The LawDog Files

LawDog · February 27, 2001, 04:47 PM

In the mid-90's or so, we got a call from a task force located way, waaaay down US287 to inform us that they had received a search warrant for a certain car. Unfortunately, they had (ahem) lost track of the car, however they had information that the car was due to drive through our county sometime that evening, and they suggested that we really, really wanted to search that car.

The Sheriff contemplated over a cup of coffee and decided that I was going to be bored that night, so I wound up running traffic on the major highway through our county.

A little after midnight, I see said described car blow through a red light in town, so I swing in behind it, verify the plate, and turn on the lights. Ten or so miles later, he pulls over and I wander up to talk to him. The Sheriff and a back-up officer arrive just after the driver signs the ticket, I ask him for permission to search the vehicle, the driver vociferously declines, the Sheriff agrees that that is his right, but mentions that a K9 unit is on the way. Things get a bit rambunctious; the driver winds up in the backseat of my cruiser in handcuffs.

The girlfriend of the driver and her cousin, both being students of the Federalist Papers, demand to know the reason for the search. We inform them that we have good reason to believe that 210 grams of crack cocaine wrapped in Cling Wrap and green ninety-mile-an-hour tape, and further sealed in a pink Ziploc bag (quart size), is located somewhere in or about the vehicle.

The girl promptly takes off running like she's training for the Summer Felony Games, with the Sheriff in hot pursuit, while her cousin (rather professionally) prones himself out on the asphalt before the other deputy and I could blink.

This was one of the cases where even if you weren't able to define Probable Cause, you knew it when you saw it.

Anyhoo, we're waiting for the drug dog to show up, and I decide to search the two male subjects (pay attention, 'cause this is important), and I don't find anything on them other than the usual pocket litter.

Being the only bit of excitement in the area, several officers from other jurisdictions show up about the same time that the K9 and his handler get there, out comes the coffee, and we have a gossip session as the K9 and his buddy go around and through the car. Wouldn't you know it, but the K9 gives a good alert on the drivers seat of the car.

We search the car -- don't find anything. We search the car again -- nothing. We tear the car apart -- nada.

Finally, the Sheriff puts the girl and her cousin in the car, uncuffs the driver and walks him up to the car while delivering a stern lecture, and something just isn't right about the driver. I'm not talking about a little warning bell going off in my mind, I'm talking a full Japanese drum, gong and bell chorus. I just have to pat him down again -- and this time I hit something.

I spin the driver around, grab the suspicious object, and I yelp: "What the hell is this?"

Critter says: "Man, that's my [graphic description]."

My brain kicked into high gear, as everything else slowed down. I remember thinking something along the lines of: That's a hammer and breech end of an semi-auto pistol/I missed a gun/I wonder who'll tell Mandy/feels like an cutaway slide/I missed a GUN/that trigger happy idiot is behind me with the M2/got to be a Berreta/he's going for it/I'm going to get shot from both sides/why didn't I propose to Mandy/I. Missed. A. #%$@ing. GUN./fall backwards, get out of the line of fire, idiot - do something!

All this and more is going through my head, my normally closely guarded mouth is on auto-pilot, and I respond:

"That's the hardest [graphic description] I ever felt."

Just before the critter becomes ground zero for a pig pile.

Sigh.

Mind you, I don't remember actually saying that, however, several of my brother officers felt it was germaine enough to the case that they included it in their narratives of the incident.

Double sigh. And it turned out not to be a gun, nor his [graphic description] -- it was the rock of cocaine, hidden in his jockey shorts.

During the trial, the judge had to call an hour recess so that the jury could quit laughing.

LawDog

**Mike Irwin** · February 27, 2001, 04:52 PM

Summer Felony Games...

Wonder if NBC is going to cover the "Gangsta Cap Bustin'" event...

buzz_knox · February 27, 2001, 04:55 PM

LawDog! LawDog! LawDog! (etc and so forth. Chorus may join in whenever you feel like it.)

ROTFLMAO!

Ed Brunner · February 27, 2001, 06:45 PM

LawDog; You are bound to have a book in you and you ought to do it.

falconer · February 27, 2001, 06:47 PM

Darn you Lawdog. That is the second time you ruined one of my keyboards!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Daniel Watters · February 27, 2001, 06:58 PM

Mike Irwin wrote:

Quote:

Summer Felony Games...

Wonder if NBC is going to cover the "Gangsta Cap Bustin'" event...

After the 1992 LA riots, someone was selling t-shirts at gun shows advertising the LA Triathlon: Loot, Shoot, & Scoot. It was complete with little Olympic style stick-figure logos of each event.

The Rock · February 27, 2001, 07:25 PM

LMAO!

What I love the most about these is the:

Quote:

sigh

I swear that I can just hear that. It is one of those sighs that conveys quite a few emotions. I have sighs like that sometimes.

TR

Bruegger · February 27, 2001, 07:31 PM

Holy smokes (pardon the pun)! That must have been one heck of a rock for you to mistake it for a gun.

Son Tao · February 27, 2001, 08:02 PM

Quote:

"That's the hardest [graphic description] I ever felt."

LOL

HankL · February 27, 2001, 08:03 PM

To quote Ed

Quote:

LawDog; You are bound to have a book in you and you ought to do it.

No kidding!

**Bud Helms** · February 27, 2001, 08:47 PM

Oh, Lawdog ... you gotta do a book.

RWK · February 27, 2001, 09:40 PM

We've all said it many times . . . .

LawMom · February 28, 2001, 04:09 AM

Thanksgiving Day, 1994. Bubba (name changed to protect the...you get the idea) Green heads out to the Oasis Bar north of town. He's feeling a little rambunctious, and proceeds to down large quantities of his favorite libation. So goes the evening until Bubba winds up dancing on top of one of the pool tables.

Now Bubba is (I'm not kidding) six feet, nine inches tall. And he's not what one would call svelte. Matter-of-fact, the town doctor swears that when Mrs. Green delivered Bubba, they heard the scream in Abilene. Big old boy.

The owner of the Oasis, having gone through similar situations in the past, feeds four quarters into the jukebox and punches up "The Yellow Rose of Texas."

Bubba, as was his wont, climbs down off the pool table, removes his hat and stands to attention while the song played. Normally, at this point, Bubba would be eased out the door into a pickup bed or trailer, driven home and poured onto his front porch. Normally.

Bubba, who is weaving a bit towards the end of the song, glances around and sees a young cowpoke who has neglected to remove his chapeau during Bubba's song. Bubba heroically restrains himself until "The Yellow Rose of Texas" winds down, then reaches over and throws the cowboy *through* the wall of the bar.

An older cowboy peers through the gaping hole in the wall and sighs, "Goldurnit, Bubba. That was muh top hand." The bartender says a Nasty Word, dives for the phone and hits the speedial for 911 as the other cowboys from that ranch, obeying West Texas feudal law, pile onto Bubba.

Pandemonium ensues.

Into the fray steps one LawDog. He sizes up the free-for-all and, in a move that generated gossip for nigh-on six months, he jerks a mop bucket from behind the bar and empties it onto the mighty struggle in the center of the room. Sudden shocked silence. Without a word, the lawman grabs Bubba by one ear and drags him out of the bar. Once outside, the minion of the law proceeds to chastize Bubba in fine, rolling language, threatening Bubba with God, Jesus, Mary and all the saints.

According to a witness, the scene looked for all the world, "Like a fire-and-brimstone prarie dog preachin' the Gospel to a Brahma bull."

The the lawman got nasty: He invoked Bubba's Mama. Spoke of the shame that Bubba was bringing down on that goodly lady. At length. Using them three dollar words. Had Bubba in tears by the time he was done.

Which was probably not the best idea the 'Dog ever had, because Bubba, being totally undone by the thought of the horror he was bringing unto his Mama, felt he had to proceed directly to the old homestead and beg forgiveness from his Mama. To which LawDog responds that Bubba is "going to jail, and that's that."

Over the car sails LawDog. Never even touched paint. Hell of a throw on Bubba's part. Set a new World Record in Cop Tossing.

'Dog stands up, brushes the dust off his jeans, stalks back around the front of the cruiser, reaches waaaaa-aaaaaaay up, pokes Bubba in the chest and snarls, "Don't make me hurt you, Bubba."

Bubba's second try at Cop Tossing beat the first by several feet, even clearing the lightbar on this go. Only this time, 'Dog bounces back over the hood of the car with a five battery flashlight and a can of mace. Bubba goes to jail, but it takes LawDog about 10 or 15 minutes to get the job done.

And during that 15 minutes, the local DPS trooper was having hysterics on the hood of his shamu car. Each time he calmed down enough to give 'Dog a hand, he'd whisper, "Don't make me hurt you, Bubba" and start whooping with laughter again.

LawDog swears that he didn't say those words, by the way.

citizen · February 28, 2001, 07:04 AM

You folks have TOO much fun.

I'm looking forward to "Law Dog Files-The Movie".

It's GOTTA happen!!

p.s. I want a ticket to the premiere.

buzz_knox · February 28, 2001, 08:41 AM

Thanks a lot. Now, how in the crap am I going to get any work done?!

mrsMTN · February 28, 2001, 09:00 AM

LawDog, I think everyone is quite serious about the book. If you choose to try it (and you absolutely should), let me know and I will ghost write for you, or edit or whatever you like. I can do that. This material has GOT to get out there!!!

TheBluesMan · February 28, 2001, 10:02 AM

Let this be a lesson to you, LawDog. Now you're going to have to share royalties with LawMom on your upcoming book.

That one just *has* to be included! "Don't make me hurt you, Bubba." hehehehe... I'm still laughing. Thanks LawMom!

**Long Path** · February 28, 2001, 10:06 AM

Anita, is that you?

Y'know, I think it just might be...

Runs in the fambly, I guess.

--L.P.

DorGunR · February 28, 2001, 10:11 AM

LawMom,
Now I know where Lawdog got his talent for telling a great yarn. Mam......my hats off to you and Lawdog, those were a couple of great stories. Thanks!

Well......a couple more great yarns to add to my Lawdog File.

**Long Path** · February 28, 2001, 11:43 AM

I thought I recognized that writing style from a couple of emails I'd seen of hers!

LD informs us that his when he showed Mom his story, she had to "put her oar in."

Johnny Got His Gun.1 · February 28, 2001, 05:27 PM

I'm crying right now. It's difficult to type.

"Don't make me hurt you, Bubba."

**Tamara** · February 28, 2001, 06:15 PM

My roommate and I are doing "the wave" at our desks...

Monkeyleg · February 28, 2001, 06:24 PM

LawDog, LawMom: your family gatherings must be a heck of a good time!

You don't even have to write a book. Just take all the stories from here, put a title page on them and you're done. This stuff is just too good to waste on a bunch of gun nuts.

Dick

ckurts · February 28, 2001, 07:42 PM

Where else but Texas would you hear an LEO tell an old tyranosaurus-lookin' boy like that "Now don't make me hurt you Bubba". And then years later have his momma tell on him in front of thousands of his closest friends.

I see now why little old truck rollover couldn't stop LawDog.

I've got to get away from this computer, I can't even work anymore after reading this one.

SMHeaton · March 1, 2001, 01:44 PM

I guess it's true what they say... It's not the size of the LawDog in the fight. It's the size of the fight in the LawDog!

Regards,
SMHeaton

February 27, 2001, 04:47 PM	#1
LawDog Staff Emeritus Join Date: September 15, 1999 Location: Where am I going? Why am I in this handbasket? Posts: 4,200	In the mid-90's or so, we got a call from a task force located way, waaaay down US287 to inform us that they had received a search warrant for a certain car. Unfortunately, they had (ahem) lost track of the car, however they had information that the car was due to drive through our county sometime that evening, and they suggested that we really, really wanted to search that car. The Sheriff contemplated over a cup of coffee and decided that I was going to be bored that night, so I wound up running traffic on the major highway through our county. A little after midnight, I see said described car blow through a red light in town, so I swing in behind it, verify the plate, and turn on the lights. Ten or so miles later, he pulls over and I wander up to talk to him. The Sheriff and a back-up officer arrive just after the driver signs the ticket, I ask him for permission to search the vehicle, the driver vociferously declines, the Sheriff agrees that that is his right, but mentions that a K9 unit is on the way. Things get a bit rambunctious; the driver winds up in the backseat of my cruiser in handcuffs. The girlfriend of the driver and her cousin, both being students of the Federalist Papers, demand to know the reason for the search. We inform them that we have good reason to believe that 210 grams of crack cocaine wrapped in Cling Wrap and green ninety-mile-an-hour tape, and further sealed in a pink Ziploc bag (quart size), is located somewhere in or about the vehicle. The girl promptly takes off running like she's training for the Summer Felony Games, with the Sheriff in hot pursuit, while her cousin (rather professionally) prones himself out on the asphalt before the other deputy and I could blink. This was one of the cases where even if you weren't able to define Probable Cause, you knew it when you saw it. Anyhoo, we're waiting for the drug dog to show up, and I decide to search the two male subjects (pay attention, 'cause this is important), and I don't find anything on them other than the usual pocket litter. Being the only bit of excitement in the area, several officers from other jurisdictions show up about the same time that the K9 and his handler get there, out comes the coffee, and we have a gossip session as the K9 and his buddy go around and through the car. Wouldn't you know it, but the K9 gives a good alert on the drivers seat of the car. We search the car -- don't find anything. We search the car again -- nothing. We tear the car apart -- nada. Finally, the Sheriff puts the girl and her cousin in the car, uncuffs the driver and walks him up to the car while delivering a stern lecture, and something just isn't right about the driver. I'm not talking about a little warning bell going off in my mind, I'm talking a full Japanese drum, gong and bell chorus. I just have to pat him down again -- and this time I hit something. I spin the driver around, grab the suspicious object, and I yelp: "What the hell is this?" Critter says: "Man, that's my [graphic description]." My brain kicked into high gear, as everything else slowed down. I remember thinking something along the lines of: That's a hammer and breech end of an semi-auto pistol/I missed a gun/I wonder who'll tell Mandy/feels like an cutaway slide/I missed a GUN/that trigger happy idiot is behind me with the M2/got to be a Berreta/he's going for it/I'm going to get shot from both sides/why didn't I propose to Mandy/I. Missed. A. #%$@ing. GUN./fall backwards, get out of the line of fire, idiot - do something! All this and more is going through my head, my normally closely guarded mouth is on auto-pilot, and I respond: "That's the hardest [graphic description] I ever felt." Just before the critter becomes ground zero for a pig pile. Sigh. Mind you, I don't remember actually saying that, however, several of my brother officers felt it was germaine enough to the case that they included it in their narratives of the incident. Double sigh. And it turned out not to be a gun, nor his [graphic description] -- it was the rock of cocaine, hidden in his jockey shorts. During the trial, the judge had to call an hour recess so that the jury could quit laughing. LawDog __________________ "The Father wove the skein of your life a long time ago. Go and hide in a hole if you wish, but you won't live one instant longer." --The 13th Warrior Bona na Croin The LawDog Files

February 27, 2001, 04:52 PM	#2
Mike Irwin Staff Join Date: April 13, 2000 Location: Northern Virginia Posts: 23,964	Summer Felony Games... Wonder if NBC is going to cover the "Gangsta Cap Bustin'" event... __________________ Coworkers. A convenient source of food in a post apocalyptic world.

February 27, 2001, 06:45 PM	#4
Ed Brunner Senior Member Join Date: October 11, 1998 Location: Natchez, MS, USA Posts: 2,562	LawDog; You are bound to have a book in you and you ought to do it. __________________ MOLON LABE UNTIL IT'S OVER! Ed

February 27, 2001, 07:31 PM	#8
Bruegger Senior Member Join Date: September 14, 1999 Location: Indiana Posts: 637	Big rock Holy smokes (pardon the pun)! That must have been one heck of a rock for you to mistake it for a gun.

February 27, 2001, 09:40 PM	#12
RWK Senior Member Join Date: August 20, 1999 Location: Occupied Virginia Posts: 2,689	The Book, The Law Dog "Files" Book We've all said it many times . . . .

February 27, 2001, 04:55 PM	#3
buzz_knox Senior Member Join Date: December 2, 1999 Location: Knoxville, in the Free State of Tennesse Posts: 4,191	LawDog! LawDog! LawDog! (etc and so forth. Chorus may join in whenever you feel like it.) ROTFLMAO!

February 27, 2001, 06:47 PM	#5
falconer Senior Member Join Date: January 7, 2000 Location: somewhere Posts: 547	Darn you Lawdog. That is the second time you ruined one of my keyboards!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

February 27, 2001, 08:47 PM	#11
Bud Helms Staff Join Date: December 31, 1999 Location: Middle Georgia Posts: 11,228	Oh, Lawdog ... you gotta do a book.

February 28, 2001, 04:09 AM	#13
LawMom Junior Member Join Date: January 30, 2000 Posts: 3	Stories LawDog DOESN'T tell... Thanksgiving Day, 1994. Bubba (name changed to protect the...you get the idea) Green heads out to the Oasis Bar north of town. He's feeling a little rambunctious, and proceeds to down large quantities of his favorite libation. So goes the evening until Bubba winds up dancing on top of one of the pool tables. Now Bubba is (I'm not kidding) six feet, nine inches tall. And he's not what one would call svelte. Matter-of-fact, the town doctor swears that when Mrs. Green delivered Bubba, they heard the scream in Abilene. Big old boy. The owner of the Oasis, having gone through similar situations in the past, feeds four quarters into the jukebox and punches up "The Yellow Rose of Texas." Bubba, as was his wont, climbs down off the pool table, removes his hat and stands to attention while the song played. Normally, at this point, Bubba would be eased out the door into a pickup bed or trailer, driven home and poured onto his front porch. Normally. Bubba, who is weaving a bit towards the end of the song, glances around and sees a young cowpoke who has neglected to remove his chapeau during Bubba's song. Bubba heroically restrains himself until "The Yellow Rose of Texas" winds down, then reaches over and throws the cowboy through the wall of the bar. An older cowboy peers through the gaping hole in the wall and sighs, "Goldurnit, Bubba. That was muh top hand." The bartender says a Nasty Word, dives for the phone and hits the speedial for 911 as the other cowboys from that ranch, obeying West Texas feudal law, pile onto Bubba. Pandemonium ensues. Into the fray steps one LawDog. He sizes up the free-for-all and, in a move that generated gossip for nigh-on six months, he jerks a mop bucket from behind the bar and empties it onto the mighty struggle in the center of the room. Sudden shocked silence. Without a word, the lawman grabs Bubba by one ear and drags him out of the bar. Once outside, the minion of the law proceeds to chastize Bubba in fine, rolling language, threatening Bubba with God, Jesus, Mary and all the saints. According to a witness, the scene looked for all the world, "Like a fire-and-brimstone prarie dog preachin' the Gospel to a Brahma bull." The the lawman got nasty: He invoked Bubba's Mama. Spoke of the shame that Bubba was bringing down on that goodly lady. At length. Using them three dollar words. Had Bubba in tears by the time he was done. Which was probably not the best idea the 'Dog ever had, because Bubba, being totally undone by the thought of the horror he was bringing unto his Mama, felt he had to proceed directly to the old homestead and beg forgiveness from his Mama. To which LawDog responds that Bubba is "going to jail, and that's that." Over the car sails LawDog. Never even touched paint. Hell of a throw on Bubba's part. Set a new World Record in Cop Tossing. 'Dog stands up, brushes the dust off his jeans, stalks back around the front of the cruiser, reaches waaaaa-aaaaaaay up, pokes Bubba in the chest and snarls, "Don't make me hurt you, Bubba." Bubba's second try at Cop Tossing beat the first by several feet, even clearing the lightbar on this go. Only this time, 'Dog bounces back over the hood of the car with a five battery flashlight and a can of mace. Bubba goes to jail, but it takes LawDog about 10 or 15 minutes to get the job done. And during that 15 minutes, the local DPS trooper was having hysterics on the hood of his shamu car. Each time he calmed down enough to give 'Dog a hand, he'd whisper, "Don't make me hurt you, Bubba" and start whooping with laughter again. LawDog swears that he didn't say those words, by the way.

February 28, 2001, 07:04 AM	#14
citizen Senior Member Join Date: September 12, 2000 Posts: 796	LD FILES..... You folks have TOO much fun. I'm looking forward to "Law Dog Files-The Movie". It's GOTTA happen!! p.s. I want a ticket to the premiere. __________________ ILLEGITIMI NON CARBORUNDUM NRA, GOA, AOC Ignorance can be cured, Stupid is forever Life is too short for dial-up

February 28, 2001, 08:41 AM	#15
buzz_knox Senior Member Join Date: December 2, 1999 Location: Knoxville, in the Free State of Tennesse Posts: 4,191	Thanks a lot. Now, how in the crap am I going to get any work done?!

February 28, 2001, 09:00 AM	#16
mrsMTN Senior Member Join Date: June 23, 2000 Location: Middlebury, VT USA Posts: 450	LawDog, I think everyone is quite serious about the book. If you choose to try it (and you absolutely should), let me know and I will ghost write for you, or edit or whatever you like. I can do that. This material has GOT to get out there!!!

February 28, 2001, 10:02 AM	#17
TheBluesMan Moderator Emeritus Join Date: June 15, 1999 Location: Ohio Posts: 7,558	Let this be a lesson to you, LawDog. Now you're going to have to share royalties with LawMom on your upcoming book. That one just has to be included! "Don't make me hurt you, Bubba." hehehehe... I'm still laughing. Thanks LawMom! __________________ -Dave Miller ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ! NRA Certified Instructor: Pistol, Rifle, Shotgun, Home Firearms Safety, Personal Protection. Tick-off Obama - Join the NRA Today - Save $10

February 28, 2001, 10:06 AM	#18
Long Path Staff Join Date: May 31, 1999 Location: N. Texas Posts: 5,865	LawMom? Anita, is that you? Y'know, I think it just might be... Runs in the fambly, I guess. --L.P.

February 28, 2001, 10:11 AM	#19
DorGunR Senior Member Join Date: January 13, 2000 Location: Maryland Posts: 1,125	LawMom, Now I know where Lawdog got his talent for telling a great yarn. Mam......my hats off to you and Lawdog, those were a couple of great stories. Thanks! Well......a couple more great yarns to add to my Lawdog File. __________________ "Lead, follow or get the HELL out of the way." U.S. Army 1950 - 1972 NRA Life Member Vietnam 1966/67 - 1969/70

February 28, 2001, 11:43 AM	#20
Long Path Staff Join Date: May 31, 1999 Location: N. Texas Posts: 5,865	I thought I recognized that writing style from a couple of emails I'd seen of hers! LD informs us that his when he showed Mom his story, she had to "put her oar in."

February 28, 2001, 05:27 PM	#21
Johnny Got His Gun.1 Senior Member Join Date: October 30, 1999 Location: Patterson, GA Posts: 264	I'm crying right now. It's difficult to type. "Don't make me hurt you, Bubba."

February 28, 2001, 06:15 PM	#22
Tamara Staff Join Date: March 11, 2000 Location: Indianapolis, IN Posts: 15,521	My roommate and I are doing "the wave" at our desks...

February 28, 2001, 06:24 PM	#23
Monkeyleg Senior Member Join Date: January 25, 2000 Posts: 4,626	LawDog, LawMom: your family gatherings must be a heck of a good time! You don't even have to write a book. Just take all the stories from here, put a title page on them and you're done. This stuff is just too good to waste on a bunch of gun nuts. Dick

February 28, 2001, 07:42 PM	#24
ckurts Senior Member Join Date: August 3, 1999 Location: Houston, TX Posts: 476	Where else but Texas would you hear an LEO tell an old tyranosaurus-lookin' boy like that "Now don't make me hurt you Bubba". And then years later have his momma tell on him in front of thousands of his closest friends. I see now why little old truck rollover couldn't stop LawDog. I've got to get away from this computer, I can't even work anymore after reading this one.

March 1, 2001, 01:44 PM	#25
SMHeaton Member Join Date: May 17, 2000 Location: Provo, Utah, USA Posts: 46	I guess it's true what they say... It's not the size of the LawDog in the fight. It's the size of the fight in the LawDog! Regards, SMHeaton