Grandma Got Run Over By A Suspect

The following story is absolutely true. The names were withheld to protect the stupid.

On Sunday night, our division's token "little old lady" came in with a narcotics arrest (or "pinch"). For the record, this woman looks exactly like Granny Clampett (left), and about twice as stupid. Every time she brings in a pinch, it turns into a day-long ordeal, and finishes with a detective eating his gun.

So, it was no surprise that when Granny entered the squad room, the detectives scattered like roaches do when the light is turned on.

Unfortunately, she found yours truly, rolled down her orthopedic pantyhose, adjusted her bifocals, and slowly approached. Her voice trembling, she whispered, "I have a narcotics arrest," then placed the narcotics on my desk.

My little voice - not my conscience: I don't have one of those - said, "Lucky us." Instead, I replied, "Could you please not place the NARCOTICS on my desk? I eat my lunch here!"

She ignored my request, and continued: "I locked this guy up for marijuana, and I need someone to process the drugs for me."

Now utterly annoyed, I was looking for a way to break Granny's stones. "First it is not marijuana until the field test says it is. Second, you only have three dime bags. That's district level, so you have to process all of the paperwork by yourself. I'll get a detective to conduct the field test for you." (I wanted to add, "Now, get stuffed," but that would have been rude. Damn you, little voice!)

Sidebar: Our detective divisions are much too busy to process every single job. Thus, when an officer makes a pitiful little marijuana arrest - less than 14 grams - the officer must do all of the necessary paperwork. That's policy.

When notified of this, Granny's smug little grin faded like a pair of RT's acid-wash jeans. I could tell she was searching that barren wasteland she calls a mind for something to say. She found it - probably under her crystal bowl filled with ribbon candy: "I have to do the job myself? Um, well, the man also resisted arrest."

Here we frakkin' go.

Me: "Okay. How did he resist arrest?"
Granny: "When I went to cuff him, he started swinging his arms."

Me: (Groaning) "Did he strike you with his arms?"
Granny: "No."

Me: "Did he hit you? Punch you? Kick you? Spit upon you? Threaten you? Anything?"
Granny: "No."

Me: "Then he didn't resist arrest. Here's the funny thing about people: they don't like to be arrested, so they're not always going to make it easy for you."

Granny started to falter, but then gathered strength. "But you should have seen this guy! He's about 6'5" and 280 pounds! He could have snapped me in two." Granny is about 5'4", weighing in at an impressive 80 pounds. How she ever made it through the Police Academy, I'll never know.

I broke the news to her in the most harsh manner possible. "He COULD have, but did he? DID he snap you in two?" I decided to not add, "THAT'S WHY THE CITY GIVES YOU A RADIO, O.C. SPRAY, A NIGHTSTICK, AND A GUN WITH 35 ROUNDS OF AMMUNITION, YOU IMBECILE!"

"Well, no."

Rejecting this tool was now my mission in life. I quoted policy, directives, and the PA Crimes Code, and this broad still didn't understand. "Nice try. It's district level. Have a nice day."

By this time, my co-workers reappeared to watch the show. One detective who is especially nice and accommodating, came forward and ruined my fun. "It's okay, Wyatt. I'll take the job."

Damnit, damnit, damnit! Game over, man. Game over.

I pleaded with the detective to let the idiot officer do the job. I think I replied, "Are you sure?" five or six times. He said yes. Grudgingly, I relented, and just caught the faintest glimpse of a smirk of her wrinkled 150-year old face.

What happened next was a tale for the ages. Like every job Granny has brought in, this one was a cluster-frak. All she had to was complete the initial report - a two-minute job for a chimpanzee - write a memo detailing the facts of the case, and type up a property receipt for the narcotics. My three-year old son could do all of these things in 30 minutes. Granny? Not so much.

The octogenarian officer walked in with the arrest at 5:50pm, and finished her paperwork at 10:35pm. It took her 4 hours and 45 minutes to finish a job that should have taken no longer than an hour.

Philadelphia: this woman is protecting your city.

(Linked at OTB's Beltway Traffic Jam)