Case #22 – The People vs Jeff Fleming and Luis Nunez (so two cops, a crackhead and the Devil are walking down the street....)
Case #22 – The People vs Jeff Fleming and Luis Nunez (so two cops, a crackhead and the Devil are walking down the street....)
Before I get into this story, I'm going to explain something about the L.A. Sheriff's department. People often ask, "What's the difference between sheriff's and police?" I usually say, the county, any county, is divided up into incorporated areas called cities, and unincorporated areas. Cities have a city council, and a mayor and are responsible for providing certain things to their citizens like law enforcement services (The City Police Department) and fire services (the City Fire Department). In the unincorporated areas, decisions are made by the Board of Supervisors and they provide fire (the County Fire Department) and law enforcement services (the County Sheriff's Office or Department) to the inhabitants of the unincorporated areas of the county. In Los Angeles and Orange Counties incorporated cities have the option of contracting with the County Sheriff's and County Fire for services, instead of forming their own departments. In addition, the County Sheriff is in charge of the county jail system, and in L.A. County, we have taken over services for all of the courts, some of which used to fall under the, now disbanded, Marshal's office.
Here's some additional information that I don't normally go into, but it's pertinent to this story. When cities contract with the sheriff's department, the contract is very detailed. The number of deputies, detectives, patrol deputies, traffic deputies, motorcycle deputies, two man cars, one man cars, how many minutes of patrol per year will be spent in the city, blah, blah, blah. And all that stuff, including total minutes on patrol in the city and in the county, is tracked. We have to log how many minutes were spent patrolling in the city, how many were spent in briefing, responding to a call, handling a call, report writing, on traffic stops, on pedestrian stops, gassing up, and patrolling around. At the end of shift those minutes need to add up to sixty times however many hours you were at work. If it doesn't, you have to figure out where you screwed up in your math.
If, at the end of the year, the numbers in the city don't match, or exceed, the numbers called for in the contract, the station captain is in deep kimchi. So throughout the year, the station monitors the numbers and, if the numbers are falling short, the captain yells at the operations lieutenant, who yells at the shift lieutenants, who yell at the shift sergeants, who yell at the deputies. So, the question is, "Why don't the deputies just stay in their assigned areas?"
The answer is, deputies want to arrest bad guys and sometimes they can't find them in their assigned area, so they go where the bad guys can frequently be found, the so-called, "cherry patches". The unincorporated areas sometimes have more cherry patches than the contract city, because there are a lot more deputies in the contract city than in the unincorporated area. In Carson's case, another reason is, the station's unincorporated area was bordered on one side by Compton. Compton was seen by us as one GIANT ass cherry patch, with a lot of traffic going through our area to and from that city. Our patrol area was also bordered on another three sides by the city of L.A., which was also viewed by us as another giant cherry patch with a lot of pass through traffic. We also share a border with the west side of Long Beach, which is considered by us to be another cherry patch, but we are mostly blocked off from that city by a physical barrier called the 710 freeway.
Fortunately, L.A. Sheriff's deputies consider their jurisdiction to be wherever they want it to be, as long as it is in L.A. County, or can be seen from L.A. County. Unfortunately, the detective sergeants didn't like it when patrol deputies made arrests outside of their station's assigned area, because they didn't like their detectives getting stuck with cases that should have been handled by another agency, in this case, L.A.P.D. So, the station DB sergeants would periodically come down to briefing and tell us to stop making out of the area arrests. The patrol sergeants didn't like it when we made out of the area arrests either, because the station captain and the station lieutenants would yell at them about the minutes we were short in the city, because we were spending them outside of our assigned areas and in areas that L.A.County would not be reimbursed for. So, the patrol sergeants would come to briefing and yell at us about patrol minutes and order us not to make out of the area arrests. Fortunately, at THAT time, most patrol deputies foo-fooed those orders off as being mere, "suggestions", which we could ignore, if we couldn't find an arrest in the city of Carson, or surrounding county area.
If we did make an arrest that was out of the area, the watch sergeant and watch commander might yell at us, but what were they gonna do? Let the guy go? Sometimes we might get written up, but nobody really cared about that stuff. If it was a choice between getting a write up and a stat (a felony arrest), or no write up and no stat, the hard working deputy would always take the risk of a write up and a stat. Hands down. Now for our story.
In February 1993, Jeff Fleming and Luis Nunez were patrolling on the graveyard shift, as unit 169. They were assigned to the County area and were patrolling in the area of Lomita Boulevard and Normandie Avenue. The south side of this intersection is in L.A.P.D. Harbor Division's patrol area. The north side is patrolled by Carson Sheriff's station. The neighborhood southeast of this intersection has a couple of streets where crack cocaine was sold at the time (a little cherry patch), and just south of these streets were "The PJs", where even more crack cocaine was sold (a BIG FAT cherry patch). Unfortunately, as previously described, these areas fell under L.A.P.D.'s jurisdiction.
On this particular night, it was very foggy. Drive 5 M.P.H on the freeway foggy. One of those nights where you could barely see the front of your car, but you weren't sure how far in front of the car you could see, because everything around you was the same frosty white. Jeff and Luis hadn't found anybody out and about in the County, or in the City. So, what could they do? Poach in an L.A.P.D. cherry patch, that's what! So they rolled south on Normandie. A White guy came walking out of the fog in front of them and, if they hadn't been going 5 M.P.H, they would have had Caucasian smeared all over their patrol car. As it was, Jeff had to swerve to avoid hitting him. The guy continued on across their path and disappeared back into the swirling white mist, completely oblivious to his near death experience. Jeff pulled over and they exited the patrol car.
As the White guy, that had nearly been run over, walked along, the rapid, nonsensical firing of the neurons going off in his coconut were causing weird, random thoughts to occur that were related to both the real world around him and the unreal world of the bent, rusty hamster wheel that passed for his brain. As he saw Jeff and Luis exiting the patrol car, some of these neurons made seven, or eight, logical connections between what was happening in the real world and what he should do. 1- "Those are cops." 2- "They are looking at me." 3- "They are close. 4- "I have rock cocaine." 5- "They will arrest me." 6- "I need to get rid of it....... (6.5)... the cocaine." 7 - "I'll swallow it... (7.5)... the cocaine" So, Mr. Crackhead swallowed his crack. (That sentence sounded better in my head, but I'm not changing it now.) Jeff and Luis stopped the guy under the orange glow of a streetlight.
Luis patted the guy down for weapons, as they checked the guy out. Jeff and Luis saw Mr. Crackhead's constantly fidgeting fingers, rapidly tapping foot, constant weight shifting, uncontrollable, jerky body movements, and the pupils that were so dilated the iris was almost gone. Rock cocaine and methamphetamine have a lot of the same effects on people, including those described in the previous sentence. Another one of these effects is it gives people, who are under the influence, the memory of a goldfish. The deputies answered Mr. Crackhead's rapid-fire, repetitive questions.
"What'd you stop me for?"
"You crossed the street right in front of us and we almost killed you.
"Why are you searching me?"
"We want to make sure you aren't armed and we saw you swallow the dope, so we want to see if you have anymore."
"I don't have any more dope."
"Well, we have to check."
"Are you going to arrest me?"
"Don't know."
"Are you guys sheriffs?"
"Yes"
"I don't have any more dope."
"Well, we have to check."
"Why are you searching me?"
"We want to make sure you aren't armed and we saw you swallow the dope, we want to see if you have anymore."
"Are you guys sheriffs?"
"Yes"
"Are you going to arrest me?"
"Don't know."
"Are you guys sheriffs?"
"Yes, still."
"I don't have any more dope."
"Well, we have to check."
"Are you going to arrest me?"
"Still don't know."
"Why are you searching me?"
"We want to make sure you aren't armed and we saw you swallow the dope, we want to see if you have anymore."
You get the idea, except the delivery was more like;
"Areyouguyssheriffs?"
"Yes"
"Idon'havenomo'dope."
"Well, we have to check."
"Areyougonna'restme?"
"Still don't know."
"Why'reyasearchin'me?"
"We want to make sure you aren't armed and we saw you swallow the dope, we want to see if you have anymore."
They didn't find anymore cocaine and they didn't find any weapons. The deputies had the guy sit on the curb and Luis ran him for warrants while Jeff stood by and watched the guy. He didn't have any warrants. At this point they could have technically arrested Mr. Crackhead for felony drug possession, but since it was in the guy's belly and the doctors wouldn't pump his stomach to recover it, they wouldn't be able to get a chemical analysis of what he swallowed, so the D.A. would refuse to file the charge (that = waste of time). They could arrest him for being under the influence, but that's a misdemeanor and they were looking for a felony. On the other hand, it wasn't looking like they would find anything better in the fog. They leaned against the car hood as they thought about it.
As Jeff and Luis were leaning against the car, Mr. Crackhead, who seemed to be on the verge of tears, was rocking back and forth, constantly mumbling to himself and alternately nodding and shaking his head.
"I-I-I ain't ne-ne-ne-never doin' th-th-this sh-sh-shit again. (shake of the head)
I-I-I'm gonna s-s-stop. (nod of the head)
I-I-I do-do-don't w-want to g-g-go t-t-t-to jail. (shake of the head)
I-I-I-I'm through w-w-w-with th-this. (nod of the head)
After watching this for a couple of minutes, and without saying anything to his partner, Jeff stepped forward so that he was standing over Mr.Crackhead. Mr.Crackhead just kept stuttering through how he was going to change his ways.
Jeff gazed thoughtfully down at Mr. Crachead, as he stood over him, then softly asked,
"Are you sorry?"
Mr. Crackhead looked up and asked,
"What?"
Jeff repeated the question in the same gentle voice,
"Are you sorry?"
Mr. Crackhead nodded slowly.
"Say it.", Jeff whispered.
"What?", Mr. Crackhead asked.
"Say it.", Jeff whispered again.
"I'm sorry?", Mr. Crackhead whispered.
"Louder.", Jeff softly said.
"I'm sorry.", Mr. Crackhead said, slightly louder than before.
Jeff closed his eyes, as he bowed his head and laid his hand on Mr. Crackhead's head and ordered, "Louder."
"I'm sorry.", Mr. Crackhead said, slightly louder than before.
At this point, Luis stomped forward to stand beside Jeff. He glared angrily down at Mr. Crackhead for a moment and then roared,
"SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT!", in his unique, raspy voice.
"I'm sorry.", Mr. Crackhead pled.
"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!", Luis roared.
"I'm sorry.", Mr. Crackhead said louder.
"YOU'RE NOT CONVINCING ME!", Luis bellowed.
"I'M SORRY.", Mr. Crackhead yelled.
At this point, Luis pointed at a crucifix hanging around Mr. Crackhead's neck. Luis pointed at it and demanded,
"What is that!"
"My crucifix, sir.", Mr. Crackhead said.
"Do you love Jesus?", Jeff asked.
"Yes, sir.", Mr. Crackhead said.
"HE ASKED IF YOU LOVE JESUS?!" Luis bellowed.
"YES, SIR!", Mr. Crackhead yelled.
"SAY IT!" Jeff now yelled.
"I LOVE JESUS!", Mr. Crackhead said.
"DON'T TELL US! TELL HIM!!" Luis yelled, as he pointed skyward and turned his face to the sky.
"I LOVE JESUS!", Mr. Crackhead screamed, face upturned and arms spread wide.
Jeff turned to Luis and, with his hand still on Mr. Crackhead's head, said,
"I think we need to perform an exorcism."
Luis looked sternly down at Mr.Crackhead and put his hand on his chin, as if he were contemplating the idea. He then asked Mr. Crackhead,
"Do you think you're prepared for an exorcism my son?"
Mr. Crackhead nodded eagerly. Luis gave him the following instruction,
"Each time you hear us say, 'Demon be gone.', you are to respond, 'I love Jesus.' Understand?"
"Yes, Sir.", Mr. Crackhead mumbled.
"I ASKED IF YOU UNDERSTAND?!" Luis roared.
"YES, SIR!", Mr. Crackhead said.
Haloed by the soft orange glow of the swirling fog, under the street lamp, and with everything outside of that glow being a frosty whiteness, Luis turned to Jeff and somberly said,
"Let us begin, Brother."
Each deputy took up a position so they were standing on either side of the now kneeling Mr. Crackhead, who was, apparently, caught up in the moment, as he knelt on the sidewalk, closed his eyes and clasped his hands in prayer. The deputies laid their left hands on his head. Then Luis began,
"Oh Heavenly Father, your humble servants beg that you forgive this sinner, for he is possessed by demons. We ask you give us strength in casting these demons out, so that your humble servant may return to the fold. In Jesus' name we ask this."
"Demon be gone.", Jeff intoned.
"I love Jesus.", Mr. Crackhead responded.
Both, Jeff and Luis now said in unison, "Demon be gone." Their breath was visible in the damp fog.
"I love Jesus.", Mr. Crackhead responded.
"Demon be gone.", The deputies said.
"I love Jesus.", Mr. Crackhead responded.
"Demon be gone!", The deputies said.
"I love Jesus!", Mr. Crackhead responded.
"Demon Be Gone!", The deputies demanded.
"I Love Jesus!", Mr. Crackhead declared.
"DEMON BE GONE!", The deputies yelled.
"I LOVE JESUS!", Mr. Crackhead yelled.
"DEMON BE GONE!", The deputies shouted.
"I LOVE JESUS!", Mr. Crackhead shouted.
"DEMON BE GONE!", The deputies roared.
"I LOVE JESUS!", Mr. Crackhead roared.
This went on for about 10 minutes with the shouts echoing off of the nearby buildings. Apparently, the demon was finally cast out and the "saved" Mr. Crackhead was sent on his merry way to his apartment with tears of rapture streaming down his face. Amazingly, they never again saw him buying dope.
Verdict – Jeff Fleming and Luis Nunez this Court finds you both Guilty of Impersonating a Clergy Member and Performing an Exorcism Without a License. OH! And Attempted Poaching!
Sentence – Deputies Fleming and Nunez, normally I would be inclined to go all Old Testament on you twos and treat you both rather harshly, seeing as what you did might be construed as blasphemous, but seeings as you two were, literally, doing the Lord's Work, and these violations occurred in the City of Los Angeles aka "the City of Angels" , AND the captain has been bitching about contract minutes, I'm going to be forced to release you two with a strong admonishment not to be messing with forces you two buffalo heads don't understand. OH! Regarding the Attempted Poaching, pfffft! I'm not a supervisor, what the frick do I care? Besides, if it wasn't for poaching, Fleming would only make arrests off of calls!
Before I get into this story, I'm going to explain something about the L.A. Sheriff's department. People often ask, "What's the difference between sheriff's and police?" I usually say, the county, any county, is divided up into incorporated areas called cities, and unincorporated areas. Cities have a city council, and a mayor and are responsible for providing certain things to their citizens like law enforcement services (The City Police Department) and fire services (the City Fire Department). In the unincorporated areas, decisions are made by the Board of Supervisors and they provide fire (the County Fire Department) and law enforcement services (the County Sheriff's Office or Department) to the inhabitants of the unincorporated areas of the county. In Los Angeles and Orange Counties incorporated cities have the option of contracting with the County Sheriff's and County Fire for services, instead of forming their own departments. In addition, the County Sheriff is in charge of the county jail system, and in L.A. County, we have taken over services for all of the courts, some of which used to fall under the, now disbanded, Marshal's office.
Here's some additional information that I don't normally go into, but it's pertinent to this story. When cities contract with the sheriff's department, the contract is very detailed. The number of deputies, detectives, patrol deputies, traffic deputies, motorcycle deputies, two man cars, one man cars, how many minutes of patrol per year will be spent in the city, blah, blah, blah. And all that stuff, including total minutes on patrol in the city and in the county, is tracked. We have to log how many minutes were spent patrolling in the city, how many were spent in briefing, responding to a call, handling a call, report writing, on traffic stops, on pedestrian stops, gassing up, and patrolling around. At the end of shift those minutes need to add up to sixty times however many hours you were at work. If it doesn't, you have to figure out where you screwed up in your math.
If, at the end of the year, the numbers in the city don't match, or exceed, the numbers called for in the contract, the station captain is in deep kimchi. So throughout the year, the station monitors the numbers and, if the numbers are falling short, the captain yells at the operations lieutenant, who yells at the shift lieutenants, who yell at the shift sergeants, who yell at the deputies. So, the question is, "Why don't the deputies just stay in their assigned areas?"
The answer is, deputies want to arrest bad guys and sometimes they can't find them in their assigned area, so they go where the bad guys can frequently be found, the so-called, "cherry patches". The unincorporated areas sometimes have more cherry patches than the contract city, because there are a lot more deputies in the contract city than in the unincorporated area. In Carson's case, another reason is, the station's unincorporated area was bordered on one side by Compton. Compton was seen by us as one GIANT ass cherry patch, with a lot of traffic going through our area to and from that city. Our patrol area was also bordered on another three sides by the city of L.A., which was also viewed by us as another giant cherry patch with a lot of pass through traffic. We also share a border with the west side of Long Beach, which is considered by us to be another cherry patch, but we are mostly blocked off from that city by a physical barrier called the 710 freeway.
Fortunately, L.A. Sheriff's deputies consider their jurisdiction to be wherever they want it to be, as long as it is in L.A. County, or can be seen from L.A. County. Unfortunately, the detective sergeants didn't like it when patrol deputies made arrests outside of their station's assigned area, because they didn't like their detectives getting stuck with cases that should have been handled by another agency, in this case, L.A.P.D. So, the station DB sergeants would periodically come down to briefing and tell us to stop making out of the area arrests. The patrol sergeants didn't like it when we made out of the area arrests either, because the station captain and the station lieutenants would yell at them about the minutes we were short in the city, because we were spending them outside of our assigned areas and in areas that L.A.County would not be reimbursed for. So, the patrol sergeants would come to briefing and yell at us about patrol minutes and order us not to make out of the area arrests. Fortunately, at THAT time, most patrol deputies foo-fooed those orders off as being mere, "suggestions", which we could ignore, if we couldn't find an arrest in the city of Carson, or surrounding county area.
If we did make an arrest that was out of the area, the watch sergeant and watch commander might yell at us, but what were they gonna do? Let the guy go? Sometimes we might get written up, but nobody really cared about that stuff. If it was a choice between getting a write up and a stat (a felony arrest), or no write up and no stat, the hard working deputy would always take the risk of a write up and a stat. Hands down. Now for our story.
In February 1993, Jeff Fleming and Luis Nunez were patrolling on the graveyard shift, as unit 169. They were assigned to the County area and were patrolling in the area of Lomita Boulevard and Normandie Avenue. The south side of this intersection is in L.A.P.D. Harbor Division's patrol area. The north side is patrolled by Carson Sheriff's station. The neighborhood southeast of this intersection has a couple of streets where crack cocaine was sold at the time (a little cherry patch), and just south of these streets were "The PJs", where even more crack cocaine was sold (a BIG FAT cherry patch). Unfortunately, as previously described, these areas fell under L.A.P.D.'s jurisdiction.
On this particular night, it was very foggy. Drive 5 M.P.H on the freeway foggy. One of those nights where you could barely see the front of your car, but you weren't sure how far in front of the car you could see, because everything around you was the same frosty white. Jeff and Luis hadn't found anybody out and about in the County, or in the City. So, what could they do? Poach in an L.A.P.D. cherry patch, that's what! So they rolled south on Normandie. A White guy came walking out of the fog in front of them and, if they hadn't been going 5 M.P.H, they would have had Caucasian smeared all over their patrol car. As it was, Jeff had to swerve to avoid hitting him. The guy continued on across their path and disappeared back into the swirling white mist, completely oblivious to his near death experience. Jeff pulled over and they exited the patrol car.
As the White guy, that had nearly been run over, walked along, the rapid, nonsensical firing of the neurons going off in his coconut were causing weird, random thoughts to occur that were related to both the real world around him and the unreal world of the bent, rusty hamster wheel that passed for his brain. As he saw Jeff and Luis exiting the patrol car, some of these neurons made seven, or eight, logical connections between what was happening in the real world and what he should do. 1- "Those are cops." 2- "They are looking at me." 3- "They are close. 4- "I have rock cocaine." 5- "They will arrest me." 6- "I need to get rid of it....... (6.5)... the cocaine." 7 - "I'll swallow it... (7.5)... the cocaine" So, Mr. Crackhead swallowed his crack. (That sentence sounded better in my head, but I'm not changing it now.) Jeff and Luis stopped the guy under the orange glow of a streetlight.
Luis patted the guy down for weapons, as they checked the guy out. Jeff and Luis saw Mr. Crackhead's constantly fidgeting fingers, rapidly tapping foot, constant weight shifting, uncontrollable, jerky body movements, and the pupils that were so dilated the iris was almost gone. Rock cocaine and methamphetamine have a lot of the same effects on people, including those described in the previous sentence. Another one of these effects is it gives people, who are under the influence, the memory of a goldfish. The deputies answered Mr. Crackhead's rapid-fire, repetitive questions.
"What'd you stop me for?"
"You crossed the street right in front of us and we almost killed you.
"Why are you searching me?"
"We want to make sure you aren't armed and we saw you swallow the dope, so we want to see if you have anymore."
"I don't have any more dope."
"Well, we have to check."
"Are you going to arrest me?"
"Don't know."
"Are you guys sheriffs?"
"Yes"
"I don't have any more dope."
"Well, we have to check."
"Why are you searching me?"
"We want to make sure you aren't armed and we saw you swallow the dope, we want to see if you have anymore."
"Are you guys sheriffs?"
"Yes"
"Are you going to arrest me?"
"Don't know."
"Are you guys sheriffs?"
"Yes, still."
"I don't have any more dope."
"Well, we have to check."
"Are you going to arrest me?"
"Still don't know."
"Why are you searching me?"
"We want to make sure you aren't armed and we saw you swallow the dope, we want to see if you have anymore."
You get the idea, except the delivery was more like;
"Areyouguyssheriffs?"
"Yes"
"Idon'havenomo'dope."
"Well, we have to check."
"Areyougonna'restme?"
"Still don't know."
"Why'reyasearchin'me?"
"We want to make sure you aren't armed and we saw you swallow the dope, we want to see if you have anymore."
They didn't find anymore cocaine and they didn't find any weapons. The deputies had the guy sit on the curb and Luis ran him for warrants while Jeff stood by and watched the guy. He didn't have any warrants. At this point they could have technically arrested Mr. Crackhead for felony drug possession, but since it was in the guy's belly and the doctors wouldn't pump his stomach to recover it, they wouldn't be able to get a chemical analysis of what he swallowed, so the D.A. would refuse to file the charge (that = waste of time). They could arrest him for being under the influence, but that's a misdemeanor and they were looking for a felony. On the other hand, it wasn't looking like they would find anything better in the fog. They leaned against the car hood as they thought about it.
As Jeff and Luis were leaning against the car, Mr. Crackhead, who seemed to be on the verge of tears, was rocking back and forth, constantly mumbling to himself and alternately nodding and shaking his head.
"I-I-I ain't ne-ne-ne-never doin' th-th-this sh-sh-shit again. (shake of the head)
I-I-I'm gonna s-s-stop. (nod of the head)
I-I-I do-do-don't w-want to g-g-go t-t-t-to jail. (shake of the head)
I-I-I-I'm through w-w-w-with th-this. (nod of the head)
After watching this for a couple of minutes, and without saying anything to his partner, Jeff stepped forward so that he was standing over Mr.Crackhead. Mr.Crackhead just kept stuttering through how he was going to change his ways.
Jeff gazed thoughtfully down at Mr. Crachead, as he stood over him, then softly asked,
"Are you sorry?"
Mr. Crackhead looked up and asked,
"What?"
Jeff repeated the question in the same gentle voice,
"Are you sorry?"
Mr. Crackhead nodded slowly.
"Say it.", Jeff whispered.
"What?", Mr. Crackhead asked.
"Say it.", Jeff whispered again.
"I'm sorry?", Mr. Crackhead whispered.
"Louder.", Jeff softly said.
"I'm sorry.", Mr. Crackhead said, slightly louder than before.
Jeff closed his eyes, as he bowed his head and laid his hand on Mr. Crackhead's head and ordered, "Louder."
"I'm sorry.", Mr. Crackhead said, slightly louder than before.
At this point, Luis stomped forward to stand beside Jeff. He glared angrily down at Mr. Crackhead for a moment and then roared,
"SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT!", in his unique, raspy voice.
"I'm sorry.", Mr. Crackhead pled.
"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!", Luis roared.
"I'm sorry.", Mr. Crackhead said louder.
"YOU'RE NOT CONVINCING ME!", Luis bellowed.
"I'M SORRY.", Mr. Crackhead yelled.
At this point, Luis pointed at a crucifix hanging around Mr. Crackhead's neck. Luis pointed at it and demanded,
"What is that!"
"My crucifix, sir.", Mr. Crackhead said.
"Do you love Jesus?", Jeff asked.
"Yes, sir.", Mr. Crackhead said.
"HE ASKED IF YOU LOVE JESUS?!" Luis bellowed.
"YES, SIR!", Mr. Crackhead yelled.
"SAY IT!" Jeff now yelled.
"I LOVE JESUS!", Mr. Crackhead said.
"DON'T TELL US! TELL HIM!!" Luis yelled, as he pointed skyward and turned his face to the sky.
"I LOVE JESUS!", Mr. Crackhead screamed, face upturned and arms spread wide.
Jeff turned to Luis and, with his hand still on Mr. Crackhead's head, said,
"I think we need to perform an exorcism."
Luis looked sternly down at Mr.Crackhead and put his hand on his chin, as if he were contemplating the idea. He then asked Mr. Crackhead,
"Do you think you're prepared for an exorcism my son?"
Mr. Crackhead nodded eagerly. Luis gave him the following instruction,
"Each time you hear us say, 'Demon be gone.', you are to respond, 'I love Jesus.' Understand?"
"Yes, Sir.", Mr. Crackhead mumbled.
"I ASKED IF YOU UNDERSTAND?!" Luis roared.
"YES, SIR!", Mr. Crackhead said.
Haloed by the soft orange glow of the swirling fog, under the street lamp, and with everything outside of that glow being a frosty whiteness, Luis turned to Jeff and somberly said,
"Let us begin, Brother."
Each deputy took up a position so they were standing on either side of the now kneeling Mr. Crackhead, who was, apparently, caught up in the moment, as he knelt on the sidewalk, closed his eyes and clasped his hands in prayer. The deputies laid their left hands on his head. Then Luis began,
"Oh Heavenly Father, your humble servants beg that you forgive this sinner, for he is possessed by demons. We ask you give us strength in casting these demons out, so that your humble servant may return to the fold. In Jesus' name we ask this."
"Demon be gone.", Jeff intoned.
"I love Jesus.", Mr. Crackhead responded.
Both, Jeff and Luis now said in unison, "Demon be gone." Their breath was visible in the damp fog.
"I love Jesus.", Mr. Crackhead responded.
"Demon be gone.", The deputies said.
"I love Jesus.", Mr. Crackhead responded.
"Demon be gone!", The deputies said.
"I love Jesus!", Mr. Crackhead responded.
"Demon Be Gone!", The deputies demanded.
"I Love Jesus!", Mr. Crackhead declared.
"DEMON BE GONE!", The deputies yelled.
"I LOVE JESUS!", Mr. Crackhead yelled.
"DEMON BE GONE!", The deputies shouted.
"I LOVE JESUS!", Mr. Crackhead shouted.
"DEMON BE GONE!", The deputies roared.
"I LOVE JESUS!", Mr. Crackhead roared.
This went on for about 10 minutes with the shouts echoing off of the nearby buildings. Apparently, the demon was finally cast out and the "saved" Mr. Crackhead was sent on his merry way to his apartment with tears of rapture streaming down his face. Amazingly, they never again saw him buying dope.
Verdict – Jeff Fleming and Luis Nunez this Court finds you both Guilty of Impersonating a Clergy Member and Performing an Exorcism Without a License. OH! And Attempted Poaching!
Sentence – Deputies Fleming and Nunez, normally I would be inclined to go all Old Testament on you twos and treat you both rather harshly, seeing as what you did might be construed as blasphemous, but seeings as you two were, literally, doing the Lord's Work, and these violations occurred in the City of Los Angeles aka "the City of Angels" , AND the captain has been bitching about contract minutes, I'm going to be forced to release you two with a strong admonishment not to be messing with forces you two buffalo heads don't understand. OH! Regarding the Attempted Poaching, pfffft! I'm not a supervisor, what the frick do I care? Besides, if it wasn't for poaching, Fleming would only make arrests off of calls!
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