The other day I had a bit of a freak out at work. With my new assignment my car choice for work changes on a daily basis. Some days I drive a normal patrol car. Most days I drive a plain wrap unmarked Crown Victoria with hidden lights so I can still pull traffic. Sometimes I drive an undercover (UC) car depending on what I am doing. (I know most people refer to the unmarked crown vics as UC cars but the reality a true UC car you would not be able to pick out, it’s not going to be a crown vic). Anyway, On Monday I picked a plain wrap pickup truck. I loaded up my normal kit of stuff in the back of the cab. Patrol bag with forms, extra gloves, extra pens, extra batteries and such. My Kevlar helmet and gas mask and binoculars. My “Go” bag a man purse with 4 extra 30 round AR-15 Mags, 4 extra handgun mags, a shooting trauma kit, extra radio battery, small binoculars, some energy bars and a bottle of water. My rifle A (10.5” Barreled Noveske AR-15 with aimpoint Micro sight and weapon light system). My 870 shotgun with Surefire flashlight forend I use for a Less Lethal (Bean bag) gun. I also had my ballistic (Bust) vest with, taser, OC spray, flashlight and 30 round AR mag mounted on the front.
I went out and checked a few target locations for my targets for the day and came back to the station and parked it in front (not behind the security gate). I went in and did some more research on my computer for about 20 minutes . I came back out and the truck was gone. I had to think about if I parked it out front or in back. I checked the back lot quickly, not luck. Damn! I went back out front to check down the block a bit to see of someone had moved it passed the library. I had just been telling someone at work how pissed I was when someone moved my patrol car at the hospital one day. My buddy heard me ask permission of the dispatcher to eat lunch at the hospital. He got the spare key from the station and moved my car. So I assumed that since I told people at work about this I was again the butt of someone’s joke. So I scoured the lot. I even checked inside the fire station that is adjoined to our police substation for my truck. Nothing. I was starting to get a little stressed at this point. I called dispatch to see if anyone else was logged onto the car. She told me no. I called some of the other specialty units to see if they had it. Nope. Now I am really starting to stress out. I mean really stressed out. I am getting to the point where I need to call a supervisor and tell him a city vehicle with guns and a vest was just stolen. I check one last place. Some of the detectives from my station were at a murder scene executing a search warrant. I called them on their cell phones. No answer. I tried to raise them on the radio. No answer.
At this point I am taking deep breaths to try to calm down. It’s not so much the money thing, because I had my rifle insured for its appraised value of $2975.00, but it’s a NFA registered item. Those that know guns know what Class III weapons are. It means I have to apply with the ATF to have the right to possess a rifle with a barrel with less than 16 inches and pay a $200 tax. With it being gone I have to report it to the ATF and if I am found to have not acted properly I can get up to 10 years and prison and a $100,000 fine. This is on top of the internal affairs investigation and everything else.
So call the patrol sergeant and brief him. His speech gets rapid as he is feeling the same pucker inducing stress I was feeling. I doubt as much as I was, but he too didn’t want this to take a bad turn. I told him my last place to check was the murder scene to see if the dick’s (nick name for detectives, I know I am a detective too so yes that makes me a dick too) have the truck. He told me to call dispatch and send someone over there. I told him there were no 10-8 (available or ready to go) units. He said “grab a patrol car and get your ass over there now, and call me as soon as you know one way or another”. As he was hanging up I heard him voice a few colorful adjectives, expressing his displeasure with the fact that he may have to call up the chain of command and report that a city vehicle had been stolen and it was filled with expensive stuff that we don’t want in the hands of criminals.
I hopped into my old steed 1531D my very first black and white patrol car, (I called her Deloris back when she was mine) and sped (I mean obeyed all traffic laws) off to the murder scene. When I arrived I saw the pickup. I relaxed and released the small bundle of vinyl that had been puckered up, well you know where. I got out and smelled the decomposition of a decaying body. I don’t understand why when bodies look like beef jerky they don’t smell like it. Anyway, the dicks needed to take something large from the murder scene as evidence so they needed the truck and used a back up set of keys. And not being very good observers didn’t seem to notice my vest sitting on the passenger side and all of my equipment in the back seat. I think the Detective Sgt, saw the panic on my face and it clicked when he saw all of the stuff in the back seat. He apologized and all was well. I called the patrol sergeant and told him he was off the hook. I loaded up my stuff into Deloris and drove off. Now they played it like they didn’t know it was my stuff and it was all a big mistake. Now is it a coincidence that it happened the same day I told people about being the butt of a joke by moving my car the same thing happens? I think not. I believe payback in order. Since revenge is a dish best served cold, one day down the road when the dicks hop into their car and find a stray dog in the back seat and it scares the poop out of them. I will get the last laugh.