Where Mercy Is Shown, Mercy Is Given - Duane Dog Chapman [85]
Another way to lower crime is to get officers out of their patrol cars and onto the streets. Policemen ride around in their patrol cars, protecting themselves from the very people they’re out looking for. If officers began walking their beat, they’d have a much better sense of what’s really happening in those neighborhoods. They need to knock on doors and talk to the people who live in these cities and streets that they protect and serve, to hear firsthand accounts of who, what, and where they need to be searching. They need to meet the citizens who pay their salaries and hear their concerns. Then, and only then, can they be more effective and successful in reducing crime in those areas.
I believe so strongly in my ideas to cut crime that I’d be willing to stake my badge on the results. If these ideas were implemented, I would expect to see a 50 percent or more drop in crime over a period of ninety days. I hope to someday have the opportunity to bring these ideas to fruition, to test my theories and to help finally bring more peace to our communities.
INTERMISSION TWO
CHAPTER 16
(credit: Chaz)
“Your momma sure does have some sexy panties,” I said into the phone. One of my favorite tactics to bring in a fugitive is to slam him with a bunch of phone calls in a row, so he knows I’m on his trail and to get him to reveal some valuable information. Most times they fall right into my trap.
“What did you say about my Momma?” The voice on the other end of the line was that of a fugitive I’d been hunting for days. I was taunting him with all sorts of comments about his momma’s lingerie.
“I went through her panty drawer and touched her bras too. Man, you have a fine momma,” I told him.
And then I hung up. Click. For whatever reason, the guy kept calling me back. And when he did, I kept taunting him, hoping I would anger him enough so he’d call me back again, mess up, and reveal where he was hiding. I’d hit his mom’s house earlier in the day, but he wasn’t there. Even though we didn’t grab him, I was positive he’d hear we were out looking for him. Every time he called me back, he blocked the number he was calling from so I wouldn’t be able to see it on my caller ID. Whenever I saw private number flash on the screen of my phone, I’d pick it up and say something vulgar just to get his attention.
“Your sister is almost as hot as your momma. I’d love to see her naked.”
Click.
And the next time he called I said, “Is this smell Febreze or at ease?”
Click.
My phone rang again, private number.
“Hello?”
“What did you say about my momma’s panties?” the guy yelled on the other end of the line. He was getting angrier with each call. “If you ever go to my mom’s house again, I’m going to kill you!”
“Oh yeah? Well, I’m on my way back there right now,” I said. “Your momma’s pink panties were really nice. And they smell good too. I am going back to see them again. Maybe she’ll be wearing them this time…”
Click.
Eventually, I knew he’d trip up, forget to block his number, and blam, he’d be mine. Sure enough, the very next call, his number popped up on my screen. He was raging mad. He’d also found out I had been to several homes of friends and family looking for him. When I answered this time, I pulled a little reverse psychology.
“Listen, you can yell all you want, I don’t have time to talk to you right now. I’ll call you back.” Beth was in the background yelling, “We got the number! Hang up! Hang up!”
So I hung up on him. Click!
I could practically see the confused look on his face when I hung up the phone. The next time he called, his number was blocked again. I wasn’t sure he ever realized he’d already given us the break we’d been waiting for. Once I had the telephone