More Dust Motes

Chicken and Joy (?)   I’m not even gonna ask.

Woman Bitten To Death.                                                                                                          Story says a woman in India was attacked by monkey’s and bitten to death, just days after the same group of monkey’s snatched and killed a 12 day old infant. Planet of the apes..  Now?

A sad week.                                                                                                                                        We lost Roy Clark, Stan Lee, and William Goldman (Hee Haw, Marvel comic’s, and The Princess Bride) all in one week.

Anthony Hopkins Manson Spared By California Wildfire.                                                       I wouldn’t mess with Hannibal Lecter either.

Have you ever noticed that movie and tv assassins and such never practice, never train, and never miss? How do they do that?

Girls Thong Used As Evidence of Consent.                                                                                   I don’t even know what to say to this. It was in Ireland and he was acquitted. I’m ashamed of any man that would say this.

Happy Sam’s

Captain Revenge always figured he’d give me enough rope to really hang myself. It never worked, but he kept trying.  I guess he figured the other times were just flukes.

He calls me into his office and explains how much faith and confidence he has in me, because now he’s got a really “special” assignment, just for me.

We had just started the 9 week mid cycle, 10:30 pm to 7:15 am. For the rest of the cycle I would do nothing but cruise late night areas, except Hotel Street and Waikiki areas. I was to stay out of those areas.

I was to check bars, restaurants, parking lots, and other late night open establishments. If I was in the “immediate” area of an “in progress” call I could respond, but otherwise I was to observe, make “on view” arrests, and he wanted a full “To-From” report at the end of every shift detailing where I was at all times, who I spoke to, and what information I had gathered.

He would be the sole judge of my performance. Again, enough rope to hang myself.

So night after night that’s what I did.  I patrolled the strip club parking lots. I talked to bar owners and late night restaurant managers. I did not go into Waikiki or Hotel Street areas. I did not go to the big restaurants and bars. And every morning I put a typed report on the Captain’s desk.

The 1st one was something like 16 pages. They got bigger almost every night. In a month, 20 pages were the usual.

I also got wanted vehicle and warrant lists from records and dispatch. That was my idea.

Now my nightly reports also included stolen vehicle operator arrests, outstanding warrant arrests, and a load of usable information for the detectives. Let’s face it; sleazy bars need love and protection too.

One of those little sleazy bars was “Happy Sam’s” on Kapahulu. Sam’s had been through a number of evolution’s over the years but at this time was just a small hostess bar on the outskirts of Waikiki, outskirts being the optimum word.

The owner, a middle aged Korean lady who called herself, well Sam, was nice enough. She didn’t encourage her girls to rip off customers or try to sell way over priced “champagne”.

The clientele was mostly neighborhood men, sometimes couples, and the hostess’ were mostly girls trying to pick up a little extra money with a couple of Sam’s relatives called in on Friday and Saturday or whenever the club got really busy during sports nights.

A nice clean neighborhood hostess bar, sometimes strangers would wonder in, stay or not. Sam’s had a pretty regular group. Good drinkers that could walk home or would use a cab. No problems. Sam, and her bartenders and hostess’ always seemed glad to see me and always treated me with courtesy and respect.

No trouble at Sam’s.

Which made it even more surprising when dispatch called me to report the manager of Happy Sam’s had called requesting my assistance with a customer.

I wasn’t too far away, told dispatch I’d respond, and another area officer, Bobby L. says he’ll back me up.

Bobby and I got there about the same time. As I got out of my vehicle, a customer walks out the front door, and starts across the street.

I look into the club and Sam is pointing at the customer walking away. Pointing furiously and speaking Korean, of course.

I told Bobby to talk to the guy walking away. Get some ID or something to hold him till I talk to Sam.

Bobby walked across the street toward the departing male. I walked to the front door and there met Sam and one of her girls.

The hostess was jabbering away. Of course, in Korean and Sam was trying to tell me in English. Finally I heard one word clearly “gun”. And the hostess is rubbing her hand around the back of her hip like someone was hugging her, and patting her right hip. But I heard “gun” loud and clear.

I looked across the street and the former customer had been stopped by Bobby. The customer had his back to me and Bobby was still talking so I started across the street as fast as I could without actually running.

As I approached, I heard Bobby demand some ID. It appeared it wasn’t the first time Bobby had asked for it. The customer reached his right hand behind his hip as if reaching for a wallet. But from my vantage point I could see the outline of a wallet, in his left rear pocket. As his right hand reached under his shirt I could see a small holster, hidden by his shirt, at the back of his hip.

As he pulled the gun, a small semi-auto pistol, I was right behind him.

I yelled “Gun” to Bobby, grabbed the guy’s right hand, and pulled it hard, against my chest, and bullet proof vest.

Bobby was a serious weight lifter and had big biceps. At my yell, Bobby didn’t even hesitate; he just threw a right hand punch. The sound of his fist impacting the guy’s head was almost louder than the “click” of the guns hammer falling. Almost.

As I had grabbed the gun, his grip had pulled back the trigger. The gun was later identified as a Colt Junior, a .25 caliber semi-automatic pistol with an external hammer, and it had a round in the chamber. Because the “junior” didn’t have a grip safety, it didn’t require a complete grip to fire. But it hadn’t fired. It just went click. The round didn’t fire.

Bobby’s punch had knocked the guy unconscious and as his body collapsed on the ground. I stood there holding his hand and the gun tightly to my chest.

When he saw what I was holding Bobby’s knees sagged just a little but he was right back and pulled out cuffs. We cuffed the guy, I put the gun in my pocket, and we had to almost drag him to Bobby’s vehicle.

Once we got him secured in the vehicle cage Bobby called for a sector supervisor, a detective, and ambulance for our “customer”. I cleared and locked up the gun and we started the investigation fun.

Sorting out what Sam and the hostess had to say was as I guessed, confusing. The hostess had sat down next to the customer, he bought her a drink, and when she slid her arm around his waist she felt the holstered gun.

She tried not to alert the guy, so she kept smiling and told Sam in Korean, what was up. The customer may have spoken some Korean or may have just spooked, but he walked out without finishing his beer. That’s when we got there.

The customer turned out to be a Marine stationed in Kaneohe. A search of his vehicle turned up a K-bar knife, a smoke grenade, and an explosive grenade simulator which is basically a very large fire cracker.

Basically the detectives took over from there. Bobby and I went back to type our  reports.

At the end of that watch, 7 weeks later, the next shift Commander also assigned units to check the bars, parking lots and restaurants. To do what I had done for those long weeks. Two men units were assigned after that. They were assigned to succeed, not hang themselves. And of course Captain Revenge received an attaboy letter for coming up with the idea.

Shortly after the Happy Sam’s incident, Bobby was picked to transfer to a plain clothes unit from which he eventually became an investigator for the City and County Prosecutors Office under Charles Marsland.

I don’t know what happened to the “customer”. I tried to follow up with the detectives and was told the case had been “passed upward” whatever the hell that meant.

At the end of that 9 weeks the Captain, put me back into the patrol pool and I spent the next 2 cycles patrolling the area around Hawaii Kai, Sandy Beach, and Hanauma Bay. Basically, the ass end of district 1. But at least I was away from the Captain.

I’ve heard that “click” in my nightmares in the years since, sometimes it goes off. Well, it is just a nightmare.

At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

Armistice Day

 

Yes, I know it was yesterday. On the Eleventh Day, Of the Eleventh Month, at the Eleventh hour; the bells tolled, and the guns stopped. And it is remembered ;

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

I was of a different generation, and alas, a different war. To all my Brothers in Arms,

WELCOME HOME. 

To those who did not return,

REST IN PEACE. 

Nothing To Say ?

Well, mid-term elections are over. Hawaii’s voters were typically unmotivated and the turn out not any better than any other election. The big question should be ;WHY??

This is my opinion, only my opinion. I have no facts, no polls, and no proof. Just an opinion.

Those that were running for office had nothing to say.

I did not know what made Tupola different than Ige. I didn’t know what or where she stood. She just didn’t seem to have much to say. There were a lot of “town hall” type meetings, sign waving, litter pick-ups but no public statements that I heard. Her running mate had several “Pay to play”, and “I remember my password” ads, but she came off half crazed and not really sounding very Lieutenant Governorish.

The Dem’s didn’t bother to say anything because they were the incumbents and that usually means the same as elected.

Ige finally agreed to a debate, very late in the race, which I watched and felt Tupola won easily. And then she got quiet again. She didn’t seem to have anything to say. She absolutely failed to capitalize on the debate.

So there you have it. There appeared to be no difference between the candidates, no arguments, no “I will do ..” statements from the either side.

Republicans, you gotta speak up. Like my dear old Granny used to say, “If you don’t blow your own horn, nobody will ask you to join the band.”

 

Just got a call from the Star Advertiser, they’re printing a shorter version n of this. Whoooohaaaa…

More Dust Motes

Destroyed .

On the wharf of Savona, Italy, large waves swept over the parked vehicles and caused the batteries to short out and set fire to many of the vehicles. Somewhere between one and two hundred vehicles were destroyed. At over $100 k per vehicle, the hundreds of Maserati’s will certainly cause some insurance adjuster to consider another profession.

Dedicated!

Recent story about an actor so desperate he cut off his own arm, and pretended to be a disabled vet, all to get better acting parts. Even Alec Baldwin wouldn’t go that far.

Relevant?

Hollywood needs a “purge”. Madonna speaks about “burning down the White House”, Babs Streisand is so depressed over Trump she is pigging out on chocolate ice cream, and Jxxx Fxxxa (I refuse to use her name) compares the duly elected President to the “Third Reich”.

Semantics.

If a bunch of people from one country, walk into another country and start making demands, history used to refer to it as an invasion. Now it’s a “migrant caravan”.

Age

But hey, I’m still younger than Mickey Mouse who just turned 90 years old.

Correct Spelling Is Important

I never forget one of  my first introductions to the reality of being a cop. There was a murder. A 17 year old girl was stabbed 37 times in a most brutal killing.

A cab driver that was in “debt” to me contacted me and related that he had been in that area at the time of the killing and had seen a possible suspect running away. Not wanting to expose him at the station I took a statement from him at my home and then took it to the station to give to the Homicide detectives.

I had been a beat cop out of the academy for about 4 months at this time. It was a Saturday so they called the handling detective to come in to meet me. He was a long time veteran with an “old timers” attitude, especially concerning “rookies”.

I handed him my report. He took one look at it, threw it in the trash and told me “this is a Hom-I-cide. Not a Hom-o-code. Get your shit together before you bother me again.” And he walked away.

I took the papers out of the garbage can and “observed” that I had misspelled the crime. I was so angry I never resubmitted the report. And he never asked for my information and never told the Captain that I had come forth.

To my knowledge the “hom-i-cide” has never been solved. Maybe it’s my fault it was never solved. That has bothered me for a long time. She visits my dreams on a bad night.

In those early years there were very definite lines of authority and work. Patrolman didn’t do the detectives work, the plainclothes guys didn’t drink with uniformed patrolman, and nobody had anything to do with the lowly footman.

But they were always ready to take the information, make the arrest, and take all the credit for it. It wasn’t like some places were a cop’s advancement can be measured in good arrests, but you could count on being put in your place if you stepped up too far.

 

Porky Problem

Not me, well yes I’ve gained some weight, but my porky problem is my neighbors “pet” pig “Buddy”. That black lump at the top of the driveway is not a big rock, it’s a big pig. Critter must run between 450-500 pounds.  See that big bent section of fence? That’s where piggy scratched his back with my fence.

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I also have pig scat all over the front of my yard and driveway.  With Julie on           immuno-suppressants, that raises health hazards we just don’t need.

My neighbor doesn’t seem to do much to keep Buddy fenced in, he pretty much wanders as he wants, despite my even offering to help build a pen for him. Buddy also walks to my other neighbor’s house, he likes to eat the dog food and walk under her house. Problem is, when he walks under the house, he breaks the water pipes. He has caused a lot of damage, and bad feelings, in the neighborhood.

Remember a while back it took Hilo P.D. 3 ½ hours to respond to a “suspicious vehicle” call?  Well, while rebuilding the drive-way,Buddy was getting in the way. I went to her house and asked her to come and get “her pig”. You know how these kind of conversations usually end up. She called 9 1 1 and it took ten minutes for the P.D. to arrive, 3 of them, to “speak to me” about threatening her pig. (I must be a very bad man.)

Well, piggy has been back, Julie watched him as he tore up the neighbors’ garbage bag and left garbage up and down the driveway. She even took a picture of Buddy with his nose in the bag just before he ripped it open. Humane Society and Hilo P.D. were called. Humane Society did nothing.  Once again H.P.D. took its sweet time, 3 hours, to get there.

I’ve filed complaints with the Planning Commission, filed police reports and filed complaints with the Human Society. Short of digging a very big hole in an empty lot, I am at my wits end.