I get dispatched to a guy masturbating in front of a small neighborhood grocery. I get there, and sure enough there he is lying on his back on the grass just outside the store, playing punch-the-clown.
By the time I park and walk over to him, he's gotten to his feet and is now standing perfectly still with one hand covering his eyes. I ask him what the hell's going on, and he says he's talking to the wind. Well, of course you are. What is the wind saying? It's saying I murdered my two daughters. Oh, perfect.
The ambulance arrives to take Windtalker to the ER for his psych eval, and I go to his residence to check on the kids. Big surprise - it's one of our crappiest neighborhoods. The yard looks like a landfill. A woman comes to the door, sucking on a cigarette and sporting tattoos worth about 6 months of my pay. She tells me Windtalker is her ex-husband and father of her two kids. She has a restraining order out against him. She just got out of jail herself, and the kids are in custody with protective services.
Experience tells me that no one in this happy little family has hit rock-bottom yet, and I can only imagine where that will be.
4 comments:
I would imagine that, after your career in law enforcement, nothing really surprises you anymore?
Those poor kids. I hope CPS makes that removal permanent because yeah ... bottom is still a long way off for these two charmers.
Was he covered in baby oil?
Those poor kids. I hope it is not too late for them.
Post a Comment