I was working a fill-in/vacation relief and got assigned to work 15 PM’s with Doug. 

About 10:15 pm we were driving north on Alameda Ave.  Doug was driving, I was booking

and had finished all of my reports.   We were just taking our time and looking for a log

entry while heading to the pumps and end of watch.  I saw a car parked over by one of the

auto wrecking yards on the west side of Alameda.  Doug turned on the spotlight and pointed it at the car.

 The wind-wing had been broken and there was a gaping hole where the glass had been. 

He turned the light onto the ground below the door and the broken glass glittered on the ground. 

Doug made a U-turn and we pulled up behind the car.  It had been raining earlier in the

evening and the ground was muddy.  We got out of the car and noticed muddy footprints

on both sides of the car.  A visual check revealed that the radio had been forcibly removed

from the dashboard; wires hang down and frayed ends was a good indicator. 

I ran a 10-29 (check for stolen) and it came back clean. 


We got back in the car and headed back toward the station.  About 6 blocks later

 we see this scrote doing the “Willowbrook Shuffle” on the west side of the street. 

Doug tapped the horn and yelled out “Hey, CROOK!” The scrote did the usual:  Looks at

 us then looks around in all directions and then back at us as if to say “you mean me?”

“Stay right there, stupid!” yells Doug, as he pulls another U-ey and stops the car just inches

away from the scrote.  We both get out of the car and Doug is towering over this clown

 who was probably all of about 5’6” and 130 lbs. 

“Where’er you going?” asks Doug.

“Where am I going?”

“Yeah, where are YOU going?”

“Oh, I’m going home.  I jus’ lef’ my girl’s house and goin’ home.”

“Where’s the radio?” (So much for probable cause).

“I dint take no radio from that car!” says the kid in a shaky voice.

Doug turned and looked at me and said, “I am the judge and you are the jury.

 I say he is guilty.  Don’t you agree?”

In my attempt to control my laughter I answered with my

standard-issued-Firestone-get-their-attention-voice, “Yes sir, Judge.  He is guilty.”

Doug turned back to him and said “You heard the jury and I think you deserve the death penalty”.

The scrote’s eyes got as big as saucers.  He couldn’t believe this was happening to him.

In an unusual soft voice, Doug looked down at him and said” Turn around and lay across

the hood, scrote!” while at the same time he unsnapped his holster.

The crook was starting to shake and sob.  Doug motioned for me to go get a firecracker

from my patrol can, which I did.  All this time, Doug was telling him how it was against the

laws of nature to lie to the police.

I came back and Doug nodded for me to light it, which I did.

The firecracker exploded!  The scrote jumped almost across the hood of the radio car

and screamed, “Get me an ambulance.  Them other mo’ fo’s are in the bushes”. 

At this time two other scrotes came out, dropped the radio and other items and beat feet.

When the clown realized he was alive he looked at us and Doug and I were laughing

so hard he took off.


I quickly scratched out a report of “Found Property”.

Firestone 15 is 10-7 (out of service, E.O.W.).