Evidence 101

EVIDENCE 101...Wherever you go, there you are...







Monday, August 21, 2017

Bicycles. We all need bicycles...

The eclipse is today. Mass hysteria, suicide pacts, and for those Zodiac readers...chaos. I think it will just be an usually dark day with less sunshine than most. But aside from that, I will not be partaking in any hysterical nonsense nor will I be running for the mountains because the end of world is upon us.

Good grief.

Has the world lost it's common sense? Wait. Don't answer that. Like a good cop, we often know the answers to the questions we are about to ask.

In case you have missed my latest articles on Law Enforcement Today...here they are:

1: Law Enforcement Mom: How Police Work Ruined me as a Mother

2: The Search for the Entire Truth: Insuring the Integrity of the Proof

They are remarkably opposite content types. One is humorous, one has a lot of deep content. Hope you enjoy them. You might also pass me around to your friends if you liked them. It generates interest and ultimately, it is nice to still be employed because your posts do not just sit in cyber space unread. Just a thought.

In other news, the war on cops continues and more officers' lives were lost over the weekend.

Additionally, protests continue and the president can't seem to win favor anywhere no matter how he approaches these demonstrations.

I don't even want to go down that rant, because I unplugged from most of the news feeds this weekend due to a possible implosion event: PIE. This is not a bowel problem, but a brain problem. And sadly, it does not involve any treat called pie. It is because no one anywhere is being reasonable or working together.

I will just call this moment in time: The Great Divide. Pitiful.

There are no big girl panties available anywhere anymore because apparently no one is wearing them and no one is doing constructive change for the better.

I think I will retreat to that mountain and watch as the world inhabitants beat each other since they only think violence is the answer now.

Do not come find me. The mountains is more secure than the Witness Protection Program. I will blend in and identify as a tree.


Happy Monday!

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

Knoll: The Last JFK Conspiracist

Who isn't intrigued by the mysterious shroud around the JFK assassination? When you dig into Knoll by Stephen Hillard, you just stepped into a thriller with many caveats to "stay in your own lane."

For Bus McIntyre,  the danger signs are acknowledged, but ignored.

The story begins in the west with McIntyre's career as an attorney. Due to his aspirations being extinguished, he begins an unlikely entry into a well-known presidential assassination.

McIntyre is tormented by past tragedies.  Relying on journal entries, he digs into the death of his father, a former cop. His father's journal which details  his own experiences leads Bus along a path of adventure tangled with the mob and further down the road into hidden conspiracies involving the death of John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

He diligently wants to recapture his father's footsteps and sets off to do so through direction he obtains from the journal, twists along the way, and also using a rogue spy's clues and internet presence.

Although the book had a slow start, it was pages spent on setting up the reader with much needed details: be patient. It allowed for reader input and imagination while taking you through the complex characters and players along with muddling through the vague evidence afforded to Bus. You have to know every angle before the plot thickens.

The Mafia presence is all over the case.

I have always been fascinated with the lack of public knowledge about JFK's assassination and the fact it was and still is surrounded by so many conspiracies. Who doesn't like problem solving or trying to figure out if the government covered up JFK's murder?
Excerpt from Part I: Voices
Knoll is chock full of information and details, which brought out the detective in me. I found myself googling characters and plots on my phone while reading the book. Is it fiction or is it like a true story only with disclaimers to make it appear like fiction? Maybe you should read it to draw your own conclusions. Or maybe Mr. Hillard tells you on his website. Go check it out.

Would the NSA have been capturing my keyword strokes? Probably not, but it was kind of fun supposing the PRISM issues would present themselves.

You have to pay attention. Each page changes the story. Still, Bus McIntyre managed to unravel a doozy. You might not think the ending was what you thought in the beginning. Isn't that the work of a great writer? Indeed.
Photo credit: Pinterest

Knoll is a great read. If you are fascinated with these historical events and newfound thoughts, you will not be disappointed.

Be sure to click on the link to Amazon and get yours now! Stephen Hillard is an accomplished person and great author.

Surely he has some career accounts and tales which I would love to hear over some coffee!


About the author:
Stephen Hillard grew up in Bossier City, Louisiana, and Grand Junction, Colorado. He graduated from Colorado State University and later earned a degree in philosophy at Columbia University and a Juris Doctorate from the University of Colorado. Before settling into his current career as a private equity entrepreneur, Hillard was a teacher at Rikers Island Prison, a welder, a carpenter, and a practicing lawyer. He lives in Grand Junction, Colorado.

Thursday, August 3, 2017

CoWabunga, dude!

Bringing one out of the closet from the journals of 2010:

Going to class this week. I will be reading your brilliant pieces, but unless something good happens, not much for me to say. I know. You are breathing a sigh of relief. However, all those hours staying up in a row...all 38 of them...I was busy. So I will post a few at a time. Here is one of the many wonderful calls we DIDN'T go to on Saturday.

Saturday night was full of weird calls. Everywhere. At about 1:30 a.m., things really started cracka lackin. The Lepreshawn was really upset at my music. I told him to suck it up...I'm the Field Training Officer...and we are rappin'. I also told him after midnight...R & B and he should not think about getting squirrelly. [Lepreshawn eye roll here]

LEPRESHAWN: You never listened to this when you were a detective.

ME: Yes, I did. I had an iPod so I could jam out while typing about men raping 3 year old sluts as my pen (computer generated reports now days)  put years onto their life...in the penitentiary. And dreaming about them dropping the soap in prison. The pen is mightier than the sword. And my music helped write many affidavits and drown out the office bullshit.

LEPRESHAWN: Oh, yeah. I forgot you weren't one to play your stereo for everyone. It sucks.

ME: What?

LEPRESHAWN: Your music. Except a couple songs.

ME: Get used to it.

LEPRESHAWN: [turns stereo off] It might break my concentration. I don't want to miss anything.[sarcasm]

ME: Turn that back on. [Do it my damn self]

LEPRESHAWN: You are such a bitch.

ME: Thank you.

DISPATCHER: Lincoln 8 copy for a cow in the bar (remaining nameless) parking lot.

LINCOLN 8: Copy. En route. [Secretly, I know he is thinking FUCK. We hate animal calls unless it is a bear or a mountain lion.]

This is a nearby suburb, not our agency. We all are on the same radio channels so we can back each other up. And sometimes I get called for Hostage Negotiations or Evidence work so I tune into everyone.

LEPRESHAWN: [snicker, snicker] Maybe it's really the giant Easter Bunny. LOL.

ME: [roll my eyes]You should just concentrate on St. Patrick's Day.

LINCOLN 8:  Law 1. Lincoln 8

DISPATCHER: Go ahead.

LINCOLN 8: This cow is laying down. She won't get up. Looks like she just calved or something. I'll give you the brand, call the rancher and have him come get it. [gives the brand over the radio]

Now, in the nearby suburb, 2 of their brass our my very good friends.  All the agencies work a lot together because a lot of our crime blends. Except this one...it was all theirs.
DISPATCHER: Lincoln 8

LINCOLN 8: Go ahead.

DISPATCHER: The rancher wants to know if you are sure it is a cow and not one of  his steers.

LINCOLN 8: Tell him I am sure.

DISPATCHER. Copy.

A few minutes go by.

DISPATCHER: LINCOLN 8

LINCOLN 8: Go ahead.

DISPATCHER: The rancher wants to know how you are sure it is a cow. He doesn't want to drive into town for a steer.

LINCOLN 8: [You can hear him roll his eyes-yes, I'm serious!] Well, she has red hair, big brown eyes, and huge udders, and I looked under her tail and..[microphone goes dead]

LEPRESHAWN: Doh! NO! He did not just say that on the radio? OMG!

ME: [snorting]

I immediately called up my buddy, the Lieutenant...referring to him as THE LIEU. Here was our cell phone conversation...

ME: [still snorting] WTF? You guys are going to get the Sheriff pissed.

THE LIEU: [giggling, snorting] I know that's why I schmucked LINCOLN 8 on the head and the rest of his damn transmission was interrupted. The douche. Funny shit, tho. But now I gotta write him up. I don't know where this damn cow came from. What the hell? Doesn't she know she is in the big shitty?

ME: That cow probably was in the bar. You might want to check to see if her date is still in there.

THE LIEU: [giggling] I know. All them bitches look like that in there. Even the pole dancers.

ME: Are you sure it's a girl...I mean...do you think you guys got it right. The rancher obviously thinks you are a dumbass.

THE LIEU: [snorting] I know. She did have a purty mouth...

ME: [giggling] You are so sick. I hope lifting the tail, you didn't get sharted on.

THE LIEU: [giggling] I know. This is the most goddam funny thing. Not like our usual cow calls. But something is wrong with her. She looks like she calved recently. And she won't get up.

ME: Poke her in the ass with a stick. She'll get up.

THE LIEU: Tried that already. No MOO-EVE. That's Cow Spanish.

ME: [giggling] Are you sure she isn't drunk? I mean after all, she probably just got off work. If she's not talking to ya, you can tell if she has been pole dancing. Look between her legs.

THE LIEU: [giggling] I know. You are so fucking sick. I want her to blow in the PBT, but the damn bitch is refusin'.  And her pasties fell off. So, now, that's another charge.

ME: [giggling] Shit. You get a free show.

THE LIEU: [giggling] I know. It's a damn shame everyone can't be enjoying this. OH, fuck! I have to go. CRASH! BIG CRASH!

With that, he promptly hung up on me because a drunk tried to avoid the cow and ran into the building.

ME: See. You didn't miss a thing listening to my music. And with it in the background, it made the call all better.

LEPRESHAWN: [giggling] Shut the fuck up.

ME: [giggling]

Yes, we giggle a lot. We are immature. Really immature.