It’S a Fun Job! but Someone Has to Do It!: Another Side of Law Enforcement

By Deputy Al Hunter

This is a collection of more than 120 short, mostly humorous stories from the twenty-eight-year career of a Nevada deputy sheriff. These stories are from patrol, SWAT, civil, detectives, and the jail, along with several animal stories. Cops, crooks, kids, and animals of all ages are included. This book shows another sidethe fun sideof law enforcement.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543477542

Deputy Al Hunter

Al M. Hunter is a lifelong Nevadan. He served six years with the United States Marine Corps 4th force reconnaissance battalion. During his over twenty-eight years as a Washoe County Deputy Sheriff, he worked in detention, patrol, SWAT, detectives, and the civil division. He enjoyed assignments as a facility and field training officer, defensive tactics instructor, and working the Critical Incident Stress Management team. Al continues to work in public service.

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 by Deputy Al Hunter.

Library of Congress Control Number:      2018900594

ISBN:                      Hardcover                     978-1-5434-7756-6

                                Softcover                        978-1-5434-7755-9

                               eBook                              978-1-5434-7754-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 01/26/2018

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

770999

CONTENTS

Dedications

Washoe County

The Beginning

Patrol

The Flat

In Front Of A Cop?

Get Your Tits Off Of That Cop’s Hands!

The Fence

A Batch For Her What?

Let’s Hang Her!

High School Pit Crew

No! Don’t Go In!

Stop Kissing The Corpse!

There We Were, Surrounded By Indians

Dynamite

Unrecognizable Bum

The Bionic Deputy

Pac Man Crook

Is This Your Purse, Sir?

Have A Hot Day!

Locker Antics

Whose Body Is This?

Where’s Washoe Valley?

Keystone Cops

Eagle Feathers

A Confession?

Blind Justice

Mirror Kids

The Burning Van

The Doctor Won

Ms. Lost

Give Me Your Sparkplug.

Paranoid Drivers

Park Bench Drug Dealer

Six Shots To The Hat

Up A Dock Without A Gun

Gullible Drunks

Petition This!

This Mustang Is Too Small

Mailbox Justice

Ride Alongs

Ride Along Captain

The New Years Gift

No Officer Discretion!

Warrior: The Best Partner That I Never Had

Give Us Your Arms

Back To Back Wrecks

Lookout Surprise

We Took Him Home.

Make A Rookie Puke

A Most Unusual Wreck

The Royal Flush

Death Warrant?

Conspiracy Runaround

Aluminum Foil Lady

The Truth

Swat

Wait For Me!

Swat Doormat

Battering Ram Boy

Flash Bang Fun

Hospital Takeover

Morbid Breakfast Guest

I Shot My Sergeant

Hi Your Honor!

Unusual Wedding Gift

Detention

The Seven Deputies

The Sleeper

Three Duis

Toothpaste And Tape

Sanitizer Microwave

What Racist?

Puke Fest

These Are Laws?

Happy Nightmares

Not You Stupid, Them!

This Bombs For You!

Ebay Fun

Soap Snack

Meet My Schizophrenic Friend

The Old Kid

Our Otis

Burger Barn

A Nice Prank

Civil Division

He Didn’t Spill A Drop

What, I Don’t Get The Flowers?

He’s My Daddy, Really!

Doorbell Ditch

Close Your Business!

Old Frenchy

Detectives

Animals

Bad Cop! No Doughnut

Gorilla Watch

Cussed By A Bird

When Ankle Biters Attack

Microwave Dog

Help, There’s A Little Doggie In My Pool!

The Bloodhound

Satan’s Help

Lieutenant’s Animal Taxi Service

Rattle Snake?

Naughty People

The Drunk Girl

Naughty Glasses Cleaner

Nudist Alarm

Girls On Bikes

Burrito What?

Rape?

Deputy, Someone Stole My Top!

Special Partners

Wow, She’s Cute

My Mentors

The Sergeant

Snipers

Pam And The Pit Bull

Pam And The Bums

The Leader

A New Beginning

Dan’s Dark Side

About The Author

Dedications

This book is dedicated to the following people:

First, my silent partner, my wife Niki. For her putting up with the good and bad, my ups and downs, the trips to hospitals to find out how injured I was each time, the nightmares, silly stories, and practical jokes. It takes a strong person to be a law enforcement spouse for so long. Since we met, she has been here for me. She inspired me to write this book.

To my dad, Douglas M. Hunter, who taught me right from wrong, a good hard work ethic, to respect others, and the great outdoors. He respected my decision not to follow the family profession, but to become a cop.

To my mentors, Richard Ross, Jim Dickson, Joe Martin, and Carl Muhle, who taught me how to survive the job, kicked my ass when needed, and will always be my friends / brothers.

To all American Peace Officers past, present, and future, who have, are, or will risk their lives doing this fun job that must be done.

WASHOE COUNTY

W ashoe County is located along the eastern slopes of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in Western Nevada. It is bordered by California and Oregon. It is about 6,000 square miles in size, bigger than many eastern states together. The county has mountains over 10,000 feet, large dry lakes, large rolling sagebrush oceans, and some forest areas.

The population of Washoe County is about 400,000 which is less than some US cities.

Most people think that Nevada is just a baron, ugly desert. No one can really see the desert from the pavement or from 30,000 feet. Only by venturing out into the Nevada, the Washoe County outback, can one discover how alive and beautiful it really is.

Washoe County’s biggest city, it’s only city, is Reno, The Biggest Little City in the World and its adjoining sister town of Sparks. There’s an old local joke, Reno is so close to Hell that you can see Sparks.

I’ve always liked the way that we can drive for about twenty to thirty minutes in almost any direction from Reno, then walk for maybe five minutes, and find solitude, away from the sights and sounds of society. Due to the remoteness, lack of water, and extreme weather conditions, Nevada can be a difficult, sometimes dangerous, and expensive area to live. But it is worth it if you love the outdoors, outdoor sports, and wide-open places. Just don’t expect to find much shade.

THE BEGINNING

I n the first few weeks after being hired as a deputy sheriff I realized just how fun and obnoxious the job, the career was going to be.

Even though I had been a United States Marine Reservist for about three years, had done several different types of jobs, and had completed some college classes by the time I was 21, I became very surprised by how naïve I was. Besides being naïve, I was one of the first under five feet, seven-inch men accepted into law enforcement in our area. At the time, it was hard to accept five feet, five inch cop. We had to work harder to prove our worth, and that we could survive the job. And of course, the few short cops were the targets of everyone’s practical and not so practical short jokes.

Like most new deputy sheriff’s, I was assigned to work in our jail on the graveyard shift. The old Washoe County Jail was a dark, dank, stinking, and depressing place. The conditions, for the inmates and deputies were considered inhumane by today’s standards. The conditions were like the old castle dungeons that we see in movies.

On my first night on the job, I met an old, grumpy alcoholic woman deputy. The other deputies referred to her as one of the matrons, but not in her presence. When I unknowingly asked her how many matrons worked in the jail, she immediately became insanely angry. She hated being called a matron and gave me my first on-the job verbal, and nearly physical, reprimand. I had been set up very well by the guys.

Most sergeants of that time in our department were in there 50’s or older with gray hair and big beer bellies. One kindly old sergeant loved Louis L’Amour novels, and hated being on the graveyard shift. I’ll call him Sergeant B. in this story.

Most nights, Sergeant B. would settle into his chair at the sergeants’ desk in our tiny booking office. He would belly up to the desk, sit his arms on the desk holding up his L’Amour novel. Sometimes he would not move for hours. I soon noticed that Sergeant B. would sit there for a couple hours reading the same page. Then I saw that his eyes were closed and his chin was rested on his chest. I would just let him sleep like everyone else did.

One night I was called to the booking office. When I arrived, the only person there was Sergeant B. in his usual position. The only difference was that the L’Amour novel in his hands was on fire. I froze in place trying to figure out what to do. As I moved to knock the book away, Sergeant B. woke up, stood up, dropped the book onto the floor, and started stomping on it while cussing. Only then did I realize the full extent of the dangerous joke and tried to disappear. It was too late. I had been seen. You can guess who caught the full frenzy of a very pissed off old sergeant for several weeks. Of course, Sergeant B. came looking for me a couple weeks later when the last five pages of his newest Louis L’Amour novel disappeared before he finished it.

Being the new rookie, I was assigned the mundane jobs such as making the coffee before the captain came in each morning. He was grumpy if fresh coffee wasn’t ready when he arrived in the morning. One day the captain had to go home early because he had gotten sick. Someone had placed a box of a laxative in the large coffee maker after I had made the coffee. Guess who got investigated. That was when I realized that the only good defense would be a good offence, for nothing is so sweet as a good practical, and sometimes not so practical joke.

Many years later, I had told so many stories to my wife that she said that I should write a book. So, with her suggestion, I started writing occasional stories of past or new incidents that I had been involved in, or witnessed during my career. By the time of my nearing retirement, there were many stories that now comprise this book. These stories are true. I mostly make fun of myself, my co-workers, criminals, and other people. I have been involved in most of these stories. A few of them were told to me by co-workers.

Some of the names have been changed to protect the victims of embarrassing practical, and, not so practical jokes; and also, to keep me from some well-deserved payback.

I hope that I don’t offend anyone: Mostly some people that realize that he or she is a character in one of these stories.

If you cannot laugh at yourself, you don’t deserve to laugh at others.

PATROL

M ost people want to become cops to work patrol. They want to wear the uniform; drive a patrol car; drive fast with emergency lights and siren; chase and catch bad guys.

My favorite assignment was SWAT. My most fulfilling assignment was patrol. If you want a job with variety, it’s patrol. If I could do it all over again, I’d want to spend a whole career in patrol and SWAT.

I have more stories in this chapter than any of the others.

THE FLAT

A long, long time ago, in a place far, far away, I got a flat tire. I really didn’t care, because it was a nice summer day in the middle of nowhere. I had plenty of time to change the tire, and it wasn’t more than 102 or 103 degrees outside.

Washoe County covers a large area. One of our beat areas takes us well over a hundred miles from our sheriff’s office in Reno. Some of the problems we have in the outback desert areas are meth labs, horse stealing, and cattle rustling. Yes, we still have such problems in the west.

One resident deputy works in a small town called Gerlach which is about 120 miles north of Reno. During his absences for vacations, training, etc, the sheriff’s office will send a deputy from Reno to patrol this area.

I was about 150 miles north of Reno, and about thirty miles from anything resembling a civilized community. The only thing around that was higher than the waist high soft green sagebrush was the four-line barbed wire fence that ran along both sides of the dirt road. I wasn’t sure why the fences were there since I’d never seen any cattle in that area. I was out there to check in with some of the ranchers in the area. I had not seen a man-made structure for about an hour. I knew that, even though well maintained, there were sometimes two or three days that no one used the dirt road.

The left front tire of the patrol truck popped, and the big truck started to shudder. It instantly became hard to steer the truck. I parked on the road where the ground was solid. Then one of my old friends, ‘Murphy’ appeared. I had parts to three different jacks, but no complete workable jack. I cussed the regular driver of the truck. I cussed myself for not checking the equipment in the truck better before leaving the station. I looked around and found that there were no rocks bigger than my fist. No boards, timbers, or any materials that could be used to lift the big Ford F-250 4X4 truck. I decided that it was time to call for assistance. The next problem was that I was too far out to make radio contact with anyone.

It could be a three or five hour walk to the nearest ranch with no guarantee that anyone would be there. I decided that it would be best to stay with the truck until the next day when our search and rescue units got close enough to make radio contact with me. There were blankets, spare water, food, and flares in the trucks storage area. I settled in for a long wait, hoping that the sun would go down soon. I couldn’t keep the truck running to use the air conditioner.

About an hour later I looked up from my book to see another truck coming down the road. I was happy to see that I had a chance to get going. The truck turned out to be a Nevada State Prison truck with a fence repair crew. There were about six or seven NSP prisoners in the truck.

They were rather amused at my predicament. The two corrections officers on the truck loaned me their jack, but no one offered any assistance with changing the tire. The tire that needed to be changed was on the side where the NSP truck was. I could hear the appropriate jokes and chuckling of the prisoners behind me.

As I crouched down and pushed very hard on the lug wrench to loosen a stubborn lug nut, the seam in the center rear of my pants came loose with a nice ripping sound. The quiet chuckling behind me became loud laughter. Even the two corrections officers joined in. All I could do was stand up, turn around with a stupid smile, shake my head, and bow to my audience.

After changing the tire, I returned the jack to the corrections officers with a big, Thank You. As the big, canvas covered truck drove off, the prisoners in the back laughed, waved and blew kisses to me. I realized that each of them would have another story to tell for years to come.

I about drained both gas tanks on the patrol truck because I did not stop anywhere between there and the patrol station, about one hundred and fifty miles away.

The moral of the story: If you work out hard and lift weights, buy bigger pants before you change a tire.

IN FRONT OF A COP?

O ne very early graveyard morning, about two or three AM, I was driving my patrol car into Reno to get something to eat and some coffee to stay awake. There was only one other car in sight as I drove up to a normally very busy intersection. The other car was in the right-side lane, stopped at a red light. I stopped at the left side or the other car staying in the driver’s blind spot.

While we waited for the light to change, I looked around at the parking lots of the Motel 6, a restaurant, and two shopping centers on the various corners of the intersection. No other cars were moving as far as we could see in any direction.

I then started watching the driver and passenger of the other car. The driver appeared to be getting impatient about the red light. His passenger kept talking to him and occasionally looked back at me. The driver started moving his car forward, just a little bit at a time, while hugging the steering wheel and looking both ways on the street. To my surprise, the other driver then drove through the intersection and through the red light. His friend must not have told him about the cop car right next to them.

The young driver’s action was not hazardous. There were not other moving vehicles in sight. I agreed that the light was red for far too long. I would have eventually done the same thing, but decided to have a little fun.

I drove my patrol car behind the other car and had my cars overhead red lights on before the young man had driven across the intersection. He immediately pulled over and stopped on the other side of the intersection. I purposely sat in my patrol car for a couple minutes watching the young men in the other car until the dispatcher advised that the car’s license plate belonged to that type of car, and was not reported as stolen. I was amazed that no other vehicles had driven by during that time.

When I walked up to the drivers’ door of the other car, the window was down, and the car’s engine was turned off. The driver, about 16 or 17 years old, had his hands on the steering wheel while staring straight ahead. His friend sat still staring straight ahead with a silly smirk on his face. I waited about 30 seconds, which probably felt like an eternity for the young driver, before I said anything. I then said rather loudly with a surprised tone, I can’t believe that you did that right in front of a cop!

The passenger’s forehead hit the dash as he grabbed his stomach with both hands while laughing very loudly. The driver sort of melted forward, placing his head on the steering wheel and shaking his head. He was not laughing. I waited until the driver fell back against his seat with his head back against the headrest. His friend tried to stop laughing while wiping tears from his cheeks. The driver raised his hands in frustration and said, I’m sorry, but there was no other traffic and the light wouldn’t change for like five minutes.

I responded with, I know, and I’m not going to give you a ticket, because a ticket will be nothing compared to what will happen when your friend tells everyone you know about what you did right in front of a cop!

The young man’s head turned quickly to the right as he said, No!

His friend yelled, Yes, yes I have to! as he bent over starting to convulse into another fit of laughter. The now panicked driver pleaded, No, no you can’t! His friend kept responding with, I’m sorry, I have to! while laughing.

After I stopped laughing, I made the passenger promise to tell everyone, kids and adults that they knew, what his friend had done right in front of a cop. I told the young men that it was after curfew and to go home, which they agreed to do. The driver thanked me for not giving him a citation.

Sometimes justice is better served by not issuing a citation.

GET YOUR TITS OFF OF THAT COP’S HANDS!

T here’s a very small percentage of our population that just can not stay out of trouble. They are not bad people, or criminals. They just maintain very disorganized lives due to alcoholism, drug use, basic stupidity, a complete lack of common sense, or a combination of two or more of these conditions. Some of these people just have too much fun and can’t avoid getting caught.

Mr. G. was a nice guy. That was until he got drunk. He had a Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde way of life. When sober, he was nice. When drunk, he was very mean. Mr. G.’s driving privileges had been suspended and revoked for about the next two hundred years. When Mr. G. got drunk and was caught doing something stupid, he would not go to jail easy. He figured if he was going to jail, he might as well have some more fun and fight with the cops. Usually Mr. G., or some cops, or both would get hurt. He was a big strong hard worker when sober.

After a while, Mr. G. got quite a reputation. When he was confronted, we would get as many cops there as possible in case he was to be taken into custody. The more cops we had, the easier it was to take control of him without anyone getting hurt. At that time, Tazers had not been introduced to law enforcement, so we would dog pile onto Mr. G. to hold him down and handcuff him.

One night, after dark, one of our deputies caught Mr. G. driving again. Mr. G. had pulled into his girlfriend’s long driveway and parked next to her singlewide trailer. By the time I got there, another deputy and a lieutenant were there. The two deputies and lieutenant were talking to Mr. G. and his girlfriend at the end of the long driveway. I parked on the street because there were three patrol cars lined up behind the girlfriend’s car. I stayed back and kept an eye on the patrol cars and waited until I might be needed.

It appeared that Mr. G. was not very drunk. The other deputies were trying to get him to sign a citation. He usually went to court later to deal with the charges.

Suddenly, Mr. G. ran for the trailer. The lieutenant and two deputies gave chase with Mr. G.’s girlfriend following. They all disappeared around the other side of the trailer.

I ran to help them and found everyone on a nice sized wood deck. At first, I couldn’t see the lieutenant. Mr. G. was lying down on his back, on the deck. One deputy was holding the girlfriend, Lisa, back while the other deputy was using his night stick to hit Mr. G. I then realized that the lieutenant was under Mr. G., on his back with his arms and legs wrapped around Mr. G. holding him down.

I then took the place of holding the girlfriend back while the original deputy who had stopped Mr. G. could help arrest him. To my surprise that