Page 286 - NIXBOOK

A prisoner in the jail had some information about a crime that I needed solved, so I went to the jail to talk to him. The corrections
officers put me in a secure interview room, and they went off to find the guy. They bring him into the room. He looks at me and
immediately invokes his right against self incrimination by stating “I want an attorney.” Which meant the interview was
completely over at that second, so I waved him off and the staff turned around and took him back to his cell. That guy didn’t
even want to ask which case I was investigating; he just knew that it could not possibly benefit him to talk to me.

I pulled over an old guy once for some kind of a minor traffic violation; I can’t remember what but I do remember chastising the
man because it took a long time (and distance) for him to notice me following behind him, with all my emergency lights flashing.
His curt reponse: “I look in front when I’m driving not behind me.”

I was at a car crash scene on the highway, directing traffic around some smashed cars. The motorists that are being directed
around are very close to me; just a couple feet but they’re going slow so it’s okay. One old guy gets near me and I see he’s not
wearing his seat belt, which triggers me hard so I stop him. Because the one thing really, really amazes me is when people SEE
CRASHED CARS in the road and STILL DON’T BUCKLE UP. So I yell at the guy to put on his seat belt. He nods at me, and keeps
driving. Making no move to put it on. I notice he’s not just any guy; he’s a fellow city employee, who works in the Planning and
Engineering Department. I yell at him again to no, really, put it on. He nods and smiles again and to appease me, reaches over,
and pulls his seatbelt across his lap. But does not make an effort to actually click it in, because he obviously was going to just let
go the second he got past me. Which he then did.

Some officer’s young son got ahold of dad’s police radio, left unattended at home. The dispatcher had just sent some officers out
to some kind of a domestic disturbance on Sesame Street Lane in Port Orchard. Next to Bird Big Drive, you know. The kid, who
sounded like he around 5 years old, starting talking on the police frequency in a cookie monster voice, which was 5% irritating
and 95% percent funny as hell. Of course it was a major breach of radio protocol for a kid to be horsing around on the police
radio. I tried asking him a couple of times “Who’s your daddy?” but he didn’t want to answer that one. Now that I think about
it, me saying “Who’s your daddy?” on the police radio was probably a world’s first.