Case #42 - re The People vs Wilbert Seelhorst (A matter of perspective)
I was working with Wilbert Seelhorst one Day shift in 1989 or 1990. It was the end of shift and we were heading into the station. We decided to stop a car at Main and 192nd streets. Wilbert was the bookman and I was the driver. As our cars stopped, Wilbert bailed out and got up on the passenger side using that patented strut of his. He was leaning at an odd angle to his right, with his left shoulder raised, but tilted forward, left hand hanging in the air in front of his left hip. Right shoulder dropped, but tilted forward, because of the way he rested the back of his hand on his gun butt, with the top of the web of his hand on it, so his palm faced the sky. On top of all that, every so often, his left shoulder would jerk upward as his head would jerk briefly down towards it. But this case isn’t about his oddball physical mannerisms. Far be it from me, to pick on the peculiarities and foibles of another person.
When I reached the driver’s window, I saw there were two guys in the front and three guys in the back. They all looked like wetbacks coming from work. I asked the driver,
"Do you have a license?"
He looked up at me with a hopeful smile and softly said,
"E-yes."
"Let me have it.", I said
"E-yes.", he softly repeated.
I quickly evaluated him and his passengers.
"Any of you guys speak English?", I asked, as I looked at all of them.
They looked at each other for a couple of seconds, before the driver responded for all of them with,
"E-yes."
"Give me your driver's license.", I asked, not very hopefully.
"E-yes."
"fuck", I thought to myself. I heard Seelhorst snickering.
I told the driver to shut the car off and mimed the action for him. The driver nodded and reached for the keys in the ignition, but instead of turning the keys, the driver pulled the keys out, ignition plug and all, leaving the car running. Then he placed the keys and attached ignition plug on the seat and picked up a flathead screwdriver. He inserted the screwdriver into the hole left by the ignition plug and turned the car off. Then the driver placed the screwdriver on the seat, replaced the key and attached ignition plug in the steering column, placed both hands on the wheel. He smiled innocently up at me. Having seen a stolen car or two before, I knew a punched ignition when I saw one. I drew my .357 revolver, aimed it at the driver’s innocent smile and advised my partner,
“It’s punched!”
I couldn’t believe what I saw next. Instead of drawing his weapon, like a NORMAL deputy, Wilbert leaned down and took a look at the ignition himself. Seeing the keys dangling there, he straightened up and casually said,
“No, it’s not.”
And now I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. My five senses were failing me rapidly.
“Hey! The car’s punched!”
Wilbert gave a resigned sigh, leaned over and looked at the ignition again.
“Nnno it’s not.” not so casually.
“Yes it is!”
“No it’s not!”
“Yessss, it is!”
“Noooo, it’s not!”
‘Yes, it IS!”
No, it’s NOT!”
“IS!”
“NOT!”
“IS!”
“NOT!”
“Wilbert!” I said through gritted teeth, “The fuckin’ car is PUNCHED, Goddamnit!”
“Ohhh, allllright.” Wilbert said, Like he was annoyed, as he rolled his eyes and reluctantly drew his revolver, and tiredly rested his forearm on his holster. His wrist was relaxed as it draped over the front of his breakfront holster, placing his aim somewhere between the car window and the curb near the front tire. I pulled everyone out of the car, patted them down and sat them in our backseat, or on the curb. Then I reached in and angrily yanked out the key with attached ignition plug and held it in front of Wilbert’s face,
“Well?” I demanded
“Okay, it’s punched.”
After all of that, it turned out the car wasn't stolen. Jose had bought it in that condition from an auction. Wilbert snickered. "Fuckfuckingfuckerfuckityfuck!", I thought.
Verdict – Wilbert Seelhorst, the Court finds you Guilty of Not Trusting Your Partner. You're also found Guilty of Holding Your Weapon Like It's Your Pecker And You Just Don't Give A Shit If You Miss The Toilet, Because Your Wife Will Clean Up The Mess Anyways
Sentence – This Court orders you to attend a Desert Trip and a River Trip. On each of those trips, you will be blindfolded and stripped naked from the time camp is set up, until the time camp is broken. Your fellow campers will take turns being your eyes. "Pugsley" can be your eyes at potty time. He can tell you if the shithole is deep enough and direct your aim (see case #13, for why). Jeff Fleming will be your eyes at meal time. The Court suggests you not read about the Fleming Juicer (case #37) until you return. Oh, you're also ordered to attend Basic Weapons Training again, so you can learn how to hold your damn weapon!
I was working with Wilbert Seelhorst one Day shift in 1989 or 1990. It was the end of shift and we were heading into the station. We decided to stop a car at Main and 192nd streets. Wilbert was the bookman and I was the driver. As our cars stopped, Wilbert bailed out and got up on the passenger side using that patented strut of his. He was leaning at an odd angle to his right, with his left shoulder raised, but tilted forward, left hand hanging in the air in front of his left hip. Right shoulder dropped, but tilted forward, because of the way he rested the back of his hand on his gun butt, with the top of the web of his hand on it, so his palm faced the sky. On top of all that, every so often, his left shoulder would jerk upward as his head would jerk briefly down towards it. But this case isn’t about his oddball physical mannerisms. Far be it from me, to pick on the peculiarities and foibles of another person.
When I reached the driver’s window, I saw there were two guys in the front and three guys in the back. They all looked like wetbacks coming from work. I asked the driver,
"Do you have a license?"
He looked up at me with a hopeful smile and softly said,
"E-yes."
"Let me have it.", I said
"E-yes.", he softly repeated.
I quickly evaluated him and his passengers.
"Any of you guys speak English?", I asked, as I looked at all of them.
They looked at each other for a couple of seconds, before the driver responded for all of them with,
"E-yes."
"Give me your driver's license.", I asked, not very hopefully.
"E-yes."
"fuck", I thought to myself. I heard Seelhorst snickering.
I told the driver to shut the car off and mimed the action for him. The driver nodded and reached for the keys in the ignition, but instead of turning the keys, the driver pulled the keys out, ignition plug and all, leaving the car running. Then he placed the keys and attached ignition plug on the seat and picked up a flathead screwdriver. He inserted the screwdriver into the hole left by the ignition plug and turned the car off. Then the driver placed the screwdriver on the seat, replaced the key and attached ignition plug in the steering column, placed both hands on the wheel. He smiled innocently up at me. Having seen a stolen car or two before, I knew a punched ignition when I saw one. I drew my .357 revolver, aimed it at the driver’s innocent smile and advised my partner,
“It’s punched!”
I couldn’t believe what I saw next. Instead of drawing his weapon, like a NORMAL deputy, Wilbert leaned down and took a look at the ignition himself. Seeing the keys dangling there, he straightened up and casually said,
“No, it’s not.”
And now I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. My five senses were failing me rapidly.
“Hey! The car’s punched!”
Wilbert gave a resigned sigh, leaned over and looked at the ignition again.
“Nnno it’s not.” not so casually.
“Yes it is!”
“No it’s not!”
“Yessss, it is!”
“Noooo, it’s not!”
‘Yes, it IS!”
No, it’s NOT!”
“IS!”
“NOT!”
“IS!”
“NOT!”
“Wilbert!” I said through gritted teeth, “The fuckin’ car is PUNCHED, Goddamnit!”
“Ohhh, allllright.” Wilbert said, Like he was annoyed, as he rolled his eyes and reluctantly drew his revolver, and tiredly rested his forearm on his holster. His wrist was relaxed as it draped over the front of his breakfront holster, placing his aim somewhere between the car window and the curb near the front tire. I pulled everyone out of the car, patted them down and sat them in our backseat, or on the curb. Then I reached in and angrily yanked out the key with attached ignition plug and held it in front of Wilbert’s face,
“Well?” I demanded
“Okay, it’s punched.”
After all of that, it turned out the car wasn't stolen. Jose had bought it in that condition from an auction. Wilbert snickered. "Fuckfuckingfuckerfuckityfuck!", I thought.
Verdict – Wilbert Seelhorst, the Court finds you Guilty of Not Trusting Your Partner. You're also found Guilty of Holding Your Weapon Like It's Your Pecker And You Just Don't Give A Shit If You Miss The Toilet, Because Your Wife Will Clean Up The Mess Anyways
Sentence – This Court orders you to attend a Desert Trip and a River Trip. On each of those trips, you will be blindfolded and stripped naked from the time camp is set up, until the time camp is broken. Your fellow campers will take turns being your eyes. "Pugsley" can be your eyes at potty time. He can tell you if the shithole is deep enough and direct your aim (see case #13, for why). Jeff Fleming will be your eyes at meal time. The Court suggests you not read about the Fleming Juicer (case #37) until you return. Oh, you're also ordered to attend Basic Weapons Training again, so you can learn how to hold your damn weapon!
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