Real Cop Stories

 Since my friend Mike seems to be spending the evening talking on the phone again, and because I’m feeling ancy, I’ll burn off some energy by writing my first entry of Real Cop Stories.

Names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. Yes it’s true.

Pet Bumble Bee

I’d been working as a police officer for the Bangor Police Department for about 4 years I think. Still had a lot of energy, still liked to get into trouble.

It was a fall day as I remember it, and I’d seen a fellow that I knew to have warrants for his arrest. By the time I parked my cruiser somewhere around the corner, near Main St. he’d disappeared.

Later that day, I was working through on some overtime, and I saw the same fellow on the same area of Main St. in front of what used to be Sweet’s Market. This time I was already in a position to park quickly.

Walking around the corner of the store, I saw him immediately change direction upon catching sight of me. I quickened my own gate, and told him to stop, that I needed to talk to him.

He did stop. He turned and produced what looked like an Altoids tin. I asked him what it was for, and he said that his pet bee was inside. Indeed, he cracked the lid, and a bumble bee staggered drunkenly around inside the box. He snapped the lid shut, and looked at me as if he’d showed me the contents of the Ark of the Covenant.

Let’s call the fellow Bill. Little did I know that Bill was suffering from a terrible brew of Schizophrenia, Lysergic Acid, and a bad childhood. I politely and professionally informed Bill that there was a warrant for his arrest. He shook his head and said confidently, “No there isn’t.”

He said it with such grace and assurance, that I almost caught myself saying: “Oh. Sorry to bother you, Bill. Nice Bee. Have a good one.”

Shaking off such thoughts, I reiterated the warrant issue and told Bill to turn around and place his hands behind his back. Nope. Uh-uh. Bill had plans tonight, he and his bee. He started to walk away from me, each step quickening as I followed trying to close the distance. Finally I lunged and caught his arm.

Have you ever seen video of a feral cat that discovers it’s attached to a leash? This was now Bill. My favorite maneuver for getting people to the ground was to grasp them by the wrist with one hand, while applying pressure to the back of the elbow. Then a quick turn of the hips, pulling the suspect around in an ever closing circle, down to the ground. Worked every time–almost.

Seems like Bill’s experimentation with psychedelics, combined with whatever else he had going on, was enough to give him the agility of Tarzan. Oh yeah–he was bellowing like an enraged Mandrill too…

After about three revolutions, I figure that we looked like we were dance partners. Quickly brushing off feelings of disappointment at my favorite technique’s failure, I changed directions and launched him Judo-style into a flower bed at the base of a tree. I immediately dove on top of him, as he didn’t seem in the least stunned by the fall.

There he was face down on the pavement, my knees pressing into his back. I managed to get one hand in a handcuff, when Bill begins screaming at the top of his lungs: “He’s trying to fuck me in the ass!” He repeated his assertion several times. I looked in through the glass to Sweet’s Market, making eye contact with several customers standing in line. In my mind, I really hoped they saw my uniform, so they’d know that I had no interest in Bill’s rear end.

Then Bill amazed me again. Not only had he foiled my invincible take-down attempt at a mere 150 lbs., he also was managing to keep his other hand away from me. I can’t remember anyone that I had so much trouble hand-cuffing in almost 8 years. The whole time, he’s still screaming, and I’m pulling at his other arm.

Then a man, maybe early to mid-fifties kneels down next to me. He’s wearing a ball cap that said he was a retired US Marine. He asks me in a calm voice, if I’d like some help.

“Oh no….I’m….doing….alright. Thanks though.”

He helped me anyways and we got Bill into cuffs. The man walked away and I never got his name and I never got to say thanks.

Mr. Marine Veteran, if you’re there. Thanks.



9 Responses to “Real Cop Stories”

  1. 1 How You Doin Blondie
    April 18, 2008 at 1:53 pm

    I’m a little hung-over, so perhaps my powers of rationalization are slightly askew…but any guy whose down on his luck with a severe mental disorder and a pet bumblebee has a certain warm place in my heart…

    …yeah, yeah I know, go get the O’Douls…

  2. 2 How You Doin Blondie
    April 18, 2008 at 2:33 pm

    Oh, and nice picture. 😉

  3. 3 kip
    April 18, 2008 at 5:35 pm

    Great story, but what happened with the bee?!?

  4. April 18, 2008 at 6:21 pm


    That escaped me. Another officer transported Bill to jail. The officer told me later that when Bill got out of the cruiser, he began doing wind-sprints around the car inside the intake bay. All the while he’s repeatedly yelling: “Let me out of the car!”

    I think maybe the officer called National Geographic, so they could film its release into the wild. 🙂

  5. April 19, 2008 at 12:00 am

    I was so worried about the humans involved in this story I forgot all about the animals, too!

    I’m so heartless!

  6. 6 How You Doin Blondie
    April 19, 2008 at 1:28 am

    Such a sarcastic ass.

  7. 7 Avis
    April 19, 2008 at 10:09 am

    I love the sarcasim.

  8. April 19, 2008 at 2:33 pm

    What? I love animals!

    I ate like three of them yesterday. Four if you count feeding my son’s snake. Man, I’m glad I’m not a frozen mouse.

  9. 9 How You Doin Blondie
    April 19, 2008 at 7:09 pm

    Rozos, “sarcastic ass” is a compliment. It’s embarrassing having to explain that.

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