Category: Police Blotter Files

The Sacramento Police Blotter Files: Gone, Doggy Gone.

The following is a fictional imagining of the events surrounding this police report. Any resemblance to people, places or creatures is purely coincidental:

*****

It all started a few days ago when he shot the neighbor’s dog. He would later tell himself that it was spontaneous, but it wasn’t. See, that neighbor’s dog had been driving him crazy for months, maybe even years. It had been so long, he didn’t even remember what it was like to not wake up to that blasted dog’s incessant barking.

And then it happened. Somehow that mangy mutt got out of its backyard and into his. And there was his chance, just staring him in the face. But the dog wasn’t barking at all. It was just sitting there. Staring at him.

So he left to get his shotgun. If the dog was still there when he got back, he would take his shot.

When he returned, the dog was still there, waiting. He cocked his gun and raised it to his eye, pointing it at the docile dog.

And that dog just kept staring, like it didn’t even care that it was about to die.

He lowered his gun.

“Is that what you want, old boy? You want me to do it?”

And the dog blinked as if to acquiesce. The man and dog looked at each other for a while. It was a look that transcended time, space and species.

BOOM.

The dog crumbled to the ground.

Within minutes, the police arrived, having heard reports of a gun being fired. When they found the man, he still had the gun in his hand.

Everyone asked him why he did it. They assumed it was because the dog was on his property. He wasn’t so sure.

All he knew was that the dog wasn’t barking anymore. And they were both free.

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The Sacramento Police Blotter Files: the human purse.

The two victims were walking among other friends when 5 suspects approached them. The suspects grabbed a purse from one of the victims and physically assaulted a male subject with her.

Either the cop who wrote this meant to say “it” when to referring to the purse, or that purse is going to be really sore tomorrow.

The Sacramento Police Blotter Files: Episode 1– Suspicious Subject

 

The following is a fictional account based on a true story:

It was approximately 8 pm when he hung up his phone on the first cold day in Sacramento. He shivered, not from the cool weather, but the coldness in his now ex-girlfriend’s voice when she told him they were through.  He was sad, but mostly relieved.

Just then, he got a text from his buddy.

Hey, man. Wht ru up 2?

He paused for a second and texted hastily.

Not good, bro.  Meet me at the bar?

He was already halfway there on foot, so he wouldn’t take his car. Plus, the last thing he needed right now was a DUI. When he arrived, his friend Bo was waiting for him at the bar with a rum and coke.

“Just what the doctor ordered,” said Bo, sliding the drink to him.

And never had a rum and coke tasted as good as it did right then. When he would think about his time at the bar later, he would wonder how many of them he actually consumed. At the time though, he didn’t care.

“Sheena dumped me,” he told Bo. And he didn’t have to say much after that, not that he would have remembered. He and Bo don’t need words to communicate, they just had an understanding. He liked that about Bo.

The rest of the night was a blur. Until he got to his apartment. The light was on, which he thought was strange because he remembered turning it off earlier on account of the SMUD bill he recently got in the mail.

As he fumbled with his keys, he saw movement from the inside. This also caused him pause. Mostly because he lived alone.

He dropped his keys out of shock and bent down to pick them up. When he stood up, he was staring into a pair of greenish eyes. He dropped his keys again. This time instead of bending to pick them up, he tried at the door.

“Let me in! What are you doing? Get out of my apartment!” he yelled. Though because of his state, it probably sounded more like, “Garrrghhh, wharrrrr doiiinnnnn!!”

He couldn’t be certain how long he was outside of his apartment, but it was long enough for him to vomit into a potted plant and pee on the bushes. It was then that, even in his drunken state, he realized his apartment didn’t have any potted plants.  And this was not his apartment at all.

As he yelled inside to the intruder rightful occupier of the apartment, “Sorrrrr diindddt blarrrgggg,” he noticed he wasn’t alone outside of his someone else’s residence.

“Sir, put your hands up where we can see them.”

****