Show Link: https://anchor.fm/thatscriminaljs
Show Link: https://anchor.fm/thatscriminaljs
Hey everyone. I moved the TDW over to Substack.
In Adelaide, Australia, four people got locked up for kidnap and torture. And it all started with the theft of a sex toy. This quote from the article is priceless:
“The court heard the incident began when Janise (name redacted to protect the moronic) who was an ice user, wanted revenge on the victim after he took her vibrator.”
Janise was an ice user? [🤔]. For those of you who aren’t in on the lingo, Ice is just another term for meth. A very strong, potent form of meth. It looks like clear-ish crystals, hence the name Crystal Meth or Ice.
Janise enlisted the help of her brother and father in her crack plan to rescue her vibrator and punish the poor dumb bastard who stole it. The article never explains why he stole it. Which to me is just as important to the story as the fact four people kidnapped and tortured the dude and not one of them thought at some point that they were going a little overboard. Janise convinced her dad, brother, and random family friend (Guaranteed the guy was either banging or trying to bang Janise. That’s the only non-ice reason I can see for him going along at all with the plan). Regardless, as I was reading this article, I could not help but wonder: How does the conversation about her stolen vibrator even get started?
If this was America, I would say this whole incident had to start in a trailer park. Given that this happened in Australia I’m kind of at a loss. For the sake of my own entertainment, this scene has a decidedly American-Redneck bent to it.
Here we go.
Janise stomps out of her room in her slipper boots. She has her pink, “I survived Daytona Bike Week 2020” hoodie pulled up over her head, an unlit Newport cigarette clenched in her trembling fingers. She paces back and forth across the living room where her brother Carl and her dad Carl Sr. are trying to watch a re-run of Storage Wars.
“What?” Senior asks once Storage Wars finally goes to commercial.
“Billy-Tom!” Janise squares off and fishes around in the pocket of her cut-off jeans for a lighter, “Son of a bitch!”
“Who?” asks Carl Jr.
Janise stomps her foot, “Billy-Tom!” she yells.
Carl Jr. cocks his head, “Yeah but which one, Billy or Tom?”
Janise growls, “Billy-Tom you dumb shit!”
Junior looks at his dad, “Well fuck,” he says.
“What the hell happened? The commercial’s almost over for god’s sake.” Demands Senior.
“Bastard stole my vibrator, son of a bitch.”
Junior snarfs his Cheerwine and breaks out laughing.
Senior looks at him with nothing but disdain.
Junior stops laughing, “What?”
Carl Senior’s voice is low, “That son of a bitch stole from you?” he asks.
“Uh-huh,” Janise answers.
Senior retracts his recliner and groans to his feet, “Nobody steals from my baby.” He declares, “Nobody! You steal from one of us, you steal from all of us!”
“Damn right!” echoes Janise.
“Yeah but…” Junior stops when he sees the look in his father’s eye.
“Where is he?” asks Senior.
Janise shrugs, “I dunno, probably with his skank wife I guess.”
“He’ll wish he was never born.” Senior declares.
Janise lights up her Newport and holds it up in front of her for emphasis. She blows menthol smoke out of the side of her mouth and squints her eyes, “I got an idea for that.” She says, “We need duct tape, some dog food, and a kitchen knife.”
Without missing a beat Senior is walking to the kitchen, “Done.”
Junior watches the two of them break off to other parts of the trailer like the A-Team after an ops briefing, “Dad, do you even know what a vibrator is?” he asks.
“Don’t matter son,” says the elder Carl, “Get your shit, let’s go.”
I still have a couple of questions about the case of Janise and her stolen vibrator.
On another note. What do you guys think of Acquisitor?
Detective Miles Otis pointed, “That’s an arm…”
Detective Jackson Cole sighed, “Yeah.”
Otis studied the random severed limb for moment, “You ever miss the good old days, dope and drive bys…?”
You catch one strange case and suddenly they call you the Freak Police behind your back. If the case is even remotely weird Cole and Otis get the call. Now they find themselves in a vacant lot staring at a forearm.
Fingerprints give them a name. Hardnosed police work generates a suspect. She’s a witch, so was the guy who’s forearm sits in a cooler at the coroner’s office. The witch says a hellhound killed her friend. And its hunting the homeless of Charleston.
Witches, magic, and a…hellhound?
Any other two detectives would laugh at a story like that. But Cole and Otis have faced the supernatural before. It almost killed them.
There’s a reason they call them Freak Police.
But can they face the darkness again?