Door county obituary

sir_neatington works his way through the crowd and manages to run all the way towards the Slideslow Drive where he enters a pub, throws himself right in, and finds a twenty-year old soap box. Inspired to conduct soap-box politics, he manages to push the box, stands up and begins his speech, or as we call it, a good ramble.
Uh- hey hello Bromsgrove. Finally, I managed to grab a soap-box and have a steady grip on it. From the times of World War I, the so-called Golden Age of Soapbox Oratory, to the present day, politics has evolved a long way. We have opened up the world for migrants, recognised same-sex marriages, brought two stronger forces in the fray, us and the Loony Left, led by one of the candidates, localds something.
I am pretty sure that the only thing local about their campaigning approach is going to be making an April Fools Joke out of the general populace, and somehow make you believe that you deserve less, and much less than most. The fundamental truths by which politics is run, still hasn’t changed, but rather challenged. The element of public service, national security, and responsibility to the growth of the people, all of that is being challenged.
It is thrown into dismay by a bunch of people, who name themselves Solidarity, and push themselves at the boundary of common sense. From stealing your land, to forcing working class folks to pay more on unnecessary union fees, from forcing you to adopt practices that can harm your family in the future, to not having a concrete plan beyond nationalisations, all of that is being put up to stake.
The last time someone did a soap-box campaign was in 1992, by Sir John Major, another Conservative who passionately cared for the interests of the actual all, and not the union few. In the 90s, and today, a lot is similar, the threat of a government that will force you to poverty, make you beg and borrow for your next meals, tarnish our image abroad, do nothing beyond rambling and call that foreign policy.
I am reminded of a time, when candidates in the 1960s America, when advertising professionals began their inputs into the modern political process, were reputed to be "selling candidates like soap", which was a key phrase to discuss the promotional techniques that were used at the time. Today, that’s how the Left is selling their vision, clean and packaged in new boxes, adding new scents and flavours, only to fool you.
They have decided that by using the word UBI repeatedly, and feeding you with an utopian vision, that somehow their world is superior. Let me show the mirror, their world is clearly a hoax. A falsehood, a mirage which they want you to believe, because it helps them time and again to sit in office.
Beyond vanity nationalisations, and making the poor poorer, and the rich poorer, what has this Government done? It ceases to amaze me that these people, the so-called communists, amongst whom many would proudly stand up for Stalin today, have no vision beyond mesmerising you into a world of unreal making. Let us explore the second person in the room, Labour.
Wait, they’re the copy of the first, no difference except having a perfectly minted brand. They are mere copycats, forgive me if I use a harsher word, they’re lap dogs of the former. The only reason they are in Official Opposition this term was because their big bosses had a grudge about not being Prime Minister, so took the second big talk. In fact it took them nearly a year to go and say, they support Ukraine.
They’ll say that their Shadow Secretary of Defence did this and that, but let’s be honest, apart from being Official Opposition, they’ve done it all. Justifying that by saying that they’re somehow a force for unity, absolute baloney. They are disguising their incompetence by throwing a charade of policies, and call that a difference. If you move a step down, you would see the Solidarity’s big chap, the incumbent Home Secretary and Bees Minister. Bees Minister, really what has this person done for your farms? Hike the LVT, remove your agricultural reliefs, replace the subsidy regime? The whole post was created to merely accommodate a party weight, to prevent infighting.
Let us be honest, a good segment of the Government’s cabinet is merely filled to satisfy the Parliamentary Comrades, rather than determining the best interests of our children and the future. If we ever have to see the record of the current Home Secretary, there is virtually nothing, that is to their name, beyond presiding over a Government that has no plan for knife crime, no plan for safety, no intention to fund the police, no drive to get Britain safer, or even make an attempt to do any of it. The only thing they’ve done is stand behind their Prime Minister and nod through partisan bickering and shouting out how land must no longer belong to individuals, or defending a Budget that takes more, and gives less. The only policy your solidarity chap has been defending is incompetence, and it’s time to show them the door.
Now that we have finished showing you the other records, let’s show you mine. I’ve served as the Actual Opposition’s spokesperson for Treasury, yeah we don’t count the non-positions and sycophants, actively engaging for a better Economy, including by presenting an Act which would have limited the deficit raising abilities of the Government to ensure that your children do not have to bear the burdens of your borrowing, cutting down the vanity nationalisations, that nationalised pubs thing, which makes your pubs and pubes theirs, so that you bow down to the State every time.
Tomorrow, I’m sure they’ll criminalise religious worship, or say that alcohol must not be served in pubs. Wait a minute, that already happened. The Government’s KONSUM Plan actively works to undermine your emotional maturity and somehow forces you to believe that pubs will be safe in their hands. Absolute shitfest, innit. Back to my record, I also brought in a Shadow Budget, which if passed, would’ve increased your Personal Allowance, reduced your taxes, got a 0-interest loan programme to fund innovation, and a better plan for school catch-up. Further, I proposed legislation in this term, which if passed, would have enshrined research and development targets for all Government Departments.
So the red rosettes now hate science and finance too, let us explore the real alternatives to this mess festival, the Conservatives. In this edition of our manifesto, we will be focusing on five main priorities, or as I would like to call them, pillars of modern society. It is our belief that if these pillars are strengthened, it would build our nation better for the future. The first pillar, the one that will actually keep you safe on the roads, Law and Order. We want the gangs out, the muggers in prison, the addictums in their chambers, and most importantly, bobbies in. Our police have been wonderful in preventing crime, and we must do more to help them across.
That is why a Conservative Government, repeat after me, a TORY Government, would be training and introducing nearly 10,000 new police officers on our streets, fund better police management and criminology research at the College of Researching and increase the grant provided to officers for buying police vehicles. This will ensure that our Police are able to reach those who need help at the earliest. Our funding for the Policing College will ensure that we have the best practices in the world, and most importantly, the gangs out.
Another key element to the mugging community is their use of knives. There’s a reason why Knife Crime is, time and again, one of the most common forms of crimes in our society. This has to stop, with us, it will. We have proposed this time, the creation of a National Knife Crime TaskForce, which will work with police forces across our country, to track down and silence the Knife Criminals. We do not need more of them on the streets, we need them back at the Prisons.
We will also be increasing funding for a Knife Crime Awareness Programme, for students and communities across England, to ensure that they are well-educated and informed on dealing with Knife Crime. By creating such programmes, we will be massively preventing the casualties and harmful effects of Knife Crime. It will also ensure we have better reporting of these crimes. We will bring back Stop-and-Search, to ensure the Knives are thrown off the bag, well before they are even used.
It is common knowledge that these provisions helped in ensuring police officers can get the criminals in, but the anti-law and order gang firmly opposed this, yes the reds. The only red thing they have gotten on their hands, is irresponsibility and lack of desire to truly prevent crime. If you thought they really wanted the best for your children, think again. Labour Wales at the moment is opposing plans to help create a smoke-free generation. Is this the law and order you want to see, smoke everywhere, knives being used to kill rather than cut vegetables and meat?
If you want true change, stand with us, here with the Tories today. Continuing on order, we will also be increasing the existent penalties for crimes such as Modern Slavery, and Sexual Offences. People should not commit these offences, and be given a baby sentence. These people should not see the light of society, and must also be stripped off their right to vote. We should not be supporting criminals, and it is sad to see the Government do nothing.
That is why we need the Tories to take on the government, to bring real change, law and order on our streets, enough of gangs and boats. Speaking on those lines is our second and the most important of all our priorities, Building a “Stronger Public Service”. For too long, we have been fed knowledge which says that nationalisation is somehow always beneficial, but having a strong public service is much beyond wasteful expenditure. It is about being meaningful and getting delivery done. Our NHS, our schools, our job market, we need to get them buzzing up.
This is why, as a first step towards funding our services better, the Tories will be cutting down needless bureaucracy and red-tape, which will allow us to have nearly seven billion pounds, which can be invested directly into the NHS System. Enough talk about funding, get on with the substance. We will also be bringing nearly 25,000 new dentists into Britain, to fix our dental system and reduce waiting times for Dental Referrals. We will also be working to reduce waiting times between a visit to the GP and a specialist referral.
We pledge to create nearly 750,000 new jobs year-on-year, which will reduce unemployment and the need for Welfare. We need to make welfare reform a stepping stone for getting jobs, and not a lifestyle choice. This is why we will be merging the existing provisions into a single “Get-Back-to-Work” Benefit for all those who can actually work, yet do not engage in meaningful activity. This however does not include people who suffer from ailments and physical complications, unlike how the Solidarity wants you to think, because this Tory Government, will be, to quote David Cameron, a “compassionate Government, one that cares for all of its people”.
Continuing on the Public Services Principle, we will be working to reform Local Government. It is our local government that handles your daily activities, garbage collection, maintenance of public property, and gets your police forces working. We propose to abolish Town and Parish Councils, since they haven’t helped get Bromsgrove or any other part of England to any betterment, beyond existing and eating up public money. We will be introducing County Mayors across England instead, to ensure your voices can actually cause real change on the ground, along with a mandatory council tax freeze once in every council term.
That is certainly signs of a more compassionate and people-friendly government than those who read the Marxist Pledge of Allegiance and call it home to their pinkish hearts. Beyond employment, what is important is to ensure that those who have served our society, our older populace get the fair share of pensions they deserve. At this moment, pensions are severely lacking, and in some cases, do not even let our older folks have enough to carry out their monthly needs.
It is sad to see many of them opt for second jobs to help pay the bills. A Sephronar Government will ensure that it happens. How, by introducing a Triple Lock on Pensions. A Triple Lock in Pensions would mean that pensions would increase every year, based on national inflation, the average rise in wages, or 2.5%, whichever is higher, to ensure maximum can be provided to those who have put their youth, blood and toil maximum for our nation and its growth.
We will also work to eradicate homelessness by continuing our track record of introducing greater planning reform, which by the way, was not supported by the Government because it actually helped the people be better off. We will also be building up nearly 250,000 houses per year, as a start to ensure that this crisis can be averted. As the United Kingdom grows, it needs to grow in being able to provide affordable housing, and these are the first little steps.
We will also be introducing a new 5G Delivery Plan, to ensure that 5G reaches every corner of Bromsgrove, and other parts of our country. Upper Severn deserves an MP who can actually stand up and support the needs and aspirations of its constituents, not someone whose sole objective is to go back, and be a silent wimp to the party top-cops.
Also did you know, Labour recently said it wanted to rejoin the EU, yeah, four referendums, and the people said we want it out, and now they say we want you in. You see, there’s a pattern of incompetence from the Labourites. First, they campaign for something, then the people tell them to do something, they pretend to do it, and go back on it later. The fact that they are constantly ready to undermine the public, the public services, and the gangs on the streets speaks far more to their inability to accept the public facts and stop being ego wings.
Mr Real Pub Owner, do you want your pub back? Ms Teacher, do you want your children to have a better world? Mr Peter, do you want a more compassionate Government, that actually focuses on delivering the best interests of the people, accepts their mandate, moves forward and actually gets the new British energy going beyond wanting to rejoin the EU, undermining our armed forces, police officers and the British citizens? Then, join me and vote Tories for Bromsgrove!
sir_neatington gets off the soap-box, hands over copies of the Tory Manifesto, has a couple of pints of beer, and walks his way off, as he’s ready for another round of General Election campaigning.

Hello, darlings, from Helena the Clown. I decided to tell you a thing that has happened to me. After that life changing night before Christmas, (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5) I decided to step down for a bit and just rest. Take a break. Sleep in my cozy coffin my Vampire sleep. Be a little lazy. Something normal, for both us the immortals and for mortals alike. Especially after all the ordeal of that night.
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I have to admit, when I had to write it all down, I kind of relieved it. And since it took me more to write it than to live it first hand, I had to return to it over and over, until my mind felt sour. But I needed to tell the story, it felt that I had to.
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The psychedelic rollercoaster of that night was an experiment of the SRI (Romanian secret service) alongside the CIA, as the agent I caught told me. Was the experiment successful for them? I do not know. Both me and Sophie, the lovely Elf I met that night, who was a collateral victim of it, waited to see any signs from those bastards. Especially since their weapons were able to give a huge power to demons over us. Nothing clear was seen, on the outside, but our souls were heavy on residue, like some thick goo on them, that needed time to wash away. Yet, signs of slow healing are visible, albeit slow.
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On the other hand, from time to time, I felt some mental ”breeze”. It felt like one of those attacks I experienced, the beginning of it, but dissipating fast. Some went harder than the rest. I talked to Sophie, it seems she had experienced those as well. The Buzz itself did not seem to get the proportions of that night so we can not tell if there are still some agents on us, or just some demons playing around, or our scars, or a combination of those. My ”gut feeling”, something I do not (mostly) rely upon, told me that, most likely, it was not a Human work. At least, not by agents or special drones, like that night.
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Christmas was peaceful, my first Christmas I celebrated as a Christian since I became a Vampire. My confessor, father George Baka, the exorcist, managed to give me Holy Communion, after hiding me close to the church, in order not to inflict panic on my presence there for his Human parishioners. My dear friend Ruxandra drove me in and out of the village in Ialomița county. As I was back in Bucharest and Ruxandra spent some time with her boyfriend, I met Sophie at night at the Circus Park a few days after, where it all ended, after finding a way to get Vampire magic and Elven magic to work together.
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Her parents were dead scared, they wanted to convince Sophie to leave Romania for the UK, in order to stay safe. It seems her mother was mostly afraid of the SRI, the descendent of the former communist political police, the Securitate, most of all. Sophie did not want to, since whatever happened in Romania could happen in the UK, hence the involvement of the CIA made it an international matter. And, besides, Sophie felt safer in here, where I resided and where so many Caterpillar Elves like her were, Elves she wanted to awake. She dressed up the whole time as a Christmas Elf (Yeah, some may say it was silly, but she enjoyed it.), even spoke to kids on Elves. Cannot blame her. She can have enough time in her immortal life to be a Full, ”serious” Elf.
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Indeed, something happened. If it didn„t, I would not be writing this now. Father George decided to perform Holy Liturgy on the night of January the first, which is the secular New Year, like he used to do in the years before, especially since January the first this year was on sunday. Most people would stay up, party and skip church that morning. So, he did it at night, so that at least some will come, then start to party a little. Most will not come.
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Ruxandra drove there, outside Bucharest, as usual. Since my presence would cause havoc, I was supposed to stay close by, not inside the church, with the people who will attend. Ruxandra asked me to help tune up her laptop, on which a fresh Linux installation was made. Since I knew Linux better than her, who is a lifelong Windows user, and her boyfriend was a Macbook type of guy, I decided to make myself useful a bit, before Holy Liturgy. Adrian came with us, still a bit uneasy about my presence in the car. We came out pretty early. I had the idea of going into the graveyard, where we used to spend time myself, Ruxandra and father George, in late summer and early autumn. Since both me and Ruxandra were supposed to take Holy Communion later that night, we needed to stop eating after midnight. After greeting father George, I decided to get to the graveyard, where there is a temporary plastic kiosk, somewhere near the corner of the graveyard. It was a pretty clean, countryside graveyard, nothing great or fancy.
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I was dressed in one of my black belle epoque dresses, with a matching hat, this time. For a Vampire like me, winter cold is far better tolerated than for mortals, but even ourselves have our own limits. Ruxandra came with her laptop, Adrian followed her. People were gathering at church, as Father George performed a Lity. Ruxandra wanted to stay with me but, as she was visibly disturbed by the cold, I told her to get inside. In fact, if it weren't for my friends and Father George, I would have stayed at home in Bucharest, alone, as I do not care too much for the secular New Year. In order to get things going, Ruxandra came with Adrian„s Macbook and we managed to set up a small network, using her phone as well, in order we would be able to get online. She stayed with me a bit, then went to the church for Lity, and let me mind my own doing.
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Yep, it was cold, even I found gloves useful. I spent decades in my grave, hibernating, but that was a special state, pretty different from the one when I am awake and active. I am pretty cold and harsh, but not that much not to feel the cold at all. I started installing and configuring some software from repositories into Ruxandra„s laptop. As night passed, kids around the village started to blow firecrackers and small fireworks on a large scale, it felt like war. I liked it, I admit it, the war flavor of it. I felt like going to them and playing along, but I could not, of course. They have not entered the graveyard, fortunately, although some firecrackers fell inside it. Poor dogs started to bark and howl of that noise.
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Meanwhile, I managed to install Tor Browser, to get on the Dark Web. You know, you can meet some real Vampires there, if you know where to look. At first, when I discovered it, in the months after waking up from my decades of hibernation, in July 2021, alongside things like creepypasta, the world felt far more interesting on the dark side then today. As you may imagine, it was hard to distinguish at first creepypasta from real things, I am sure sometimes it is harder even for someone who was born and lived in this age to do it. Fortunately, I grew more experienced on this pretty fast. No one I could talk to from those hidden online communities was logged in, as it seemed, so I decided to start digging up some things regarding the effects on infrasounds.
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Midnight came. I did not feel excited or anything, neither too sad. Perhaps just a little sad. Humans were having fun in the streets, explosions and stuff. Since the Holy Liturgy started, I stopped working on the laptop itself, and tried to listen to psaltical chants on Youtube. I admit I got bored fast, and went to my regular music. Earphones on maximum level, as I usually like to listen (I know, it is bad to do it for long.). I started to feel a little drowsy and sleepy. Probably something was at work at this point, as it was not normal for me (or my kind) to feel sleepy at night. At some point, I placed my head on the table and listened to the music with my eyes closed. My head was inside the hotspot, inside the wifi medium, but I did not realize it. I let myself drift into sleep, thinking that Ruxandra would wake me up.
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I do not know how, Youtube seems moody at times regarding the autoplay, on being turned on and off. I usually keep it off. As I was signed in with my Google account, it seems it started to play things as I was sleeping, random stuff. I went on for about an hour and a half.
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Eventually, I woke up. Some kind of ASMR or white noise clip was playing, a grey screen, looking a bit like static on an old black and white TV. The sound sounded a bit like that as well, but not exactly. I said something like ”ASMR Relaxing static for deep sleep”. I turned it off, as I was shaking sleepiness off from my mind. The outside was pretty silent, just some crackers from time to time. It was a feeling of things being a bit off. I do not know how to put it, the flavor of reality was off. A feeling that was a little familiar, since that night not too long ago. I was not too concerned, still, since it was not too strong, we have not noticed anything coming here. Indeed, a was a little troubled by this, but not as much as a mortal would have been, being alone, at night, in a graveyard. For me, it was a place and a time that I was in tune with. Perhaps, If I were Human, I would have had a better attitude in that situation. I started to say the Jesus Prayer a bit, and started to walk towards the church. As I was getting closer and felt better, I started to let my guard down and let my thoughts go loose.
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I do not know what is the clear border between a thought and an attitude. I am not a psychologist, just my own rambling here. I think some thoughts work at the edge between the conscious and the unconscious, since they manifest in attitudes, even if the conscious does not want to admit them. Those are not just some deep unconscious processes, they are closer to the surface, so to say. Indeed, before Adam and Eve fell, they had no unconscious part of their souls, after the fall they lost sight of a large part of themselves. Only those very spiritually advanced can truly become fully aware of themselves, and turn the whole unconscious into conscious. Of course, I am not one of them.
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Looking back at those moments, some things are blurry. I was not asleep, for sure, yet it felt a bit like a sleep-like state, the bizarreness of all. It seems some thoughts were moving from conscious to this semiconscious part, back and forth, not all at the same time. I was walking stiffer than I usually do (And I do walk pretty stiff usually.). There was something, I do not remember exactly how much I was aware of, I felt I needed to get closer to the church and away from the kiosk in the graveyard. I started to feel a bit, only a bit, like at the moments during that night, when I felt alone in the whole world. Not strong enough to have a strong attitude, it would have been better if the feeling was stronger.
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I got close to the church, lights were on, but it was silent, like empty. Familiar feeling, but not too intense. I looked back at the graves, something felt new. Unreal in a new way. All this was still faint, for now. I heard some noises on the other side of the graveyard. Then I had a thought that some kids may enter the graveyard and steal the laptops and rest. Something from my mind was saying to stop, not to go into the weird, unreal darkness from there. But I brushed it out, being too faint, unfortunately for me. I went back towards that place.
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As I would later find out, at this point, the Holy Liturgy was over, just a small snack for the people inside, Ruxandra was getting ready to come to me, outside, she just waited for the people to leave the church. She heard something outside, and felt my presence faintly. She decided to come out, to see if I had come too early. By the time she was out, I was already on my way back to the kiosk, she saw me from a distance. The sky was unusually dark on one side, and a feeling of a new unease was in the air. She started to go slowly towards the kiosk as well.
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I walked into the viscous air. Viscous, again. But I was like under anesthesia or on some drugs. Maybe my state was akin to sleepwalking? I was not sleepwalking, for sure, but it felt only a bit like it, if it makes sense. What came next, in the next minute (or minutes) happened on that semiconscious level. I was forcing myself to get into the viscous thing, I would not call it air. Things were like getting blacker, but not physically. I felt worse and worse as I was getting closer to the kiosk. But as I felt worse, a part of my mind fought to keep it semiconscious, not to become aware. Was something taking over me, at least a bit? I do not know. It was like I was heading to my doom, but I was so afraid to admit to myself, so I struggled to ignore that I was doing just that.
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The kiosk was in sight. Silence around me, a silence that seemed to stretch for miles. Or more. I was getting close to the kiosk, the alley went from the kiosk, and it crossed another alley near it, the kiosk was towards my left-front. Things got really black and, without knowing it, the blackness turned into something visible.
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I do not know how long it all took. One second, maybe a few? The alley was blocked by something that looked like some kind of black curtain, blocking the normal reality. It was a physical blackness, for sure, but it contained more than that. It had vertical folds in it, like a physical curtain. I could not say how large it was, sideways and up, it covered the full front of my eyes, I did not have the time to check my peripheral vision, and up it covered much of the clear sky. I knew it was something that came from hell, no doubt about it. I knew I had no chance of running away, as it was too close, too big and too powerful. I was at its mercy. My heart soon became overwhelmed, my mind was soon to follow. On my last moment of consciousness, I let myself to the Lord, as nothing else could be done, realistically speaking. I fused this in an iconic gesture of prosternation, semiconsciously. I let myself fall to my knees and stop my head from hitting the ground with my palms.
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At this time, Ruxandra noticed a black mist starting to gather like a small tower of mist. It was not thick, at least it appeared to her like this. As seconds passed, the mist grew thicker, while she noticed me stopping in my tracks, distantly, then the stars were not visible anymore and something she could not describe took over the sky. An emptiness. Yet, it seems all of it was less intense than for me, not just because of the distance, but some other reason. Perhaps her Human nature, or the fact that she was exposed to the things I have exposed to in the kiosk? Fear inside her started to escalate to panic.
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As I went on knees, I layed completely down, face down. The last thing I saw was that the lower edge of the curtain arose in a fold, on the ground and was sent towards me, covering me. I started screaming inside of my mind the Jesus Prayer, as Ruxandra lost it at this point and just screamed.
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That thing, whatever it was, started to take me in gradually, but in a matter of a second, the most, if it makes sense. It felt like being taken up from the ground, at the mercy of that. I kept saying the Jesus prayer, trying to hold on, albeit it was harder and harder. I was inside a bubble of demonic power, this meant no way I would be able not to lose it on my own. Kept saying the Jesus Prayer, as things were speeding up. Something in the back of my mind kept saying: ”Hold on just a little… Just a little…” So I did, I held onto the prayer. Then I do not remember. I think it was like slipping into sleep.
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Ruxandra was close to being broken, as she fell to her knees too. As I realized later on, after I talked to her, the first impulse was to run. But I was there, with that thing, and she refused to leave me there alone. Even if this was something she never experienced before, something of this magnitude. I can tell you, for a Human Ruxandra is pretty resilient to darkness. Many Humans, even grown men, just fail when they meet me. Just me, nothing stronger or darker. I never heard her scream of fear ever. Strong stock. So you can imagine at this point, at least loosely, how bad this was. But my friend stayed for me. Even if this could have been her doom. Even if all her instincts told her that was doom. Fortunately, she remembered not to look into the mist, after a few seconds, and that she needed to start the Jesus Prayer.
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In a few seconds, after letting the forehead to the ground and closing the eyes, she was into it as well. Starting to feel lifted, as things were going faster and faster. At some point, Ruxandra„s mind went blank as well.
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Fortunately, her screams were heard by father George and the rest who were still inside the church. He exited in a hurry, and people followed. They saw something tall and dark, that seemed to look a bit like a tornado, twisted in the middle. Father George started the exorcism formulas of Saint Basil the Great. Several people started to scream and ran away inside the church, some on the gate, into the street, as father George came bravely upon that, not looking at it. Adrian heard his voice going stronger and stronger as she went closer.
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As he came close to touching the blackness, it started to retreat. He persisted into going further, cursing the powers of hell, and the thing started to back out (Technically to back up). The darkness went up and fading, seeing me and Ruxandra on the ground, holding each other, our eyes being closed and whispering the Jesus Prayer faintly. He did not stop until the night was clear.
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He came close to us, gently touching our heads. Ruxandra gave a sigh and became silent. I opened my eyes and came to my senses. In a few seconds, my dear friend was awake as well. The night was back to its sweetness, the old graveyard as well, the place where I felt so cozy, like being caressed by a gentle ghost.
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We looked at father George, as things started to come back to me. Ruxandra held on to me, as she started to realize as well that it was over. We were protected, as our minds blacked out. We did not remember how we ended up hugged. I whispered to her: ”Praise The Lord. It is gone…” Then, after a few seconds of silence: ”Are you ok? Let's get up.” Father George gave us his strong smile: ”If you ok, let's hurry. We shall not let Christ wait for us. I think the best way now is to go to the side of the church (the south of the church), to calm down people who are still inside, as well as those who fled.”
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I got up, helped Ruxandra get up, got my clothes cleaned a bit, and waited for father George to call people back to the church. On a moment when the way was clear, we proceeded into the side and got to the altar side door.
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As father George tried to bring people back, me and Ruxandra looked at each other. She was still shaken when I asked: ”Are you ok, sis?” She gave a calm sigh: ”It seems so… I am surprisingly well, after all it just was…” ”I feel you on this… I am surprisingly unaffected. I am not well but, if I remember what just happened, I was supposed to be a mess.” ”Yeah, indeed…” ”We were protected, I think. No way could we have made it on our own and be so unscathed. We need to thank The Lord.” I gave her another hug. We waited then in silence for things to calm down, it took about 15 minutes.
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Father George came out of the side door to give us Holy Communion, the Body and Blood of our Lord. Ruxandra wanted to wait for me, instead of having Communion alongside the people in the church. After this moment, it felt like the last claw of that thing was gone, but it's leftovers remained, like scattered around. Yet, when Christ Himself comes to you, all those seem less than meek.
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After getting inside, father George tried to get the people to stay and finish eating, but many of them left early, and this made the rest go with them pretty fast. While this happened, we talked a little. Ruxandra started: ”Those Cones, this was one of those, isn't it?” ”Probably I can say that it was. It felt somewhat like them, but not exactly.” She started telling me how it felt for her, then I told her how it was for me. She went on: ”I want to look into what you were listening to on those earphones, while you were sleeping. YouTube history.” ”Do you want to go back to all that? Being Human, you are more feeble than me.” ”There is something going on. I want to get to the bottom of it.”
​
Father George interrupted us: ”You just received The Lord and you are talking about His enemies? Come on, chill down and get inside.” White we ate, he did not allow us to speak too much of it. Then, he suggested we take a rest a bit, and sleep where he prepared for us. Then Adrian and father George collected all the devices from the kiosk and they were all shut down.
​
The next day, after we were all home, Sophie and her family came to father George, to get the Exorcism formulas performed on them, since Sophie was the subject of the work of hell that night. According to the old custom, the Exorcism Formulas of Saint Basil are performed not just in case of necessity, but also during the day of his feast, January the first. Unfortunately, most priests do not perform this ritual on this day anymore.
​
I met Odette, the mother of Sophie. We managed to get an interesting talk. But that is a story of in it„s own right. What I can tell you yet about her is that she was too a Caterpillar Elf.
​
Adrian, on his own, checked the YouTube history of the device, there were some weird things in there. Some of the clips appeared to be deleted, the last one was not. It became clear that they were taken down one by one. He woke up later the day before Ruxandra did, in a sleep paralysis experience.
​
I checked my Youtube account history as well. I dared not to listen to those still there. In case any of you shall ask for the link to those on DM, as I am sure many would want to, I will not share it, as I do not want to be responsible for what would happen.
​
There are, still, some things I would share with you, perhaps I shall do it, if I shall have the energy. There were some rough months for me. There are many things that can get you down in this world, not all are supernatural, many are just mundane crap that could bring down even a strong Vampire or Elf. But I shall try my best.
​
Take care of you and your loved ones. See you soon.
​
I blow you a kiss (not a bite),
​
Helena

Lashay Hulgan. I have lived in Cullman & I am initially from Bessemer, Al and for the last 4 years my life has been taken hostage and targeted by a group of criminals that need to be brought to justice. I'm what you call a 'Targeted Individual '. When you read or hear about a targeted individual usually it gets looked over or laughed about in some way or another. When this finally gets posted it will sound so dumb because anyone who tries to stop this from happening can't put the truth out there until you read about an event happening like this on an obituary like my parents. So please DO NOT hit the X button or just scroll through this post because it is probably been adjusted and posted by the hackers version not the victim. I have tried to put the real truth on web sites, Facebook, or anything where someone could relate and bann together to stop electronic harassment and illegal use of electromagnetic weapons. Listen this is as real as it gets and if not somehow stopped then over time cyber terrorism and electronic harassment will become headlines like 9/11 daily and by then can not be stopped because it will be too late. I am one of a million of human beings out there that nobody will listen too or take serious that has been electronically harassed, and taken hostage and has become what is known as a targeted individual. It has been called gang stalking, electronic torture, brain torture, microwaveable guns, Havana syndrome, stalkerware, direct energy weapons, sexual mind torture, and so many other things I could list. I and so many others are alone and scared because nobody will believe anything people like me say and when I and probably everyone else has proof or comes up with proof it gets deleted or stolen and nobody can put what is going on out here because they control all of a TI's life and it becomes a revolving cycle. In my case and the people or person that has done this to me and destroyed my life somehow knows my soon to be exwife, and are very jealous, dangerous, and has been claiming to be with the local 2 law enforcement agencies from the only 2 counties that i have lived in for 43 years. Everything over 4 years is starting to point towards a possible relationship/friendship between my stalker and my soon to be ex wife. I have had 8 emails, 6 cell phones, and 3 places of living that have all been hijacked, and broken into over the past 4 years. I have had no privacy whatsoever in the last 4 years. My wife and I are currently going through our 3rd divorce and my wife swears she has no idea who they are but everything that happens has been centered in some way around her. She does things that follow events happening to me. We have a 4 year old little girl, and I know they have harmed her by burning her with laser weapons, and have caused her to fall unexpectedly so many times and my wife just acts if nothing happened at all. During this time my water system at my parents house has been overtaken and is controlled by this individual. My wifi (Spectrum) is controlled and hijacked. My ADS alarm system can be turned off for them to come in my home when I leave to ruin groceries i have, and any type of food in the home gets ruined in some way, they have cameras and some type of laser devices in my parents home that Ican't discover. They have harmed my dog, and I have several witnesses of his behavior as of late and matter how many times I have tried changing the alarm code they hack it. My garage doors will only open if they want them to. I have spent thousands of dollars on security cameras within this time and I have bought almost every brand from Roku, Blink, and Nest and all were tampered with, rewired, or reprogrammed to cause me problems, and bankruptcy issues at one time. I hear of a device out there now that is called stingray device. This device can be used if close enough to zap electronic devices, and mirrored and even taken over as there own. I can't even use the rest room without being watched and abused in stores, work places, my home, and anywhere I go. I have reported to local and federal law enforcement agencies and they don't know what to do and nothing happens about it. The people harassing me follow me around everywhere I go. I have spent over $70,000 in 9 months staying in hotels to get away and purchasing non lethal weapons for protection. They have done everything to destroy my career, marriage, and harmed anything I care about except my wife. She is the only one that has never been threatened in this. In fact one of our first arguments we got in 4 years ago tells me now alot because she said that someone was watching and would help her to get rid of me if she wanted them to and at the time it was laughable because of her past. Everyone else I care about have been threatened in some fashion or another. I can't count how many times they said they were going to kill my parents when me and my wife separated in 2020 and sure enough both my mom and dad were found dead last year with gunshot wounds. It was labeled and setup as murdesuicide. They are no way that happened. They have cameras watching so many people that has no clue especially women. I have had side effects of shortness of breath, constant ringing in my ears,chest pains, eye pain with blurry vision, nasal congestion, . I am trying to post more but they are erasing it and making it sound dumb. Please contact me if you would like further information at [email protected] (mailto:[email protected]), [email protected] (mailto:[email protected]) or my cell

Hello, here to seek advice and also, perhaps, share a warning of something that happened in our community.
It was about 5:25pm on Tuesday 3/28 when I looked down at my phone. My beautiful and amazing wife was calling but my phone was on silent. She was at a hair appointment and I was surprised it was already over. I swiped to answer and simultaneously noticed she had tried to call me 5 previous times within the last minute. What I heard on the other end, I never want hear again... ever. She was crying hysterically, screaming "Come, Help ME! He cut my hair! He cut my hair! Call 911!" Immediately, I was grabbing my keys and running to my truck. "I'm coming honey, I'm on my way!," I exclaimed. I hung up and started dialing 911.
.............................
My wife's hair was 32inches from the top of her head to her butt. It would be what a hair stylist would call "Extra-Long". We have recently moved to Temecula, so she was visiting a new stylist; one she had scoped out. He had good reviews, good prices, and had many photos of hair colored the way she was looking for- dark brown base with blonde streaks. She has had it this way as long as I've known her. She doesn't do much for herself, so when she gets her hair colored every 4 months, it is a big deal.
She met with the stylist for a consultation, and he said he could and would provide the service she was looking for, and that she would be very happy with the outcome. So, on the day of the appointment she sat in his chair for 2 hours as he performed his hair services, chatting about things as most would during a hair appointment. They spoke of family, Faith, and the community. He mentioned that he had been in business for 40 years, and that he has had 5 previous shops. She was undoubtedly excited about how her hair was going to turn out.
When the color treatment was over, he began to wash her out in his sink. He told her that he had never had someone in his chair with hair as long as hers and asked her if she wanted a cut. She quickly said no, as she hardly ever cuts it. So, they moved back to the chair and he pulled out the mirror. She saw the color was absolutely not what she wanted. Her hair was very dark, with blue/gray streaks all throughout. She told him, "this isn't good, this isn't what I wanted." She asked if would re-do it. He was reluctant and responded with hostility. He started grabbing at her and taking a hot straight iron to her hair. "You'll see, you'll see," he expressed. She said "no, please re-do it." Angerly and still grabbing at her, he said "You want me to re-do it, pay me $500, Zelle, now!" Even though the initial visit was going to be $160, and $500 is way more than she would ever pay normally, at this point she would pay anything not to leave the salon in this fashion. She said "fine, do whatever you need to do." Before she could pay him, however, she became scared.
He was standing over her, aggressive and tense, and in her close proximity. "It will be fine, you'll see," he continued. She needed to escape, so she stood up and just like that, he grabbed his scissors, reached and cut at her hair. She looked down and saw a lot of her hair on the ground. "WHY did you do that!?!," she screamed. "I smelled trouble," he said. She gathered her things and ran for the door and fell to the sidewalk outside his shop, crying and screaming hysterically. The man followed her, untied and pulled his apron off of her. At some point, he told her "you don't like it, sue me!" and ran back in and locked his shop doors.
She called me at this moment, and I drove as fast as I could around the corner to the shopping center. I was speaking to 911 dispatchers and explaining that the stylist had just assaulted her and she was in dire need of help. I found her on the ground, absolutely distraught. This beautiful woman did not deserve this. I held her as she cried. I looked up and saw this man in his shop, taking pictures or recording video with his cell phone through the glass walls. My wife asked me where the police were, so I tried to call again. The dispatcher said they were on their way and be patient. I went to the window to yell at the man. We were 2 feet from each other, separated by glass. Since he had locked his doors, I couldn't go in. So, I was telling him "come out, the police are coming and are going to want to talk to you!" But he wouldn't come out. Lucky for him because I would have gladly opened up a can for messing with my wife. I said "why did you do this?" and he said, "because she wouldn't pay!" I pulled out my wallet and said "you want money? you would hurt a woman, for money? you are evil and have evil in your heart." He could obviously care less as I watched him sweep my wife's hair from under his chair, bag it up, and walk out the back door of his shop.
Riverside County Sheriff's Deputies arrived and assisted my wife. They took a statement from her and were kind and professional the whole time. They took photos of the damages. This man had cut over 12 inches of her hair off! They explained that even if he thought she was leaving without paying, he couldn't legally cut her hair like that. They left us with a card and a case number and explained that we could call the DA's office in about a week to see how the charges were going. And then they left.
...............................
And here we are. My beautiful, lovely and amazing wife is so distraught. It's been 4 days. She's waking up crying. She's sad and feels the pain from the trauma all day. She's emotionally devastated. We each missed work the following day as she saw another hair stylist to fix what could be fixed. But she doesn't feel okay. She's reached out for therapy. We've called lawyers for legal consultation and have learned that we can seek criminal action against him, which we've already started by pressing charges. We've learned that we can civilly sue him, but every personal injury lawyer we've talked to has said this is unique and not worth it for them to take on. They all say the same thing, that there is a lawyer out there that will, but that they don't have the bandwidth for something like this. They all tell us that we can, at last resort, take him and his business to small claims court. Which may likely be what we do.
I filed a complaint on the CA State Board of Cosmetology and Barbering explaining everything mentioned here. Hopefully, that at least helps to not renew his license.
But, retribution is necessary here. Someway, somehow. I want to see my wife feel whole again. This woman is an angel. She cares for disabled adults and hardly does anything nice for herself. She is her children's whole world and mine too. She deserves retribution for this pain inflicted by this monster.
Any advice on what we should do? Has anyone ever gone through something similar?

I just want people to know that the Sonoma County government is corrupt. They spent 186 million dollars on a "new courthouse" that is 163k square feet, which works out to $1,100 per square foot, which is over double the second most expensive building I could find was, and over four times the average price per square foot of palaces and museums. And it's just going to look like a giant portable. This is to house some of the most corrupt people in this County, who all make $200-350+k per year (I am including their benefits in that, but not their pension). The entire DA's Office has a vendetta against Civil Rights in general, and will literally knowingly commit criminal violations of laws for the purpose of covering up serious criminal misconduct on the part of Sonoma County employees.
Lynda Hopkins took money from the law enforcement unions, and turns a willfully blind eye to it.
The County Office of Legal Counsel is literally a crime syndicate.
In 2015, the Sheriff's Office had a veritable torture ring in the jail.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izcHIv5Y4z8
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYrGChrW5HM&list=TLPQMzAwMzIwMjMv0QAOPDy1Lw&index=2
This is just the tip of the iceberg. They lied about the existence of these videos, and "lost" the one where they gave one of the inmates internal bleeding, with a knee to their back.
There was a lawsuit about it. It was called the "Yard Counseling Case". There are news articles about it.
There was an official, written policy, called "Yard Counseling", later its name was changed to "Behavior Counseling" which dictated that for arbitrary punitive measures, Sheriff's Office personnel should extract inmates from their cells individually (which meant slamming their heads onto the door frames on the way out and other abuse), and isolate them, and putting them into "pain compliance" techniques (literally, by definition, torture) for extended periods of time while "counseling" them, which meant wearing no name tags, ski masks and riot gear, carrying a shotgun with them, and insulting them in explicit language for over 20 minutes.
This official written policy was acknowledged by Rob Giordano in a video, where he lies that no inmates where injured, uploaded to YouTube in 2018, when they finally addressed this official written policy, and the practice of torturing inmates without reasonable cause (leading exercise routines, for example).
In 2021, they saw one of the victims of this torture ring, who had sued them and had won, at a peaceful protest, and shot him with a grenade launcher while hiding on a rooftop in the face with a crowd control grenade, which exploded on impact and caused horrific injury that I don't care to describe.
In 2017, I was almost killed by application of a "carotid hold" / lateral vascular neck restraint, by a sheriff's deputy, for literally no reason. A knee was placed on my lower back while I was on the ground on my stomach as well, which caused a serious injury to my kidney, which was the worst injury of my life. I have also been diagnosed with an organic brain injury and cognitive impairment. I was tested for the same type of cognitive impairment before the incident and there is a marked difference, and I have about 30 pages describing the differences I've noticed / troubles I've had in my cognitive functioning. There was no probable cause to arrest me, and I was polite and compliant with all the instructions given to me, and this was confirmed by witnesses. I was punished for invoking my right to remain silent, then my arm was grabbed and yanked up behind me, and then a carotid hold was applied because my body pivoted after the deputy grabbed and yanked my arm.
This occurred UNDER A CAMERA and IN FRONT OF WITNESSES. I called the Sheriff's Office the next day said I want to "make an official complaint in writing". I was transferred to Captain of Internal Affairs, Captain Mark Essick. I repeated my request, verbatim. He responded, verbatim: "We don't do that. Why don't you tell me what happened." I did. I told him it happened right under a camera. He said "The camera can't record." I asked for confirmation. He said the cameras "Don't have recording technology installed."
I asked the County for a claim form. They ignored my request, and instructed me to report the incident to IOLERO. IOLERO requested I meet with Internal Affairs, and I said fine.
Sgt. Andy Cash called me and scheduled me for a meeting at the Sheriff's big station. I was made to walk first and guided upstairs to a meeting room, and then patted down for weapons, and the interview was recorded. For 75 minutes I was deposed about happened. He asked me repeatedly about my mental state after the incident. I admitted that I was upset after the incident, and he acted like that justified the whole incident. He explicitly promised to interview the 4 deputies who witnessed the event in addition to the 2 deputies who participated, as well as the arresting officer (who I told him would confirm that I was polite and cooperative), which he agreed "would confirm [my] demeanor", and a bystander witness I told him about.
I complained to IOLERO director Jerry Threet. Mr. Threet agreed that that was inappropriate, then resigned without reviewing the investigation.
For about 4 years review of the investigation was put on hold because IOLERO staff quit, and when more staff was hired, they complained of being understaffed. They had a budget of over a million dollars but only had 2 employees. They only reviewed one case per four months. And they put off "backlogged" cases and focused on new cases. My complaint was finally reviewed by Interim Director Garrick Byers who clearly stated that the investigation was not conducted appropriately. I have the letter from him. That still has never been made public.
After the interview with Internal Affairs, I corresponded with Lynda Hopkins, and she refused to give her opinion on the matter. I specifically complained that the carotid hold was being used recklessly, and it is a dangerous technique. This was in 2018. She forwarded me to Janell Crane, who then had me meet with Kristi Schultz.
I contacted the DA's Office and spoke to Richard Celli (who made $346k in 2017, and has gunned down two unarmed people, and was convicted by a jury in one of the civil cases brought against him by one of the victim's family, but the sentence was overturned by a judge, while working for the SRPD). The first time I spoke to Mr. Celli, he told me that another law enforcement agency should take my case. After that first time, him and the rest of the DA's Office openly refused to comply with the Victims' Rights Laws (CA Con Art. 1 S. 28), and the "policies" (which are legally binding under CA Con Art 5 S. 13) of the Attorney General stating clearly that they are to take complaints from victims if it can't be resolved with the department.
After the first talk with Mr. Celli, I called Rohnert Park Police as I was instructed, and they 3-way called the Sheriff's office and then transferred me. I spent about 30 minutes reporting the incident to a deputy, and he asked me questions in a fair manner. The incident report from the 30 minute phone call was "directed" to Andrew Cash, and was then destroyed, which is literally a state and federal crime. I called RPPD back and talked to the arresting officer and he positively clearly confirmed that I was "polite, calm, compliant, and cooperative" (or something nearly verbatim, I can't remember exactly any more).
Andrew Cash called me the next day, at precisely 7:00 AM. He told me he was driving. He was extremely confrontational with me. He said "There were 6 deputies [referring to the two who used excessive force on me, and 4 witness deputies]. You were combative." This was false. He had only interviewed one of the 4 witness deputies, and the other 3 had provided written statements. They said that they had witnessed force being used, that they had not participated in the use of force to the best of their memory, and that I "did not appear to be resisting". But again, he had promised explicitly to interview the 4 deputy witnesses, and the arresting officer, and the other witnesses (such as the bystander witness who saw the whole incident, the nurse, etc.).
Internal Affairs exonerated the officers. The letter was signed by Eddie Engram, captain of Internal Affairs at that time. I called Mr. Engram, and had an hour long conversation with him, and he told me to contact Sgt. Cash after April 1st.
I filed a federal claim on the last day that it was due.
Mr. Cash referred me to Legal Counselor, Kara Abelson.
Ms. Abelson spent a year and a half refusing to comply with the Public Records Act, the Rules of Procedure, and the Rules of Professional Conduct. She refused to provide me documents that I was entitled to under law, including the incident report written by Deputies Jacquelin Fazzio and Virgil Smith, and the recorded interviews that he promised he would conduct, and stated pretty clearly that he had conducted.
Kara Abelson spent a year and a half trying to claim that my federal complaint was time barred by 1 day when it wasn't. The judge (Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers) entertained this and forced me to respond SEVEN TIMES, before she finally admitted that the "law wouldn't allow [her] to dismiss [my] complaint".
After a year and a half, Kara Abelson finally withdrew from the case after I started citing the Rules of Professional Conduct to her that require her to resign or withdraw from the case rather than defend a civil case where defense isn't warranted. Nobody had disputed any of the allegations I had made. In fact, Eddie Engram had confirmed that what I said happened was not disputed by the evidence.
At some point around this time, either before or after Ms. Abelson withdrew, the 2 incident reports written by the two deputies, the written statements by 3 of the 4 witness deputies, and the recorded interviews with me, the 2 deputies who assaulted me, and 1 of the eye witness deputies, were provided, along with various other records from the facility. In the recorded interview, and the incident report, the deputies admitted that Virgil Smith had applied the carotid hold.
I had also reported the incident to the State Attorney General Public Inquiry Unite (Lupe Zinzin). She had told me, over and over and over, that the local DA's are required to take complaints from civilians in these situations. She refused to call the DA's Office, though. The DA's Office (Richard Celli, Mark Azzouni, David Kahl, and the anonymous receptionists who all refused to provide their names) refused to take a complaint from me. They (including the receptionists) hung up on me every time I called after no more than 2 minutes, for no reason, transferred me to dead lines, never returned any voicemails I managed to leave, told me explicitly that if I send a complaint, they will throw it away, and didn't care, at all, what the laws were. The receptionists also refuse to provide their names. The Attorney General's Office told me to send them a complaint, so I did. The DA's Office acknowledged receiving the complaint. But later said that they did not have a record of it, meaning they threw it away.
The Attorney General's Office finally agreed to take a complaint from me. It sat on their desk for a year. I finally called them, concerned that evidence was being destroyed, and left a voicemail for Casey Hallinan requesting that they request copies of the physical evidence from the Sheriff's Office. Literally 2 days after that voicemail, a letter was sent to me signed by Sharon Loughner with Casey Hallinan CC'ed on the letter, stating that they would "take no action", and blamed the incident on me. I had not received the letter though, and called and spoke to Ms. Hallinan, who was extremely rude. After that, the Attorney General's Office hang up on me as soon as they find out it's me, for no reason. There has since been a bystander witness who saw the whole thing, and it has come to light that the cameras did record, that no upgrades were ever performed like Ms. Abelson alleged, the cameras do continuously record (as of 2019), and they just lied through their teeth about the camera for 4 straight years. The Attorney General's Office does not care. They violate the laws, and do not care what the laws are.
Sonoma County Office of Legal Counsel attorney Michael King took over after Ms. Abelson withdrew. Right off the bat, Mr. King told me that my motions were deficient - a contention he has repeated frequently, since then. I asked him how. He changed the subject, and to this day has NEVER given any explanation as to how any of my motions are deficient.
He continued to claim that my claim was time barred, filing frivolous motions, in blatant violation of the rules of professional conduct, after I cited the rules to him, constituting explicit legal misconduct.
As I said, the judge finally agreed to open Discovery after a year and a half of full time work trying to fight for my right to not be nearly murdered for no reason.
Lawyers do not take these cases unless there is undeniable proof of blatant guilt, along with undeniable proof of catastrophic injury. Multiple law firms have confirmed that it takes over a million dollars worth of legal work to get these cases to trial.
The judge also promised me a pro bono attorney "if you make it past summary judgment".
The judge scheduled us for Alternative Dispute Resolution (ADR) hearing with a magistrate judge. Mr. King elicited an offer from me, which I spent about 2 weeks working on, trying to make it as agreeable as possible. But then for the hearing, his written offer was to waive charging me his attorneys fees. The ADR magistrate confirmed that there was no legal basis for him to do that - it would be illegal. He had been ordered to participate in this hearing, and there was a legal obligation under the Rules of Procedure to try in good faith to settle the case. He violated the order and the rule of procedure (26 (f)).
All of my motions were completely ignored for no reason.
Mr. King / Defendant Virgil Smith lied about the cameras. They said "Denies the existence of cameras capable of recording in the vicinity", in writing, under oath. They never disputed that he put his knee on top of my back with all his weight on it.
Mr. King refused to comply with his Discovery obligations. I had to file about 4 different motions pertaining to their refusal to comply with the laws regarding disclosure of evidence.
Upon receiving an official Discovery request for records of camera equipment, I received a letter signed under oath by Mr. King (nearly 4 years after the incident) stating that the cameras CAN RECORD. But stating "tasks must be performed" to start the recording function, and stating that all records pertaining to the equipment that was installed at the time HAD BEEN DESTROYED (literally a federal and state crime, a civil tort violation, and a sanctionable act of legal misconduct).
Mr. King refused to schedule any of the witnesses for deposition, demanded MY deposition BEFORE he would even schedule the two deputies who assaulted me, even though I had been requesting depositions with other witnesses for over a month, and refused to schedule anyone else, he refused to answer interrogatories, he refused to provide copies of the policies from the time of the incident. He tried to pass off a weird spreadsheet with the word camera on it as proof that upgrades had been done to the cameras. He refused to provide complete training records for the deputies. He refused to provide details about the training. He refused to provide blueprints of the facility, refused to provide photos of the cameras at the location, refused to provide still images showing which direction the cameras were pointing, was caught lying under oath (and "penalty of perjury") multiple times, refused to provide photos of the deputies so I could schedule depositions efficiently.
The judge erroneously dismissed my Equal Protection claims, construing them as Due Process and Employment Discrimination claims, which are different types of claims than Equal Protection claims against a government actor. The government cannot arbitrarily treat anyone disparately. The Court also dismissed my "Monell" claim against the municipality for their "policies, customs, or practices", but left me leave to amend that claim. And she waited until Discovery opened over 1.5 years into litigation, to do this, forcing me to amend the complaint DURING DISCOVERY which was only open for a limited amount of time, instead of any point in the 1.5 years prior to that.
In the recorded interview with Andrew Cash and one of the witness deputies, she spontaneously states that Mr. Cash instructed her to review the written statements made by the two deputies who assaulted me prior to the interview. Another deputy witness confirmed that Mr. Cash had instructed her to review the written reports by the two deputies who assaulted me prior to her providing Mr. Cash with a written statement as well.
The judge finally retaliated against me, without rational basis, for filing motions, which I had filed because I was being illegally obstructed from preserving evidence, by withdrawing leave to amend regarding the "Monell" claim (I had stated a clear Monell claim to begin with, but the judge literally has an aversion to reading, and relies on guessing, and is biased against pro se litigants; I am summarizing well over 100 pages, if not well over double that, of motions, objections, and replies and the judge's responsive orders).
She did however, finally schedule a hearing with a Discovery referee magistrate. All my motions (and the months of work I was required to do dictated by the various rules) was completely disregarded, and both me and Mr. King were given 2 pages each (double spaced) to go over discovery issues, even though I had filed about 4 different motions about various issues, and he hadn't filed ANY, about Discovery issues, and never did.
During conference I was required to do in accordance with the Rules, Mr. King repeatedly tried to establish that I had committed crimes during the course of conferring which was my legal obligation, without having any rational basis to believe what he was trying to establish. He demanded evidence that would exist, and he kept repeating every lie he could come up with to the judge. The judge would either get annoyed at me if I addressed any of Mr. King's baseless accusations, or take his statements at face value for being 100% true.
Mr. King finally "compromised" and agreed to schedule depositions with me (as long as Mr. King wanted to) and the two deputies who had assaulted me (for 25 minutes each or something) all simultaneously, but refused to schedule anyone else, even though this was grossly advantageous to him, and in blatant violation of Rule 26 of Civil Procedure. One of the eye witness deputies later confirmed that he had "consulted" her over 4 times prior to the trial. During this deposition, Mr. King asked me where a family member of mine works. He had spent about 30-40 minutes trying to convince me that I can tell him anything, that the entire record was designated confidential, that I had nothing to worry about - and at a deposition, you are obligated to answer the questions unless they are harassing. Mr. King also requested contact information for counselors from over 10 years ago, and that was the only question I didn't answer - I told him to provide the request in writing. At some point after that, I told Mr. King to not contact my family member at her workplace, and Mr. King responded "unless you fully and completely cooperate" with his request for contact information for counselors from 10 years+ ago, he would do exactly that - harass my family member with subpoenas sent to her workplace, as I had requested he not do, without EVER REQUESTING A DEPOSITION WITH HER, just using it as leverage.
At the hearing, the Discovery Magistrate (Donna M. Ryu) discussed matters only with Mr. King, without including me. He told her that the 4 eye witness deputies "saw nothing" and "weren't there" (verbatim) trying to get her to deny me my request to take their deposition. She asked him if he would get them to sign fresh "sworn declarations", "under oath" (Judge Ryu's words, verbatim) stating this. Mr. King said yes, absolutely, he would. Judge Ryu asked me "Would that be okay?" I said "No." She started laughing, and asked me why, and I explained that I had explicitly described various interactions with them that had taken place while the carotid hold was still being applied to me, and that they had stated in their written statements that they had witnessed force being used, and that I was "not resisting". She confirmed that this was all true with Mr. King and that he already knew all of this, and ordered him to cooperate with scheduling them for deposition. Mr. King then repeated the same phrases "saw nothing", "weren't there" to Judge Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers prior to the trial.
After that, they went back to discussing matters only with eachother, and I was excluded from discussion. This was an hour long hearing, and at about the 45 minute mark, Mr. King was again lying to the magistrate judge, and when he had finished, I interjected, "That's not true". Judge Ryu shouted "Stop! Stop stop stop stop stop!" And then very assertively explained to me the importance of not interrupting people for the convenience of the court reporter / transcriber. I was excluded from the rest of the hearing.
At some point at either this hearing or the next one, I cited the legal requirement for the parties to disclose contact information for witnesses. I cited the rule of procedure. Judge Ryu responded, "Mr. King is a lawyer!" as if that alone justified his refusal to provide me contact information for EYE witnesses who saw the event. Mr. King and Ms. Abelson had also claimed that they did not have the contact information for the bystander witness (which was a lie), and refused to provide the contact information for the nurse. And when Magistrate Ryu ordered them to provide that, they only gave me the company name he used to work for.
Mr. King refused to provide both fresh written statements from the eye witness deputies as he had promised the magistrate, and to schedule them for deposition, and stated that if he provided written statements, they would be copied and pasted versions of the same statements previously provided, signed under oath (nowhere saying that they "saw nothing" or "weren't there").
Mr. King kept threatening to go to my family member's workplace unless I provided him contact information for counselors from 10+ years ago, DURING a DEPOSITION, without him providing any written request for the information.
He also interfered with scheduling the witnesses for deposition, with the Court reporter that I had hired, disregarded the schedule that I had set, and set them according to his own schedule, which raised the cost of deposition from an estimated about $700 to about $4,000, and said this was my one and only chance.
The Federal Pro Bono Project / the Justice & Diversity Center is an organization that receives seven million dollars a year in public funding and is under contract with the Federal District Court to work with the Court to provide legal consultation to pro se litigants. I had about 19 appointments with them, about 18 with Abby Herzberg, and 1 with Rosemarie Maliekel. Ms. Herzberg was precisely 15 minutes late to every single appointment, repeatedly gave me horrible advice ("just wait", do nothing, "don't file this", despite admitting that the entire motion was valid, directly causing excessive delay and the spoliation of crucial evidence). She also yelled at me aggressively on two occasions because I had brought up state laws, which were being currently violated against me, because the Court had dismissed my "state claims" because Sonoma County refused to supply with a state tort claim form when I first asked, reasoning that was not relevant to the state laws being currently violated against me. After Ms. Herzberg yelled at me the second time, I requested an appointment with Rosemarie Maliekel. Ms. Maliekel spent the entire appointment ranting at me about irrelevant issues, and kept talking over me and interrupting me. I was polite but eventually asked "can I finish what I was saying?" She responded "No!" and kept ranting at me.
I had repeatedly asked about how to properly get medical evidence, and about expert witnesses. Ms. Herzberg ignored my questions and spent nearly the entirety of almost every single appointment reading (or pretending to) through the rules, without letting me speak at all, even to summarize the relevant sections of the rules that I had read.
On a video on their webpage (on the Court's website, because they are a "partner project" with the Court), Abby Herzberg explicitly demonstrates a clear understanding of the fact that the Court provides funding for expert witnesses, despite ignoring my questions about that and spending nearly the entirety of almost every single appointment either reading rules or pretending to.
Discovery was closed.
Mr. King rehashed the legally baseless and frivolous "time barred" claim in a Motion for Summary Judgment. I was required to respond to it twice, and it was obvious Judge Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers wanted to dismiss my claim, and I was required to disprove their baseless legal claims with several tens of pages of case laws. I was required to answer all his "undisputed material facts" under threat of terminating my entire case, but he refused to answer mine. He lied over and over to the judges. As I said, the judge ruled that the laws "wouldn't allow [her] to" dismiss my entire case and rejected his Motion for Summary Judgement.
The Court ordered the Federal Pro Bono Project (FPBP) to put me on a list for attorneys seeking clients. Ms. Herzberg told me that if I filed any motions, that the FPBP would not cooperate with the Court's order, until 1 month before my trial, instead of 6 months before. She also said that a law firm had reached out to them about my case over a month prior to that, and that the staff at the FPBP had not followed up. My filing privileges were then revoked by the Court.
An attorney, David Ratner, reached out to me, and scheduled an initial consultation, over Zoom, at which he stated he "hates cops", and gave a showing of being enthusiastic. I explicitly told him that I wanted to make sure we were on the same page as far as what to "aim for". I told him that I had been working for FIVE YEARS, that I had almost died, that I had suffered two different extremely serious injuries (though I was up front about the injuries being surreptitious and that there had been major delays and flaws with medical evaluation, due to the hospitals not taking my insurance at the time, and ongoing delays because of Covid, and other reasons). I told him that what I asked for was consistent with the most similar case (the Esa Wroth case of 2013) that I knew of (an ask of three million dollars). This was coincidental. I was not aware of the Esa Wroth case when I came up with that number. I agonized over the number to ask for, and had tried SEVERAL times to resolve the case for a tiny fraction of that amount, with Kristi Shultz, with Janell Crane, with Lynda Hopkins, several times with Ms. Abelson who refused to even hear me out, and SEVERAL TIMES with Mr. King, and spent a lot of time trying to come up with a amount that would be MUTUALLY AGREEABLE, EACH TIME and described the methods I used to come up with that number in detail in court documents. Mr. Ratner explicitly agreed to aim for that at the trial. During the Zoom conference, his partner Shelley Mollineaux, showed up about 15 minutes late, stayed for about 3 minutes without saying anything, Mr. Ratner made an awkwardly flirtatious remark to her, and she left without saying anything at all.
Mr. Ratner, and Ms. Mollineaux, who was set to represent me at trial under Mr. Ratner's supervision, then both went dark for over a month. They ignored my emails, voicemails, and messages that I left with their receptionists. There was a hearing, and then Mr. Ratner emailed me demanding "all the documents" that I had. I had over 50 gb of files across thousands of files, and spent about a month working with his paralegals sending them batches of files, and providing all the information they asked me for. Mr. Ratner forwarded me an email from Mr. King where King accused me of violating a court order regarding providing medical providers and the physical addresses of my entire family and my friends, which was false -- the Court had ordered me to provide him CONTACT information, at a second hearing, which wasn't significant, and I had fully and completely complied in good faith with all the Court's orders. Mr. Ratner accused me of not sending him "anything", after I had spent at least several weeks with his paralegals sending them batches of files and information, and he simultaneously threatened to ask the judge for leave to withdraw.
There had been major delays with medical evaluation due in large part to Covid, as well as delayed discovery of brain injury, which is very common, and other factors.
With trial set, Mr. Ratner forwarded me an offer from Defendants for $5,000. Upon discussion (which was 100% in email because he refused to talk over the phone and Ms. Mollineaux completely ignored me), he accused me of not doing Discovery right. I pointed him to the video I referred to earlier, which I had found since Mr. Ratner took my case, but wasn't aware of when I was interacting with the FPBP, where the FPBP (Abby Herzberg), and various District Judges from the Court I was litigating in, state that it is general policy (and it is official policy under the Court's General Order 25) to REOPEN DISCOVERY when a pro bono attorney comes onto the case, and to FUND DEPOSITION AND EXPERT WITNESS FEES.
Mr. Ratner stated he "won't file any motions" and ultimately elected to withdraw from the case over fulfill his legal obligations under the Rules of Professional Conduct. Judge Gonzalez Rogers IGNORED MY REQUEST FOR A HEARING, and in her order granting him leave to withdraw about 2 months before my trial, thanked him. I had spent a ton of time trying to find private attorneys and trying to talk to the FPBP, telling them very clearly that I expected to be put back on the list.After Mr. Ratner withdrew, the FPBP refused to put me back on the list. I was forced into trial BY MYSELF, at 1-2 months prior to trial, after 3 months of my time being completely wasted by Mr. Ratner and his law firm.
I went through the appropriate legal process to submit an expert witness. Judge Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers, as usual, completely ignored my motions, but allowed me to use him after I went through the entire legal process, and paid him thousands of dollars without knowing if I would be granted permission or not, and provided the Court a report stating that the carotid hold was ILLEGAL unless the subject exhibited "assaultive behavior" and that Defendants had never alleged any behavior of mine that constituted "assaultive behavior" (under POST Basic, during 2017). The expert was a Master level instructor at a police academy and former SWAT.
Mr. King provided his pre-trial disclosures, and it contained a document from Rohnert Park police department which had been extensively redacted on the copy that they had provided to me. The new copy contained the contact information for the bystander witness. I called him, and he confirmed that he saw the entire thing, that I had never yelled at the deputies before the first deputy grabbed my arm, and that I was not resisting at any point in time. I told the judge this. She had me call him at a hearing, and both me and Mr. King were allowed a couple of minutes to ask him questions, where he refused to admit that I was even "wiggling" when Mr. King badgered him.
RPPD later sent me the email correspondence between them and Mr. King and Mr. King clearly stated that he had that copy in his records without them sending it, but wanted them to send it to appear official, meaning they had the contact information for the bystander witness the entire time, when they repeatedly lied that they didn't have it.
The judge then refused to allow him to appear at the trial over Zoom (during the height of Covid, even though she let one of the deputies), and refused to summon him to the trial.
Just prior to the trial, the Judge accused me falsely of firing my attorney, and explicitly prohibited me from telling the jury about ANY of the Defendants previous statements about the camera's ability to record (that they had lied about it for 4 years). She explicitly prohibited me from submitting scientific evidence about the carotid hold. She allowed Mr. King to make extremely defamatory false remarks about me and my past which had a huge impact on the jury's perception of things. At a pretrial hearing, we had gone over about 110 documents that I wanted to present at the trial. She vetted about 40 as admissible at the hearing, but at the trial she only let me submit about 4. Defendants were allowed to submit a SECOND expert witness, both of whom worked for the Sonoma County Sheriff's Office. The first was Andrew Cash. The second was James Naugle who had been disclosed literally a week before trial, without a report, and without allowing me to take his deposition. She refused to allow me to ask Mr. Naugle about case laws, or about information pertaining to the carotid hold. The Court refused to summon any of my treating physicians, whom I had provided the names and contact information for in my disclosures at the end of Discovery and some in my initial disclosures, and I had complied with Mr. King's written requests for information or objected within the boundaries of the laws (which I quoted and cited), in good faith, and complied with the Court's orders, in good faith.
I had informed the Court that I was scheduled for medical evaluations for brain injury AFTER THE TRIAL. The Court completely ignored this.
So it was my word against theirs. 5 years, at the time of the mistrial, to get a mockery of a trial, and have the jurors' time completely wasted. The jury wrote me a letter thanking me or something, but awarded me nothing.
I was diagnosed with organic brain injury after the trial. I had a similar test prior to the incident and had absolutely no problems and answered every question with no trouble. I now score in the FOURTH PERCENTILE on those areas.
Despite its length, this has been a short summary of all the events over the past 6 years. Much has been summarized, and much has been left out. I tried my best to balance completeness with leaving out irrelevant details.
There is no record of any misconduct on the part of anyone involved in this that is available to any law enforcement agencies or to the public. Nobody has been disciplined. No investigation was ever conducted. I was almost killed and was seriously injured, under a camera, and in front of witnesses, and spent 6 years working with the government. The government has done precisely NOTHING.
The County now routinely retaliates against me whenever we interact, in blatant violation of various laws.

While this isn't particularly game breaking, it does annoy me because I've been unable to narrow down why it's happening.
Literally stripped down for this. Did not help.
As you can see nothing but birthsign effect. AKA birthday suit.
I recently had to restart a character because my desktop's main drive died on me. Luckily all my saves were backed up on steam, and since I made a save in the cell across from Dreth, and that save worked I didn't have to remake the whole character from scratch. But I decided to start over any way, due to being on a new computer, and the modlist being slightly different.
That aside, this screenshot was taken right outside the prison sewers. I used this collection since it was the closest to what I was using previously. But I added a few mods on top of it, then included them in that collection's bash patch. Before incorporating a few extra mods into this collection's bash patch, my AR was at zero, as it should be. I didn't notice this until after I did that.... unfortunately, I'm not sure how soon after. (For clarification the save I took those pics on isn't the latest save I have, but all saves are seemingly affected, though I haven't checked the very first save. Character is still level 1 though. Like I said, started over.) Nothing I added in should affect armor rating in this way, afaik. I tried narrowing down in xedit what could be causing this, but have found nothing so far. Tbh, I'm not even sure what to look for. Anyway, here's my load order...

Active Plugins: [spoiler] 00 Oblivion.esm 01 Unofficial Oblivion Patch.esp [Version 2] ++ Oblivion Citadel Door Fix.esp 02 UOP Vampire Aging & Face Fix.esp [Version 1.0.0] 03 DLCShiveringIsles.esp 04 Hidden Treasures.esp 05 Unofficial Shivering Isles Patch.esp [Version 270] 06 DLCHorseArmor.esp 07 DLCHorseArmor - Unofficial Patch.esp [Version 1.0.9] 08 DLCOrrery.esp 09 DLCOrrery - Unofficial Patch.esp [Version 1.0.7] 0A DLCVileLair.esp 0B DLCVileLair - Unofficial Patch.esp [Version 1.0.11] 0C DLCMehrunesRazor.esp 0D DLCMehrunesRazor - Unofficial Patch.esp [Version 1.0.8] 0E DLCSpellTomes.esp ++ DLCSpellTomes - Unofficial Patch.esp [Version 1.0.1] 0F DLCThievesDen.esp 10 DLCThievesDen - Unofficial Patch.esp [Version 1.0.15] 11 DLCThievesDen - Unofficial Patch - SSSB.esp [Version 1.0.14] 12 DLCBattlehornCastle.esp 13 DLCBattlehornCastle - Unofficial Patch.esp [Version 1.0.12] 14 DLCFrostcrag.esp 15 DLCFrostcrag - Unofficial Patch.esp [Version 1.0.10] 16 Knights.esp 17 Knights - Unofficial Patch.esp [Version 1.1.8] 18 Knights Infamy.esp 19 SM Plugin Refurbish Lite.esp ++ SM Plugin Refurbish Lite Knights Infamy.esp ++ NoTutorial.esp 1A Simple Archery.esp 1B kuerteeIgnoringTheMainQuestHasConsequences.esp 1C Mixxa77 - Allied Oblivion Gate Patrols.esp 1D Tricks of the Trade.esp 1E De-Nock Arrows.esp 1F FirstPersonBowAim.esp 20 talkwithyourhands2.esp ++ Clutter and Container Ownership.esp 21 RoadLights.esp 22 No Starting Map Markers.esp 23 Ascension.esp ++ Vanilla Spells and Vampirism Improvedv1.2.esp 24 Diverse Chapels Vanilla.esp 25 Better Bell Sounds.esp ++ Let There Be Darkness - Cyrodiil + SI.esp 26 Enhanced Water v2.0 HDMI.esp 27 IC Circular Canal.esp [Version 1.2] 28 Glowing Wonders.esp 29 Teleportation Services.esp 2A County Gates.esp 2B Map Marker Overhaul.esp [Version 3.9.3] 2C WayshrineMapMarkers.esp 2D StoneMarkers.esp 2E actors_in_charge.esp [Version 0.8] ++ Voices for Female Dremora NPCs.esp [Version 1.0] 2F LegionInteractAnims.esp [Version 2.4] 30 GardeningGlovesandBoots.esp 31 SMO.esp 32 WindowLightingSystem.esp 33 DialogTweaks.esp [Version 1.2.1] 34 Simple Horse Utilities.esp 35 My Voice Extender.esp [Version 1.4.3] 36 EVE_StockEquipmentReplacer.esp 37 APFA_Refined.esp ++ Ascension - UOP Patch.esp 38 Level Requires 15 Skill Increases.esp 39 AttributeProgressionRedesign.esp 3A NAO.esp ++ NAO-Brighter Nights.esp ++ Balanced Creatures.esp ++ Balanced Creatures - DLC.esp ++ Balanced NPC Level Cap.esp 3B Oblivion_Character_Overhaul.esp [Version 2.10] ** Oblivion_Character_Overhaul_Faces.esp [Version 1.4] ** OCO Unused Eyes and DLC Eyes Incorporated.esp [Version 2] ++ Balanced NPC Level Cap - DLC Patches.esp 3C Diverse Effect Icons OBSE.esp 3D Area Harvest.esp 3E Enhanced Vegetation [125%].esp [Version 1.0] ++ Enhanced Vegetation SI.esp 3F Faction Followers.esp ++ GuardInfamyGreetingFix.esp 40 GOSH.esp 41 Hooded Outlaws.esp ++ OCO Cleaned - Vanilla Hair.esp 42 Improved NPC Faces for OCOv2.esp [Version 2] ++ Let There Be Darkness - Knights.esp ++ Let There Be Darkness - Mehrunes Razor.esp ++ lLet there be Flowers.esp [Version 1.0] ++ Leveled Creature Flag Fix.esp ++ LightSpellWhiteDimmer.esp 43 Mercantile Fix.esp 44 MankarMythic.esp 45 Mysticism and Soul Gem Tweaks.esp 46 No Backwards Running.esp 47 Practical Training.esp 48 Potion Bottle Variation.esp 49 Skill Diary Redone.esp 4A Simple Saves Plus.esp 4B EVE_KnightsoftheNine.esp 4C EVE_ShiveringIslesEasterEggs.esp 4D Map Marker Overhaul - SI additions.esp [Version 3.9.3] ++ DLCThievesDen - BarterForUpgrd.esp [Version 1.0] ++ Let There Be Flowers - Custom Density.esp 4E Wooden Bow Names.esp 4F ActorsInMadness.esp [Version 0.8] 50 ActorsInEmotions.esp [Version 1.0] ++ Quest NPCs Run.esp [Version 1.7] 51 Balanced Unleveled Rewards - Complete.esp 52 Through the Valleys Patch.esp [Version 31] 53 Creature Spawn Chance Fix.esp 54 KUP Compatibility Patch.esp [/spoiler] 

Clarification: Line 52 is the bash patch. Creature Spawn Chance Fix.esp should be loaded after the bash patch. And Afaik, KUP Compatibility Patch.esp should be loaded last.
Anyway, if someone can narrow down what's causing this, I'd appreciate it. My AR should be 0, unless something I'm unaware of is editing it in the background. But you know what? If we can't figure this out, I'll just run through the game with an extra 11 AR for no apparent reason. Like I said, not that game breaking anyway...

As is often the case with notable news incidents involving LE, we'll create one megathread to consolidate discussion.
We create this megathread when we receive the first sumission on the story *which we can assess was submittted in good faith*. As this hasn't happened so far, we'll go ahead and create this thread.
Discussion is surrounding this incident:
https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2023-03-30/goat-slaughter-shasta-county-fair
While I cannot speak for every LEO, it would appear our collective opinion of this is somewhat similar to society at large: That this wasn't handled well at all.
However, much of the emotional rage seen on reddit should perhaps be tempered by a few points of fact, prepared by u/2BlueZebras
----------
The amount of misdirection and false representations in that article and in subsequent Redditor interpretations is impressive. Things that stood out:

1. Kids were allowed to withdraw their animals from the event given sufficient time before. They didn't decide to withdraw until after. People kept claiming she was justified in withdrawing based on the rules, but that's wrong.
2. This is represented as the cops killing the goat. They didn't. There's one line buried in a sentence that the cops retrieved the goat, and gave it to another entity who killed it.
3. The family (or someone) is suing for unreasonable search and seizure (4th amendment) and violation of equal protection. They got a warrant. 4th amendment has exception for a warrant, which means good luck fighting that, unless the judge was given incorrect info.
4. They're trying to paint the cops as terrible for standard copy/paste search warrant parameters, liking being able to breach a door. Then they gloss over how the cops executed the warrant, which means the people probably just handed the goat over with no fight.

I feel like I'm taking crazy pills every day now. So much media is meant to enrage with half truths.
All that said...should've just spared the goat.
-------------
All comments in this thread will be held for mod review. If you're here to brigade, troll, or otherwise be rage filled and useless, your comment will never show, and you'll likely be banned.
EDIT: I encourage all to take a look a u/win1894 's informative response here.

Demographics

• Gender: Male
• Race/Ethnicity: Asian (Pakistani)
• Residence: Georgia
• Income Bracket: >150k
• Type of School: Mid-competitive public
• Hooks: Legacy at Northwestern

Intended Major(s): Political Science, Legal Studies, Religious Studies
Career Goals: T14 Law School, Prestigious Firm, then maybe Politics
Intended Schools: (plan on shotgunning, but these are the main schools I'm applying to)

• Northwestern ED
• Emory ED II
• UGA
• Georgia State
• Amherst College EA
• UC Berkeley

Academics

• GPA (UW/W): 92 UW / 97 W
  • (class per semester grades): 36 A's + 14 B's + 1 C
• Rank (or percentile): Rank is not told unless you’re Valedictorian/Salutatorian
• # of Honors/AP/IB/Dual Enrollment/etc.: All honors besides gym and electives, 12 AP courses/exams by this year; 18 by the end of Senior Year + 1 DE
• Senior Year Course Load: Chamber Orchestra, DE Multivariable Calculus, AP Physics C, AP Computer Science A, AP Lit, AP Micro/Macro, AP Euro

Standardized Testing
List the highest scores earned and all scores that were reported.

• SAT: 1520 Superscore 780 M / 740 V
• ACT: 33 (Forgot Breakdown)
• AP/IB: One 5, Three 3's, One 2 (Retaking one of the 3's and the 2)

Extracurriculars/Activities
List all extracurricular involvements, including leadership roles, time commitments, major achievements, etc.

1. Non-Profit Founder that worked with State candidates from Insurance Commissioner of the state to County Soil and Water Supervisor; has a following of ~3k for the Org; 30 officers across the three largest counties in the state with ~200 members. We went door-to-door spreading information about our organization, and the information we got from interviewing several elected officials and candidates; we reached several hundred households across the state. Then, we started working with three of the state's most prominent Muslim voter organizations (since I am Muslim); later this month, we will be beginning voter drive training and registrations in the schools we're involved in and working with inner-city students to help increase voter participation and civic engagement in their schools. We will hold a public forum/town hall for municipal officials running for election in a few months.
2. Future Business leaders of America Chapter Vice President: bringing in professionals to work with members such as the mayor to give business and stock investment advice; give resume workshops and run Stock Market simulations for members; raise >1k in profit for club in Chick-Fil-A food sales during school
3. Model UN President for a team that placed in national and state-wide conferences
4. Debate and Speech Vice President for a team that also placed in international, national, and state-wide tournaments
5. Violin since 7th grade; All-State Orchestra; Year-Long State Level Orchestra; Chamber Orchestra all 4 years of HS; Currently ranked 3rd in entire orchestra program; Elected president for my orchestra; will be auditioning for Emory University youth orchestra this year.
6. Shadowing a Chick-Fil-A executive and a Data Analysis Company VP to learn about business management
7. Accepted for Boys State Program this coming Summer
8. Officer for Muslim Student Association (will most likely be president next school year); planning to speak at city's annual 9/11 memorial; will be speaking at a TEDX event on Islam in America
9. Schools Spike Ball Club President + Founder; will be competing in the state tournament with other schools in a month
10. Either VP or President (interview will decide) for non-profit org. chapter at school targeted at Pediatric Cancer Awareness; has raised over 2k for the cause; several charity events and planning on organizing a concert with my non-profit in the Summer.
11. Volunteered at local Islamic School and Mosque with tutoring and assisting with Sunday School, accumulating ~100 hours
12. Will be working under the local college department chair of Political Science for a new course coming in the Fall Semester, Helping with forming a reading list; etc.
13. (possibly doing an internship with a firm through the ATL Bar Association; will find out mid-April)

Awards/Honors
List all awards and honors submitted on your application.

1. AP Scholar
2. Emory Univerity National Model UN Conference - 2nd Place
3. GSMST State Model UN Conference - 1st Place
4. Woodward Academy National Debate Tournament - 3rd
5. National Merit Scholar Commended
6. President's Volunteer Service Award - Gold

​
Extenuating Circumstances
I was diagnosed with a chronic illness in December. I have been battling severe symptoms since my sophomore year, which caused me to do poorly academically since my stomach and GI tract were inflamed severely then. I am now medicated and in remission, but Chron's Disease negatively affected my academic performance. I will use my position in the Cancer Awareness non-profit to raise awareness for my illness and show that I am growing from that.

Prince George county, Va. Killdeer and Dove St. Stiffed on two 28km trips out there. Yes, it’s the boonies. Was told “door dash should pay you for coming out here.”

Text in case the link at end gets paywalled:
A 9-year-old girl didn’t want her goat slaughtered. California fair officials sent deputies after it
BY LA TIMES STAFF WRITER PUBLISHED MARCH 30, 2023
Every day for three months, Jessica Long’s young daughter walked and fed her goat, bonding with the brown and white floppy-eared animal named Cedar. But when it was time for Cedar to be sold and slaughtered at the Shasta District Fair last year, the 9-year-old just couldn’t go through with it.
“My daughter sobbed in her pen with her goat,” Long wrote to the Shasta County fair’s manager on June 27, 2022. “The barn was mostly empty and at the last minute I decided to break the rules and take the goat that night and deal with the consequences later.”
Long purchased the goat for her daughter to enter into the 4-H program with the Shasta District Fair. Children are taught how to care for farm animals. The animals are then entered in an auction to be sold and then slaughtered for meat in hopes of teaching children about the work and care needed to raise livestock and provide food, as farmers and ranchers do.
In her letter, Long pleaded for the fair to make an exception and let her and her daughter take Cedar back. Aware that Cedar had already been sold in auction, she also offered to “pay you back for the goat and any other expenses I caused,” according to the letter obtained by The Times.
Instead, officials reached out to the Shasta County Sheriff’s Office. Armed with a search warrant, detectives drove more than 500 miles across Northern California in search of the goat.
According to the search warrant, deputies believed Cedar was staying at Bleating Hearts Farm and Sanctuary in Napa County, based on the fact that the sanctuary had posted on Instagram its support for Long and urging people to call the Shasta District Fair to convince them to spare Cedar. But Long had taken Cedar to a farm in Sonoma County because she and her family live in a residential area in Shasta County and are unable to keep farm animals there.
Echoing language used when law enforcement search a home for drugs, the warrant allowed deputies to “utilize breaching equipment to force open doorway(s), entry doors, exit doors, and locked containers” and to search all rooms, garages and “storage rooms, and outbuildings of any kind large enough to accommodate a small goat.”
Cedar was taken and slaughtered.
Long has since filed a federal lawsuit against Shasta District Fair officials and the county, arguing it committed an “egregious waste of police resources” and violated her and her daughter’s 4th Amendment and 14th Amendment rights protecting them from unreasonable searches and seizures, and due process. Long and her attorneys allege the dispute was a civil matter she was willing to resolve.
Letters, text messages, a search warrant and other court documents reviewed by The Times show how a dispute over a 9-year-old girl’s pet goat quickly escalated, and that Shasta District Fair officials resorted to using police resources after noting that their handling of the dispute over Cedar had become “a negative experience for the fairgrounds as this has been all over Facebook and Instagram.”
“It was never about money,” said Vanessa Shakib, an attorney for Advancing Law for Animals who represents Long. “County officials were clear that they wanted to teach this little girl a lesson.”
Shasta District Fair and county officials did not respond to requests for comment.
“This matter is in active litigation, and as such neither the County nor its legal counsel can provide a comment,” Christopher Pisano, an attorney representing Shasta County, said in an email.
Shakib argues that county and fair officials abused their power in what should have been a simple breach of contract.
Attorneys for Long also argue the county’s response to use law enforcement personnel and resources was disproportionate, considering they were dealing with a family who was trying to keep a goat from being slaughtered.
“It’s shocking,” said Ryan Gordon, an attorney with Advancing Law for Animals. “It’s a little girl’s goat, not Pablo Escobar.”
Gordon and Shakib argue that Long tried to resolve the issue from the outset, writing an email to fair officials the day after.
In it, Long pleaded her case, pointing out that the last year had been a particularly difficult one for her young daughter.
“Our daughter lost three grandparents within the last year, and our family has had so much heartbreak and sadness that I couldn’t bear the thought of the following weeks of sadness after the slaughter of her first livestock animal,” she wrote to Shasta District Fair Chief Executive Melanie Silva.
But Shasta District Fair officials threatened to call police the next day and rebuffed Long’s attempt to find another outcome for Cedar other than it being returned, slaughtered and donated for a barbecue.
“Making an exception for you will only teach [our] youth that they do not have to abide by the rules,” Silva wrote back to Long in an email reviewed by The Times dated June 28, 2022. “Also, in this era of social media this has been a negative experience for the fairgrounds as this has been all over Facebook and Instagram.”
That same day, B.J. Macfarlane, livestock manager for the Shasta Fair Assn., sent Long a text message.
“We need to make arrangements to get goat back today,” the text read. “If not law enforcement is going to be brought in on this.”
Long also offered to repay the fair district and the bidder whatever costs had been incurred. That included the winning bid of $902 made by state Sen. Brian Dahle (R-Bieber) and the 7% cut that the fair was entitled to of $63.14.
(Continued in comments)
https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2023-03-30/goat-slaughter-shasta-county-fair?fbclid=PAAaa2md-GFGfBlM4msq6gCLMs60V3JE85TgD4G_s8_Q3bfT36wPLzfCxr8IM

Text in case the link at end gets paywalled:
A 9-year-old girl didn’t want her goat slaughtered. California fair officials sent deputies after it
BY LA TIMES STAFF WRITER PUBLISHED MARCH 30, 2023
Every day for three months, Jessica Long’s young daughter walked and fed her goat, bonding with the brown and white floppy-eared animal named Cedar. But when it was time for Cedar to be sold and slaughtered at the Shasta District Fair last year, the 9-year-old just couldn’t go through with it.
“My daughter sobbed in her pen with her goat,” Long wrote to the Shasta County fair’s manager on June 27, 2022. “The barn was mostly empty and at the last minute I decided to break the rules and take the goat that night and deal with the consequences later.”
Long purchased the goat for her daughter to enter into the 4-H program with the Shasta District Fair. Children are taught how to care for farm animals. The animals are then entered in an auction to be sold and then slaughtered for meat in hopes of teaching children about the work and care needed to raise livestock and provide food, as farmers and ranchers do.
In her letter, Long pleaded for the fair to make an exception and let her and her daughter take Cedar back. Aware that Cedar had already been sold in auction, she also offered to “pay you back for the goat and any other expenses I caused,” according to the letter obtained by The Times.
Instead, officials reached out to the Shasta County Sheriff’s Office. Armed with a search warrant, detectives drove more than 500 miles across Northern California in search of the goat.
According to the search warrant, deputies believed Cedar was staying at Bleating Hearts Farm and Sanctuary in Napa County, based on the fact that the sanctuary had posted on Instagram its support for Long and urging people to call the Shasta District Fair to convince them to spare Cedar. But Long had taken Cedar to a farm in Sonoma County because she and her family live in a residential area in Shasta County and are unable to keep farm animals there.
Echoing language used when law enforcement search a home for drugs, the warrant allowed deputies to “utilize breaching equipment to force open doorway(s), entry doors, exit doors, and locked containers” and to search all rooms, garages and “storage rooms, and outbuildings of any kind large enough to accommodate a small goat.”
Cedar was taken and slaughtered.
Long has since filed a federal lawsuit against Shasta District Fair officials and the county, arguing it committed an “egregious waste of police resources” and violated her and her daughter’s 4th Amendment and 14th Amendment rights protecting them from unreasonable searches and seizures, and due process. Long and her attorneys allege the dispute was a civil matter she was willing to resolve.
Letters, text messages, a search warrant and other court documents reviewed by The Times show how a dispute over a 9-year-old girl’s pet goat quickly escalated, and that Shasta District Fair officials resorted to using police resources after noting that their handling of the dispute over Cedar had become “a negative experience for the fairgrounds as this has been all over Facebook and Instagram.”
“It was never about money,” said Vanessa Shakib, an attorney for Advancing Law for Animals who represents Long. “County officials were clear that they wanted to teach this little girl a lesson.”
Shasta District Fair and county officials did not respond to requests for comment.
“This matter is in active litigation, and as such neither the County nor its legal counsel can provide a comment,” Christopher Pisano, an attorney representing Shasta County, said in an email.
Shakib argues that county and fair officials abused their power in what should have been a simple breach of contract.
Attorneys for Long also argue the county’s response to use law enforcement personnel and resources was disproportionate, considering they were dealing with a family who was trying to keep a goat from being slaughtered.
“It’s shocking,” said Ryan Gordon, an attorney with Advancing Law for Animals. “It’s a little girl’s goat, not Pablo Escobar.”
Gordon and Shakib argue that Long tried to resolve the issue from the outset, writing an email to fair officials the day after.
In it, Long pleaded her case, pointing out that the last year had been a particularly difficult one for her young daughter.
“Our daughter lost three grandparents within the last year, and our family has had so much heartbreak and sadness that I couldn’t bear the thought of the following weeks of sadness after the slaughter of her first livestock animal,” she wrote to Shasta District Fair Chief Executive Melanie Silva.
But Shasta District Fair officials threatened to call police the next day and rebuffed Long’s attempt to find another outcome for Cedar other than it being returned, slaughtered and donated for a barbecue.
“Making an exception for you will only teach [our] youth that they do not have to abide by the rules,” Silva wrote back to Long in an email reviewed by The Times dated June 28, 2022. “Also, in this era of social media this has been a negative experience for the fairgrounds as this has been all over Facebook and Instagram.”
That same day, B.J. Macfarlane, livestock manager for the Shasta Fair Assn., sent Long a text message.
“We need to make arrangements to get goat back today,” the text read. “If not law enforcement is going to be brought in on this.”
Long also offered to repay the fair district and the bidder whatever costs had been incurred. That included the winning bid of $902 made by state Sen. Brian Dahle (R-Bieber) and the 7% cut that the fair was entitled to of $63.14.
(Continued in comments)
https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2023-03-30/goat-slaughter-shasta-county-fair?fbclid=PAAaa2md-GFGfBlM4msq6gCLMs60V3JE85TgD4G_s8_Q3bfT36wPLzfCxr8IM

Station 9 to 1711.
Mother fucker. I just want 10 fucking minutes. Give me that please, God. Just put a fresh dip in, opened one of the new “sugar free,” Monsters (different from the “lo-carb,” option,) and fired up a knock off game that’s similar to candy crush. Just parked in my favorite hideout too. Backed in, in between a couple school buses in my cities elementary school. NO one comes here during my shift, which is graveyard.
Spitting out my chew and taking a big swig of Monster, I ripped the mic off of its magnetic plate. Hesitating, closing my eyes, and clearing my head, I respond. Something about closing your eyes when you answer a call seems to make the response clearer. I don’t know, ask other cops. They should understand.

1. Go ahead.

10-90 at 1300 Roosevelt. Front door and basement motion. Any available county car for a back?
Great. My “me,” time got interrupted for a stupid home alarm. The burglar alarm business sure has made our lives hell, on their way to making millions for themselves. Every residence now has a ring, a chime, or even the old-school brinks or ADT system. Most of the time, excuse me, almost ALL of the time, it’s a false alarm.
County 3, I’ll head out there.
Station 9 copy. Thanks County 3.
Ok, that’s cool. County 3 tonight is Ramirez, I think. I hope. We’ve always gotten along, working in the same area for the last decade or so. We’re not like drinking buddies or anything but usually we will meet up for a coffee or a diner breakfast every now and then. More than I can say for most of my department. Well…. Let’s clear this call so I can get back to crushing this candy.
The address was only three miles away. I pulled up, threw it in park, and checked my CAD to see where Ramirez was. I shouldn’t have parked right out in front. Academy first day stuff. “Don’t get complacent.” I know. I know. My wits are still about me, I’m ready, but it’s just easier to make my life easier sometimes. And nothing really happens in this small town. Hell, there’s only 4 of us local cops. Thankfully we do have some help from the County. And by help we usually just let them handle most of our issues. They’ve got the equipment and resources so, fuck it. I’ll happily go and take care of dog off leash calls and folks complaining about their neighbor’s grass being too high. I’ve had my fill of Policing already. But that’s a story for another time.
1711, station 9, I’m up.
10-4.
County 3, show me pulling up.
10-4.
That’s weird, I don’t see that black and yellow sheriff car anywhere close- oh, here we go. Maybe CAD is messing up. It showed county 3 like 2 miles away just a minute ago. Time to get this dumb shit over with.
With a creak of the open driver side door and a creak in the back, I get my happy ass out of my cruiser. The back that sounds and feels like a 50-year-olds. Which would be fine if, you know, I was 50. I’m 33. It doesn’t feel like it.
The headlights dim from the County car. We’re parked with both our bumpers facing each other. Usually doesn’t happen like that, but, whatever, I guess. Not very tactical but not like we need to be. The door opens..
“Hey Rami-“
A tall, built guy steps out, towering out of the car. How the hell does he even fit inside? I’ve never seen this dude. He looks like god dang Arnold.
“Oh, hey bud,” I offer, “I figured Ramirez was County 3 tonight. I’m Happy.”
Obviously not my name, but it was a name given to me when I was back in SWAT. Another lifetime ago. And I loved that name, so I kept it. Just easier than getting too personal.
Arnold looked at me and broke an awkward smile. Kind of an odd first encounter from a fellow lawman. He pulled his shades up and placed them on his immaculate high and tight fade. It’s like 2 am, so that’s kind of weird. Lot of weirdness already. Maybe I’m just tired.
“Hey brother. Arnold. I used to cover the south end but asked to be out here. I hear it’s pretty chill.”
I do a slow nod and make sure to keep a tight smile. Inside my head I’m thinking “are you freaking serious, your name actually IS Arnold?” Straighten up. “Good to meet you, man. Guess we should cut the pleasantries and check out this house, eh?”
Arnold nods, checks his gear and extends his left hand, palm up, towards the house. A “Go ahead cochise,” gesture. I smirk and make my way up to the front of the house. “So, I was expecting Ramirez, did she just call in, or?”
“Not sure. Really don’t know much about her to be honest. I heard you two were pretty close though.”
This hit me in a weird way. Full disclosure, we are just friends. Partners in blue. I stopped, not really meaning to. I could feel Arnold stop himself from running into me, as he was not at all expecting me to stop walking toward the front of the house.
“I’ll say this. I don’t know what that means, but I’ll let it go. Don’t mention her again, ok?” I turned my head slightly, just to see his facial reaction.
“Whooooah, man. I’m sorry , I meant literally nothing by that. Just heard you guys worked good together. I won’t mention it again.”
I went over what I wanted to say in my head. I shouldn’t come off like this to some new boot just out of the academy. That shouldn’t have struck a nerve like that. These uniforms are hot. And uncomfortable. Add on the vest, the belt, the camera, the gun, etc. etc. I could feel the heat coming from my chest, out of my collar, toward my face. Disgusting. Like every day. Even when it’s winter, it’s hot wearing this shit. What happens when you’re hot and uncomfortable all the time? You get irritated. You get aggressive. Thankfully I learned a small trick from Joe Rogan. Breath. Open your mouth a little bit, and breathe. Get oxygen into your brain to calm yourself down. It worked.
“It’s fine… sorry to go off, that was uncalled for. I’ll buy your big ass a donut after this as an apology.”
Arnold laughed. Even though this Adonis could clearly fold me into a pretzel (and I’m no small guy myself,) he seemed to have some sense and recognize that I’m just not the type to be played around with. I appreciated that.
“Ok, good.” Something from the original call hit me just then. The burglary alarm tripped the front door and a basement motion. If someone has motion detectors set up, they have them in every hallway, every room. Usually. How could you conceivably break into the front door and then set off no alarms until the basement?
1711, Station 9.
9, go ahead.
Myself and County 3 will be checking the area.. shit.
Damnit. I hope that didn’t make the air. Between mentally sparring with myself and dealing with this newcomer, I didn’t notice the front door to 1300 Roosevelt was wide .. fucking .. open. I don’t think this is going to be a usual 10-90.
1711, Station 9, apologies. We have a front door open. Myself and 3 are going to make entry.
9 copies. Do you need additional units?
I’ll advise. We should be all set.
“You sure? Maybe having another car might be a good idea?” The big Oak says.
I stood frozen in place, not taking my eyes off of the front door. I’ve never been to this address. No issues. Why tonight. What has happened tonight. “No. We can handle it. You up to it?”
This always gets the rookies. They can’t have their pride be broken so early in their career. He rolls his head from side to side, and flexes his chest, probably involuntarily, but funny either way.
“Fuck yea I’m up to it.”
That’s what I thought.
Walking up to an open door is always going to be dicey. Little behind the curtain disclosure here. From day one to day 11,000, you will ALWAYS be afraid when you walk into a house. Door open, door closed, doesn’t matter. No one calls the Police to say “Hey, I’m having a really good day, I just wanted to let you know.” Something wrong has to happen for me to be called. For me to be standing here right now.
As I attempt to bang on the open door and announce that Police are coming in, it moves slightly. I didn’t touch it. At least I don’t think I did. Shit.. either way I don’t have time to think about it. Focus.
POLICE, if there’s anyone inside, make yourself known. Silence. Arnold, are you behind me? I hear a short shuffling and feel him moving to my side. I quickly glanced toward him. Damnit, son, get your gun out. We could be dealing with anything.
“Sorry,” he says as I hear his service weapon getting taken out from his holster. “I’m ready.” “Stay on me and do as I say. We have an open room with a hallway slight left. Looks like two or three rooms ahead, can’t exactly tell.” I feel him shake his head and grunt something.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about Arnold’s demeanor has changed.
“Ok, I’m moving toward the hallway, keep your eye on the room. When I move up toward the hallway, you look behind those couches. We proceed slowly, and he indeed does as I say. The living room is clear. When I feel him come back, I move up to the first room.
POLICE, announce yourself.
Annnnooouuunce yoooourself..
Every hair on my body stands on end. Something answered me. The voice sounded human, but off. Like something trying to sound human. Its tone was mocking.
“What.. what the hell was what?” Arnold said in a hushed tone.
SHH. What kind of an answer would I have for that? I’m just trying to think of where it wa-
Thump thump thump THUMP THUMP
Footsteps. Running away from us, damnit I hope it was away from us. It must have been? I’m too confused.
“Fuuuuuck man, what is all this?” My partner that I just met 10 minutes ago said. Too loudly, I may add.
Just then the same footsteps appeared to be overhead. Wait.. is there a second floor to this house? How can’t I remember that? I might have considered Arnold’s questioning of having another unit here if there was more space to search. I thought it was a ranch house. I take a pause to get my mental back. “Ok,” I said out of the side of my mouth to Arnold, like it would make him hear it better. “We know someone is here. We can’t just stop searching though. I’m going to open this door and you contact, ok?”
He nods. I look over him quickly, doing a silent “1,2,3,” countdown and then rip open the door. He draws, and sees.. stairs. I took a deep, stressful breath. And we have a basement here too. Just keeps getting better. Perfect. Now we have a real issue. We can’t just go upstai—
Station 9, 1711 status check
Hach-e mach-e, I gasped. Damn radio scared the shit out of me. And let’s just ignore the fact that I actually said hach-e mach-e. That must have been what I said as a kid when I got scared.
Deep breath. 1711, Station 9, we are secure and working. Please send another unit, we have possible suspect in home.
We’ll try, we have all units tied up right now
1711 copy.
Well that’s perfect. Ok, back to the present. We can’t just leave but we have to be as safe as possible searching a house with just two people. “Ok, big guy. You stay here and hold this basement. I know we should search every room, but we don’t have time for that right now. I’m going up stairs to search for our suspect.” Oak just stares at me, trying his best to remain brave. No shame big guy, we’ve all been there.
Remaining vigilant, I made my way upstairs. At the base I, again, made my announcement. “SHOW YOURSELF AND HAVE YOUR HANDS VISIBLE”
ShoooOoOOw YOURssssself…
Now I’m just getting pissed. This can go so wrong, but I’ve always been good at using anger to remain focused and hyper aware. But that doesn’t mean this is still creepy as fuck.
Leading by the light equipped to my handgun, I made my way up the stairs. Lucky for me it’s corner fed right, which means there’s only one side to go once you reach the second floor. I’ll take any victory I –
BANG
I draw in that direction. My streamlight sees one closed door. What the fuck kind of second floor has ONE room.
Tap… tap…. Tap….
Guess it doesn’t take the smartest of cops to realize where my guy is. I yell out downstairs. “I got ‘em here man, just hold that basement and call again for an extra unit.”
No response.
HooOOOOld the … the.. BAAsemeeeeeent..
This one was different. It sounded like some old scary story where the mimic alien thing is trying to actively learn human speech. Fuck this. Without thinking I booted the door with everything I had. Perfect connection. The door flies open, revealing a child’s room. Kind of. There’s a mattress on the ground, the kind would fit into a crib. There was a lamp in the corner, with some kind of children’s cartoon characters adorning it. What there wasn’t, was a person in here.
“He needs help.”
Something whispered into my ear. The goosebumps on my flesh almost hurt. I holster and fly back down the stairs to Arnold. I’m sure it’s nothing but.. Arnold’s not there. The basement door remains open.
A million thoughts race through my head, like it’s 100’s of Daytona 500’s, and they’re all going different directions, racing at speeds of well over 200 mph. That’s a lot of numbers. Focus. How many times have I said that to myself tonight. Focus.
First thought: leave. Shameful thought. He might be hurt or in trouble down there. Second thought. Call once again for immediate backup. This I actually tried.. and the radio does not transmit. Perfect. How many times have I said that tonight. Clearing my mind, I know what I have to do. I have to go downstairs.
GooOOOoo DoooOOwn…
“Fuck you.” That’s my response.
Each stair creaks. Almost more worried about falling through and splitting my fat head than what lies beneath. But they hold. And now I’m on the .. dirt floor? No one has a basement like this in this neighborhood. I was so enamored on the dirt floor that I almost didn’t register that a dark figure moved quickly from left to right in front of my eyes. Time to be stupid or brave. Maybe both.
“ARNOLD… are you down here, are you ok?”
I’m ok…. I’m hurt.. follow my voice… I can’t move.
Good, he’s ok. “Where are you?”
Right… in.. front of you. Help me. I can’t..
I’m coming buddy. I can’t reach dispatch, they must be –
Station 9, 1711… Station 9, 1711? ..
Station 9 TO 1711, PLEASE RESPOND
County 3, Station 9, I’ll swing by his location. Just send me his whereabouts.
Copy that County 3, thank you Deputy Ramirez

Station 9 to 1711.
Mother fucker. I just want 10 fucking minutes. Give me that please, God. Just put a fresh dip in, opened one of the new “sugar free,” Monsters (different from the “lo-carb,” option,) and fired up a knock off game that’s similar to candy crush. Just parked in my favorite hideout too. Backed in, in between a couple school buses in my cities elementary school. NO one comes here during my shift, which is graveyard.
Spitting out my chew and taking a big swig of Monster, I ripped the mic off of its magnetic plate. Hesitating, closing my eyes, and clearing my head, I respond. Something about closing your eyes when you answer a call seems to make the response clearer. I don’t know, ask other cops. They should understand.

1. Go ahead.

10-90 at 1300 Roosevelt. Front door and basement motion. Any available county car for a back?
Great. My “me,” time got interrupted for a stupid home alarm. The burglar alarm business sure has made our lives hell, on their way to making millions for themselves. Every residence now has a ring, a chime, or even the old-school brinks or ADT system. Most of the time, excuse me, almost ALL of the time, it’s a false alarm.
County 3, I’ll head out there.
Station 9 copy. Thanks County 3.
Ok, that’s cool. County 3 tonight is Ramirez, I think. I hope. We’ve always gotten along, working in the same area for the last decade or so. We’re not like drinking buddies or anything but usually we will meet up for a coffee or a diner breakfast every now and then. More than I can say for most of my department. Well…. Let’s clear this call so I can get back to crushing this candy.
The address was only three miles away. I pulled up, threw it in park, and checked my CAD to see where Ramirez was. I shouldn’t have parked right out in front. Academy first day stuff. “Don’t get complacent.” I know. I know. My wits are still about me, I’m ready, but it’s just easier to make my life easier sometimes. And nothing really happens in this small town. Hell, there’s only 4 of us local cops. Thankfully we do have some help from the County. And by help we usually just let them handle most of our issues. They’ve got the equipment and resources so, fuck it. I’ll happily go and take care of dog off leash calls and folks complaining about their neighbor’s grass being too high. I’ve had my fill of Policing already. But that’s a story for another time.
1711, station 9, I’m up.
10-4.
County 3, show me pulling up.
10-4.
That’s weird, I don’t see that black and yellow sheriff car anywhere close- oh, here we go. Maybe CAD is messing up. It showed county 3 like 2 miles away just a minute ago. Time to get this dumb shit over with.
With a creak of the open driver side door and a creak in the back, I get my happy ass out of my cruiser. The back that sounds and feels like a 50-year-olds. Which would be fine if, you know, I was 50. I’m 33. It doesn’t feel like it.
The headlights dim from the County car. We’re parked with both our bumpers facing each other. Usually doesn’t happen like that, but, whatever, I guess. Not very tactical but not like we need to be. The door opens..
“Hey Rami-“
A tall, built guy steps out, towering out of the car. How the hell does he even fit inside? I’ve never seen this dude. He looks like god dang Arnold.
“Oh, hey bud,” I offer, “I figured Ramirez was County 3 tonight. I’m Happy.”
Obviously not my name, but it was a name given to me when I was back in SWAT. Another lifetime ago. And I loved that name, so I kept it. Just easier than getting too personal.
Arnold looked at me and broke an awkward smile. Kind of an odd first encounter from a fellow lawman. He pulled his shades up and placed them on his immaculate high and tight fade. It’s like 2 am, so that’s kind of weird. Lot of weirdness already. Maybe I’m just tired.
“Hey brother. Arnold. I used to cover the south end but asked to be out here. I hear it’s pretty chill.”
I do a slow nod and make sure to keep a tight smile. Inside my head I’m thinking “are you freaking serious, your name actually IS Arnold?” Straighten up. “Good to meet you, man. Guess we should cut the pleasantries and check out this house, eh?”
Arnold nods, checks his gear and extends his left hand, palm up, towards the house. A “Go ahead cochise,” gesture. I smirk and make my way up to the front of the house. “So, I was expecting Ramirez, did she just call in, or?”
“Not sure. Really don’t know much about her to be honest. I heard you two were pretty close though.”
This hit me in a weird way. Full disclosure, we are just friends. Partners in blue. I stopped, not really meaning to. I could feel Arnold stop himself from running into me, as he was not at all expecting me to stop walking toward the front of the house.
“I’ll say this. I don’t know what that means, but I’ll let it go. Don’t mention her again, ok?” I turned my head slightly, just to see his facial reaction.
“Whooooah, man. I’m sorry , I meant literally nothing by that. Just heard you guys worked good together. I won’t mention it again.”
I went over what I wanted to say in my head. I shouldn’t come off like this to some new boot just out of the academy. That shouldn’t have struck a nerve like that. These uniforms are hot. And uncomfortable. Add on the vest, the belt, the camera, the gun, etc. etc. I could feel the heat coming from my chest, out of my collar, toward my face. Disgusting. Like every day. Even when it’s winter, it’s hot wearing this shit. What happens when you’re hot and uncomfortable all the time? You get irritated. You get aggressive. Thankfully I learned a small trick from Joe Rogan. Breath. Open your mouth a little bit, and breathe. Get oxygen into your brain to calm yourself down. It worked.
“It’s fine… sorry to go off, that was uncalled for. I’ll buy your big ass a donut after this as an apology.”
Arnold laughed. Even though this Adonis could clearly fold me into a pretzel (and I’m no small guy myself,) he seemed to have some sense and recognize that I’m just not the type to be played around with. I appreciated that.
“Ok, good.” Something from the original call hit me just then. The burglary alarm tripped the front door and a basement motion. If someone has motion detectors set up, they have them in every hallway, every room. Usually. How could you conceivably break into the front door and then set off no alarms until the basement?
1711, Station 9.
9, go ahead.
Myself and County 3 will be checking the area.. shit.
Damnit. I hope that didn’t make the air. Between mentally sparring with myself and dealing with this newcomer, I didn’t notice the front door to 1300 Roosevelt was wide .. fucking .. open. I don’t think this is going to be a usual 10-90.
1711, Station 9, apologies. We have a front door open. Myself and 3 are going to make entry.
9 copies. Do you need additional units?
I’ll advise. We should be all set.
“You sure? Maybe having another car might be a good idea?” The big Oak says.
I stood frozen in place, not taking my eyes off of the front door. I’ve never been to this address. No issues. Why tonight. What has happened tonight. “No. We can handle it. You up to it?”
This always gets the rookies. They can’t have their pride be broken so early in their career. He rolls his head from side to side, and flexes his chest, probably involuntarily, but funny either way.
“Fuck yea I’m up to it.”
That’s what I thought.
Walking up to an open door is always going to be dicey. Little behind the curtain disclosure here. From day one to day 11,000, you will ALWAYS be afraid when you walk into a house. Door open, door closed, doesn’t matter. No one calls the Police to say “Hey, I’m having a really good day, I just wanted to let you know.” Something wrong has to happen for me to be called. For me to be standing here right now.
As I attempt to bang on the open door and announce that Police are coming in, it moves slightly. I didn’t touch it. At least I don’t think I did. Shit.. either way I don’t have time to think about it. Focus.
POLICE, if there’s anyone inside, make yourself known. Silence. Arnold, are you behind me? I hear a short shuffling and feel him moving to my side. I quickly glanced toward him. Damnit, son, get your gun out. We could be dealing with anything.
“Sorry,” he says as I hear his service weapon getting taken out from his holster. “I’m ready.” “Stay on me and do as I say. We have an open room with a hallway slight left. Looks like two or three rooms ahead, can’t exactly tell.” I feel him shake his head and grunt something.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about Arnold’s demeanor has changed.
“Ok, I’m moving toward the hallway, keep your eye on the room. When I move up toward the hallway, you look behind those couches. We proceed slowly, and he indeed does as I say. The living room is clear. When I feel him come back, I move up to the first room.
POLICE, announce yourself.
Annnnooouuunce yoooourself..
Every hair on my body stands on end. Something answered me. The voice sounded human, but off. Like something trying to sound human. Its tone was mocking.
“What.. what the hell was what?” Arnold said in a hushed tone.
SHH. What kind of an answer would I have for that? I’m just trying to think of where it wa-
Thump thump thump THUMP THUMP
Footsteps. Running away from us, damnit I hope it was away from us. It must have been? I’m too confused.
“Fuuuuuck man, what is all this?” My partner that I just met 10 minutes ago said. Too loudly, I may add.
Just then the same footsteps appeared to be overhead. Wait.. is there a second floor to this house? How can’t I remember that? I might have considered Arnold’s questioning of having another unit here if there was more space to search. I thought it was a ranch house. I take a pause to get my mental back. “Ok,” I said out of the side of my mouth to Arnold, like it would make him hear it better. “We know someone is here. We can’t just stop searching though. I’m going to open this door and you contact, ok?”
He nods. I look over him quickly, doing a silent “1,2,3,” countdown and then rip open the door. He draws, and sees.. stairs. I took a deep, stressful breath. And we have a basement here too. Just keeps getting better. Perfect. Now we have a real issue. We can’t just go upstai—
Station 9, 1711 status check
Hach-e mach-e, I gasped. Damn radio scared the shit out of me. And let’s just ignore the fact that I actually said hach-e mach-e. That must have been what I said as a kid when I got scared.
Deep breath. 1711, Station 9, we are secure and working. Please send another unit, we have possible suspect in home.
We’ll try, we have all units tied up right now
1711 copy.
Well that’s perfect. Ok, back to the present. We can’t just leave but we have to be as safe as possible searching a house with just two people. “Ok, big guy. You stay here and hold this basement. I know we should search every room, but we don’t have time for that right now. I’m going up stairs to search for our suspect.” Oak just stares at me, trying his best to remain brave. No shame big guy, we’ve all been there.
Remaining vigilant, I made my way upstairs. At the base I, again, made my announcement. “SHOW YOURSELF AND HAVE YOUR HANDS VISIBLE”
ShoooOoOOw YOURssssself…
Now I’m just getting pissed. This can go so wrong, but I’ve always been good at using anger to remain focused and hyper aware. But that doesn’t mean this is still creepy as fuck.
Leading by the light equipped to my handgun, I made my way up the stairs. Lucky for me it’s corner fed right, which means there’s only one side to go once you reach the second floor. I’ll take any victory I –
BANG
I draw in that direction. My streamlight sees one closed door. What the fuck kind of second floor has ONE room.
Tap… tap…. Tap….
Guess it doesn’t take the smartest of cops to realize where my guy is. I yell out downstairs. “I got ‘em here man, just hold that basement and call again for an extra unit.”
No response.
HooOOOOld the … the.. BAAsemeeeeeent..
This one was different. It sounded like some old scary story where the mimic alien thing is trying to actively learn human speech. Fuck this. Without thinking I booted the door with everything I had. Perfect connection. The door flies open, revealing a child’s room. Kind of. There’s a mattress on the ground, the kind would fit into a crib. There was a lamp in the corner, with some kind of children’s cartoon characters adorning it. What there wasn’t, was a person in here.
“He needs help.”
Something whispered into my ear. The goosebumps on my flesh almost hurt. I holster and fly back down the stairs to Arnold. I’m sure it’s nothing but.. Arnold’s not there. The basement door remains open.
A million thoughts race through my head, like it’s 100’s of Daytona 500’s, and they’re all going different directions, racing at speeds of well over 200 mph. That’s a lot of numbers. Focus. How many times have I said that to myself tonight. Focus.
First thought: leave. Shameful thought. He might be hurt or in trouble down there. Second thought. Call once again for immediate backup. This I actually tried.. and the radio does not transmit. Perfect. How many times have I said that tonight. Clearing my mind, I know what I have to do. I have to go downstairs.
GooOOOoo DoooOOwn…
“Fuck you.” That’s my response.
Each stair creaks. Almost more worried about falling through and splitting my fat head than what lies beneath. But they hold. And now I’m on the .. dirt floor? No one has a basement like this in this neighborhood. I was so enamored on the dirt floor that I almost didn’t register that a dark figure moved quickly from left to right in front of my eyes. Time to be stupid or brave. Maybe both.
“ARNOLD… are you down here, are you ok?”
I’m ok…. I’m hurt.. follow my voice… I can’t move.
Good, he’s ok. “Where are you?”
Right… in.. front of you. Help me. I can’t..
I’m coming buddy. I can’t reach dispatch, they must be –
Station 9, 1711… Station 9, 1711? ..
Station 9 TO 1711, PLEASE RESPOND
County 3, Station 9, I’ll swing by his location. Just send me his whereabouts.
Copy that County 3, thank you Deputy Ramirez

Station 9 to 1711.
Mother fucker. I just want 10 fucking minutes. Give me that please, God. Just put a fresh dip in, opened one of the new “sugar free,” Monsters (different from the “lo-carb,” option,) and fired up a knock off game that’s similar to candy crush. Just parked in my favorite hideout too. Backed in, in between a couple school buses in my cities elementary school. NO one comes here during my shift, which is graveyard.
Spitting out my chew and taking a big swig of Monster, I ripped the mic off of its magnetic plate. Hesitating, closing my eyes, and clearing my head, I respond. Something about closing your eyes when you answer a call seems to make the response clearer. I don’t know, ask other cops. They should understand.

1. Go ahead.

10-90 at 1300 Roosevelt. Front door and basement motion. Any available county car for a back?
Great. My “me,” time got interrupted for a stupid home alarm. The burglar alarm business sure has made our lives hell, on their way to making millions for themselves. Every residence now has a ring, a chime, or even the old-school brinks or ADT system. Most of the time, excuse me, almost ALL of the time, it’s a false alarm.
County 3, I’ll head out there.
Station 9 copy. Thanks County 3.
Ok, that’s cool. County 3 tonight is Ramirez, I think. I hope. We’ve always gotten along, working in the same area for the last decade or so. We’re not like drinking buddies or anything but usually we will meet up for a coffee or a diner breakfast every now and then. More than I can say for most of my department. Well…. Let’s clear this call so I can get back to crushing this candy.
The address was only three miles away. I pulled up, threw it in park, and checked my CAD to see where Ramirez was. I shouldn’t have parked right out in front. Academy first day stuff. “Don’t get complacent.” I know. I know. My wits are still about me, I’m ready, but it’s just easier to make my life easier sometimes. And nothing really happens in this small town. Hell, there’s only 4 of us local cops. Thankfully we do have some help from the County. And by help we usually just let them handle most of our issues. They’ve got the equipment and resources so, fuck it. I’ll happily go and take care of dog off leash calls and folks complaining about their neighbor’s grass being too high. I’ve had my fill of Policing already. But that’s a story for another time.
1711, station 9, I’m up.
10-4.
County 3, show me pulling up.
10-4.
That’s weird, I don’t see that black and yellow sheriff car anywhere close- oh, here we go. Maybe CAD is messing up. It showed county 3 like 2 miles away just a minute ago. Time to get this dumb shit over with.
With a creak of the open driver side door and a creak in the back, I get my happy ass out of my cruiser. The back that sounds and feels like a 50-year-olds. Which would be fine if, you know, I was 50. I’m 33. It doesn’t feel like it.
The headlights dim from the County car. We’re parked with both our bumpers facing each other. Usually doesn’t happen like that, but, whatever, I guess. Not very tactical but not like we need to be. The door opens..
“Hey Rami-“
A tall, built guy steps out, towering out of the car. How the hell does he even fit inside? I’ve never seen this dude. He looks like god dang Arnold.
“Oh, hey bud,” I offer, “I figured Ramirez was County 3 tonight. I’m Happy.”
Obviously not my name, but it was a name given to me when I was back in SWAT. Another lifetime ago. And I loved that name, so I kept it. Just easier than getting too personal.
Arnold looked at me and broke an awkward smile. Kind of an odd first encounter from a fellow lawman. He pulled his shades up and placed them on his immaculate high and tight fade. It’s like 2 am, so that’s kind of weird. Lot of weirdness already. Maybe I’m just tired.
“Hey brother. Arnold. I used to cover the south end but asked to be out here. I hear it’s pretty chill.”
I do a slow nod and make sure to keep a tight smile. Inside my head I’m thinking “are you freaking serious, your name actually IS Arnold?” Straighten up. “Good to meet you, man. Guess we should cut the pleasantries and check out this house, eh?”
Arnold nods, checks his gear and extends his left hand, palm up, towards the house. A “Go ahead cochise,” gesture. I smirk and make my way up to the front of the house. “So, I was expecting Ramirez, did she just call in, or?”
“Not sure. Really don’t know much about her to be honest. I heard you two were pretty close though.”
This hit me in a weird way. Full disclosure, we are just friends. Partners in blue. I stopped, not really meaning to. I could feel Arnold stop himself from running into me, as he was not at all expecting me to stop walking toward the front of the house.
“I’ll say this. I don’t know what that means, but I’ll let it go. Don’t mention her again, ok?” I turned my head slightly, just to see his facial reaction.
“Whooooah, man. I’m sorry , I meant literally nothing by that. Just heard you guys worked good together. I won’t mention it again.”
I went over what I wanted to say in my head. I shouldn’t come off like this to some new boot just out of the academy. That shouldn’t have struck a nerve like that. These uniforms are hot. And uncomfortable. Add on the vest, the belt, the camera, the gun, etc. etc. I could feel the heat coming from my chest, out of my collar, toward my face. Disgusting. Like every day. Even when it’s winter, it’s hot wearing this shit. What happens when you’re hot and uncomfortable all the time? You get irritated. You get aggressive. Thankfully I learned a small trick from Joe Rogan. Breath. Open your mouth a little bit, and breathe. Get oxygen into your brain to calm yourself down. It worked.
“It’s fine… sorry to go off, that was uncalled for. I’ll buy your big ass a donut after this as an apology.”
Arnold laughed. Even though this Adonis could clearly fold me into a pretzel (and I’m no small guy myself,) he seemed to have some sense and recognize that I’m just not the type to be played around with. I appreciated that.
“Ok, good.” Something from the original call hit me just then. The burglary alarm tripped the front door and a basement motion. If someone has motion detectors set up, they have them in every hallway, every room. Usually. How could you conceivably break into the front door and then set off no alarms until the basement?
1711, Station 9.
9, go ahead.
Myself and County 3 will be checking the area.. shit.
Damnit. I hope that didn’t make the air. Between mentally sparring with myself and dealing with this newcomer, I didn’t notice the front door to 1300 Roosevelt was wide .. fucking .. open. I don’t think this is going to be a usual 10-90.
1711, Station 9, apologies. We have a front door open. Myself and 3 are going to make entry.
9 copies. Do you need additional units?
I’ll advise. We should be all set.
“You sure? Maybe having another car might be a good idea?” The big Oak says.
I stood frozen in place, not taking my eyes off of the front door. I’ve never been to this address. No issues. Why tonight. What has happened tonight. “No. We can handle it. You up to it?”
This always gets the rookies. They can’t have their pride be broken so early in their career. He rolls his head from side to side, and flexes his chest, probably involuntarily, but funny either way.
“Fuck yea I’m up to it.”
That’s what I thought.
Walking up to an open door is always going to be dicey. Little behind the curtain disclosure here. From day one to day 11,000, you will ALWAYS be afraid when you walk into a house. Door open, door closed, doesn’t matter. No one calls the Police to say “Hey, I’m having a really good day, I just wanted to let you know.” Something wrong has to happen for me to be called. For me to be standing here right now.
As I attempt to bang on the open door and announce that Police are coming in, it moves slightly. I didn’t touch it. At least I don’t think I did. Shit.. either way I don’t have time to think about it. Focus.
POLICE, if there’s anyone inside, make yourself known. Silence. Arnold, are you behind me? I hear a short shuffling and feel him moving to my side. I quickly glanced toward him. Damnit, son, get your gun out. We could be dealing with anything.
“Sorry,” he says as I hear his service weapon getting taken out from his holster. “I’m ready.” “Stay on me and do as I say. We have an open room with a hallway slight left. Looks like two or three rooms ahead, can’t exactly tell.” I feel him shake his head and grunt something.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about Arnold’s demeanor has changed.
“Ok, I’m moving toward the hallway, keep your eye on the room. When I move up toward the hallway, you look behind those couches. We proceed slowly, and he indeed does as I say. The living room is clear. When I feel him come back, I move up to the first room.
POLICE, announce yourself.
Annnnooouuunce yoooourself..
Every hair on my body stands on end. Something answered me. The voice sounded human, but off. Like something trying to sound human. Its tone was mocking.
“What.. what the hell was what?” Arnold said in a hushed tone.
SHH. What kind of an answer would I have for that? I’m just trying to think of where it wa-
Thump thump thump THUMP THUMP
Footsteps. Running away from us, damnit I hope it was away from us. It must have been? I’m too confused.
“Fuuuuuck man, what is all this?” My partner that I just met 10 minutes ago said. Too loudly, I may add.
Just then the same footsteps appeared to be overhead. Wait.. is there a second floor to this house? How can’t I remember that? I might have considered Arnold’s questioning of having another unit here if there was more space to search. I thought it was a ranch house. I take a pause to get my mental back. “Ok,” I said out of the side of my mouth to Arnold, like it would make him hear it better. “We know someone is here. We can’t just stop searching though. I’m going to open this door and you contact, ok?”
He nods. I look over him quickly, doing a silent “1,2,3,” countdown and then rip open the door. He draws, and sees.. stairs. I took a deep, stressful breath. And we have a basement here too. Just keeps getting better. Perfect. Now we have a real issue. We can’t just go upstai—
Station 9, 1711 status check
Hach-e mach-e, I gasped. Damn radio scared the shit out of me. And let’s just ignore the fact that I actually said hach-e mach-e. That must have been what I said as a kid when I got scared.
Deep breath. 1711, Station 9, we are secure and working. Please send another unit, we have possible suspect in home.
We’ll try, we have all units tied up right now
1711 copy.
Well that’s perfect. Ok, back to the present. We can’t just leave but we have to be as safe as possible searching a house with just two people. “Ok, big guy. You stay here and hold this basement. I know we should search every room, but we don’t have time for that right now. I’m going up stairs to search for our suspect.” Oak just stares at me, trying his best to remain brave. No shame big guy, we’ve all been there.
Remaining vigilant, I made my way upstairs. At the base I, again, made my announcement. “SHOW YOURSELF AND HAVE YOUR HANDS VISIBLE”
ShoooOoOOw YOURssssself…
Now I’m just getting pissed. This can go so wrong, but I’ve always been good at using anger to remain focused and hyper aware. But that doesn’t mean this is still creepy as fuck.
Leading by the light equipped to my handgun, I made my way up the stairs. Lucky for me it’s corner fed right, which means there’s only one side to go once you reach the second floor. I’ll take any victory I –
BANG
I draw in that direction. My streamlight sees one closed door. What the fuck kind of second floor has ONE room.
Tap… tap…. Tap….
Guess it doesn’t take the smartest of cops to realize where my guy is. I yell out downstairs. “I got ‘em here man, just hold that basement and call again for an extra unit.”
No response.
HooOOOOld the … the.. BAAsemeeeeeent..
This one was different. It sounded like some old scary story where the mimic alien thing is trying to actively learn human speech. Fuck this. Without thinking I booted the door with everything I had. Perfect connection. The door flies open, revealing a child’s room. Kind of. There’s a mattress on the ground, the kind would fit into a crib. There was a lamp in the corner, with some kind of children’s cartoon characters adorning it. What there wasn’t, was a person in here.
“He needs help.”
Something whispered into my ear. The goosebumps on my flesh almost hurt. I holster and fly back down the stairs to Arnold. I’m sure it’s nothing but.. Arnold’s not there. The basement door remains open.
A million thoughts race through my head, like it’s 100’s of Daytona 500’s, and they’re all going different directions, racing at speeds of well over 200 mph. That’s a lot of numbers. Focus. How many times have I said that to myself tonight. Focus.
First thought: leave. Shameful thought. He might be hurt or in trouble down there. Second thought. Call once again for immediate backup. This I actually tried.. and the radio does not transmit. Perfect. How many times have I said that tonight. Clearing my mind, I know what I have to do. I have to go downstairs.
GooOOOoo DoooOOwn…
“Fuck you.” That’s my response.
Each stair creaks. Almost more worried about falling through and splitting my fat head than what lies beneath. But they hold. And now I’m on the .. dirt floor? No one has a basement like this in this neighborhood. I was so enamored on the dirt floor that I almost didn’t register that a dark figure moved quickly from left to right in front of my eyes. Time to be stupid or brave. Maybe both.
“ARNOLD… are you down here, are you ok?”
I’m ok…. I’m hurt.. follow my voice… I can’t move.
Good, he’s ok. “Where are you?”
Right… in.. front of you. Help me. I can’t..
I’m coming buddy. I can’t reach dispatch, they must be –
Station 9, 1711… Station 9, 1711? ..
Station 9 TO 1711, PLEASE RESPOND
County 3, Station 9, I’ll swing by his location. Just send me his whereabouts.
Copy that County 3, thank you Deputy Ramirez

Station 9 to 1711.
Mother fucker. I just want 10 fucking minutes. Give me that please, God. Just put a fresh dip in, opened one of the new “sugar free,” Monsters (different from the “lo-carb,” option,) and fired up a knock off game that’s similar to candy crush. Just parked in my favorite hideout too. Backed in, in between a couple school buses in my cities elementary school. NO one comes here during my shift, which is graveyard.
Spitting out my chew and taking a big swig of Monster, I ripped the mic off of its magnetic plate. Hesitating, closing my eyes, and clearing my head, I respond. Something about closing your eyes when you answer a call seems to make the response clearer. I don’t know, ask other cops. They should understand.

1. Go ahead.

10-90 at 1300 Roosevelt. Front door and basement motion. Any available county car for a back?
Great. My “me,” time got interrupted for a stupid home alarm. The burglar alarm business sure has made our lives hell, on their way to making millions for themselves. Every residence now has a ring, a chime, or even the old-school brinks or ADT system. Most of the time, excuse me, almost ALL of the time, it’s a false alarm.
County 3, I’ll head out there.
Station 9 copy. Thanks County 3.
Ok, that’s cool. County 3 tonight is Ramirez, I think. I hope. We’ve always gotten along, working in the same area for the last decade or so. We’re not like drinking buddies or anything but usually we will meet up for a coffee or a diner breakfast every now and then. More than I can say for most of my department. Well…. Let’s clear this call so I can get back to crushing this candy.
The address was only three miles away. I pulled up, threw it in park, and checked my CAD to see where Ramirez was. I shouldn’t have parked right out in front. Academy first day stuff. “Don’t get complacent.” I know. I know. My wits are still about me, I’m ready, but it’s just easier to make my life easier sometimes. And nothing really happens in this small town. Hell, there’s only 4 of us local cops. Thankfully we do have some help from the County. And by help we usually just let them handle most of our issues. They’ve got the equipment and resources so, fuck it. I’ll happily go and take care of dog off leash calls and folks complaining about their neighbor’s grass being too high. I’ve had my fill of Policing already. But that’s a story for another time.
1711, station 9, I’m up.
10-4.
County 3, show me pulling up.
10-4.
That’s weird, I don’t see that black and yellow sheriff car anywhere close- oh, here we go. Maybe CAD is messing up. It showed county 3 like 2 miles away just a minute ago. Time to get this dumb shit over with.
With a creak of the open driver side door and a creak in the back, I get my happy ass out of my cruiser. The back that sounds and feels like a 50-year-olds. Which would be fine if, you know, I was 50. I’m 33. It doesn’t feel like it.
The headlights dim from the County car. We’re parked with both our bumpers facing each other. Usually doesn’t happen like that, but, whatever, I guess. Not very tactical but not like we need to be. The door opens..
“Hey Rami-“
A tall, built guy steps out, towering out of the car. How the hell does he even fit inside? I’ve never seen this dude. He looks like god dang Arnold.
“Oh, hey bud,” I offer, “I figured Ramirez was County 3 tonight. I’m Happy.”
Obviously not my name, but it was a name given to me when I was back in SWAT. Another lifetime ago. And I loved that name, so I kept it. Just easier than getting too personal.
Arnold looked at me and broke an awkward smile. Kind of an odd first encounter from a fellow lawman. He pulled his shades up and placed them on his immaculate high and tight fade. It’s like 2 am, so that’s kind of weird. Lot of weirdness already. Maybe I’m just tired.
“Hey brother. Arnold. I used to cover the south end but asked to be out here. I hear it’s pretty chill.”
I do a slow nod and make sure to keep a tight smile. Inside my head I’m thinking “are you freaking serious, your name actually IS Arnold?” Straighten up. “Good to meet you, man. Guess we should cut the pleasantries and check out this house, eh?”
Arnold nods, checks his gear and extends his left hand, palm up, towards the house. A “Go ahead cochise,” gesture. I smirk and make my way up to the front of the house. “So, I was expecting Ramirez, did she just call in, or?”
“Not sure. Really don’t know much about her to be honest. I heard you two were pretty close though.”
This hit me in a weird way. Full disclosure, we are just friends. Partners in blue. I stopped, not really meaning to. I could feel Arnold stop himself from running into me, as he was not at all expecting me to stop walking toward the front of the house.
“I’ll say this. I don’t know what that means, but I’ll let it go. Don’t mention her again, ok?” I turned my head slightly, just to see his facial reaction.
“Whooooah, man. I’m sorry , I meant literally nothing by that. Just heard you guys worked good together. I won’t mention it again.”
I went over what I wanted to say in my head. I shouldn’t come off like this to some new boot just out of the academy. That shouldn’t have struck a nerve like that. These uniforms are hot. And uncomfortable. Add on the vest, the belt, the camera, the gun, etc. etc. I could feel the heat coming from my chest, out of my collar, toward my face. Disgusting. Like every day. Even when it’s winter, it’s hot wearing this shit. What happens when you’re hot and uncomfortable all the time? You get irritated. You get aggressive. Thankfully I learned a small trick from Joe Rogan. Breath. Open your mouth a little bit, and breathe. Get oxygen into your brain to calm yourself down. It worked.
“It’s fine… sorry to go off, that was uncalled for. I’ll buy your big ass a donut after this as an apology.”
Arnold laughed. Even though this Adonis could clearly fold me into a pretzel (and I’m no small guy myself,) he seemed to have some sense and recognize that I’m just not the type to be played around with. I appreciated that.
“Ok, good.” Something from the original call hit me just then. The burglary alarm tripped the front door and a basement motion. If someone has motion detectors set up, they have them in every hallway, every room. Usually. How could you conceivably break into the front door and then set off no alarms until the basement?
1711, Station 9.
9, go ahead.
Myself and County 3 will be checking the area.. shit.
Damnit. I hope that didn’t make the air. Between mentally sparring with myself and dealing with this newcomer, I didn’t notice the front door to 1300 Roosevelt was wide .. fucking .. open. I don’t think this is going to be a usual 10-90.
1711, Station 9, apologies. We have a front door open. Myself and 3 are going to make entry.
9 copies. Do you need additional units?
I’ll advise. We should be all set.
“You sure? Maybe having another car might be a good idea?” The big Oak says.
I stood frozen in place, not taking my eyes off of the front door. I’ve never been to this address. No issues. Why tonight. What has happened tonight. “No. We can handle it. You up to it?”
This always gets the rookies. They can’t have their pride be broken so early in their career. He rolls his head from side to side, and flexes his chest, probably involuntarily, but funny either way.
“Fuck yea I’m up to it.”
That’s what I thought.
Walking up to an open door is always going to be dicey. Little behind the curtain disclosure here. From day one to day 11,000, you will ALWAYS be afraid when you walk into a house. Door open, door closed, doesn’t matter. No one calls the Police to say “Hey, I’m having a really good day, I just wanted to let you know.” Something wrong has to happen for me to be called. For me to be standing here right now.
As I attempt to bang on the open door and announce that Police are coming in, it moves slightly. I didn’t touch it. At least I don’t think I did. Shit.. either way I don’t have time to think about it. Focus.
POLICE, if there’s anyone inside, make yourself known. Silence. Arnold, are you behind me? I hear a short shuffling and feel him moving to my side. I quickly glanced toward him. Damnit, son, get your gun out. We could be dealing with anything.
“Sorry,” he says as I hear his service weapon getting taken out from his holster. “I’m ready.” “Stay on me and do as I say. We have an open room with a hallway slight left. Looks like two or three rooms ahead, can’t exactly tell.” I feel him shake his head and grunt something.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about Arnold’s demeanor has changed.
“Ok, I’m moving toward the hallway, keep your eye on the room. When I move up toward the hallway, you look behind those couches. We proceed slowly, and he indeed does as I say. The living room is clear. When I feel him come back, I move up to the first room.
POLICE, announce yourself.
Annnnooouuunce yoooourself..
Every hair on my body stands on end. Something answered me. The voice sounded human, but off. Like something trying to sound human. Its tone was mocking.
“What.. what the hell was what?” Arnold said in a hushed tone.
SHH. What kind of an answer would I have for that? I’m just trying to think of where it wa-
Thump thump thump THUMP THUMP
Footsteps. Running away from us, damnit I hope it was away from us. It must have been? I’m too confused.
“Fuuuuuck man, what is all this?” My partner that I just met 10 minutes ago said. Too loudly, I may add.
Just then the same footsteps appeared to be overhead. Wait.. is there a second floor to this house? How can’t I remember that? I might have considered Arnold’s questioning of having another unit here if there was more space to search. I thought it was a ranch house. I take a pause to get my mental back. “Ok,” I said out of the side of my mouth to Arnold, like it would make him hear it better. “We know someone is here. We can’t just stop searching though. I’m going to open this door and you contact, ok?”
He nods. I look over him quickly, doing a silent “1,2,3,” countdown and then rip open the door. He draws, and sees.. stairs. I took a deep, stressful breath. And we have a basement here too. Just keeps getting better. Perfect. Now we have a real issue. We can’t just go upstai—
Station 9, 1711 status check
Hach-e mach-e, I gasped. Damn radio scared the shit out of me. And let’s just ignore the fact that I actually said hach-e mach-e. That must have been what I said as a kid when I got scared.
Deep breath. 1711, Station 9, we are secure and working. Please send another unit, we have possible suspect in home.
We’ll try, we have all units tied up right now
1711 copy.
Well that’s perfect. Ok, back to the present. We can’t just leave but we have to be as safe as possible searching a house with just two people. “Ok, big guy. You stay here and hold this basement. I know we should search every room, but we don’t have time for that right now. I’m going up stairs to search for our suspect.” Oak just stares at me, trying his best to remain brave. No shame big guy, we’ve all been there.
Remaining vigilant, I made my way upstairs. At the base I, again, made my announcement. “SHOW YOURSELF AND HAVE YOUR HANDS VISIBLE”
ShoooOoOOw YOURssssself…
Now I’m just getting pissed. This can go so wrong, but I’ve always been good at using anger to remain focused and hyper aware. But that doesn’t mean this is still creepy as fuck.
Leading by the light equipped to my handgun, I made my way up the stairs. Lucky for me it’s corner fed right, which means there’s only one side to go once you reach the second floor. I’ll take any victory I –
BANG
I draw in that direction. My streamlight sees one closed door. What the fuck kind of second floor has ONE room.
Tap… tap…. Tap….
Guess it doesn’t take the smartest of cops to realize where my guy is. I yell out downstairs. “I got ‘em here man, just hold that basement and call again for an extra unit.”
No response.
HooOOOOld the … the.. BAAsemeeeeeent..
This one was different. It sounded like some old scary story where the mimic alien thing is trying to actively learn human speech. Fuck this. Without thinking I booted the door with everything I had. Perfect connection. The door flies open, revealing a child’s room. Kind of. There’s a mattress on the ground, the kind would fit into a crib. There was a lamp in the corner, with some kind of children’s cartoon characters adorning it. What there wasn’t, was a person in here.
“He needs help.”
Something whispered into my ear. The goosebumps on my flesh almost hurt. I holster and fly back down the stairs to Arnold. I’m sure it’s nothing but.. Arnold’s not there. The basement door remains open.
A million thoughts race through my head, like it’s 100’s of Daytona 500’s, and they’re all going different directions, racing at speeds of well over 200 mph. That’s a lot of numbers. Focus. How many times have I said that to myself tonight. Focus.
First thought: leave. Shameful thought. He might be hurt or in trouble down there. Second thought. Call once again for immediate backup. This I actually tried.. and the radio does not transmit. Perfect. How many times have I said that tonight. Clearing my mind, I know what I have to do. I have to go downstairs.
GooOOOoo DoooOOwn…
“Fuck you.” That’s my response.
Each stair creaks. Almost more worried about falling through and splitting my fat head than what lies beneath. But they hold. And now I’m on the .. dirt floor? No one has a basement like this in this neighborhood. I was so enamored on the dirt floor that I almost didn’t register that a dark figure moved quickly from left to right in front of my eyes. Time to be stupid or brave. Maybe both.
“ARNOLD… are you down here, are you ok?”
I’m ok…. I’m hurt.. follow my voice… I can’t move.
Good, he’s ok. “Where are you?”
Right… in.. front of you. Help me. I can’t..
I’m coming buddy. I can’t reach dispatch, they must be –
Station 9, 1711… Station 9, 1711? ..
Station 9 TO 1711, PLEASE RESPOND
County 3, Station 9, I’ll swing by his location. Just send me his whereabouts.
Copy that County 3, thank you Deputy Ramirez

Station 9 to 1711.
Mother fucker. I just want 10 fucking minutes. Give me that please, God. Just put a fresh dip in, opened one of the new “sugar free,” Monsters (different from the “lo-carb,” option,) and fired up a knock off game that’s similar to candy crush. Just parked in my favorite hideout too. Backed in, in between a couple school buses in my cities elementary school. NO one comes here during my shift, which is graveyard.
Spitting out my chew and taking a big swig of Monster, I ripped the mic off of its magnetic plate. Hesitating, closing my eyes, and clearing my head, I respond. Something about closing your eyes when you answer a call seems to make the response clearer. I don’t know, ask other cops. They should understand.

1. Go ahead.

10-90 at 1300 Roosevelt. Front door and basement motion. Any available county car for a back?
Great. My “me,” time got interrupted for a stupid home alarm. The burglar alarm business sure has made our lives hell, on their way to making millions for themselves. Every residence now has a ring, a chime, or even the old-school brinks or ADT system. Most of the time, excuse me, almost ALL of the time, it’s a false alarm.
County 3, I’ll head out there.
Station 9 copy. Thanks County 3.
Ok, that’s cool. County 3 tonight is Ramirez, I think. I hope. We’ve always gotten along, working in the same area for the last decade or so. We’re not like drinking buddies or anything but usually we will meet up for a coffee or a diner breakfast every now and then. More than I can say for most of my department. Well…. Let’s clear this call so I can get back to crushing this candy.
The address was only three miles away. I pulled up, threw it in park, and checked my CAD to see where Ramirez was. I shouldn’t have parked right out in front. Academy first day stuff. “Don’t get complacent.” I know. I know. My wits are still about me, I’m ready, but it’s just easier to make my life easier sometimes. And nothing really happens in this small town. Hell, there’s only 4 of us local cops. Thankfully we do have some help from the County. And by help we usually just let them handle most of our issues. They’ve got the equipment and resources so, fuck it. I’ll happily go and take care of dog off leash calls and folks complaining about their neighbor’s grass being too high. I’ve had my fill of Policing already. But that’s a story for another time.
1711, station 9, I’m up.
10-4.
County 3, show me pulling up.
10-4.
That’s weird, I don’t see that black and yellow sheriff car anywhere close- oh, here we go. Maybe CAD is messing up. It showed county 3 like 2 miles away just a minute ago. Time to get this dumb shit over with.
With a creak of the open driver side door and a creak in the back, I get my happy ass out of my cruiser. The back that sounds and feels like a 50-year-olds. Which would be fine if, you know, I was 50. I’m 33. It doesn’t feel like it.
The headlights dim from the County car. We’re parked with both our bumpers facing each other. Usually doesn’t happen like that, but, whatever, I guess. Not very tactical but not like we need to be. The door opens..
“Hey Rami-“
A tall, built guy steps out, towering out of the car. How the hell does he even fit inside? I’ve never seen this dude. He looks like god dang Arnold.
“Oh, hey bud,” I offer, “I figured Ramirez was County 3 tonight. I’m Happy.”
Obviously not my name, but it was a name given to me when I was back in SWAT. Another lifetime ago. And I loved that name, so I kept it. Just easier than getting too personal.
Arnold looked at me and broke an awkward smile. Kind of an odd first encounter from a fellow lawman. He pulled his shades up and placed them on his immaculate high and tight fade. It’s like 2 am, so that’s kind of weird. Lot of weirdness already. Maybe I’m just tired.
“Hey brother. Arnold. I used to cover the south end but asked to be out here. I hear it’s pretty chill.”
I do a slow nod and make sure to keep a tight smile. Inside my head I’m thinking “are you freaking serious, your name actually IS Arnold?” Straighten up. “Good to meet you, man. Guess we should cut the pleasantries and check out this house, eh?”
Arnold nods, checks his gear and extends his left hand, palm up, towards the house. A “Go ahead cochise,” gesture. I smirk and make my way up to the front of the house. “So, I was expecting Ramirez, did she just call in, or?”
“Not sure. Really don’t know much about her to be honest. I heard you two were pretty close though.”
This hit me in a weird way. Full disclosure, we are just friends. Partners in blue. I stopped, not really meaning to. I could feel Arnold stop himself from running into me, as he was not at all expecting me to stop walking toward the front of the house.
“I’ll say this. I don’t know what that means, but I’ll let it go. Don’t mention her again, ok?” I turned my head slightly, just to see his facial reaction.
“Whooooah, man. I’m sorry , I meant literally nothing by that. Just heard you guys worked good together. I won’t mention it again.”
I went over what I wanted to say in my head. I shouldn’t come off like this to some new boot just out of the academy. That shouldn’t have struck a nerve like that. These uniforms are hot. And uncomfortable. Add on the vest, the belt, the camera, the gun, etc. etc. I could feel the heat coming from my chest, out of my collar, toward my face. Disgusting. Like every day. Even when it’s winter, it’s hot wearing this shit. What happens when you’re hot and uncomfortable all the time? You get irritated. You get aggressive. Thankfully I learned a small trick from Joe Rogan. Breath. Open your mouth a little bit, and breathe. Get oxygen into your brain to calm yourself down. It worked.
“It’s fine… sorry to go off, that was uncalled for. I’ll buy your big ass a donut after this as an apology.”
Arnold laughed. Even though this Adonis could clearly fold me into a pretzel (and I’m no small guy myself,) he seemed to have some sense and recognize that I’m just not the type to be played around with. I appreciated that.
“Ok, good.” Something from the original call hit me just then. The burglary alarm tripped the front door and a basement motion. If someone has motion detectors set up, they have them in every hallway, every room. Usually. How could you conceivably break into the front door and then set off no alarms until the basement?
1711, Station 9.
9, go ahead.
Myself and County 3 will be checking the area.. shit.
Damnit. I hope that didn’t make the air. Between mentally sparring with myself and dealing with this newcomer, I didn’t notice the front door to 1300 Roosevelt was wide .. fucking .. open. I don’t think this is going to be a usual 10-90.
1711, Station 9, apologies. We have a front door open. Myself and 3 are going to make entry.
9 copies. Do you need additional units?
I’ll advise. We should be all set.
“You sure? Maybe having another car might be a good idea?” The big Oak says.
I stood frozen in place, not taking my eyes off of the front door. I’ve never been to this address. No issues. Why tonight. What has happened tonight. “No. We can handle it. You up to it?”
This always gets the rookies. They can’t have their pride be broken so early in their career. He rolls his head from side to side, and flexes his chest, probably involuntarily, but funny either way.
“Fuck yea I’m up to it.”
That’s what I thought.
Walking up to an open door is always going to be dicey. Little behind the curtain disclosure here. From day one to day 11,000, you will ALWAYS be afraid when you walk into a house. Door open, door closed, doesn’t matter. No one calls the Police to say “Hey, I’m having a really good day, I just wanted to let you know.” Something wrong has to happen for me to be called. For me to be standing here right now.
As I attempt to bang on the open door and announce that Police are coming in, it moves slightly. I didn’t touch it. At least I don’t think I did. Shit.. either way I don’t have time to think about it. Focus.
POLICE, if there’s anyone inside, make yourself known. Silence. Arnold, are you behind me? I hear a short shuffling and feel him moving to my side. I quickly glanced toward him. Damnit, son, get your gun out. We could be dealing with anything.
“Sorry,” he says as I hear his service weapon getting taken out from his holster. “I’m ready.” “Stay on me and do as I say. We have an open room with a hallway slight left. Looks like two or three rooms ahead, can’t exactly tell.” I feel him shake his head and grunt something.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about Arnold’s demeanor has changed.
“Ok, I’m moving toward the hallway, keep your eye on the room. When I move up toward the hallway, you look behind those couches. We proceed slowly, and he indeed does as I say. The living room is clear. When I feel him come back, I move up to the first room.
POLICE, announce yourself.
Annnnooouuunce yoooourself..
Every hair on my body stands on end. Something answered me. The voice sounded human, but off. Like something trying to sound human. Its tone was mocking.
“What.. what the hell was what?” Arnold said in a hushed tone.
SHH. What kind of an answer would I have for that? I’m just trying to think of where it wa-
Thump thump thump THUMP THUMP
Footsteps. Running away from us, damnit I hope it was away from us. It must have been? I’m too confused.
“Fuuuuuck man, what is all this?” My partner that I just met 10 minutes ago said. Too loudly, I may add.
Just then the same footsteps appeared to be overhead. Wait.. is there a second floor to this house? How can’t I remember that? I might have considered Arnold’s questioning of having another unit here if there was more space to search. I thought it was a ranch house. I take a pause to get my mental back. “Ok,” I said out of the side of my mouth to Arnold, like it would make him hear it better. “We know someone is here. We can’t just stop searching though. I’m going to open this door and you contact, ok?”
He nods. I look over him quickly, doing a silent “1,2,3,” countdown and then rip open the door. He draws, and sees.. stairs. I took a deep, stressful breath. And we have a basement here too. Just keeps getting better. Perfect. Now we have a real issue. We can’t just go upstai—
Station 9, 1711 status check
Hach-e mach-e, I gasped. Damn radio scared the shit out of me. And let’s just ignore the fact that I actually said hach-e mach-e. That must have been what I said as a kid when I got scared.
Deep breath. 1711, Station 9, we are secure and working. Please send another unit, we have possible suspect in home.
We’ll try, we have all units tied up right now
1711 copy.
Well that’s perfect. Ok, back to the present. We can’t just leave but we have to be as safe as possible searching a house with just two people. “Ok, big guy. You stay here and hold this basement. I know we should search every room, but we don’t have time for that right now. I’m going up stairs to search for our suspect.” Oak just stares at me, trying his best to remain brave. No shame big guy, we’ve all been there.
Remaining vigilant, I made my way upstairs. At the base I, again, made my announcement. “SHOW YOURSELF AND HAVE YOUR HANDS VISIBLE”
ShoooOoOOw YOURssssself…
Now I’m just getting pissed. This can go so wrong, but I’ve always been good at using anger to remain focused and hyper aware. But that doesn’t mean this is still creepy as fuck.
Leading by the light equipped to my handgun, I made my way up the stairs. Lucky for me it’s corner fed right, which means there’s only one side to go once you reach the second floor. I’ll take any victory I –
BANG
I draw in that direction. My streamlight sees one closed door. What the fuck kind of second floor has ONE room.
Tap… tap…. Tap….
Guess it doesn’t take the smartest of cops to realize where my guy is. I yell out downstairs. “I got ‘em here man, just hold that basement and call again for an extra unit.”
No response.
HooOOOOld the … the.. BAAsemeeeeeent..
This one was different. It sounded like some old scary story where the mimic alien thing is trying to actively learn human speech. Fuck this. Without thinking I booted the door with everything I had. Perfect connection. The door flies open, revealing a child’s room. Kind of. There’s a mattress on the ground, the kind would fit into a crib. There was a lamp in the corner, with some kind of children’s cartoon characters adorning it. What there wasn’t, was a person in here.
“He needs help.”
Something whispered into my ear. The goosebumps on my flesh almost hurt. I holster and fly back down the stairs to Arnold. I’m sure it’s nothing but.. Arnold’s not there. The basement door remains open.
A million thoughts race through my head, like it’s 100’s of Daytona 500’s, and they’re all going different directions, racing at speeds of well over 200 mph. That’s a lot of numbers. Focus. How many times have I said that to myself tonight. Focus.
First thought: leave. Shameful thought. He might be hurt or in trouble down there. Second thought. Call once again for immediate backup. This I actually tried.. and the radio does not transmit. Perfect. How many times have I said that tonight. Clearing my mind, I know what I have to do. I have to go downstairs.
GooOOOoo DoooOOwn…
“Fuck you.” That’s my response.
Each stair creaks. Almost more worried about falling through and splitting my fat head than what lies beneath. But they hold. And now I’m on the .. dirt floor? No one has a basement like this in this neighborhood. I was so enamored on the dirt floor that I almost didn’t register that a dark figure moved quickly from left to right in front of my eyes. Time to be stupid or brave. Maybe both.
“ARNOLD… are you down here, are you ok?”
I’m ok…. I’m hurt.. follow my voice… I can’t move.
Good, he’s ok. “Where are you?”
Right… in.. front of you. Help me. I can’t..
I’m coming buddy. I can’t reach dispatch, they must be –
Station 9, 1711… Station 9, 1711? ..
Station 9 TO 1711, PLEASE RESPOND
County 3, Station 9, I’ll swing by his location. Just send me his whereabouts.
Copy that County 3, thank you Deputy Ramirez

Station 9 to 1711.
Mother fucker. I just want 10 fucking minutes. Give me that please, God. Just put a fresh dip in, opened one of the new “sugar free,” Monsters (different from the “lo-carb,” option,) and fired up a knock off game that’s similar to candy crush. Just parked in my favorite hideout too. Backed in, in between a couple school buses in my cities elementary school. NO one comes here during my shift, which is graveyard.
Spitting out my chew and taking a big swig of Monster, I ripped the mic off of its magnetic plate. Hesitating, closing my eyes, and clearing my head, I respond. Something about closing your eyes when you answer a call seems to make the response clearer. I don’t know, ask other cops. They should understand.

1. Go ahead.

10-90 at 1300 Roosevelt. Front door and basement motion. Any available county car for a back?
Great. My “me,” time got interrupted for a stupid home alarm. The burglar alarm business sure has made our lives hell, on their way to making millions for themselves. Every residence now has a ring, a chime, or even the old-school brinks or ADT system. Most of the time, excuse me, almost ALL of the time, it’s a false alarm.
County 3, I’ll head out there.
Station 9 copy. Thanks County 3.
Ok, that’s cool. County 3 tonight is Ramirez, I think. I hope. We’ve always gotten along, working in the same area for the last decade or so. We’re not like drinking buddies or anything but usually we will meet up for a coffee or a diner breakfast every now and then. More than I can say for most of my department. Well…. Let’s clear this call so I can get back to crushing this candy.
The address was only three miles away. I pulled up, threw it in park, and checked my CAD to see where Ramirez was. I shouldn’t have parked right out in front. Academy first day stuff. “Don’t get complacent.” I know. I know. My wits are still about me, I’m ready, but it’s just easier to make my life easier sometimes. And nothing really happens in this small town. Hell, there’s only 4 of us local cops. Thankfully we do have some help from the County. And by help we usually just let them handle most of our issues. They’ve got the equipment and resources so, fuck it. I’ll happily go and take care of dog off leash calls and folks complaining about their neighbor’s grass being too high. I’ve had my fill of Policing already. But that’s a story for another time.
1711, station 9, I’m up.
10-4.
County 3, show me pulling up.
10-4.
That’s weird, I don’t see that black and yellow sheriff car anywhere close- oh, here we go. Maybe CAD is messing up. It showed county 3 like 2 miles away just a minute ago. Time to get this dumb shit over with.
With a creak of the open driver side door and a creak in the back, I get my happy ass out of my cruiser. The back that sounds and feels like a 50-year-olds. Which would be fine if, you know, I was 50. I’m 33. It doesn’t feel like it.
The headlights dim from the County car. We’re parked with both our bumpers facing each other. Usually doesn’t happen like that, but, whatever, I guess. Not very tactical but not like we need to be. The door opens..
“Hey Rami-“
A tall, built guy steps out, towering out of the car. How the hell does he even fit inside? I’ve never seen this dude. He looks like god dang Arnold.
“Oh, hey bud,” I offer, “I figured Ramirez was County 3 tonight. I’m Happy.”
Obviously not my name, but it was a name given to me when I was back in SWAT. Another lifetime ago. And I loved that name, so I kept it. Just easier than getting too personal.
Arnold looked at me and broke an awkward smile. Kind of an odd first encounter from a fellow lawman. He pulled his shades up and placed them on his immaculate high and tight fade. It’s like 2 am, so that’s kind of weird. Lot of weirdness already. Maybe I’m just tired.
“Hey brother. Arnold. I used to cover the south end but asked to be out here. I hear it’s pretty chill.”
I do a slow nod and make sure to keep a tight smile. Inside my head I’m thinking “are you freaking serious, your name actually IS Arnold?” Straighten up. “Good to meet you, man. Guess we should cut the pleasantries and check out this house, eh?”
Arnold nods, checks his gear and extends his left hand, palm up, towards the house. A “Go ahead cochise,” gesture. I smirk and make my way up to the front of the house. “So, I was expecting Ramirez, did she just call in, or?”
“Not sure. Really don’t know much about her to be honest. I heard you two were pretty close though.”
This hit me in a weird way. Full disclosure, we are just friends. Partners in blue. I stopped, not really meaning to. I could feel Arnold stop himself from running into me, as he was not at all expecting me to stop walking toward the front of the house.
“I’ll say this. I don’t know what that means, but I’ll let it go. Don’t mention her again, ok?” I turned my head slightly, just to see his facial reaction.
“Whooooah, man. I’m sorry , I meant literally nothing by that. Just heard you guys worked good together. I won’t mention it again.”
I went over what I wanted to say in my head. I shouldn’t come off like this to some new boot just out of the academy. That shouldn’t have struck a nerve like that. These uniforms are hot. And uncomfortable. Add on the vest, the belt, the camera, the gun, etc. etc. I could feel the heat coming from my chest, out of my collar, toward my face. Disgusting. Like every day. Even when it’s winter, it’s hot wearing this shit. What happens when you’re hot and uncomfortable all the time? You get irritated. You get aggressive. Thankfully I learned a small trick from Joe Rogan. Breath. Open your mouth a little bit, and breathe. Get oxygen into your brain to calm yourself down. It worked.
“It’s fine… sorry to go off, that was uncalled for. I’ll buy your big ass a donut after this as an apology.”
Arnold laughed. Even though this Adonis could clearly fold me into a pretzel (and I’m no small guy myself,) he seemed to have some sense and recognize that I’m just not the type to be played around with. I appreciated that.
“Ok, good.” Something from the original call hit me just then. The burglary alarm tripped the front door and a basement motion. If someone has motion detectors set up, they have them in every hallway, every room. Usually. How could you conceivably break into the front door and then set off no alarms until the basement?
1711, Station 9.
9, go ahead.
Myself and County 3 will be checking the area.. shit.
Damnit. I hope that didn’t make the air. Between mentally sparring with myself and dealing with this newcomer, I didn’t notice the front door to 1300 Roosevelt was wide .. fucking .. open. I don’t think this is going to be a usual 10-90.
1711, Station 9, apologies. We have a front door open. Myself and 3 are going to make entry.
9 copies. Do you need additional units?
I’ll advise. We should be all set.
“You sure? Maybe having another car might be a good idea?” The big Oak says.
I stood frozen in place, not taking my eyes off of the front door. I’ve never been to this address. No issues. Why tonight. What has happened tonight. “No. We can handle it. You up to it?”
This always gets the rookies. They can’t have their pride be broken so early in their career. He rolls his head from side to side, and flexes his chest, probably involuntarily, but funny either way.
“Fuck yea I’m up to it.”
That’s what I thought.
Walking up to an open door is always going to be dicey. Little behind the curtain disclosure here. From day one to day 11,000, you will ALWAYS be afraid when you walk into a house. Door open, door closed, doesn’t matter. No one calls the Police to say “Hey, I’m having a really good day, I just wanted to let you know.” Something wrong has to happen for me to be called. For me to be standing here right now.
As I attempt to bang on the open door and announce that Police are coming in, it moves slightly. I didn’t touch it. At least I don’t think I did. Shit.. either way I don’t have time to think about it. Focus.
POLICE, if there’s anyone inside, make yourself known. Silence. Arnold, are you behind me? I hear a short shuffling and feel him moving to my side. I quickly glanced toward him. Damnit, son, get your gun out. We could be dealing with anything.
“Sorry,” he says as I hear his service weapon getting taken out from his holster. “I’m ready.” “Stay on me and do as I say. We have an open room with a hallway slight left. Looks like two or three rooms ahead, can’t exactly tell.” I feel him shake his head and grunt something.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about Arnold’s demeanor has changed.
“Ok, I’m moving toward the hallway, keep your eye on the room. When I move up toward the hallway, you look behind those couches. We proceed slowly, and he indeed does as I say. The living room is clear. When I feel him come back, I move up to the first room.
POLICE, announce yourself.
Annnnooouuunce yoooourself..
Every hair on my body stands on end. Something answered me. The voice sounded human, but off. Like something trying to sound human. Its tone was mocking.
“What.. what the hell was what?” Arnold said in a hushed tone.
SHH. What kind of an answer would I have for that? I’m just trying to think of where it wa-
Thump thump thump THUMP THUMP
Footsteps. Running away from us, damnit I hope it was away from us. It must have been? I’m too confused.
“Fuuuuuck man, what is all this?” My partner that I just met 10 minutes ago said. Too loudly, I may add.
Just then the same footsteps appeared to be overhead. Wait.. is there a second floor to this house? How can’t I remember that? I might have considered Arnold’s questioning of having another unit here if there was more space to search. I thought it was a ranch house. I take a pause to get my mental back. “Ok,” I said out of the side of my mouth to Arnold, like it would make him hear it better. “We know someone is here. We can’t just stop searching though. I’m going to open this door and you contact, ok?”
He nods. I look over him quickly, doing a silent “1,2,3,” countdown and then rip open the door. He draws, and sees.. stairs. I took a deep, stressful breath. And we have a basement here too. Just keeps getting better. Perfect. Now we have a real issue. We can’t just go upstai—
Station 9, 1711 status check
Hach-e mach-e, I gasped. Damn radio scared the shit out of me. And let’s just ignore the fact that I actually said hach-e mach-e. That must have been what I said as a kid when I got scared.
Deep breath. 1711, Station 9, we are secure and working. Please send another unit, we have possible suspect in home.
We’ll try, we have all units tied up right now
1711 copy.
Well that’s perfect. Ok, back to the present. We can’t just leave but we have to be as safe as possible searching a house with just two people. “Ok, big guy. You stay here and hold this basement. I know we should search every room, but we don’t have time for that right now. I’m going up stairs to search for our suspect.” Oak just stares at me, trying his best to remain brave. No shame big guy, we’ve all been there.
Remaining vigilant, I made my way upstairs. At the base I, again, made my announcement. “SHOW YOURSELF AND HAVE YOUR HANDS VISIBLE”
ShoooOoOOw YOURssssself…
Now I’m just getting pissed. This can go so wrong, but I’ve always been good at using anger to remain focused and hyper aware. But that doesn’t mean this is still creepy as fuck.
Leading by the light equipped to my handgun, I made my way up the stairs. Lucky for me it’s corner fed right, which means there’s only one side to go once you reach the second floor. I’ll take any victory I –
BANG
I draw in that direction. My streamlight sees one closed door. What the fuck kind of second floor has ONE room.
Tap… tap…. Tap….
Guess it doesn’t take the smartest of cops to realize where my guy is. I yell out downstairs. “I got ‘em here man, just hold that basement and call again for an extra unit.”
No response.
HooOOOOld the … the.. BAAsemeeeeeent..
This one was different. It sounded like some old scary story where the mimic alien thing is trying to actively learn human speech. Fuck this. Without thinking I booted the door with everything I had. Perfect connection. The door flies open, revealing a child’s room. Kind of. There’s a mattress on the ground, the kind would fit into a crib. There was a lamp in the corner, with some kind of children’s cartoon characters adorning it. What there wasn’t, was a person in here.
“He needs help.”
Something whispered into my ear. The goosebumps on my flesh almost hurt. I holster and fly back down the stairs to Arnold. I’m sure it’s nothing but.. Arnold’s not there. The basement door remains open.
A million thoughts race through my head, like it’s 100’s of Daytona 500’s, and they’re all going different directions, racing at speeds of well over 200 mph. That’s a lot of numbers. Focus. How many times have I said that to myself tonight. Focus.
First thought: leave. Shameful thought. He might be hurt or in trouble down there. Second thought. Call once again for immediate backup. This I actually tried.. and the radio does not transmit. Perfect. How many times have I said that tonight. Clearing my mind, I know what I have to do. I have to go downstairs.
GooOOOoo DoooOOwn…
“Fuck you.” That’s my response.
Each stair creaks. Almost more worried about falling through and splitting my fat head than what lies beneath. But they hold. And now I’m on the .. dirt floor? No one has a basement like this in this neighborhood. I was so enamored on the dirt floor that I almost didn’t register that a dark figure moved quickly from left to right in front of my eyes. Time to be stupid or brave. Maybe both.
“ARNOLD… are you down here, are you ok?”
I’m ok…. I’m hurt.. follow my voice… I can’t move.
Good, he’s ok. “Where are you?”
Right… in.. front of you. Help me. I can’t..
I’m coming buddy. I can’t reach dispatch, they must be –
Station 9, 1711… Station 9, 1711? ..
Station 9 TO 1711, PLEASE RESPOND
County 3, Station 9, I’ll swing by his location. Just send me his whereabouts.
Copy that County 3, thank you Deputy Ramirez

No note, additional text, etc. Just the business card for one of their Sergeants.
Canvassing, perhaps? Voter registration attempt? No idea. Wondering if anyone else has had this happen lol.