Page 249 - NIXBOOK

The time I caught a little 7 year old punk kid with whiskey in a sippy cup, out on a sidewalk in public. My demands for answers
resulted in him defiantly yelling at me: “I know my rights!” And yes that was not a typo, the kid actually was only 7.

The one where the mini mart store clerk told a customer his lottery ticket was not a winner, even though the ticket-reading
machine was making jackpot sounds. Clerk then kept the ticket and pretended to throw it away. Customer demanded it back.
Customer got it back and then took it to another store, where the clerk there yelled at him “Hey fella you can only cash in a
winning ticket once, nice try!” So the customer called for the police. That’s me. We went back to the first store. Clerk denies
everything. I look in the garbage behind the counter and I find a whole bunch of “not winning” tickets that had already been
redeemed because, well yes, they were winners. I reported this to the state lottery commission, who didn’t care and had no
interest in taking away the lottery machines from any outlets; they said it was a local police matter and it didn’t involve them.
Not long after that, the state started installing scan-it-yourself lottery tickets readers so no more crooked clerks could take
money from “non-winning” tickets.

6 am: still dark. Me, racing towards a crashed car scene just called in to 911. I have my emergency lights and siren on. Reports
are that a car has sailed off the road and crashed onto the beach down below. Paramedics and EMT’s are a couple minutes
behind me. I arrive. I stare down onto the beach. Tide is in. Yep there is a crashed car upside down on the beach, half underwater.
Fortunately the three teen boys inside somehow managed to find a door that worked and they were able to force it open and
crawl out into the water and swim out to safety past through the wreckage of the beach deck they destroyed on their way down.
Good thing they made it out; otherwise it would have immediately defaulted to me to go in and pull them out somehow.

The time grandpa got in his adult son’s car and drove it for a while, but it was “handling like shit” so he brought it back, not
realizing the parking brake had been on the whole time and the front-wheel drive car had pulled the locked back wheels so
much they had worn down on the bottom to the wire bands. Which caused impressive grind marks on the roads all the way
around the block, which had bewildered me significantly as I traced them back to the carport.