my eyes were to filled with tears to see.


Here is the Policeman's Prayer.

"The Final Inspection"

The policeman stood and faced his God,Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining. Just as brightly as his brass.
"Step forward now, policeman.How shall I deal with you? Have you always turned the other
cheek? To My church have you been true?"
The policeman squared his shoulders and said,"No, Lord, I guess I ain't, Because those of us who
carry badges can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays, and at times my talk was rough, and sometimes I've been
violent, Because the streets are awfully tough.
But I never took a penny, That wasn't mine to keep....Though I worked a lot of overtime When
the bills just got too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help, Though at times I shook with fear. And sometimes, God
forgive me, I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place Among the people here. They never wanted me around Except to
calm their fear.
If you've a place for me here, Lord, It needn't be so grand. I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't.....I'll understand.
There was silence all around the throne Where the saints had often trod. As the policeman
waited quietly, For the judgment of his God.
"Step forward now, policeman, You've borne your burdens well. Come walk a beat on Heaven's
streets, You've done your time in hell."

Author Unknown

Chapter Six..... Things go thump in the night.

Over my years as a police officer I have been dispatched, as you can imagine, to a multitude of different type calls for service. Many of which, end up being entirely different once you arrive and ask a few questions of the caller, and observe a few of the details. There are many causes for the discrepancies involving reported calls. Many times, and the most often reason for inaccurate dispatching is that the RP (reporting party) is under the influence of alcohol, or drugs. Other times it can be the subject’s age, or mental capacity. Also adrenaline caused by emergency situations is very powerful, and can cause one RP to report something totally different than another RP.

On this particular night in the mid 1990’s, I was working the “graveyard” shift (11:30 pm until 08:00 am) as the “float car” for the northern district of our suburban county. The county is compromised of about 450 square miles. The northern district is compromised of two zones. Zone 1 (west) and Zone 2 (east), with a floating “cover” car for back up, and an occasional reserve deputy working. Not to mention the Highway Patrol, and the officers in the smaller municipal agencies on the outer periphery.

At about 0100 hours I heard dispatch assign a call to the Zone 1 car reference to a “check a person” call. The address given was in the extreme northwest corner of the county, near the county line. The zone 1 car acknowledged the call and advised he was en route. I advised dispatch that I was also en route, and I was about 20 minutes out.

I had some trouble finding the address, as it was a several hundred acre farm, in a desolate area of the county off of an unmarked gravel road. As I finally pulled up to the residence, I realized that I had been to this home the year before but in daylight. On that occasion it was in reference to a “natural” death call. The 80 something male had expired in his sleep, and had been found by his wife of over 50 years. A sad call for the widow, but fairly routine in my world.

In walking up to the residence I realized that this lady making the call was indeed the same lady I had seen from the year before. Thinking to myself that she must have seen some teenagers running amuck (as they often did in this part of the county) I asked the Deputy that was already on scene what was going on. He stated that Widow Johnson had been to a church bazaar in Springfield, and had stayed late helping the other ladies clean up the church, and prepare it for worship services the following morning. Afterward she had gone to Denny’s for coffee with her friend's. She arrived at her home just a little bit past midnight. Her drive-way is a long and winding gravel road of about ¼ of a mile long. She said that she had observed a large dark shadow about 200 feet in front of car at one point, but assumed it was one of the half dozen or so cows that she kept as “pets” crossing the roadway. As she pulled up near her home and turned the car off, she had to reach in to the back seat to get her purse that had spilled in the floor. As she was gathering up the items from the floorboard she felt her car shake violently, and had the sensation that the rear of her car was “up in the air on a tire jack”…..she opened her door and stepped out. She said she was startled to see a “large male Sasquatch” holding the rear of her car about 18 inches off of the ground. She said that she screamed, and the “Sasquatch" screamed as well dropping the car. She said she ran for the door to her house, and that she could hear the screaming beast run into her “old barn”. While awaiting our arrival she said that she heard several loud thumps from the barn and thought he may still be within.

The other Deputy and I looked at each other and both had a small grin on out faces. But the grins quickly disappeared when we checked the rear or her late 80’s Ford Taurus, and found several black hairs, that were coarse and about 2 inches long. We collected a few and placed them in an evidence bag. Also there was obvious smudging and indentions on the rear bumper area of the car. We felt somewhat relieved when we saw that she did have a few Holstein cows around, and thought that maybe it was possible that one of these 1000 lb cows had simply rubbed against her car, and that she had simply been startled by that, especially in the dark and at this late hour.

We spoke with her and had her fairly reassured when we heard some scuffling noises from the barn. Much the kind of sound you would expect to hear from maybe a horse or cow in a stall would make. Old lady Johnson stated that she just wouldn’t be able to sleep unless someone checked the barn before we left. The other Deputy quickly said with a smile, that he would stay here and protect the RP while I searched the barn. How brave of him..........jerk.

I went to my patrol car feeling slightly apprehensive, well that’s a lie. I was feeling a little fearful, as I had grown up in a generation that had been “taught” by television that Bigfoot was real, and I was now convinced that I had one trapped in a barn……and it was “spooked” no less. As I loaded my 12 gauge shotgun with “slug” rounds (slugs are a 1 ¼ ounce chunk of lead shaped in a conical fashion that are extremely powerful projectiles) a highway patrolman pulled up. I felt a little relieved knowing that I wouldn’t have to search the barn alone, but I did feel a little foolish telling the trooper why we searching it.

After relating the story to this stoic, unblinking trooper he replied with a simple one word answer in a drawn out southern drawl. “Shit!” He then proceeded to the trunk of his patrol car where he pulled out an H&K 93 7.62nato (.308) assault rifle, and inserted a 30 round magazine, working the action and placing a live round in the chamber. His next words were a simple “let’s go” and off we went.

After a very tense 20 minute search of the barn and the surrounding out-buildings, we returned to Widow Johnson and gave her the all clear. She thanked us and told us she would be keeping her shotgun near the bed on this night.

The trooper and I met up for breakfast at a Waffle House in our district about 0430 hours that morning, and both quietly admitted that if a cow, dog, or donkey had suddenly appeared during our search that we probably would have blasted it! We both admitted that we believed it possible that something like “Sasquatch” may exist, and were both pretty pleased with not discovering one!

On a subsequent note, over the course of several months, the Sheriff’s office received a couple dozen “sighting” reports, and numerous calls about high pitch screaming. The unusual hair we recovered was sent to a local universities Anthropology lab for testing. The results stated that the hair was not from any know indigenous mammal in North America. The Missouri Conservation Department found a deceased 200 lbblackbear about ten miles from this location, but made a statement that basically said that their agency believed this bear was the source of the sightings, but they had no real comment on the noises other than the local zoo had had a couple peacocks escape several months ago...............


Who knows what shook old lady Johnson’s car that night! All I know is that this lady had lived in the forest of Missouri for 60 plus years and wasn't easily spooked.