Page 174 - NIXBOOK

A citizen in a motel hears breaking glass across the parking lot. Looks out, sees a freshly broken window at the business across
the parking lot. Calls 911. I respond. Yep, there’s a very large broken window on the ground outside the office building; unlike
any other broken window I’ve seen because the whole thing has been popped out and is in pieces on the ground outside, with
the frame still around it. This is broad daylight on a quiet Sunday, I should mention. Six other officers arrive; two on containment
to watch two opposing corners of the business, two out in front, and three to search the interior. I go in through the window
with my taser out, my partner has his handgun. We open an outside door to let in the third guy who has a ballistic shield. We
slowly and methodically clear the building; there is no sign of entry or burglary. We conclude nobody came in through the
window; the desk underneath has undisturbed papers neatly lined up; nobody came in through or out that window. I go back
outside and study the window in great detail. It was not kicked out, and it was not pried off. I conclude the only logical
explanation is that somebody walking by with some kind of giant suction cups must have grabbed onto the window panel and
pulled it out intact; when it hit the ground 4 feet away it then broke. Maybe a bored teenager? I never did find out if my theory
was the correct one but that is literally the one and only most likely explanation.

Later that day, another weird call to 911; some guy reports his laundry was stolen out of the apartment complex laundry room.
From the clothes washer. Not the dryer. That’s right, somebody stole his WET clothes. I spent the rest of my shift hoping that
I’d run across some weirdo walking around with suction cup grippers and wet clothes. That would have been awesome. It didn’t
happen. Police work has a lot of unsatisfactory ending shifts.

One day the police dispatcher got on the radio and advised the Bainbridge Island police that a motorist was reporting a large
pack of sport bikes northbound on Hwy 305 doing 75 mph, passing cars on both sides. I heard the dispatch and realized they’d
be in my jurisdiction pretty quickly so I went south on 305 toward the city limits and found a spot to wait for them. Sure enough,
a couple minutes later I see about a dozen flashy motorcycles in a big group coming my way. I got in behind them and they saw
me right away so they were all doing the speed limit. Very good, that’s what I wanted to see, y’all behave yourselves in my town
here. Two of them broke away from the pack and turned right onto a side street, which I didn’t think much of until another pair
broke off and took the next left. “That’s weird,” I thought. “But still a big group here, so I’ll stick with them.” At the next random
side street two more bikers turned off and I really started to get squinty eyed suspicious. Do I grab those two, or stay with the
pack? I figured I’d stay with the majority. Then another two peeled off and away, and then another two, and a mile later by the
time I really realized what was going on I was down to just one biker who had also turned off onto a side street. When I pulled
him over he played dumb and said he didn’t know the other guys at all and didn’t even know where they were all going. Clearly
though, they had some kind pre-arranged dispersal plan and it had worked pretty well. Although I bet it took them awhile to
regroup since they were all from Seattle and most of them probably had no idea what roads they were detouring onto. In the
end, I decided it was about 10% aggravating and 90% funny, especially since it took me so long to realize that they had been
strategically thinning their ranks. I suppose they were hoping that I would have pulled over the first two and let the rest of the
pack get away. I still smile thinking about that event; that was well done, fellas.