My latest in the "Tales from the Hood" So there I was… …dispatched to a burglary in another officer’s sector. “Cold” calls – ones that have already happened and don’t require immediate emergent response – generally wait for the officer whose sector it falls in to finish what he’s doing. However, that officer was busy, and would be tied up for a while. A “cold burglary” report generally only takes one to two hours, and this person had already been waiting for three hours, so the dispatcher sent me. Most officers complain when that happens to them – loudly; it’s a violation of the unwritten rule to take care of one’s own sector. I never complain, though – the dispatcher sends me, I handle it regardless of where it happened. It’s called being a professional, so I think cops should just handle the calls they’re given instead of complaining all the time. The only thing that gets under my skin worse is cops who complain about having to do any reports, regardless of where it happened. Just what did you think you were signing up for? Anyway, I’ll get off my soapbox. Within a minute or so after I arrived I knew this was more than a cold burglary. The so-called victim was a moron, but it didn’t change the fact that she had been victimized. I could tell she was withholding some important information from me, too. So, I did the standard burglary investigation stuff – photographs, lifted fingerprints, etc. Then I drove her to the substation for a detailed interview. That’s a nice way of saying I was going to interrogate my victim. Have you ever heard of interrogating a victim? Call me a prick if you must, but it turns out it was the right choice. I spent four hours in the interview room with this woman. She was 25, super-stupid (I later confirmed her IQ was less than 70), had given up her baby for adoption, addicted to drugs, husband in the penitentiary, etc. Talk about a messed-up life. I pried the details out of her regarding this “burglary,” which turned out to be much more. It seems she met “some guy called Tweezie” at a bus stop on S. Nevada. For my non-Colorado friends, S. Nevada Ave. is where much of the city’s drug-dealing and prostitution goes on. I never could determine why she was there in the first place. She talked about how Tweezie would get money from people who just passed by – gee can you guess what he was giving them in return for the money? To continue, Tweezie ended up going home with her to her apartment, and he brought one of his friends, too. Together, all three of them smoked crack all night long. My victim voluntarily had sex with Tweezie, then they left to score some more crack. They had either smoked or sold all of it by then. I had my victim describe Tweezie’s physical appearance, because she didn’t know his real name. The name and physical description rung a bell with me; it seemed like I had taken this very report before. I threw that into the back of my brain until the interview was over. My victim continued with her very messed up tale. After scoring some more dope, she and Tweeize went back to S. Nevada and rented a hotel room. There, they had more sex and smoked crack until they ran out again. Then Tweezie started acting violently (he had been awake and smoking crack for two days straight), and convinced her to prostitute herself so they could get more crack. I had to sit and listen (and ask detailed, pointed questions) about the prostitution act, too, step by step. Believe me, it was not something I wanted to hear and I’m sure you don’t either. Let’s just say it happened, shall we? Those of you who work with me can pull up my report if you actually want to know the details. Anyway, Tweezie took all the money she gained from prostituting herself, and bought more crack. Then they checked out of the hotel and went back to her apartment. By this time, Tweezie was super-violent and punched her in the face because she refused to prostitute herself again. Her forehead was swollen by the time I contacted her, which was a few hours after the fact. Colorado law requires that I arrest him under the domestic violence statute because they have had a voluntary “intimate relationship.” Now all I had to do was figure out who Tweezie was. But wait, there’s more to the story. After she got punched, she left her own apartment with two guys inside she hardly knew, both of whom were drug addicts, and went to a friend’s house. Tweezie started calling the friend’s cell phone; he had gotten the number from my victim’s cell phone because she left it at home. The friend told them they were calling the police, so both absconded. The victim came home, then left again. Upon returning home the next time, she discovered that someone had cut her window screen, gone inside, and stolen her stereo. That’s why she called in a burglary report. Here’s the kicker: Tweezie left his clothes in the apartment (with all kinds of drug paraphernalia in the pockets). Under Colorado law, because he had property inside the residence and had spent at least one night there, he was considered a tenant with legal standing in the residence. Yep, that’s what I said. Even though he had never signed a lease and no agreement had been made that established him as a tenant, the law says he was a tenant with as much standing as anyone who had signed a lease. Doh. So if Tweezie was the person who stole the stereo, it was NOT a burglary, because he legally lived there. It was, however, a theft, because he didn’t have any legal right to the stereo. The value of the stereo was not enough to make it a felony, either. I did some more checking, and was able to prove that the victim had been declared legally disabled by the state (mildly retarded, bi-polar disorder, and a host of other problems). That means that we’re all paying for her crack with our tax dollars and her welfare check, by the way. Because I found the documentation to prove she was an “at-risk adult,” that makes the assault against her a felony (remember when he punched her in the face? That would normally be a misdemeanor), as well as the theft of the stereo. Now all I had to do was figure out who he was. I recalled hearing almost the exact same story from another crack-whore a few months ago. I dug through records until I found it – Yep, a guy named “Tweezie” who matched the physical description of my suspect had given crack to a girl for several days, convinved her to prostitute herself, then raped her. In that report, Tweezie was identified and we even knew where he lived. I checked utilities listings, and he still lived there. Cool. Now all I had to do was prove that the previous Tweezie was the same Tweezie I was after on the new case. That I haven’t done, because I ran out of time and had to go home. That’s right, I spent an entire ten hour shift working this case. I’ll let you know how tracking him down goes. When I go back to work tomorrow I’m going to re-contact the victim, have her look at some photos, and pick out her Tweezie. Same street name, same physical description, same M.O., same neighborhood even. Yeah, it’s the same guy, I just have to prove it. One other point of interest. I had taken all of Tweezie’s clothes from the victim’s apartment and placed them as evidence. That means that he no longer had any property there, and had voluntarily vacated – no more legal standing in the apartment. Yeah, I did that on purpose. I’ll hold off on the “doom on you, dirtbag” until the dirtbag is locked up.