Etiquette

Today is Sunday, and as such I will spend most of my day in my local Southern Baptist Church. This morning was hard to wake up due the melody of falling rain on the roof. I go to the early service at 0830 hrs, then to Sunday School, and to the usual 1100 hrs service. We get a break for lunch and a Sunday nap, then right back to church at 1600 hrs.

However, during the Sunday School lesson we had a small aside about how when you are a Christian people watch you. They watch your reaction in the good times, in the bad, and how they will compare the two and bring it to your attention. This brought to mind something that happened on Friday after Court. To be precise it actually occured after lunch.

One of my fellow Agents on my Team (Agent B) asked if I could conduct a Home Visit with her. She said that she had gotten a community complaint and that we had to check it out.

During the drive to the house in question, she asked if Agent S had thanked me for all the work that we did on her Case load while she was out (the answer to this question is "yes", but that is not the point of her inquiry). At first I really was not sure how to answer (Agent B is not exactly known for playing well with her fellow Agents). After a few seconds of thinking about it I simply told her that I did not help Agent S out for a "Thank you." I helped her because the work had to be done and she had other things to worry about, like getting healthy. Besides it is just another part of the job.

She then told me that she agreed with that, "But, would not etiquette say that knowing how much hard work we put into helping her out, on top of our already increasing work load, would that not support saying a simple, Thank You." She then turned the situation around on me and asked if I was in the same situation, would I not say, "Thank You."

I told her that anytime I ask someone to help me out I say that, before, during, and after the particular circumstance (I think the actual words I used was "Grovel with Appreciation"). She then said then how should Agent S get away with not saying thank you.

At this point I had two choices 1) Drop the subject by saying nothing or by changing the subject, and hope that Agent B would just let the issue drop, or 2) Tell her what I really think about her stupid inquiry.

Agent B basically trained me, mentored me into this job, and having gotten to know her since, I knew that she would not let the issue drop with out an answer. One side of my personality desperately just wanted to avoid the issue, but I knew that I was caught and I had to choose my words carefully.

I told her in a stern tone of voice (I am relatively certain it is the tone I use with my offenders), "Under normal circumstances, etiquette would tell us to say thank you. However, due to the fact that 95 days ago Agent S was in a life changing car wreck, in which she came this close......to dying. Not to mention the fact that she spent several weeks in the hospital and cannot remember an entire month after the wreck. The fact that when she is at work, for all of four hours due to the pain, she has to get the same amount of work done that we get done in eight. Taking all of this into account I believe we can cut Agent S some slack in the etiquette department."

Now it was her turn to be silent for a second. When the answer came it did not surprise me, "Well, I still think she should say thanks." At this point I change the subject to the Home Visit and what we needed to be concentrating on.

At the time the conversation took place, I believed this inquirey was simply to cause trouble. Now, I am not so sure. Coupled with the fact that Agent B has said on several different occasions that she "Loves" to see me fail and this mornings Sunday School lesson, I now believe this to have been a test. I am not sure if I passed or failed, but I know one thing, I get tested enough by my Offenders and do not need more tests coming from what I consider "Family."

Semper Fi Deus
Goose

Lights, Camera...Action!

Today was a successful day of Home Visits with Casey. Successful because everyone went home and I get the privilege of writing a couple more warrants for people who do not live where they said the did.

Normally Casey and I have Home Visits down to a Science, offender pictures printed, maps printed, and routes mapped out see the most offenders in a single day.

However, the past three weeks have been so hectic for me that all of the above has been placed at the wayside. So, when I got to the office this morning I scrambled to get everything ready and the clock was ticking. In our office on a day where you have a car signed out and your still in the office, the longer your in the office the odds increase every second that you will be voluntold to do something that you had not planned.

Today, we missed the bullet and managed to start doing Home Visits only two hours late (as opposed to two hours before quiting time).

With out the proper planning we had to go on head knowledge of where our offenders were, where we were, and where we were going. Half the time I would remember that I had an offender where we were an hour before and half the county behind us.

The Home Visits that we did do on my caseload were new cases. I had never seen these people before or where they live.

The first of these that we arrive to an almost passable house. Three cars in the drive way, cut lawn, no clutter (always a plus), and two visible entry/exit points. I choose the front door even though it is the obviously the less used entrance, just because that is where most "visitors" would knock on the door.

While Casey watches the other entrance/exit, I conduct the standard "Police, let me in" knock. The knock that the neighbors two houses down hear. No answer. Only a living alarm system (small yapping dog). As I turn around to survey the landscape I happen to see a small black oddity in the upper left corner of the porch. When I look at it, I recognize it as a Video Surveillance Camera. I knock again and harder.

Usually when an offender does not answer the door it is no big deal, go to a neighbor and confirm the address. But now I have got to get in the house. Having one camera means there are others that I did not see. I have to know what they see and where the TV is that they go to. Pertinent information for any Warrant Team coming to arrest this offender if the need arises.

Still no answer. So now Casey and I start looking around the yard looking for any and everything (more cameras mostly). While we were looking around, a neighbor pulls in next door. She gets out of the car and goes into her house without ever having seen the two men, clad in black, skulking in her neighbors yard, and looking at her intently. I knock on her front door and another female comes to the door. I give the standard greeting and ask if they recognize their supposed neighbor in the picture. She tells me that she does not know the person in the photo, but that she did see someone cutting the grass there earlier. I thank her for her time and head back to my offenders house.

This time I go to the side door and pound on it (The US Geological Survey probably got a reading on some of the local earthquake instruments). As I step back from the door I hear more yapping dog and what sounded like a heavy foot shuffling across a hardwood floor. I pound again. Now, we hear someone talking inside. Casey goes to the front door and starts pounding. Lo and behold my offender comes to the front door.

We act casual as he gives us the story about being in the shower. Casey asks who he was talking to and like magic his mother comes out of the bed room. She of course was in bed asleep the entire time. We look through the house but do not find anything out of the ordinary. I ask about the camera. He tells me that it is just for show, that it is the only one, and it is to try and scare off would be burglars. As we leave Casey tugs on the wires on the camera and they are not attached to anything. I make a note of it and we move on the the next house.

A few houses later, we come to another of my offenders houses. As we get out of the car Casey points out the two very noticeable CCTV cameras. Here we go again. More pounding and no answers, this time there was a much bigger and angrier Alarm system (Pitt Bull in back). We walk around back and see a second building and a Recreational Vehicle. Casey takes the RV and I take the building with yet another CCTV camera.

As I knock I hear someone inside and the door opens. It is my offender. We converse as I step in side and take note of the two beds and the person still sleeping in the one. I ask about the camera and she states that they are all for show. Same story as before. Casey confirms this as the second person wakes up. Another female (thankfully clothed). She greets us and jumps into the conversation. She is way to calm to have just woke up to two strange men basically in her bedroom, at least she was a lot calmer than I would be given the same situation ("Who are you? What are you doing here? Get out! etc.") After talking with her we find that she is also on Probation. I get the name of her Agent and confirm that they both have report days and proceed to the next house on the list.

The rest of the houses did not have video surveillance and the Home Visit day was rapped up with out incident. Casey and I went back to our respective mountains of paperwork and I began to prepare for Court tomorrow. If you know anything about me, you know that I am just going to love that.

Semper Fi Deus
Goose

The Guns of My Father

I come from a line of Gunslingers, on both sides of my family for at least three Generations. Both of my Grandfathers protected the people of my county. My Mother worked in the office of the High Sheriff. She did not patrol the streets, but she is a Female Gunslinger non the less. My Father, a Gunslinger of Gunslingers, worked his way from the lowest of positions to the High Sheriff.

My Father, in his day, was the Authority on S. W. A. T. team tactics in the Southeast. During his time as a S. W. A. T. team member he washed cars, cleaned guns, cleared buildings, and refined tactics for the team. As S. W. A. T. team commander he choreographed entry teams, sniper teams, negotiators, and perimeter teams. He even on occasion conducted the negotiations himself.

However, many long years ago at this time, my world changed forever. The Gunslinger of Gunslingers was taken in the blink of an eye and very unexpectedly. While driving home he had a massive heart attack. According to the coroner he never felt any pain. For that I am thankful. I do not remember much about the days that followed, they were a blur of tears, people, and flags.

What I took from those days was that my Father was well liked in the Law Enforcement community, as well as the community at large. People came out of the wood works telling story upon story how he helped them through a very difficult time. How he saved lives.

Several days later I received a message from the High Sheriff. He did not say what about, just that he wanted to see me. I found it hard walking the halls in the building that used to bring happy childhood memories. It became harder as I neared the Office where My Father did so much good.

The secretary let me into the Office. The High Sheriff was not there and she merely stated that he would be back shortly. I walked toward the desk and stared at the empty chair that my Father had once occupied. I fought the flurry of memories to keep my waining composure. After a few minutes by myself the High Sheriff came in. He did not sit in the chair as I thought he would.

He stood with me in the middle of his office and we talked like old friends. I had met him on several occasions prior to this, most while my Father was the High Sheriff. After a few minutes of talking, he told me to wait where I was and he left the room. Seconds later he returned with a small brown box. He handed it to me and told me to open it.

As I opened it and recognized what the box contained, I lost what little control I had over my emotions. Tears began streaming down my face as the High Sheriff confirmed what I already knew. "It's your father's service pistol. The Captains and I didn't think it right to give it to anyone else." I broke protocol and hugged him.

I say that I broke protocol, however, due to the fact that I was years away from working for the High Sheriff at that point, he did not mind. I only say that because I do not hug. I hug family, sometimes. And I certainly do not hug anyone of importance.

The pistol given to me that day was an average Glock 27, .40 caliber with a finger extension on the magazine. However, it holds more value to me than anything else that I own. Well, almost more.

The only other thing that hold the same value to me is a simple Glock 19. It was given to me by my Father on my birthday. This weapon has been fired only a hand full of times and kept meticulously cleaned. However, it is kept where it can be quickly retrieved in a time of need.

The Glock 27, the Gun that my Father used and relied upon for most of latter part of his career, is battle scarred. It is scratched, faded, and beat up. I do carry this weapon from time to time while on duty, mostly on days when I go to court. But, most of the time that I carry this weapon is off duty, for the obvious concealability in both cases.

These may not be the Big Guns of Deschain that were passed down from father to son for a millennia. In fact they may be the total opposite, but they are the Guns that my Father would want me to have, and when I carry them I remember the face of my father.

Semper Fi Deus
Goose