So You Want to Be a Cop by Alley Evola

Author:Alley Evola
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: undefined
Publisher: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers
Published: 2012-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

Some guys just like to fight. Before I became a police officer and during my tenure as a cop, I knew a lot of them. But I never knew a kid who loved to fight more than Brandon. This young man loved to fight so much that he carried a football player’s mouth guard around in the front pocket of his blue jeans, just so he wouldn’t have any teeth knocked out if a rival was lucky enough to land a punch to his jaw. Brandon literally went around town looking for someone to fight, and if that wasn’t enough, his free time was spent crafting crude impact (blunt force trauma) weapons to use on his opponents if his fists just weren’t enough.

Brandon was the son of a registered nurse who had a drinking problem she indulged at night and on the weekends. She was a functioning alcoholic, and Brandon had a brother who was just above functional literacy. So life wasn’t the best for Brandon. To make matters worse, Brandon had inherited his mother’s drinking problem, but in his youthful exuberance, he didn’t manage it as well as she did. Finally, Brandon liked to use cocaine, a stimulant that tends to give someone a lot of energy and a false sense of invincibility. So you have a pretty good idea of who we were dealing with.

Over the years, Brandon was in and out of trouble as a juvenile, and once he became an adult, he continued to have run-ins with law enforcement, but usually just alcohol-fueled misdemeanors that would land him in county lockup for a few days, nothing serious. We warned Brandon each time that one of these days, if he wasn’t careful, he was going to cross the line and end up going to prison, but he never was much on listening to the advice of others, or he just wasn’t capable of remembering the advice past his time in the county jail. Because as soon as he got out, he started killing off his brain cells again with alcohol.

Well, sure enough, one weekend when I was the on-call detective, the phone rang at home. I was called in to investigate an aggravated robbery where a shotgun was put to the back of a kid’s head behind the ice cream shop after he completed his shift, all for about three dollars in tip money that the teenager kept in the ashtray of his car. The teen got a good look at the suspect, his clothing, and some distinctive tattoos he was sporting, which was not only a good observation on the part of the brave teen, but would be an important piece of evidence. The victim also mentioned that the suspect had gotten into a white sport utility vehicle and fled the scene with two other guys.

On my way into the city, I was monitoring my police radio when a second call came out, where a suspect matching the description of the first one placed a woman at gunpoint and demanded her pocketbook.

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