Friday’s Heroes: Remembering The Fallen

The Graveyard Shift extends our condolences to the families of these brave officers.

Deputy Sheriff Bryan Sleeper, 39

Burleigh County North Dakota Sheriff’s Department

September 28, 2011 – Deputy Bryan Sleeper suffered a fatal heart attack while assisting another deputy arrest a combative subject.

Trooper Mark Toney, 43

Iowa State Patrol

September 20, 2011 – Trooper Mark Toney was killed in an automobile crash while responding to an emergency. His patrol car left the roadway and overturned several times before bursting into flames. He is survived by his two sons and parents.

Deputy Sheriff Derrick Whittle, 39

Union County Georgia Sheriff’s Office

September 18, 2011 – Deputy Sheriff Derrick Whittle was responding to a domestic disturbance when his patrol car left the roadway and struck a tree. He succumbed to his injuries a few days later. He is survived by his wife and two children.

Lieutenant Joseph Szczerba, 44

New Castle County Delaware Police Department

September 16, 2011 – After a short foot chase, Lt. Szczerba caught a wanted suspect. While attempting to arrest the man, he was stabbed in the neck and later succumbed to his wounds. Lieutenant Szczerba is survived by his wife and family.

 

 

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The Groceries Have Landed: Things Can Go Wrong…Really

Have you ever had one of those bosses who knew everything about everything? You know the type, no matter what you say or do, they know best.

Well, as bad as it is for you guys to work for one of these know-it-all’s, imagine doing so while working as a police officer where split-second decisions could mean the difference between someone living or dying. And the boss decides he wants to make those split-second decisions for you…over the course of an hour or so.

Well, I once had one of those bosses, and…

The bust promised to be a good one—cocaine, heroin, and a boat load (just an expression) of shrooms and pills. I’d worked on the case for a couple of months, spending lots of undercover time hanging out with this group of doofuses, and I’d reached the point where I was ready to get warrants for everyone, including search warrants for two properties.

One property was the single-story modest home of a guy, Carey D. Weight, who held most of the group’s dope. He also did most of the packaging and transporting. The other search warrant was for the home of the top dog in the operation. In this case, the top dog was a female—a young, somewhat attractive female, Betty Bigbutt, who lived with her elderly grandmother and her grandmother’s full-time healthcare worker. Oh, and I should mention that the female’s family was very much a high-profile family. Quite well-to-do with a very famous relative.

So, the plan was for one team to search the packager’s home, which was basically a dump, while the other team was set to paw through some extremely expensive items inside an elegant and ornate southern mansion. However, just before executing the warrants, an emergency developed and members of one of the search teams were forced to respond to assist the patrol officers. Therefore, left with only one entry team, I had to change my plans, deciding to go for the top dog first, sending one officer over to guard Weight’s home in case he decided to suddenly depart. I had no idea that the chief of police and one of his captains were out, together, snooping around.

Our team was in position, ready to knock and announce at the front door when a faint voice crackled in my earpiece. I held up my hand, indicating I wanted everyone to stand down. Thinking something had gone wrong I backed away from the front steps. I heard the voice again, but couldn’t make out what the person had said. So I turned up the volume.

The barely-above-a-whisper voice of our chief of police came through, and he said, “The groceries have landed.”

I turned toward the officer standing next to me to make sure I’d heard what I thought I’d heard. He shrugged. He didn’t know what our fearless leader’s words meant, either.

So I keyed my mic and softly said, “Repeat your traffic.”

And again, “The groceries have landed.”

Remember, an entire entry team, all dressed in black and armed to the max, were hanging out, attempting to hide, in a yard in a prestigious neighborhood. Our vehicles were parked a couple of streets over. And here we were, trying to figure out what message our chief was trying to convey, on a radio frequency monitored by everyone in the country who owned a police scanner.

Finally, the colonel says, in a loud bass tone of voice, “Capt. Ding Dong and I are parked across the street from Carey D. Weight’s house, watching it for you until you finish serving the search warrant at Betty Bigbutt’s place.”

So much for the element of surprise. And, it would only be a few minutes before every media truck in town would be parked in front of Weight’s house, hoping for an action-packed “film at 11:00.”

Well, since the entire city, county, and state had just learned of our location and plans, I told the team to back off and keep the house under surveillance until I got back. Then I made a beeline for the chief. My hands had already formed a tight circle, one I’m sure would have fit nicely around my bosses neck.

When I turned onto the street where Weight lived, the first thing I saw was the chief’s white car backed into a large group of head-high hedges, standing out like a sore thumb. It was as out of place as the underwater police car in the top photo. The nose of the unmarked car was a mere six or seven feet from the sidewalk, almost close enough that passersby could slap its hood with the palm of a hand. And the blue lights in the grill and on the rear-view mirror glowed hotly, reflecting the light from the streetlamp they’d parked under. Yep, Barney and Gomer were incognito, big time.

Needless to say, the bust didn’t take place that night. And I learned that “the groceries have landed” meant that our suspect had arrived home. I also learned to never, ever, tell the chief of my plans. He could learn about them like everyone else…by watching the films at 11:00.

 

 

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2011 Golden Donut Winner And Runners Up

I’m so glad that I wasn’t a judge for the 2011 Golden Donut Short Story contest, because each of the entries were absolutely wonderful. But, after a first round of screening, the top ten stories were submitted to our judge, editor Kristen Weber, who had the difficult task of picking a winner. (All stories were submitted to the judges as blind entries—no names were attached to the stories, only randomly selected numbers).

In case you don’t remember the contest rules, the stories had to feature the picture above and be exactly 200 words, including the title. With that in mind, here are the top three stories beginning with the winning story written by Rick McMahan. The Golden Donut Award was presented to Rick at the WPA during the Saturday night banquet.

FIRST PLACE

TINY DANCER

by

Rick McMahan

“When I was little, I used to dance and pretend I was a ballerina,” the chained woman said.

He knew she was trying to get sympathy. He held a flashlight in one hand, a gun in the other. “You said you would cooperate,” he said.

They stood in front of an old rambling house, overgrown with weeds. It was a place Norman Bates would find appealing.

“I will,” she whispered, struggling to raise her shackled hands to push her blonde hair behind her ear.

On the roof, a row of crows and took to flight.

She didn’t try to run. “On stage, I hold my eyes closed against the neon and pretend I’m a ballerina.” Her voice and steps faltered as he opened the door.

The flashlight’s beam pierced the dark interior. The smell of spoiled blood filled the air.

A sturdy pole stood in the center of the room. The flashlight illuminated the overlapping bloody footprints circling the pole.

“How did you pick them?” the cop asked.

She stared at her collection arrayed along the wall.

“Their age, dark hair and the whiskey on their breath, just like Daddy did when he came for his tiny dancer.”

SECOND PLACE

OMG

by

Elizabeth Bryant

“OMG!!!!” squealed Courtney. “This place is SO awesome!”

“Cool, huh?”

Jason turned the lock on the door behind him.

“How’d you find this place? It’s like a haunted house out of a

movie or something.”

“Came across it one day. Nobody lives here, so I figured ‘what the

hell.’”

Jason placed his hands on either side of Courtney’s waist and

looked into her eyes.

“Man, I’ve got to call my BFF Heather and tell her about this

place. It’s sick.”

Courtney wiggled away and started digging in her humongous purple hobo bag.

“Call her later.” Jason smiled, coming toward her. Courtney’s back

was against the wall.

“So are you legal Courtney?”

“What kinda legal?”

Jason placed his palms against the wall on either side of Courtney’s

head. Her hand still in the hobo.

“How old?”

“I’m 16. You?”

“I’m a little older,” he whispered, “but I like making love to

pretty young girls. What do you like?”

Courtney giggled. “You’re going to think I’m such a freak!”

“No I won’t. Tell me.”

Courtney whipped a pink handled Bowie knife from her hobo bag and

giggled again as she plunged the blade into his chest.

“I like watching things bleed.”

THIRD PLACE

THE GARDENER

by

Nancy Sweetland

The house was a beauty, all right. It looked regally traditional, nestled so prettily in waves of blooming flowers. Everyone raved about those flowers, and about my dear auntie Heliotrope (just a little dotty, we all thought, but harmless). Who would have guessed her penchant for taking in derelicts wasn’t for the greater good? “I just give them a chance to contribute,” she often said. “Isn’t that nice?”

The day I went to check on her she answered the door with her grey hair all screwed up on top of her head, stuck through with a lethal-looking pair of knitting needles that I swear could skewer a small dog. Her apron was spattered with something unpleasant I couldn’t identify.

“Why, Sissie,” she said. “Thanks for coming but I can’t have tea now. I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Just turning my compost. Come see.” She led the way to the cellar door and threw it open. The stench that billowed up was unbelievable. She flicked on the light. All I could see was a floor covered with bones and rotting bodies.

Heliotrope’s smile was proud. “See? At last they’re contributing. You think my flowers get that beautiful without good fertilizer?”

*Thanks to everyone who participated in the short story contest. Your support is greatly appreciated!

*Photograph by Sunday Kaminski

 

 

 

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Castle: Heroes And Villains – A Review

Heroes and Villains is the title of this week’s episode. I think, however, that someone must have grabbed the wrong reel from the film archives. I say this because I’m almost certain that what we witnessed last night was not an episode of Castle. Please, somebody tell me I’m right because I’m pretty sure what I saw was a repeat of Dumb And Dumber. Anyway, I’ll hold my tongue while Melanie discusses the mushy stuff.

Melanie, are you out there? Or, are you still exhausted from attending last weekend’s Writers’ Police Academy?

Melanie Atkins

This episode was much lighter than last week’s tense season premier. Much lighter, and kind of weird. I caught several procedural uh-ohs I expect Lee to jump on, so I won’t mention them here. And yes, the case was kind of convoluted — but the episode as a whole was rich with relationship subtext even if the plot was thin.

Huh? I can just hear Lee now. Rick was all broken up about Alexis’ plans to graduate high school early and join Ashley (her boyfriend) at Stanford in California in January, and he talks to Kate about it. Her words to him mirror their relationship — or at least what it’s been in the past: “You two are not on the same page” and “If you hold her too tight, you’ll drive her away.”

Then, as they pursue the masked crusader suspected of cutting a man in half in that alley (is that even possible?), Kate mentions that she likes Electra… and Rick picks up on the fact that the character is a woman who buries her emotions — just like Kate. And later, he mentions that their suspect and the comic book character share a symbiotic relationship. Yin and yang… one can’t live without the other. More relationship symbolism, anyone?

Suspects fall like flies, one after the other, until they zero in on Officer Hastings, a uniformed cop who was at the crime scene. Her situation mirrors Kate’s — she’d lost her father to murder — and she craves vengeance. Her words to Kate, “Nothing I do will ever be enough”, seemed to strike her, too. Did she see herself in the other woman?

I hope so… and I pray she takes to heart her words to Hastings after the real killer was finally caught and the officer is released from custody. Hastings looks at her boyfriend, and Kate says, “You’re a good cop. You’ve got somebody who cares for you. Don’t be so driven by the past that you throw away your future.”

Rick gets it. He looks at Kate as they prepare to leave and says, “A writer and his muse. Just like us.” Uh huh. Then they witness a kiss between the comic book writer and his muse as the elevator doors close, and I know Caskett fans everywhere were hoping for a kiss. I was, too, but didn’t figure we’d get it this early in the season. And I was right. Marlowe was just taunting us, making us want more.

I didn’t care too much for this episode, except for the conflict between Rick and Alexis and the tiny Rick-Kate moment at the very end. Too much silly case and not enough give and take between our two leads. A filler episode, if you will. I’ve come to love the drama… and the whacky episodes that work. To me, this one did not. Hope next week will be much better.

Okay, my turn… Better, Melanie? Really? The next episode HAS to be better because down isn’t an option when you’re sitting at the bottom of the septic tank. And that’s exactly where this WTF episode belongs. Where do I start? Let’s see.. How about cutting a man in half with a freakin’ sword…

Even The Three Stooges wouldn’t insult their audiences with this garbage. Sure, I think the writers were going for a bit of humor, something they manage to pull off once in a while, but it definitely fell flat this time around. It would take someone with superhuman strength to pull off something like cutting a man in half with a single blow from a sword. The problem with this scenario is that the bad guy of the week was a weasel, not someone with comic book strength. Not even close.

Lanie’s blood spatter (bloodstain pattern, by the way) comment could be right. If the guy had been hacked in two, first, then the wrist and hand would not exhibit any spray from the arteries. Cast off, probably. So not too bad. Not so sure about the sword tip in the body, though.

How about the “ice-princess-assault-victim? I mean, just how cool is she, to be able to stand there and calmly drink a cup of morning Joe while discussing her near rape/death experience while watching some guy in tights hack up her attacker like he’s slicing a pork chop off the hog? And why did they make her stay there for hours with the victim’s blood all over her? And, by the way, what’s wrong with Beckett?

Someone needs to feed that poor child. She’s practically skin and bones this season. My guess is that she was allowed to see all the scripts for the upcoming episodes and now she’s so worried about the show getting cancelled that she can’t eat. Somebody please toss the lady a doughnut.

I absolutely can’t stand the new captain and the way Beckett is so passive around her. That’s not the Beckett of the first few seasons. And that’s the Beckett the audience likes.

Beckett was sporting some pretty tall heels last night, so I’d like to ask all the women who attended last weekend’s Writers’ Police Academy…what did the female detectives say about wearing heels while at work? All together now…”NO!”

Beckett tells one of this week’s suspects, “I will keep you safe and get you placed in segregated housing.” Just an FYI, folks. Cops have no say over where an inmate is housed once they’re assigned to a prison. Even judges don’t have that authority. It’s strictly up to the prison officials as to where they place their inmates.

Capt. Iron Pants asked Beckett, “Any reason you’re not pressing any charges?” A cop would probably use the terminology “issuing warrants,” not pressing charges.

Okay, I’m tired of being negative. Unfortunately, that’s how I feel about this episode. In my book, it was horrible. And, I think I see something coming toward us from the horizon… Yes… It’s getting closer… It’s…

 

 

 

 

 

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