By Brian Smith
Special to the Sun
Towards the end of my illustrious career when I was no longer a spring chicken, I was dispatched to a call of suspicious persons inside a condo. Upon arrival, a backup unit and I contacted three young men in the condo. To make a long story short, they lied every time they opened their mouths. They said they belonged to the condo, however they were unable to produce ID or any proof that they belonged. We spoke to several neighbors and finally the complex manager who told us the Condo in question had been vacant for a couple months.
After 15-20 minutes of listening to their untruths, I decided it was time to go for a ride. We arrested all three and handcuffed them behind their back per policy. The primary bad guy was 20 years old, 6’ and 140 lbs. He was wearing sweatpants that were falling off his skinny frame. He asked me several times to tie the draw string for him, but I told him to just hold them up.
As I was walking him to my car, he jerked away from me and broke my grip. He took off running and as soon as he did (don’t forget the handcuffs), his sweatpants fell to his ankles. I let out a little laugh and thought to myself, “It will be a cinch to catch this guy with his pants around his ankles.” Boy, was I wrong. I couldn’t catch this guy and he was running with handcuffs on and pants hanging around his ankles.
Luckily, I was working with a couple younger officers who could surely catch him. I was wrong again, although it did make me feel better that they couldn’t catch him either. As luck would have it, one of my backup officers was able to get close enough to tase the bad guy right in the middle of a dead run. It wasn’t too long after that I decided to retire and leave the police work to the younger officers. -GP