They Did What? Crime Blog

You’ll Never Take Me Alive! Yeah, We Will.

I know I’ve written about car thieves before, but I really liked watching this guy somersault fifty feet off a bridge.

These are old sayings and kind of played out but:

“Go big or go home.”

or

“If your gonna do it wrong, do it right.”

or

“You’ll never catch me, copper!”

All seem to apply here.

Fort Myers, (Yup) Florida, was the spot recently where a suspect in a stolen van lead police on a chase before biting it spectacularly while crossing the Edison Bridge. The video (below) is FLIR but our suspect Bryan ***** looks to lose a right front tire, or maybe he dropped his cigarette, I’d like to think he was distracted trying to find the right song for running from the police (East Bound and Down by Jerry Reed, or Mr. Policeman by Brad Paisley would be my choices) when he bounced his stolen van of the right and left guardrails before coming to a literal screeching halt in the middle of the bridge.

Bryan did look good though in his utterly ungraceful, arms and legs splayed corkscrew he did flopping into the water. Maybe he had a good plan but just lost his footing and that threw off his form which in turn foiled his escape? I imagine in his head he saw himself doing the whole straighten out, toes pointed, arms crossed thing that seems to work for cliff divers on YouTube. Unfortunately, he turned out to be a dead ringer for the falling mannequin trick you see in underfunded action movies. I realize I’m giving a guy who steals vans and jumps off bridges a lot of credit here.

Nice try Bryan, but you never had a chance. Enjoy your Grand Theft, Fleeing, and Eluding charges.

And thank you Florida. You never disappoint.

Reference:

https://brobible.com/culture/article/video-florida-man-leaping-off-bridge-cops/

Don’t forget to check out my new Jackson Cole thriller, 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?

Tweakers and their Vibrators

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.

  1. Who steals a vibrator? What kind of weirdo is the tool she kidnapped?
  2. Do you think Billy-Tom kept it for himself or was it a gift for his skank wife?
  3. How great must ice be?

Reference:

https://www.9news.com.au/national/adelaide-news-four-people-jailed-over-bizarre-hostage-drama-stolen-sex-toy-victim-forced-to-eat-dog-food/1f8e206a-89d7-4f4b-bf28-9cd9c0496840

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?

Don’t Tweak and Post

I found a couple of pretty funny stories out of Florida this week but, man. Florida crime stories are getting to be like the slow kids on the playground. They’re just too easy to pick on.

Instead, I found a tweaker in Missouri to write about. And in all honestly, Missouri meth heads are just as fun as Florida meth heads.

Facebook Marketplace is great for all sorts of things: bikes, furniture, stolen car parts, meth…A guy in Reed Springs, MO posted a catalytic converter for sale on Facebook Marketplace. The caption read: still in the box, may or may not be listed in a police report somewhere, probably in great working order (Pretty sure the caption didn’t read like that). The accompanying picture was great too, especially the giant bag of meth sitting on a coffee table in the background.

You know how everyone always says, don’t post drunk (or in this case high as Scarface after face planting into a platter of coke), or don’t email angry? Our auto parts dealer, I mean meth dealer, Scott (I’m calling him Scott because he looks like Scott Ian from Anthrax. Yes, new music sucks, still relying on 90’s metal to get me through the gym). I’m betting Scott didn’t follow these simple rules before hitting post or else he would have seen his dope, and works, even a scale, photobombing from the top right. Could happen to anybody, but…ouch. That’s one of those posts that wake you up in the middle of the night shivering in a cold sweat asking yourself, I really shared that? In Scott’s defense though, judging by the amount of crank sitting on the coffee table, Scott probably hadn’t slept in a week. Trying to figure out why your teeth are vibrating most likely doesn’t leave much time for a healthy edit of your social media. And if he’s posting to Facebook Marketplace, what do you think his IG looks like? Or TikTok? Holy shit a tweaker TikTok channel. Yes, please.

Meth Scott
Anthrax Scott

According to the article, someone forwarded the image to 5-0 and they got a warrant for Scott’s sweet, sweet, meth dungeon. I hope they wouldn’t have just gone straight raid on him without at least having a little bit of fun first. If it was my case, I’m thinking I’d have the squad call five or six times about the converter and be no-shows for the meet-up. Or even better set up the sale while you got him under surveillance. Every time he gets to the meeting spot call him and change the location. Do that a half dozen times or so just to watch him lose his shit, then arrest him. It sounds mean-spirited but this guy poisons kids so… Sometimes you just gotta make the job work for you, ya know.

Reference:

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/buster

Happy Halloween Everybody. Don’t forget to check out the second in my Jackson Cole Series, Acquisitor. The perfect read for Halloween weekend.

Here Kitty Kitty

I think it’s important to start off by saying this didn’t happen in Florida. Wisconsin either has really cool cat toys or is in serious need of some gun safety training.

A 19-year-old named Jashanti (common spelling) in Kenosha, Wisconsin decided to use the laser sight fixed to the frame of a 9mm handgun as a cat toy. A 21-year-old man, we’ll call him Lucky, the guy who brought the weapon to the apartment, and was subsequently shot by Jashanti told police he thought he had removed the magazine before leaving it unsecured in Jashanti’s apartment. The report also mentioned that Lucky was violating terms of his bond while he was in possession of the gun if that tells you anything about what depth of the gene pool we’re in here.

So, we’ve got Jashanti, a woman so lacking in common sense or for that matter basic intelligence that she saw a gun with a laser sight and immediately thought of her cat. And Lucky, a 21-year-old criminal (alleged) who A-can’t clear his own illegally possessed weapon, and B- doesn’t recognize how bad an idea Jashanti is following through with until he takes a round through the leg.

My biggest question in reading this story is what’s the cat thinking this whole time? Do you think he fell for it and started chasing the light? Or did he just give Jashanti that look all cats have? That, I can’t wait till you die so I can eat you look. In my mind I see this cat, a dude named Mittens, sitting off to the side, bored. He’s licking a paw while this moron, I’m guessing the kind of girl you see roaming around Walmart at 1am wearing pajama pants (cat themed), fuzzy slippers, and a wife beater, dancing around the apartment, waving the gun around, to make the laser dance in front of him. Mittens narrows his eyes, insulted by the fact he depends on this woman for food. Then…

BAM!

Mittens watches as Lucky, whose existence Mittens has refused to acknowledge until now is bleeding and rolling around on the floor. In fact, he is bleeding really close to Mitten’s climbing tower which is the only reason Mittens is vaguely interested in him. Because if the fool messes up his cat tower he dies. Mittens watches the man start to cry while gripping his leg. His worthless owner drops the gun to the floor and starts running in place while she screams so loud Mittens wishes he had big enough paws to pick up the gun and finish them both off.

Disgusted with every human in the room Mittens turns his back on them and strolls over to hide patiently behind the curtain next to the front door. Next time that thing opens I’m out, he tells himself. Rather take my chances out there than spend one more minute with these mouth breathers.

Mittens seems like a smart guy.

Don’t forget to lock the slide back kids.

Reference:

https://www.kenoshanews.com/news/local/crime-and-courts/teen-charged-after-accidental-shooting-allegedly-trying-to-get-cat-to-chase-guns-laser-sight/article_6c979d0c-4926-54af-84bb-545652534f4e.html

Don’t forget to check out my new release Aqcuisitor, the second in my Jackson Cole Series.

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?

Naked on a Golf Cart

A naked woman drove a golf cart into the middle of a standoff between police and an armed teenager. The teenager was apparently holding himself hostage on the roof of his home around midnight on September 6th (Happy Labor Day!) when Jessica Smith, 28, refused orders to leave the area and found her bare ass being booked for Obstruction.

On its face, this is one of those police stories where someone outside the job would listen and have no idea how to process what they heard. For me, this is one of those insane moments in policing that reinforces why patrol is the best job in the world.

Here’s how I want this to have gone.

Officer Maxwell and Sergeant Collins leaned on the fender of Maxwell’s cruiser looking up at the young man in boxer briefs pacing back and forth across an architectural shingled roof. He had a butter knife in one hand and a smartphone in the other. As he passed the two cops he stared at them, his eyes full of tears.

“You don’t back off I’ll jump!” he declared as forcefully as his screechy voice would allow.

“Guess he figured out the butter knife was a poor choice.” Commented Maxwell.

“It would speed things along too.” Added Collins.

The comments drew a furious eye from Sandra Harmon, mother of the Kyler Harmon, the teenager walking around the roof. Sandra stood in her backyard wrapped in a plush bathrobe and slippers. Next to her, Jim Harmon, Kyler’s father was in a matching robe and slippers. Jim looked pissed off.

“Kyler baby please!” Sandra shouted.

“Moron,” Jim said under his breath. That drew daggers from Sandra as well.

The two cops studied the dynamic between Kylers folks for a moment before Collins said, “Bean bag,”

Maxwell straightened, his eyes flashing with hope, “He’s not that high up there,”

“We can’t…yet.” Replied Collins. He checked the other two patrol cars forming a perimeter around the back of the house. The house sat on a fairway in the middle of a golf community. The roof-mounted floodlights affixed to the cruisers lit up the entire back yard, drawing onlookers from up and down the cart path bordering the fairway. He and Maxwell went to confer with the parents,

“So this is all over a girl?” asked Collins.

“Kaitlin Andrews unfollowed him on the social media earlier tonight. Then she wouldn’t return our calls, that little bitch,” Sandra spat.

“Did you say our calls?” asked Maxwell.

Collins suppressed a chuckle. He took another look at Kyler and immediately noticed the butter knife in his hand catch the light from the cruisers. Kyler’s full attention was on his phone.

“Whoa, stop right there!”

Collins saw the boy’s head snap up and turned to see a golf cart approaching from the cart path. Officer Carson, who was holding back the gathering group of onlookers, walked out into the path of the cart. His hand was up and he flashed his light at the driver. Collins blinked when he saw her.

No way.

The next pass of Carson’s light steadied on the woman, the absolutely naked woman.

“Seriously,” Carson called. He strobed his light in her direction to get her attention but was only successful in getting her to turn off the path and head straight toward the Harmon’s home. Collins noticed Kyler watching in awe from his perch. Collins had to sidestep as she came in at barely a crawl, a dying battery struggled to keep the thing moving. She had a vacant look in her eyes, hammered or high, Collins couldn’t tell which. Carson trailed her, his hands jutting out from his sides, exasperated.

“You fucking kidding me?” Maxwell hopped aboard as she passed and ripped the key out of the ignition. Collins put an eye on Kyler to make sure he wasn’t sliding any further down the spectrum of stupid than the level he’d already achieved tonight. The kid stood stock still watching the goings-on below. Now would be the perfect time for the bean bag, Collins thought.

“’ss there a prob’em officer?” the woman asked from behind the wheel of the golf cart. Her words slurred, her eyes mere slits.

“I could ask you the same thing,” answered Maxwell. He gently pulled her from the cart by the wrist. Unsure if she would be able to stand on her own. He looked at Collins.

“cover her up, book her for Obstruction,” Collins had seen a lot over the years, and this wasn’t his first drunk, naked suspect. But the absurdity of seeing a naked woman bust into his scene riding a golf cart was a new one on him. He surveyed the scene again to see if there was anything else, maybe bigfoot was going to make an appearance too. He accounted for everyone, Kyler, his cops, the new drunk chick, mom…

“Where’s the dad?” he asked.

Sandra started as if she were entranced by what was going on around her. She pivoted in her fluffy slippers like she was looking for her reading glasses.

“Dad! Don’t” Kyler screamed.

“There he is,” said Carson.

Collins and the others watched Kyler jumping and stumbling under an onslaught of cold water lancing at him from the garden hose in Jim Harmon’s fist.

“Get off the Goddamned roof, Kyler!” Jim bellowed.

“Why didn’t we think about that earlier?” Maxwell asked. Collins couldn’t help but notice the drunk in custody was leaning her sleepy head against Maxwell’s shoulder as he watched their disturbed subject call devolve before their eyes. Above them, Kyler was shivering as his father chased him back and forth from the ground soaking him.

“Okay! Okay! Stop!” the boy said, tossing the butter knife and his now waterlogged phone to the ground. He watched as Jim Harmon raised a ladder for his son to climb down and sighed. There was no amount of paperwork that was going to explain what just happened.

Probably didn’t go down that way but however the incident went, that story will be repeated at the bar for years to come.

References:

Naked Woman, 28, Drove Golf Cart Through Scene Of Armed Standoff, Cops Say | The Smoking Gun

Don’t forget to check out my newest releases in the Jackson Cole Series.

Jackson Cole is a newly minted homicide detective thrown head first into the grinder when he is ordered to investigate the grisly murder of three women.

The victims are marked with odd, occult symbols and the press is stirring up a killer cult frenzy in the media. The mayor, the Chief of Police, and Cole’s Captain want results to calm an increasingly fearful public; and Cole’s supposed partner is nowhere to be found. Cole has zero leads, he’s floundering under the scrutiny of his entire command staff until a stranger shows up spouting a wild theory: blood magic.

Floundering or not Cole won’t even consider it. There is no such thing as magic, no such thing as voodoo; and there are no demons roaming the Charleston Peninsula. There’s always a rational explanation for the evil humans commit upon one another. Then a demon tries to take Cole’s head off.

How do you stop a supernatural evil, something ancient and unencumbered by the laws of either physics or man? Especially when all you bring to the fight is a pistol and a pair of handcuffs. If Jackson Cole wants this case to close, he will have to take on a world of the impossible. Then he’ll have to survive it.

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?