Case #59 - The People vs Jake Foley (always go with your gut, unless you're Steve Sather, then always do just the opposite)
Case #59 - The People vs Jake Foley (always go with your gut, unless you're Steve Sather, then always do just the opposite)
In October 2008, Detective Jake Foley was summoned to the captain's office. Never a pleasant experience... for him. But this time, Jake wasn't sweating it. Sure, he gotten into a lot of trouble when he was on patrol, about a 90% complaint to contact ratio. Right up there with Randy "Vesuvius" Dickerson, who had, coincidentally, been Jake Fowley's training officer. But those were the bad days. Jake was a detective now. These were the good days! About the only contact he had with the public now was calling them on the phone to listen to them say they weren't interested in pressing charges anymore.
So, with the possibility of a complaint out of the picture,what did that leave? A routine case update? A little periodic face time with the captain, so he knew he was a valued member of the team? Ooooh, maybe a commendation?
Jake knocked on the captain's open office door and the captain invited him, told him to close the door and have a seat. Jake sat across from the captain. The captain set down a sheet of paper he had been reading and slid it across the desk. He turned it around so Jake could read it and asked,
"Did you write this Detective Foley?"
The captain was not smiling. The captain had referred to him by title and last name, not first name. Sooo, not a commendation then. Jake's throat tightened, his muscles tensed and his stomach churned as his survival instincts kicked in. He glanced longingly at the closed door, imagining the hallway beyond and the door to the parking lot, where his car was parked. He realized his keys were at his desk. He looked back at the captain and reflexively folded his hands in his lap, consciously refusing to pick the paper up and get his fingerprints on it. He tentatively leaned forward to read the sheet of paper. When he saw what it was, he immediately relaxed, slightly embarrassed at his overreaction. It was just a form letter he had sent to a suspect in a case. It advised the suspect that the district attorney had apparently had a bad day at home and decided to take his frustration out on the suspect by filing a criminal complaint against him, instead of stamping the paperwork with his handy dandy, "D.A. Reject", stamp. (of course Jake didn't actually write, the last sentence. He just checked the box informing the suspect a case had been filed against him, filled in the charge and the date of his court appearance. He's not a dick head.)
The captain leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow, displaying obvious surprise at Jake's uncharacteristic forthrightness. After a few moments of silence, the captain had to shake his head to bring himself out of his state of shock. He asked,
"You did?" There was probably a little more surprise in his tone than there should have been.
Jake glanced at it again and said,
"Yes?... Sir?", wisely making a last second substitution for the, "What of it?", that was still clearly in his tone.
"Are you sure? Look at it again."
"Yeah. That's my case number, my suspect, my signature. Why?"
The captain leaned forward and pointed to the bottom of the page asking,
"What's this then?"
Jake looked and saw,
"You're a Dick Head!"
Jake jerked away from the paper, as far as his seat back would allow, as, once again, his survival instincts kicked in. He went into automatic defense mode, stuttering out,
"WHOA! WHOA!, NO!, NOT THAT! NO! HEY! I DIDN'T... WHOOAA! NO! Captain! You can't think that..."
But one look at the captain's face made it clear to Jake that the captain, in fact, could think, "that..."
"Captain!", Jake protested, "That's just a form letter! I bring it up on the computer, change a few things, print it and stick in the secretary's tray to be sent off! THAT'S IT! I swear, Sir! I swear to God I never saw that before!" Jake pointed in the general direction of the offending notation, to indicate what the, "that", was that he had never seen before.
The captain explained that the recipient had taken the form letter down to headquarters to file a complaint. Undersheriff Tanaka had called the captain personally to find out out why one of his station captains was allowing his personnel to send crude letters out to the public. Then, just as Jake was watching his career train leave the rails, once again, the captain told him he could leave. Just like that. So, Detective Jake Foley wandered back to his desk in a bit of a daze.
Now that there, in and of itself, is a good story, but there's more. There's a part 2.
Part 2
A few hours after having Jake's ass in the hot seat, the captain called a meeting for all the detectives in the station's detective bureau office. The DB lieutenant, the DB sgts and all the detectives were there. They listened silently as the captain told the story of Jake's form letter. When he got to the part where he told them what was written at the bottom of the form letter, you could have heard a pin drop. You could have,... if not for Detective Steve Sather's uncontrollable outburst of raucous laughter. So, really, all you could hear was raucous laughter from Steve and dead silence from everyone else.
The captain immediately turned on Steve like a wolf on a lamb, if a lamb had four foot wide shoulders.
"YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY STEVE!"
Steve stopped laughing and said the only thing that came to mind,
"uhh.... well... I did until a second ago, sir."
Verdict – Jake Foley, you had Randy "Vesuvius" Dickerson as a training officer. I bet you can't even count the times the two of you got called into the Watch Commander's office for a citizen's complaint. And I know you lost count of the number of times you were called onto the carpet once you were off training. You still haven't learned that when the Brass calls you in and tells you to, "... close the door.", that means you are in deep shit? And what the fuck dude! You work with some of the biggest pransters in the county. You don't know not to leave stuff out? How did you make detective? The court finds you Guilty Of Failing To Listen To Your Gut Instinct and Failing To Watch Your Own Back.
Sentence – Jake, Jake, Jake. I'm going to give you a rehabilitory sentence, so you can learn from the experience. You are to be reassigned for one year. For six months, you will work with one of the biggest backstabbers in the county, a member of the Board of Supervisors. You will be their personal deputy. You will watch up close and personal some of the most devious people in the nation and see how they work. After that, you will work a patrol car with the biggest asshole to ever put on a badge... never mind, that guy's retired... ok, the biggest asshole still pushing a patrol car. You'll learn all the little signs and body language the Brass has as, "tells", that you are in deep shit. After a year, if you haven't been fired, or sent to prison, you can go back to DB.
In October 2008, Detective Jake Foley was summoned to the captain's office. Never a pleasant experience... for him. But this time, Jake wasn't sweating it. Sure, he gotten into a lot of trouble when he was on patrol, about a 90% complaint to contact ratio. Right up there with Randy "Vesuvius" Dickerson, who had, coincidentally, been Jake Fowley's training officer. But those were the bad days. Jake was a detective now. These were the good days! About the only contact he had with the public now was calling them on the phone to listen to them say they weren't interested in pressing charges anymore.
So, with the possibility of a complaint out of the picture,what did that leave? A routine case update? A little periodic face time with the captain, so he knew he was a valued member of the team? Ooooh, maybe a commendation?
Jake knocked on the captain's open office door and the captain invited him, told him to close the door and have a seat. Jake sat across from the captain. The captain set down a sheet of paper he had been reading and slid it across the desk. He turned it around so Jake could read it and asked,
"Did you write this Detective Foley?"
The captain was not smiling. The captain had referred to him by title and last name, not first name. Sooo, not a commendation then. Jake's throat tightened, his muscles tensed and his stomach churned as his survival instincts kicked in. He glanced longingly at the closed door, imagining the hallway beyond and the door to the parking lot, where his car was parked. He realized his keys were at his desk. He looked back at the captain and reflexively folded his hands in his lap, consciously refusing to pick the paper up and get his fingerprints on it. He tentatively leaned forward to read the sheet of paper. When he saw what it was, he immediately relaxed, slightly embarrassed at his overreaction. It was just a form letter he had sent to a suspect in a case. It advised the suspect that the district attorney had apparently had a bad day at home and decided to take his frustration out on the suspect by filing a criminal complaint against him, instead of stamping the paperwork with his handy dandy, "D.A. Reject", stamp. (of course Jake didn't actually write, the last sentence. He just checked the box informing the suspect a case had been filed against him, filled in the charge and the date of his court appearance. He's not a dick head.)
The captain leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow, displaying obvious surprise at Jake's uncharacteristic forthrightness. After a few moments of silence, the captain had to shake his head to bring himself out of his state of shock. He asked,
"You did?" There was probably a little more surprise in his tone than there should have been.
Jake glanced at it again and said,
"Yes?... Sir?", wisely making a last second substitution for the, "What of it?", that was still clearly in his tone.
"Are you sure? Look at it again."
"Yeah. That's my case number, my suspect, my signature. Why?"
The captain leaned forward and pointed to the bottom of the page asking,
"What's this then?"
Jake looked and saw,
"You're a Dick Head!"
Jake jerked away from the paper, as far as his seat back would allow, as, once again, his survival instincts kicked in. He went into automatic defense mode, stuttering out,
"WHOA! WHOA!, NO!, NOT THAT! NO! HEY! I DIDN'T... WHOOAA! NO! Captain! You can't think that..."
But one look at the captain's face made it clear to Jake that the captain, in fact, could think, "that..."
"Captain!", Jake protested, "That's just a form letter! I bring it up on the computer, change a few things, print it and stick in the secretary's tray to be sent off! THAT'S IT! I swear, Sir! I swear to God I never saw that before!" Jake pointed in the general direction of the offending notation, to indicate what the, "that", was that he had never seen before.
The captain explained that the recipient had taken the form letter down to headquarters to file a complaint. Undersheriff Tanaka had called the captain personally to find out out why one of his station captains was allowing his personnel to send crude letters out to the public. Then, just as Jake was watching his career train leave the rails, once again, the captain told him he could leave. Just like that. So, Detective Jake Foley wandered back to his desk in a bit of a daze.
Now that there, in and of itself, is a good story, but there's more. There's a part 2.
Part 2
A few hours after having Jake's ass in the hot seat, the captain called a meeting for all the detectives in the station's detective bureau office. The DB lieutenant, the DB sgts and all the detectives were there. They listened silently as the captain told the story of Jake's form letter. When he got to the part where he told them what was written at the bottom of the form letter, you could have heard a pin drop. You could have,... if not for Detective Steve Sather's uncontrollable outburst of raucous laughter. So, really, all you could hear was raucous laughter from Steve and dead silence from everyone else.
The captain immediately turned on Steve like a wolf on a lamb, if a lamb had four foot wide shoulders.
"YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY STEVE!"
Steve stopped laughing and said the only thing that came to mind,
"uhh.... well... I did until a second ago, sir."
Verdict – Jake Foley, you had Randy "Vesuvius" Dickerson as a training officer. I bet you can't even count the times the two of you got called into the Watch Commander's office for a citizen's complaint. And I know you lost count of the number of times you were called onto the carpet once you were off training. You still haven't learned that when the Brass calls you in and tells you to, "... close the door.", that means you are in deep shit? And what the fuck dude! You work with some of the biggest pransters in the county. You don't know not to leave stuff out? How did you make detective? The court finds you Guilty Of Failing To Listen To Your Gut Instinct and Failing To Watch Your Own Back.
Sentence – Jake, Jake, Jake. I'm going to give you a rehabilitory sentence, so you can learn from the experience. You are to be reassigned for one year. For six months, you will work with one of the biggest backstabbers in the county, a member of the Board of Supervisors. You will be their personal deputy. You will watch up close and personal some of the most devious people in the nation and see how they work. After that, you will work a patrol car with the biggest asshole to ever put on a badge... never mind, that guy's retired... ok, the biggest asshole still pushing a patrol car. You'll learn all the little signs and body language the Brass has as, "tells", that you are in deep shit. After a year, if you haven't been fired, or sent to prison, you can go back to DB.
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