An LA Cop. John Bowermaster
down, and placed one knee on the back of the suspect’s upper leg while pulling his wallet out.
The suspect screamed, “Get the fuck off my leg. You’re hurting me!”
“Did you give the same consideration to Latisha’s pain when you were kicking the shit out of her!”
“Fuck you—take these cuffs off me, and I’ll kick both your asses.” Paul removed the suspect’s driver’s license from his wallet. Stuffing the wallet back into his rear pocket. Paul read his name aloud. “William Leroy Jefferson. What kind of pussy ass name is Willie for a man?”
“My name is William, not Willie!”
“Well, you sure fight like a Willie!”
“Take these cuffs off me. I’ll show you how I fight!”
“I know how you fight, Willie! Have you forgotten? We’re the ones that put the cuffs on you! Remember? Right after I chocked your pussy ass unconscious. While you were laying there all limp and shit, taking a dirt nap on the carpet! Remember, Willie? You were going to kick our asses when we came into the apartment, remember? You saw how that worked out for you, Willie! Don’t worry, you’ll get another chance to kick my ass when I take you into booking!”
After the RA unit transported the victim to the emergency room. The officers grabbed Willie by his arms and carried him to their vehicle, still resisting and attempting to twist and pull his arms loose from the officer’s grip.
They laid William facedown on the ground then wrestled him onto the back seat of their unit.
Ed pulled their car up to the side entrance of the station; the nearest entrance to the holding cells was through the lobby.
Paul jumped out of the passenger’s seat telling Ed, “I’ll drag Willie out of the car and wait for you here. Go park the car.” Paul opened the rear passenger door, grabbing the suspect by his arms, pulling him from the car.
While the suspect lay on the ground, he tried to bite Paul on the leg. Ed joined Paul and the suspect by the door. They carried Willie up three steps, laying him down again. Ed unlocked the side door. They grabbed the combative suspect’s arms, carrying him through the lobby to the holding cell.
People were sitting in the lobby, waiting to talk to the desk officers. Several people watched the officers carrying the suspect through the lobby. Paul noticed the people watching as they carried him through the lobby.
Paul told them, “Don’t mind us—he didn’t want to sign his traffic citation, so we’re taking him to jail!” After laying him on the floor in the holding cell, Paul cut the nylon strap that kept his feet tied to his hands.
They left him cuffed with his feet tied together, locking the cell door. From his office window, the watch commander watched the officers carry the suspect through the lobby. He followed the officers into the holding cell area. “What’s this guy’s story?”
Ed said, “He’s the suspect from the screaming woman call in the jungle.”
“He tried to beat his girlfriend to death in her apartment.”
WC said, “How’s the victim?”
“We think she’s circling the drain. Her face is torn up bad. He was kicking the shit out of her while she lay unconscious on the floor. We had to kick the front door open to stop him. I don’t know how much internal damage Willie did to her.”
The suspect responded, “Fuck you! I told you my name is William, not Willie! Get these fucking cuffs off me and I’ll kick both your asses right now!”
Ed said, “Shut up, Willie.”
“The way Willie was putting the boots on her, she’s probably circling the drain getting ready to go lights out! Once we got into the apartment, he turned his aggression on us, taking both of us on.”
Ed looked down at Willie. “Boy, that was a mistake, huh, Willie?”
The watch commander advised the officers to check the hospital on the victim’s condition, in case it turns into a homicide. “No problem, Sergeant.” Paul and Ed entered the report room. Paul told Ed he wanted to check with the hospital to see if she’s going tits up! “He was beating her like a piñata.”
A few minutes later, Paul hung up the phone and briefed Ed. “It sounds like she’s circling the drain! She has a concussion, and she’s nonresponsive. She has fractured cheekbones. Fractured skull, a collapsed lung. She has multiple fractured ribs and internal bleeding. Right now, they say she’s in critical condition. They’re still not sure what other injuries she has. They’re running more tests. You mean the doctors have taken out their beads and rattles. Lit incense and their chanting over the patient? Yeah, that’s what they’re doing. I’ll list her in the report as maybe, for circling the drain! I’ll finish my pencil magic on Willie, and we’ll book him for attempted murder. With him being so vocal about wanting to finish killing her when we showed up to spoil his party! I’ll throw in an assault on the police too! Did he break your skin when he tried to bite you?”
“Nah.”
“Good, otherwise, we’d need to get him a tetanus shot. He has no idea how dangerous it is biting a sick bastard like you! He could catch a foul disease! You need to burn your shirt? Look at the crud on it from Willie’s neck when you gave him that dirt nap!”
Paul looked at his sleeve. “Shit, it looks like that asshole hasn’t washed his neck for six months! He drooled all over my pant leg when he tried to bite me! I got to check for a clean uniform in my locker.”
Ed said, “Yeah, it’s not even the end of the month yet, and you already have to change uniforms!”
Paul stuck his middle finger up, telling Ed, “Look here, I think I’ve got a boo-boo on my finger from carrying Willie to jail! You want to kiss it and make it better!”
Ed flipped Paul the bird as Paul headed to the locker room to change. After changing into a fresh uniform, Paul came back to the report room. “Let’s book Willie. I hear a sugar-glazed doughnut calling my name!”
At EOW, after changing into his civvies, Ed came out of the locker room. Paul was sitting at one of the detective’s desk with his construction boots up on the corner of the desk. Wearing his yellow hard hat and jeans. His long-sleeved plaid shirt was open, displaying his white undershirt.
His undershirt was pulled up, exposing his hairy belly. He was picking lint out of his navel.
Ed looked at him. “What the hell are you doing? Checking for lint balls, when you look sharp you feel sharp!” Ed shook his head. “You’re a sick son of a bitch!” Sometimes Ed cringed, waiting for the hammer to drop with Paul’s next comment in public!
Mike and Ed were handling a jumper call a week earlier at 8:20 a.m. Paul responded to their call on Wilshire Boulevard. Employees were arriving at the office building. A crowd of spectators were gathering at the scene out front.
The victim jumped from the top of the six-story office building landing on the sidewalk. When the body impacted the concrete, the victim’s head exploded like a watermelon. Blood and brain matter splattering across the sidewalk into the street.
When Paul arrived at the scene, Mike and Ed were standing by the victim waiting for a day watch unit to arrive and take over. Paul walked over to the body, noticing the Timex watch on the victim’s wrist he knelt down and picked up the watch. Checking if it stopped working on impact with the sidewalk, giving them the time of death.
Paul found the watch was still running. Paul looked up at Ed telling him in his John Cameron Swayze impersonation. “Look here! Falling six stories and the watch is still ticking!”
During a traffic stop of a DUI in the jungle one night, Paul walked up to the driver’s door, a belligerent drunk sitting behind the steering wheel, looking at Paul yelling through his open window.
“Why did you stop me? I know you stopped me cause I’m black.”