Evidence 101

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

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Flower Power


What. In. The. Hell. Do. You. Do. With. Them?

They take up space. They sass. They yell. They stomp. They wear tiaras. They eat all the food.

Fuck.Me.In.The.Ass. Seriously.

ME: Quit that fake smile crap.

BUG: What! You don't love me? [stomp, pout]

ME: Don't be ridiculous. I just want a nice picture, not that fake smile you always do.

BUG: [stomping off]Nice, Mom! You don't like my pictures. Moms are supposed to like everything of a kid.  Maybe you can solve that by not taking any pictures of me for the rest of my life. [slams bedroom door]

ME: Nice.

I can do better with a meth addict who is running around in the street naked, frothing at the mouth, yelling, "Tebow for President!"

Bug's hair looked so cute so I wanted a nice picture. All she could do was that fake smile crap. We all hate it. She grits her teeth and smiles gargantuan and looks like a nitwit. Good thing we have digital cameras now days. She certainly would waste the expensive 35 mm just to get one good pic. And not only was she fake posing to be uncooperative, she had words to back up her body language sass afterwards.

This after I chased my garbage all over Timbuktu and struggled with a large piece of cardboard. Word. Don't get dog kennels for Christmas...in boxes. Thanks, Santa.

There I was trudging up the driveway after tugging the box out of the sagebrush. Did you know sagebrush has fingers and it wants everything. Instead of Swamp Thing around here, it's Prairie Thing. It's almost as bad as tumble weeds. They are like venus fly traps only different.  Do you know how temped I was to let it blow into the river and float to Nebraska? Yeah.

Although if I had done that, some hobo would have tried to fish it out of the river thinking it would have made a good addition to his house and then he would have fallen in the river and drowned. Then I would have been a murderer. Orange is not my color. And it wouldn't even have made a good book because it was too short of a story. Maybe a Law & Order episode.

So...how did I get from Tweens to Murder? Simple. They go together. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it.

She decided to come out of her room...

BUG: Mom, tomorrow is nerd day.

ME: Well, then you won't have to dress up.

BUG: [stomp, yell] Mom, I am not a nerd. I don't have any glasses![stomp, run to room, slam door]

ME: Sweet.

Really. Walking across fire to bring 100 pounds of food to starving African children would be easier.

Apparently, I am learning tweens run to their room, slam the door, have some revelation and come out with more mouth or a new con game.

BUG: You don't even love me, do you?

ME: Of course I do.

BUG: Well you don't like my smile and now I'm a nerd.

ME: Nerds with fake smiles need love too.

BUG: Mom! I shouldn't have to put up with this in my life! [stomp, run to room, slam door shut]

ME: [big cheesy grin]

BUG: [yelling from room with closed door] I know you are smiling out there! God still loves me!

ME: Yes. God still loves Tebow, too.

BUG: Mom! I'm not Tebow!

ME: I know. Otherwise I would be saying these things to you with diamonds on and drinking a large bottle of the best red wine..naked.

BUG: Ew. You are so gross! Why do I have to have such a gross mother?!!??! [opens and slams door for effect]

So...I have come to find how you save the world from countless murders. You torture your tweens any chance you get. You get even. Because right now old and wit beats young and sass any day....no matter how cute they are. And after all that...I got one sorta good pic...with a fake smile.

After opening the door and dragging her feet, she came out one more time.

BUG: Do you even still love me?

ME: Of course I do.

BUG: You better not put any of those dumb pictures on the blog, only the good ones.

ME: Ok, honey.

BUG: I'm serious.

ME: [big cheesy smile]

Someday, I will pay for all this when she wheels me right into the river and inherits my riches. Perhaps I will invest in a Chia Pet farm. Just sayin'. It would be like bonsai therapy for her only different.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Confessions of a Suicidal Policewoman

When they call my name in the airport it usually isn't to tell me that I got a free flight and moved to first class. It's a bump, cancellation, or standby.

When I went to the counter with my book in hand, I smiled apprehensively at the airline employee. She looked at my book, looked up at me, looked at my book...then smiled weakly and asked, "Officer Fargo, you aren't carrying today on the flight, are you?"

I'm forever plagued since 2004 when I carried my bullet proof vest and firearm on the plane for a homicide case I was working which took me across the United States and back. Of course, I had been screened and approved. That one day...made me flagged forever. My luggage gets torn apart and tagged. I get body searched.

I politely told her I was not carrying on the plane this day. Relief spread across her face. If you can't trust a cop, who can you trust? What was the big deal? Was it the book?

It was the same look I got when I whipped out my book to read while guarding a prisoner at the hospital while he lay there after surgery not long ago. Officer Friday gave me a double take. The nurses asked me if I needed to check myself in for an evaluation and commented my job must be getting the best of me after 15 years. We all chuckled. Then, I held up the book and told them it was a great read and they should pick one up on Amazon. Curiosity killed them, of course, and they perused the book. I share like that. That's what good books are for...sharing and enjoying. This book was a page turner.

I think I'm developing a crush on Michael Beckett.

It's true.

Thomas Fitzsimmon's Confessions of a Suicidal Policewoman is jam packed with action, twists and turns, and mystery. Michael Beckett is back for another drama to unfold and someone has to wear his handcuffs. Murder. Drugs. Not only is it a dynamic police investigation which keeps your attention, it's better than the first in the series. Fitzsimmon's takes you on a gamutt of police work leading to an ending which will surprise you.

Not your typical finish.

Beckett continues his fight against evil, tangled with his affection for women, and being taunted with offers of police corruption.Yet, Beckett is good. It's like being at the kegger parties in high school and the joint gets passed to you, but you pass because you don't do drugs. Do you turn in your friends, or do you ignore the illegal activity? Or something like that. Beckett's ethics prevail against temptations as he continues to follow the leads to solving high crimes.

His partner was deceased. Perhaps there was a new girl in town.

Not only is it a great police story, it parallels reality. Ethics. Professionalism. Investigation. Mystery. His cop attitude. His attraction to the wrong women-because it isn't me. The bond of the brotherhood. Corruption. Affection for your partner. Putting the bad guys in jail.  Basically, it's good old-fashioned cop work with the insides turned out.

Thomas Fitzsimmons gets better and better. His colorful descriptions take you to the moment to experience the smells, the sites, the road to fighting crime and getting the bad guy.

You can't put it down.

Even if you are in a blue uniform with a shiny brooch pin in a hospital holding a book titled, Confessions of a Suicidal Policewoman, or at the airport getting ready to board your flight engrossed in the pages.

I like Michael Beckett best on my sofa with a class of red wine next to my fireplace.

The more I know about Thomas Fitzsimmons, the more I like him. Plus, he wears a "white hat" and rides a great horse into the sunset. He's just like that only more fantastic. Maybe you would be surprised to know he also drinks 6 cups of coffee in the morning which is almost equal to my pot of coffee, gets on the computer, writes, and answers emails. He has an identical twin brother, (a retired cop) which he says they are very close. I wonder if he ever switches his brother for himself on his jobs to get a vacation? Nah, he's too professional for that.

He answered my questions this morning...

MF:  Your life has gone from cop to celebrity status over the years. Were there times you ever missed being a cop or wanted to go back into the uniform and why or why not?

TF:  No. I’ve never missed being “in the bag.” The reasons: I still do police work of sorts. When I’m not writing, I’m a private investigator and bodyguard. Plus I still socialize almost exclusively with cops; they’re the only people who understand me and who I trust. (If I get drunk I’ll even hang out with a firefighter or two J) Also, I hire many of the guys I worked with on the NYPD, as well as many young, active duty cops. So I feel like I’m still in the mix.

MF:   What's sitting on your coffee table right now?

TF:    The New York Times Book Review. Although, since they’ve conned me several times with great reviews of lousy, unreadable books, why I continue to read it is beyond me. 

MF:   Out of all the accomplishments in your life, what are you most proud of and why?

TF:  For obvious reasons, staying sober on St. Patrick’s Day—well, sort of.  

MF: Do you believe in the age old belief that good will prevail over evil, or will it be a battle that continues but never won? What do you see in law enforcement now that has changed for the good and what has declined?

TF: I believe in the old adage: All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. Which is why I became a cop; to do something. And there was no greater pleasure then catching some SOB in the act of committing an armed robbery, or felonious assault on a female or child, and being in the position to “take care of business.”

However evil will always be with us. And so the battle will continue. I don’t think much has changed systemically, in the NYPD over the years, although the young cops would most probably dispute that. They idolized the “gun slingers” I worked with in the old days and think we operated unsupervised; which we didn’t. But cops will always be cops. And the powers that be will always cut slack to the guys like me who worked the really high crime areas.

The only thing I think has a negative effect is the film and TV industries insistence on showing the bad guys disrespecting the police. In real life you disrespect a cop and, well, your day will most probably take a turn for the worse.  

MF: What do you do for fun? 

TF:  My work is my fun. How cool is that? There’s nothing in the world I’d rather do then work on a book, or pick up a juicy criminal investigation, or spend time with my bosses, Michael Douglas & Catherine Zeta Jones.