Evidence 101

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

Friday, February 5, 2016

Prostration Blows and Other Man Cop Nonsense

"Let me be blunt and lay it all out there for the world to see." That was my intention when blogging took off. No longer was it a super secret journal or haven to record my daily encounters. It began that way for me as, Momma Fargo, the anonymous cop blogger. There were several us who somehow found each others' blogs and created a small cop community. Then it all exploded. Then came..."the others." The others are those watchful citizens who enjoyed reading about our fodder and left comments, then joined our blogs, then subscribed and came back for more. Silly peeps.

If you build it, they will come. 

We LEOs could finally express ourselves without repercussion until the Internet technology grew and it became easy to discover an author's true identity. That's when everyone fell off the Internet and went back into seclusion. Policies changed and social media was regulated. But what about blogs?

They, too, were part of the policy changes. I really started to seize up during this time and milled around several ideas of whether to shut down the blog or keep going against policy. The policy allotted for a personal blog but had restrictions on work information. I began to blog about my daily life off the job which bored even me. I was really unhappy. 

Social media killed the fun of our network but exploded a new outlet. We could network around the world like a gang in secret Facebook groups, websites, or chat rooms. Nope. They can find us there, too, those damned admins. Then you have the tattle tails. 

I belong to several networks and I am always amazed at the different perspectives and discussions. Not all cops think alike. Not all are Type A personality, but all have egos and arrogance of some kind. I posed that on social media one day and got a heated discussion that it was not true and cops are courageous and have confidence, not arrogance. I beg to differ. There are egos. There is arrogance. There is over-bearing sense of pride. Not all of it is the offensive arrogance, but that too tags along at times. I don't think everyone is immune. I  believe I had some negative arrogance a time or two.

Now is not the time to ostrichsize. What is that word, you say? Let me refresh your memory with visual aids:

Putting one's head in the sand and ignoring, denying, or hiding from reality.

I worked with a great bunch of LEOs and in a clean run department. Sure, we had our set of problems or disagreements, but they were mild. Lately, I really am learning the disparity between two sides of the earth. Departments all have different atmospheres, cliques, and attitudes. They are not the same. Let me tell you more.

This last week I have been questioned about my legitimacy. A local cop actually told me that when he tells his friends about my past and coming to Indiana, they tell him, "Something is up with that one. That story doesn't jive." I was told point blank: "Kathryn, you can tell me if you are in the Witness Protection Program and hiding from some mobster or gangster. I think we would all rather know now."

"I was just on fucking television. On a national network. Are you serious?"

This was a serious topic, but I was really about to bust my guts. I didn't mean to pass off as rude, but seriously, folks, if I can act this part, then what a fun story this would be!

Even after stating I am all over the internet and if I were truly in WITSEC, I was the dumbest client that ever entered the program, I still was questioned and not believed. I was treated differently- like I was a liar. It had no effect.

I throw my hands up. What do you do? You be gangster.

"Ok. I am in WITSEC. It was either here or Albuquerque. "

"I would just like to know. You just have to be upfront with us. No one believes you just left your job during a successful career to come here."

I couldn't find a brick wall fast enough to bang my head on. I had to change the subject before I pulled my hair out and channeled my inner Sinead O'Connor.

The cloud of doubt continued...then I got this from a bunch of veteran man cops: 

"All the pictures of you in your books show you having an intense look on your face."

"Yeah," I said, "That's how I was. I was intense and wound tight."

"We don't know any white girls that listen to your music. It's hard core. Like Bone Thugs, Eminem, some of that street rap. It's really alarming. It was almost a deal breaker. We don't get it."

Well, that struck up a conversation which got me on my girl bandstand.

"If you went west, you would find a bunch of people that listen to rap and other music. Especially, Eminem. We grew up with him. What the fuck? And who gives a shit about some person's musical preferences. It's not like I make you guys listen to it."

"It's just weird."

It got weirder.

The boys said they don't like female cops because they are "hard" and they try to be like the boys. Additionally, I was told they have no use for them and they think girls should be soft and wear frilly dresses. Oh, and they added I dress manly. Whee...doggies! That was the wrong thing to say to Fargo. Manly? I dress like a business professional. Off work, I wear lace tops and other girly things. The spittle which came thereafter from me being frustrated and hot to trot was not attractive. Everything came out between gritted teeth.

When I told them the females were prepared to back them up just like their linebacker buddies, they pshaw-ed me off, stating that they didn't need backup and certainly didn't wait around for any girls. This was not just said to get under my skin. It was what they really feel and think. I got that they aren't a close department when I did ride alongs. Everyone is cordial but not all friendly like as was my department.  I just didn't get they were working with Fred Flintstones and wanted Wilma to stay in the rock house tending to the fire.

This is Fuck You Barbie Cop. She was created by a man. Ten ways to tell this is a fake: 1. NOT anatomically correct. 2. Hair is not high and tight. 3. No duty belt. 4. High water pants. 5. Low top shoes are not worn by real cops. 6. Hand me down uniform. 7. Santa Claus belt is not issue approved. 8. Gravy train tie. 9. Karate chop hands are staged ninja hands.10. She is smiling. 

You can imagine my head spun around backwards and I went off about their version of a girl looking like a "ho" and being at home on the mattress. It did not go over well. I continued, trying to pry if that was the true opinion or just men trying to get me to twist off.

Push, push, push. "You guys really don't think that way."

"Yep." "Yep." "Yep."

Well fuck you, mutha fuckahs!

Really, was I in the stone ages? I thought we had all gotten past this? If they truly feel that way and are only telling me because I was out of the biz, how did they treat their female coworkers? This I needed to know. I am sure they put on a front so they didn't get in trouble, but were HORRIBLE behind their backs. Fuckers. It made me start talking like a truck driver.

"See. That's another thing. Real girls don't say 'fuck'. Hard girls who are cops and are jaded say 'fuck'."

"Yep. Fuck you, mutha fuckahs!"

"That really wasn't necessary."

The hell you say.

Did my coworkers feel the same about all of us? Was I just in lah-lah land thinking I was respected and we worked together well?

Who knows.

All I can say was that conversation blew. Square box, round pizza, triangular slices. I can make no sense of it. It hurt my head to think any more on this subject so I had to cease and desist.

And then I had to quickly phone my handler about moving me again. Maybe they will put me in a warm, tropical environment for the rest of the winter...

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

FMITA Moments By Fargo

Last night I almost got swallowed up by a phenomenon. That is a lot of consonants followed by some vowels followed by more consonants. First, I must preface this that it was a dark and stormy night with 60 degree weather and pouring rain and cemeteries and no visibility on the roadway.


Going to a school function in a nearby town, I drove balls to the walls because I got off work late. As I drove toward the town, I was receiving texts that I was about to miss the event.

"I'm going to make it! I'm going to make it!"

Moms and dads beware, Fargo is en route, mach 12. I kept driving and my anxiety level was escalating with each moment.

When I arrived in the town which was an average population small town, my cell phone lost service and my GPS quit working. I shit you not. It was straight out of a damn horror show.

To top that, only two businesses were open...a small grocery and a pizza joint. No one was in the pizza joint, but maybe they were out back smoking. I didn't have time. I saw the carry out boy in the parking lot of the grocery and hustled to his side. Well, I drove like an asshole and slid to a stop. To the lady's horror, there I was. She was a fat customer, about 30 getting assistance from a carry out boy who resembled Harry Potter's mother mating with the Schwan man. They did not smile.

Literally, no one was milling around in town. Ok, so it was pouring rain. That might explain it.

"Excuse me, sir, could you direct me to the high school?" I asked with a desperate smile. He looked at me like I was an alien.

But he gave me directions to go way down there and turn a right on Raider Road and go way down that road and turn left. Well, I went miles, couldn't find a Raider Road, ran into farms and many cemeteries and got hell bent. Cell phone and GPS still were not working to my panic and demise. I drove around and around, finally reaching cell service on a hill in fucking nowhere. I have parents on speed dial. It's the school way now. I am actually sociable. Somewhat. But distant. I sniffled and sounded like a freak, but explained my dilemma. Boy, did I sound like a freak.

To my dismay, no one could give me directions and only found the school by happenstance. Well, fuck me in the ass. I got off the phone and screamed. This was really stupid. I made up new curse words.  A grown adult lost in Area 51, screaming in her car, no cell service, and no GPS. Picture that.

I mean my car fell off the screen and the voices stopped and there were no roads. The yellow arrow was in a field of black. I should have taken a picture of the GPS screen. If I left the hill, I would have no communication with real people. Ever again. I was certain.

I was certain I was being set up to be serial killer bait.

Ima Gonna Killa Bitch

I had to drive back to the desolate and empty town. Fifteen minutes later, I tried the pizza place screaming in the back for some assistance. Startled, a pizza dude came out and helped me. He was quite nice. His directions were spot on.

Apparently, 3rd street was Raider Road. Well, fuck me in the ass. Who would know? There weren't even any signs pointing to a school. Taking 3rd street, I reached an intersection where the school sat... 2.4 miles later. Did it ever dawn on the makers of this building to put school signs along the way if they were going to put it in butt fuck Egypt? No. Why? Because that would make sense. Or why not extend the 3rd Street name for the next 2.4 miles so people don't get confused. Streets should not turn into roads. Just saying.

I need to be an urban planner. I could really straighten up this mess for dummies.

To top it off, I found out if my GPS hadn't taken me on a ghetto Garmin cruise, I could have reached the school by back way in 20 minutes on a new highway, bypassing Creepytown.

I didn't make it. I arrived for the last 10 minutes.

I really am trying to be a good mom. I don't know if I am going to be able to hack it.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

The Hills Have I's: "I" Want That

Ok. I'm getting a little paranoid. Are bloggers and followers/readers falling off the face of the earth? Clean outs continue on in Bloggerland.

There was a time I thought you could never lose your blog, but if you aren't active, apparently Blogger will delete you. Sad deal for those who have passed and family and friends can no longer view the posts from their loved one. Some day you will not be able to relive my funny or irrational ramblings. I thought this would be here for my daughter some day to read. However, I am misguided. The same goes for paid sites. If the money is gone, so are you.

Grab hold, mateys, before it is too late! Read or comment on your favorites to keep them alive!

Ok. Enough of that drama. I sound like Donald Trump.

How about a new topic of discussion? This is not even in the news.

I am sure many of you have thought long and hard about me running late at night...in the dark...by myself. Hmm..in the country...where there are weirdos galore...isn't she afraid?

The answer is, "No." I run unafraid. Why? Because it is a waste of energy. I think I am more aware that an active shooter could take me out in the university gym before I would get hit by a car or attacked by a rapist on my country trail runs.

Do I have NO fear? No. I don't operate on adolescence or adult stupidity. I just have emotional intelligence and situational awareness. Here is another thought for those who venture out into the wilderness or run in the dark. If you are scared, counter that with protection. I guess you could abstain all together, but that is kind of boring and unfun. That is a word.

So what can you do?

Carry something that feels good. No, not a dildo. That would scare people. Well, I guess no one would approach you and mission accomplished.

Carry a stick. Not a dick.

I might have a better idea with not so drastic ideas.

How about knives...OC...Tasers? Sure. They probably have what makes you feel safe.

Or... if you are comfortable with firearms like myself...

If your state mandates concealed carry permits, then get one. If you are in a state with open carry laws (hooray for the west!) then carry on.

But, egads, Fargo, those guns are so heavy and bounce around on my waist or make me crazy strapped to my ankle. It makes me run lopsided. Geesh. Some of you are so fickle.

A brilliant Colorado company called Hill Country Gear makes super fantabulous and creative outdoor carry gear for the wilderness and runners in a variety of designs. They are super affordable.

Guess what? This is not a solicited review.

I wish they would give me a free product for review and to keep later for running purposes. That would cause me to do a happy dance. This is just Fargo telling you about an awesome product at a price which does not break the bank.

First...for you day hikers or fisher peeps...try this:

This is the snubby kit, great for subcompacts. 
Hill People Gear sell this for $85.00.

What is better than that for us trail runners or outside country and city runners? Answer: The runner's kit bag. It is $45.00. Totally affordable and a great gift to yourself or your runner loved one. Plus it is absolutely functional and doesn't get in your way so you can swing your arms freely and be ready to draw down on those snakes. I mean real snakes, not snake people. However, you might run into a serial killer on a trail like this...

The runner kit bag.

I mostly shoot snakes. All kinds. I'm not a racist.

Great for wilderness adventures and running: The runner's kit bag. 
Hill People Gear don't even know who I am, so don't think this is a paid pitch for their product. I just think more people should know about it. Sure, it adds a little weight. So what? You pussy.

You can even throw in your phone for music enjoyment in the kit bags which have an extra pocket. Or strap it (your music device or phone) on your arm like I like to do as well as even carry it in my left (non-shooting) hand.

The runner's kit bag also allows for a knife or gum or Kleenex for you cry babies in the front pocket. Watch the video for best practices if you aren't familiar with this product:

Don't like to run? You can wear it while mountain biking or leisure riding through town. Add in some cash and stop at the local ice cream shop. Not really. That kind of defeats the purpose. Well, I guess you could look at it like a reward for your effort. Don't forget to put your papers or permit in your zipper pocket in case the PoPo show up on the trail or pull you over for excessive speeds. 

Or let's say you are hiking on the Appalachian Trail and need to stop at a gas station for a drink. There you go...whip out your credit card or some greenbacks. If you are walking along in the wilderness of Wyoming or Colorado, you really don't need cash because you are more likely to run into no one or Smokie The Bear. In that case, your firearm may or may not do you any good. When your butt hole shrinks, that is when your instincts kick in and you either freeze, run, or make noise depending on the type of bear. But having a small shooter....it makes you feel better. It's all about feelings. It's not always the size, but how you use it. UNLESS...you run into a bear. Then size matters. 

Anyhoozle, this isn't about bears. It's about personal safety in the wilderness or around (((shudder)))people on the trail, street, or recreational area you visit. Make sure you know the rules of firearms regulations in your area because many places ban guns. In that case, punt. 

It still works perfect for me beebopping down the country roads getting ready for my running races. No, I don't carry on race day. It really wouldn't be fair to eliminate my competition. It isn't roller derby running either. I couldn't even catch up to the number one guy to knock him off the trail anyway, so I will just settle for NOT LAST. 

What else is super about this genius idea? It is made in the United States. What is even better than that? They have a clever name (named after the owner and probably goes in line with the landscape) and they have beards. What else could you want? Oh, I suppose you don't like camo? Too bad. It's like black. It goes with everything. And Hill People Gear are nice enough to make it in multiple camo shades...green, grey, and tannish colors in different varieties including ripstop fabric. 

The only thing that really pisses me off about this product? I didn't think of it first. 

They could have been called Boogie Man Bags, appropriately named. The funny thing is I mostly use mine for dangerous critters like snakes and skunks and things like that, not people. But there always is that one time...

Be safe. Be vigilant.