A Combat Engineer's Tale

Today was another day of celebration, at least, for me and my family. Today marked the annual celebration of the birth of my Mother. She was not exactly thrilled about the prospect of becoming yet another year older. As a part of the "Celebration" my Mother and I went to see my Grandparents, which is always about as interesting as having your teeth pulled.

In recent years it has become increasingly apparent that age is taking a toll on my Grandparents. My Grandfather has become increasingly forgetful and exponentially more childlike. My Grandmother has a marked increase in pain and stiffness. She also claims that she can no longer see anything due to Macular Degeneration of her eyes. However, anytime we are all driving to go anywhere and she is riding Shotgun, if we come to a four way intersection, she will check in her direction and tell you whether or not it is clear to go. But that is neither here no there.

Over the years I have come to find out that my Grandfather was a Combat Engineer during World War II in the European Theater. In actual attempts to garner any further information is usually blocked by my Grandmother who does not want the discussion to go any further, with the excuse that, "It upsets him."

The few times that I have been able to catch my Grandfather alone and in a position to talk about such things as his military history, did not bear much fruit. The most he would ever say are the dates that he entered and exited the theater, where he entered and exited, and what he did. Stating, "I built bridges, that's it."

Over the past few weeks I have had a heavy heart in this matter. This may be due to a combination of things, probably mostly due to the fact that being in Law Enforcement I am Nosey. Also, probably because it is a time period that I am interested in. Lastly, it has to do with a piece of history not being told and may be forgotten.

Well today, being the nosey person that I am, during the festivities, I happen to see a rather large book on the Bookshelf. This book had no title on the spine which I thought to be odd. I pulled the book out to look at the cover and what should I find? "Pictorial History of the 75th Infantry Division, 1944-1945" If that is not a way to start a conversation then I do not know what is. To be honest I had never heard of the 75th Division. If I had ever heard of it before it was quickly dismissed as not being the 1st Infantry Division (The Big Red 1), the 3rd Armor Division (General George S. Patton's "Spearhead"), or the 82nd Airborne Division (All-American).

I pulled my Grandfather aside and asked him to join me on the back porch. I sat down in one of the chairs and laid the book in my lap. I asked looking at the cover, "Was this your Division?" The answer came sooner than I expected. "Yes...yes it was." He sat down beside me and took the book from my hands. He opened it and began flipping through the pages and stopped at a large group picture. "This was my company. The 275th Combat Engineers Battalion." He ran his hand over the faces of the men he must have once considered to be closer than brothers.

We talked for a couple of hours. My mother keeping her mother occupied while we talked in the fading light. The following is a compilation of the information garnered from the book, the Internet, and the few stories that he told me in this short amount of time.

The 75th Infantry Division was activated at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri in April 1943 with an authorized strength of 15,514 men. One of those men was my Grandfather at the age of 19. The Average of a man in the 75th was 21 years old. They would spend the next 18 months training for the battles to come.

In November 1944 they were shipped to England and from there to France on December 13th. On December 16th Operation Watch on the Rhine began (also know as The Battle of the Bulge). The 75th was ordered to help stop the quickly advancing German line. They were mainly assigned to aid the 3rd Armored Division. After 33 days of hard fighting the 75th had earned the name of "Diaper Division", due to their inexperience in combat. During this battle the 75th earned itself a Meritorious Unit Commendation. It also had the highest casualty rate of any Division during the battle.

My Grandfather would not speak about the actual fighting, nor would I ask him about it. When we came to the section of the book about the Ardennes, he only pointed at the pictures and said, "There was heavy fighting there." Later he told me that when they arrived at they assigned drop off point in the Ardennes, he noticed the mounds of bodies. One side German, the other American. The American bodies were put in wagons and started the long journey home. He did not mention what happened to the German bodies.

His first night in the Ardennes he and the other Engineers were ordered to lay mines at the front. He and his Platoon picked up arm loads of mines and headed for the front. He said, "We were boys. We did what we were told. Being boys we talked all the while. We didn't know any better. We cut up, laughed, sang Christmas Carols." All the while passing foxhole upon foxhole of Infantryman. Several of which yelled, "Hey! Shut the F&#% up or I'll kick your A#&!" Being boys they shouted back and continued on their way.

As they neared the front line, the need to be quite became apparent. The veterans knew the sound well, but the young boys in the platoon did not recognize the horribly distinct whistle of the 88mm shells as they hurtled toward Earth. At the first horrible note was heard the veterans all shouted, "Get down!" My Grandfather and his Platoon did not heed this warning, for the interest of new sound. That is until the first shells struck further down the line with a massive explosion.

Mines went in every which direction as the Green Engineers scrambled for Foxholes. My Grandfather dove into the nearest Foxhole with two of his friends right behind him. The two Infantrymen already occupying the hole made room and they huddled together and waited for the barrage to subside. My Grandfather said that he could not remember how long the shelling lasted, but seemed to last forever.

As the last shells impacted the silence was just as deafening as the exploding shells. Then the two Infantrymen scrambled to there feet and waited for a German attack that did not come. After another eternity of waiting, one of the Infantrymen turned and said, "I don't hear you boys goofing off now."

Before any words could be exchanged a Lieutenant arrived and started giving orders for the Engineers to have the Mines in place before the next barrage or attack. The next several minutes was spent trying to find the mines that had been thrown about and forgotten. Once the mines had been recollected my Grandfather and his platoon went to work placing the mines. The next morning was spent gathering the activated mines back up in preparation for an assault on the Germans.

My Grandfather said that this was pretty much how he spent his time in the Ardennes.

To Be Continued...

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

Traditions

I just returned home from the house of my Mother and my Step-family. I had a splendid time with them, but I am glad for the current state of piece and quite (and a renewed vigor for my never have children policy). This is the first Christmas Eve in my life that I did not spend with the family of my Father. It was an emotional decision to make a choice between the two families. However, the choice was made easier by the fact that I only knew when and where one would be.

I am not sure that this is the start of a new tradition. To be honest, I hope it will not. My Step-family is a little more...lively than I am used to, especially the children. Also, with this family gathering came the opening of presents. My step-father said that it would be the only time that they would all be together. I am not used to opening presents on Christmas Eve and to me it kind of takes away some of the magic of Christmas Day.

However, with that part of Christmas out of the way, we can focus more on the actual reason that we celebrate Christmas. Christ. Now, I will go ahead and state for the record that I am not a scholar on this subject by any means, but this is what I know.

Some time around 2000 years ago a baby was born. Whether or not it was this night no one knows. That baby was born to a Virgin, Mary, and her husband, Joseph, in the City of David. Once born the baby was clothed with random strips of cloth found around the Stable and placed in a feeding trough to sleep.

Elsewhere, in the neighboring countryside, several Shepards where pulling the third shift. Suddenly, an Angel appeared and with him the light of Heaven. Due to the fact that these Shepards were in the countryside, the only light that would have been around would be the lights from the city, a camp fire, and mayhap the Moon, to suddenly more light than they have ever seen in their lives, their reaction was understandable. Fear. The Angel knowing that they were afraid said, "Don't be afraid. I'm bringing you great news that will be told to all people. In the City of David, Christ the Lord has been born for you. He is wrapped in swaddling clothes and is lying in a manger." Once the Angel delivered this message more Angels appeared and gave glory to God.

Once the Angels left, the Shepards decided to go see the Christ child. Being that the city probably only had a handful of Stables and being Shepards they knew where they all were. So, they headed off toward the City, leaving their Sheep unguarded. The Shepards found the Christ Child and new Mother and Father, just as the Angel had told them. They then began worshiping God and went throughout the City proclaiming what had happened. They then went back to their post and finished out their shift.

My Mother reading the above story (Luke chapter 2) is also a Christmas tradition that was kept tonight before we exchanged gifts. The two children practically had to be hog tied to keep them from tearing into the gifts during the reading. Then we took turns opening the gifts, during this the children actually needed to be hog tied, but were not. This lasted one round before everyone tore into their gifts. Thanks were then exchanged and everyone went their separate ways.

During the festivities, I had actually almost forgotten about the family member that were not there, most notably my Father. That was until I opened one of my gifts. It was a photo album. All of the pictures in it where of my Father, all before, at, or directly after my birth. One picture stood out though. A picture that was taken when I was five. It was a picture of me firing an MP-5 for the very first time. Directly behind me was my Father, steadying me and ready to take over if something were to go wrong. In the picture you can see the pride in his face that he boy was doing so well. Needless to say I burst into tears and everyone began to wonder what was the matter.

I excused myself and took a breather in the cool night air. My Mother followed me out and we had a long talk, mostly about the guilt that I felt for having forgotten my Father. She said things that only a Mother can and of course made me feel better.

Tomorrow, will be another day of new traditions. One that will be of spending time with family and worshipping the Lord on the day that we celebrate his birth. I will also be remembering the ones that will not be able to spend time with their families this Christmas season.

With that I want to wish a Merry Christmas to all the Military men and women who are spending this Christmas in war zones far away. Also, a Merry Christmas to my fellow Police, Fire Fighters, and Emergency Medical Personnel who will be working this Christmas.

And Finally a Merry Christmas to you and yorn.



Semper Fi Deus,

Goose

Gunslingers in Prison

You hear true. Every once in a while I and my fellow Gunslingers and Agents have to go to Prison. In the years working at my Agency I have gone to multiple Prisons in multiple States. Most of which have been right here in South Carolina.

Most of the time when I conduct an extradition to another State and pull one of our Offenders from a Prison or a County Jail, 9 out of 10 times, there will be no major issues (Long waits for Offenders, Paperwork late or not completed at all, or Correctional Officers in an unhelpful mood). However, whenever dealing with the South Carolina Department of Corrections (SCDC), the above happens more often than not.

No where is this more evident than at the Local "Maximum" Security Prison in my Jurisdiction. I am really not sure how this particular penitentiary received the designation of Maximum Security other than the fact that it has more Concertina wire than some of the others.

Now, I have been to this Prison 10 to 12 times since beginning me career. Once while I was a Deputy, the rest with this Agency. Of those times with this Agency, I have gone to this Prison twice in order to Transport Offenders from SCDC custody into our custody to begin the Violation process.

You may ask me why on Earth I would go to Prison if to not get a Prisoner. Well the answer is simple. I go because my job sometimes requires me to go. This particular facility is a satellite location for Parole Board Hearings. That means that offenders come from other SCDC facilities to this one to go before the Parole Board to get a chance at being placed on Parole. It is also a location for Parole Revocations. Hence, my being there.

I have only taken 4 Parolees before the Board for a Revocation, the other times I went in order to help another Agent transport an Offender to the facility. Without fail, every time I have gone the rules are staggeringly different.

Usually, this is due to whoever you meet at the gate. The only thing that remains constant is the fact that if its on your person it does not go through the gate. No Firearms (surprise), No ammunition, No knives, No cell phones, and No money. If you have any of those on your person while trying to drive through the gate, it has to be left in lock up at the gate.

Now, having to hand over my Firearm to anyone other than someone that I trust explicitly, is a major do not do. So, having to turn over my Firearm to some Guard in a booth, is absolutely nerve racking.

From here things go completely different from time to time. The car gets searched from stem to stern, completely overlooking the Offender for some reason. Myself and the other Agent can go from honor system that you gave up all contraband to too close to a strip search for comfort.

This last time I went before the Board I took my partner Casey. This was his first time coming to this facility or to any kind of Parole Board function since he went through training years ago. So, while we wait at the gate for the Gate Guard to finish with the vehicle in front of us, I gave him a rough overview of what he could expect. I told him what he needed to do once we got inside and I had to walk my Offender the rest of the way. Needless to say, the Gate Guard did everything completely different.

Once I was inside with the Offender, he was greeted warmly by everyone, convict and Correctional Officer alike. Then, once we got inside the cafeteria building, I was met with more random security changes that I did not expect, but it was best to try and go with the flow. We were then ushered into the Cafeteria where we would wait to be teleconferenced with the Parole Board. That is correct, the Cafeteria. On one side of the Cafeteria, convicts waiting to go before the board to try and re-enter society. On the opposite side of the room family members of said convicts. Being the odd folks out, we get the unprecedented honor of being in the very middle of the room with nothing but a pair of ball point pens for protection.

After taking our seats and beginning the long wait for the Hearings to begin, my Offender begins to tell me his life story. This being the second time that I have met the man, I listen with one ear and pay attention to my surroundings with everything else. After, a few minutes Casey manages to get into the cafeteria. He relays his story about meeting Correctional Officer aplenty that knew my Offender and how good a guy he is. I will admit, at first glance, he would seem to be a pretty good fellow. However, having seen to many want-to-be confidence artists, I automatically know that it is just an act to get on my good side. The violations that he has racked up show the real man.

After about an hour in what one would assume to be the most hostile environment for Law Enforcement ever, the hearings begin. Within thirty minutes we are called to go before the Board.

Now, if you are familiar with me, you would know that I do not like going to court...at all. Well the Parole Board is just below going to court in the hatred meter. Despite all the hassles, I actually think that doing the Parole Board is much easier than going to court. This is due to the fact that we are given a script (literally) to read from and we say nothing else. The Board will then hear from the Offender they then render their decision. Usually.

In my case, my Offender turned on the waterworks and pleaded for mercy. The head of the Board cut him off and told us to wait back in the Cafeteria for the verdict. A few seconds go by...then a few minutes. The Parole examiner came out and told us that the Board could not come to decision and we would have to schedule for the case to be heard again later.

I was dumb struck. The 4 previous cases that were brought before the Board had less violations than this Offender and none of them left the facility with me (they all left several hours later on a bus). I spoke with the Examiner for a few minutes to try and figure out what we needed to do and to kill time whilst Casey pulled the car around (having to go back through all the previous security again).

Once my Offender was back in the County jail and Casey and I back at the Office, we then recounted the tail to our fellow Agents. All of whom were also dumb struck, except Work Mom who said, "What the F#&%." While snatching the file out of my hands and looked over the violations. "D&%$ boy! That should have been a slam dunk! What did you do?!" I honestly do not know what comes over me sometimes, but I said, "Well that's apparently what happens when I follow your instructions." And again the conversation went down hill, and in a hurry. I really need to work on the Brain-mouth filter around her.

Not all hearings end like this. This last time I went to the Board, I spend 5 hours in the cafeteria waiting for an Offender to voluntarily come to prison (this was not my offender and was doing the case for a fellow agent). He never showed. But, I did get to watch another Offender get very upset about having his 6 month Parole revoked. When told that the he would be spending Thanksgiving and Christmas as a guest of the State he got very mouthy. When the Correctional Officer came over to escort him out of the Cafeteria (so he would not get the other Prisoners stirred up) he gave the Officer a flat "No". With out a word more, 6 other much larger Correctional Officers come out of no where and stand behind the Offender. All of whom were wearing the same "Please Fight. I'm Bored to tears" look on their faces. The Offender turned to see this show of force and immediately complied with every order given. I could not help but smile, and there were a few chuckles from some of the other Prisoners.

In the weeks to come I will hopefully get a reschedule date for the Parole Board and get a re-offending Offender back where he belongs.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

Every once in a while...

Every once in a long while this lonely Gunslinger gets good tidings that all the hours spent in the Office (or out of the office as the case may be) are well spent. This week, I received two tidings of a job well done.

Bit of good job news #1. Two weeks ago I was asked to conduct a home visit by the Senior Agent on my team (aka Work Mom, story for another day). She told me that one of her offenders was being investigated by Child Protective Services (a branch of the Department of Social Services). She left out the part about why they were investigating, only stated that when the CPS caseworker went to the Offenders house the door was slammed in her face. The caseworker, knowing that the Offender is on probation, called us for help getting into the house. She stressed that it was strictly observe and report, get in, see what (who) is there and get out of Dodge.

I get the address and the information of the offender and head out. Upon arrival in the neighborhood I spot the obligatory harrier holding down the street corner texting his friends that the Police have arrived. I pull in front of the house and note that it looks a little more run down that some of the other houses. I perform the standard Police knock and within seconds the door opens. As the woman steps out onto the front porch (closing the door behind her) I give her the spiel of who I am, who I work for, and why I was there (Home visit on Offender So and So, not O and R mission for DSS).

She proceeded to give me story about the fact that the Subject in question was not at home and that he was doing some medical errands. I then asked if she resided at the house and she told me that she was only babysitting for the Offender. At this point I move to the matter at hand and start throwing my legal weight around. I tell her that as a part of my duties I have to check the premises for contraband, guns, drugs, meth labs...nuclear devices. She then told me that she did not feel comfortable letting me into the house. Really...badge, gun, handcuffs, big toothy grin that makes the lady folk swoon, Crown Victoria in the background, what is there not to feel comfortable about.

I eventually gain entry via another person in the home familiar with the rules of Probation and Home visits in general. During my walk through of the home I noted several things that, had my task oriented mind set not been solely focused on Observe and Report, would have warranted an immediate call to DSS. The list being, complete lack of food for the multiple Adults in the home and the three children, lack of proper bedding for the children, what I believe to be dog urine covering the kitchen floor, Drug paraphernalia in a bed room, and a floor heating vent with out a cover not five feet where a 1 1/2 year old had been bedded down in the floor and left unattended.

The floor vent cover issue was dealt with right then and there due to the safety of the children being at risk. The Drug Paraphernalia (being a 2 3/4 inch pipe of black and chrome color commonly used in the smoking of Marijuana) was left alone as a matter of Probation and Parole policy (and being out numbered).

When I left the home I went back to the office and reported what I observed. Work Mom then reported this to the caseworker for CPS and the next day I was asked to write a letter of everything that I observed. Just in case anyone missed it, I tend to be long winded in my writing (which is a complete contradiction to when I speak). The letter/affidavit was 2 pages long encompassing everything that I did, said, and saw. When I turned in the letter/affidavit to Work Mom, she proclaimed, "What the H#*& is this! All you needed to put was what you saw. Not everything you did from the second you left the Office! Jesus...did you mention how many breaths you took while you were there?!" "You wanted what I saw. That's what I saw and the context of what I saw." "Yeah...context. Did you proofread it?" "No, I just spell checked it and hoped the defense attorneys wouldn't notice (sarcasm)." The conversation went down hill from there. Eventually she got around to sending the letter/affidavit to the caseworker.

Moving forward to yesterday. I learned from Casey that the letter/affidavit was put to good use. The day after the caseworker got it, she went to the house with several Deputies and attempted to place the children in Emergency Protective Custody (EPC). However, by that time the Offender and his family had moved to a location unknown. But, they did show up to a family court hearing with the children. The caseworker was waiting and the children where promptly taken. I am not sure how well the state takes care of EPC children, but I am certain that they are in better care than the parents were giving them. They also might have a chance to not be career criminals.

Bit of good job news #2 is more my faith in the Judicial system is restored. Today I went to court. If you have kept up, you know that this is the worst part of the job for me. However, today was okay. We had a new General Sessions Judge, at least he was new to the Probation revocation aspect of General Sessions. His motto for the day, "Probation was your 2nd chance, you don't get a 3rd." He may have been slower than the usual Judges and a little more thorough, but of the sixty plus offenders that went before him, only a handful walked out of the courtroom without the aid of the Deputies. A few of those that walked out were due to the fact that they wanted a Defense Attorney and did not have one, so, he allowed them the chance to get council. The others, the Probation Agents (including myself) had to beg the Judge not to make them guests of the South Carolina Department of Corrections.

As an example, one of my cases was a warrant for purely money violation (failing to pay accounts balances before probation case ended). The Defense Attorney and I had to convince the Judge not to send the Offender to prison for 4 years due to the fact that he had paid all the money since the warrant was served.

It was an interesting feeling not having to fight hammer and tongs to send someone to SCDC for a year, when they are on Probation for 9th time for Assault and Battery and committed numerous other assaultive offenses while on Probation. Too bad this Judge was just here temporarily and will not be back until sometime next year. But, at least we know at least one Judge cares about Offenders keeping their end of the bargain.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

The Problem with Creepy Crawlies in the work place

To be clear I do not have a problem with insects, arachnids, lizards, snakes, or other Creepy Crawlies in general...as long as the spiders in the arachnid section stay out of my personal space.

With the onset of fall and colder weather the above creatures tend to move into the man made buildings. Most common in my home at the moment are the Carolina Scorpion and the "Harvestman". The Scorpion is usually about one inch long to about an inch and a half. The "Harvestman" other wise known as the "Daddy Long Legs" or as I call them the "Granddaddy Long Legs". If you do not know what this is, it is an arachnid (not a spider, because it does not have any fangs or venom glands) are basically a football with long spindly legs protruding from them, shrunk down to 1/4 inch body size.

At the office there is a plethora of insects, arachnids, and other Creepy Crawlies that make their home where I work. This becomes problematic with most of the female Agents, who in general HATE anything Creepy or Crawly. This does include some male Agents at the office as well.

With our office being in a Government facility, they generally do not fumigate for insects (etc.) unless someone of high importance is making a visit. So, the Creepy Crawlies generally have the run of the facility.

Most of the Creepy Crawlies have learned to stay hidden when the lights are on. However, every once in a while a spider, centipede, or what-have-you will be so overwhelmed with sex drive that he has to venture out to find a mate. Usually finding one of the female Agents. When this happens there is usually all kinds of excitement and high pitched screams of alarm. Everyone in the office comes to see what all the excitement is about and the offending creature is exterminated with extreme prejudice.

At least that is how it usually works. The exception to this was Halloween night after finishing the Sex Offender Checks. I was walking out through the back lobby and happened to see a large (2-3 inch long) Cockroach scurry across my path and stop right in front of me. He lifted up his head and his antenna twitched, as if to say, "Howdy". Knowing that this particular insect would cause havoc with some of our female Agents, I decided to put him out of our misery. I proceeded to take my size 11 hard sole boot and stomped on the Cockroach as hard and fast as was possible. There was a satisfying crunch, but a disheartening lack of squish. When I lifted my boot, the Cockroach pushed himself off the floor, shook himself, and fluttered his wings. He then looked back up at me flicked his right antenna upwards and scurried off.

Okay, I exaggerated the antennae flicking. But, he did move about his important business without so much as a look back. I have since named him "George" and I am certain that we will meet again.

Another such instance was today. Agent M, Casey, and myself were out in the Reporting area of the office. I was preparing to take over the reports for Agent M. This was her full day of reports and she can still only work half a day.

As of late I have had to Bird-dog her on this, due to the fact that she will stay longer than she is supposed to and ends up pushing herself to the breaking point.

So, while I was waiting for her to finish with one of her Offenders. I decided to wait in the cubicle adjacent to her cube and across from Casey. About a minute into the report I hear an odd banging sound that I recognize as a computer mouse being slammed on the desk. A common occurrence with our frustratingly slow computers. Then a slam/stomp sounds started accompanying the banging. This is not a recognized noise and was therefore classified as not good. The sounds began to intensify at a startling rate and Casey and I both reacted.

We sprung from our rolling computer chairs, hands reacting with muscle memory. Before I had gotten out of my Cubicle, my weapon was already half out of the holster. We were inches from barreling around the corner into the Cubicle that Agent M was in, when we hear, "Eeeek! Bug!!" Like an all clear signal, Casey and I slow our pace and reholster our weapons before we round the corner of the cubicle.

When we get into the cubicle the Offender is dying of laughter as Agent M begins to throw pens and papers at the wall closest to her. Casey and I look on as the "Bug" moves under the desk and apparently stops. Agent M turned to us and stated nonchalantly, "There's a bug under my desk." To which Casey replied, "Yeah, we gathered that." He then began to relay the tale of our attempted heroism, the fact that the still chuckling offender was almost thrown to the ground and handcuffed at gun point over a Bug.

At that the Offender stopped laughing.

Agent M finished the report under our watchful gaze to make sure that the offending bug did not return for a second assault. Once the Offender was out of the Reporting area, Casey went back to his desk to finish what he was working on, while I stayed to help Agent M find and exterminate the bug. After a few seconds Agent M located the bug (a common house centipede)between the desk and the wall.

After several unsuccessful assassination attempts, Agent M gave up and started packing up her reporting equipment, while I kept an eye on the bug. Once Agent M left the reporting area, the bug followed the wall to my cube. I sprung into action and crushed the little centipede that had caused such a commotion.

Once Agent M returned to the reporting area for the rest of her equipment, I relayed the announcement of a successful kill and we got back to the business at hand. Reports.

In my time working with my agency and specifically in my office, I have learned to kill the offending bug quickly and on sight. Do not give it time to run into a hiding spot or toward the alarmed female Agent. Thereby, letting the situation go from bad to worse.

If you work in a high Creepy Crawly environment with high strung, armed, women (or men) who are Entomophobic (very, very afraid of Insects and other Creepy Crawlies) and there is a commotion about a Creepy Crawly, just kill it.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose.

Rulings

The past week has been rather tough. Most of the week was spent in worry about one particular Hearing that occurred on Thursday. The hearing was what basically amounts to a preliminary hearing for folks that Violate their Parole or Probation. The subject of the hearing was an Offender that committed a murder back before I was born. He was Paroled and placed on Electronic Monitoring (EM). From day one you can tell the Offenders that are and are not going to complete the Electronic Monitoring program. Usually they call themselves out with, "I'll be the best EM participant you've ever seen."

Anyway this particular Offender made the above statement and I went ahead and gave him a stern warning about violating his schedule. A month later he was in jail for violating the schedule ten times. In the weeks leading up to the hearing on Thursday he vehemently denied any wrong doing.

I received phone calls from multiple family members, friends, and employers stating that the Offender would never do such a thing. All very standard tactics. Then he decided to go personal. On several occasions, this offender told me that he knew my father (also nothing new, my father being the High Sheriff lots of people knew him) and that if he was still here the warrant would never have been written, because my father would have vouched for him. I came about this close to losing it in a way that even I have not experienced. I quickly regained control and ushered him out the door. I spent the next twenty minutes trying to cool off before seeing the next offender.

The next day I received a call from the offender notifying me that he had a new additional phone line and that I needed to move the EM equipment to the new phone line. I promptly tell him no, because there was nothing wrong with the old line. Five minutes later my Supervisor stops by my desks and tells me to go out there and move the equipment, she having gotten a phone call from the offender.

The week leading up to the Hearing this Offender told me about the high priced attorney that his family hired for him, the sitting US Senator, and the twenty something witnesses that were going to vouch for him and explain the defaults in the equipment at the Hearing. Then he so graciously gave me the opportunity to call off the hearing and withdraw the warrant. This time it was hard for me not to laugh in his face. I gave him the list of reasons that that could not be done and told him that I would see him at the hearing.

Thursday finally came (as they usually do). The Hearing Officer arrived and the hearing began. I gave my thirty minute speech about the Offender, why he is on Parole, the particulars of the case, the violations, all the evidence in the case, and a detailed explanation of how the EM equipment was set up and how nothing was wrong with the equipment. I answer every question the Attorney and the Hearing Officer had and felt really good about how the Hearing was going. Then the Hearing Officer announces that he has enough information to make a ruling.

It was an interesting feeling, being thrown under a bus while on the record.

Basically, after hearing all the evidence and testimony the Hearing Officer ruled that the Electronic Monitoring equipment must have been faulty, that the Agent (me) should have know that the equipment was faulty, and that it was a good thing that the Agent corrected the problem (i.e. the day I went out there and moved the equipment to the new phone line). However, if any more violations occur that the offender is to go straight to the Parole Board. The Offender then asks to be transferred to a new agent. The Hearing Officer denies the request and ended the hearing.

I force myself to smile as the family members filed by and "thanked" me for being honest during the hearing and escort them out of the Hearing area. Upon my return the Offender stopped me before I got back into the hearing room to finish the paperwork and asked if he can come off of EM today. I tell him no, because he still had three weeks to go before he was scheduled to come off of EM. Then he started whining about everything that I had put him through. I pulled him back into the hearing room and tell him to repeat his request before his Attorney and the Hearing Officer. He does so and I explain why he cannot come off the EM program. The Hearing Officer then denies his request and then reinterated his "Stern Warning" from his ruling. The paperwork was completed and I ushered the Offender out the door advising him to report this week.

In relaying the story to Casey, it was brought to my attention that the "Stern Warning" was hollow. In the ruling given by the Hearing Officer the Offender was given free reign to violate his EM whenever he wants, because now all he has to say is the equipment was "faulty".

However, despite this I will act as if this is day one of his case. When he violates his schedule I will treat it as such and do my duty.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

A Hitchin'

It has been a long two weeks since the last post. Things have been hectic around the office to say the least. There has been good news, mixed news, and no news. Agent S is now engaged (Good News). Agent M has been hired on with the Federal Government (Mixed News, good for her, not so good for the rest of us). Not really sure what is going on with Agent L. Last I heard she was in the midst of consultations for reconstructive surgeries. All three still need prayer.

To be honest there is way to much going on to talk about it all. So, therefore, I will speak about what happened today.

Today, my step-sister got married. I have only known her for eight years and I am very happy for her. She married a man that I believe to be at least decent and hard working (I have only met him a handful of times).

The Venue was the "Acanthus". This American Colonial Style home was built by the owner himself and was even more impressive in person. And yes that is an actual working 1930 Model A. Which according to everyone at the Wedding, "Runs like a sowing machine". I am not sure what that is supposed to mean.

After a couple hour drive to get to the venue, I realized that my Mother is horrible at giving directions (hand written and verbal). I spent an extra 30 minutes driving in circles because she would switch from road names (Blah Blah Street) to road numbers (SC 297) when only the opposite was shown on the road signs. I wont go into the landmarks that she used.

Upon arrival I was greeted by my Step-family and the family of the Groom. Lots of hand shaking, back slapping, and polite smiles all around. My mother told me to have a seat in the Pavilion and wait. It was interesting that I was more interested in the surroundings than greeting the other guests. Especially watching the migrating Canadian Geese taking a much needed rest in Lake Lyman.

The Ceremony was nice, short, and to the point. At one point I did not believe my Step-father would let his little girl go. When the Pastor asked, "Who gives the woman in marriage?" He promptly answered, however, when it came time to actually conduct the handing, he hesitated. It was several long moments before he actually made himself hand her over.

After the Ceremony came the mandatory cover dish buffet and reception. After the initial shock of meeting so many people began to dissipate, I began to have a good time. A good time sitting, watching people dance and the DJ make fun of them do so.

My Step-family, specifically my Step-brothers and sister, are very....energetic and animated. I am not. In the past there have been issues with their belief that I am not having a good time because I am not acting as they are. To be clear, I was having a good time watching the Geese take off, land, and move about the lake. Any positive stimuli above and beyond this equals more fun.

Also, according to Southern Baptist tradition it is a "Sin" to dance, beyond this, I have the rhythm of an Armadillo. So, therefore, I do not Dance.

So, during the group dance portion of the reception, my Step-sister (Bride) sees me sitting at the table and came over to invite me to the floor. She begged, pleaded, and concluded with the patented "Puppy-dog face." I disappointed her. My Mother (who knows the above) then comes over and tells me to dance. I tell her no. She then moves on to the patented "The Look". Predictably I move to the dance floor.

Another interesting thing that I learned today, Ankle Holsters are not made with Dancing in mind. That is correct. I took the Glock 27 to a Wedding. I thought about taking my Duty Glock 22, but discounted it due to the fact that the Coat would have to come off eventually.

After a few songs I moved back to my table. Before I could really get comfortable in my chair, I saw my mother coming towards me again. This time with a woman (about my age) in tow. "The Look" already gleaming in her eyes. My mother introduced us and literally pushed us toward the dance floor.

While attempting to dance, I apologized to the woman for the actions of my mother (whom in her zealous to get me hooked up with a woman, failed to notice that this particular woman came with her boyfriend). After the song we went our separate ways, and instead of going back to the table this time, I stand on the side lines of the Dance floor (remaining mobile to avoid any further "Hook ups").

After the reception was the traditional Bouquet and Garter toss. Then a quick bow out before any more uncomfortable situations arose.

I hope and pray that my Step-Sister and new Step-Brother-in-Law have many, many happy years ahead of them.

For a side note, I did not catch the Garter.

Simper Fi Deus
Goose