The one that got away . . .
Yeah, we all can probably relate to that one. What’s that old line? “Of all the words of tongue and pen, the saddest of all--- What might have been.”
I probably misquoted it, but you get the idea.
I know you’re probably thinking I’m talking about a lost love, but I’m not actually. When I think about the one that got away, a lot of “ones” come to mind. There’s Tiffany Smith, a girl I arrested back when I was working a plainclothes unit specializing in property crimes. We grabbed this girl, who was part of a ring using stolen credit cards. The case evolved over a couple of exhausting days with my team trying to chase down these people using stolen credit card at various stores. It culminated when we finally intercepted and arrested this new girl (a novice or “mule” whom the ring leaders had sent in to use one of the cards). The girl identified herself as “Tiffany Smith,” which I figured was a false name. How did I know this? Two knuckleheads (a man and a woman claiming to be her relatives) showed up shortly after we got to the station wanting to bond her out. I mean, she hadn’t even made any phone calls yet. I knew they were in on it. I asked them whom they were looking for.
“Tiffany Smith,” they replied.
“What’s her real name?” I asked.
“Tiffany Smith,” they replied again.
This convinced me even more that Tiffany was using a fake name, and I told them she wouldn’t be released until I found out her real name. Things escalated into an argument and they called me quite a few derogatory terms and demanded my name.
Now remember, I was in plainclothes, so my name tag was in my locker. Nonetheless, when a citizen asked for an officer’s name, he’s bound by his code of ethics to give it to them.
So I did.
I smiled and said, “My name is . . . Tiffany Smith.”
Tiffany Smith?... Is that you?
Another one I remember is Steven Rhames. Rhames was just out of prison when he was in our shopping mall ripping off Victoria’s Secret. He had an accomplice who had the merchandise, and my partner went after her. The clerk gave me a half-assed description of the second offender (“A big black guy”). I found a guy sort of matching the description and stopped him. I was in plainclothes and this guy was obviously in a hurry. I still had no positive identification and wasn’t completely certain he was the guy based on the vague description. I identified myself as a police officer and told him to stop and show me his ID. I’d hoped to escort him back to the store but the guy wasn’t having any of it. He continued walking and refused to comply with my orders. Seasoned criminals, especially those who have a lot of experience in breaking the law, usually have an innate ability to read other people’s body language and Rhames must have picked up on my indecision. I grabbed his arm and the fight was on.
We were on the upper level of the mall and it quickly turned into one of the most violent physical encounters I’d ever had. I couldn’t get to my radio to call for help. I still remember as we were dancing this mall security guard suddenly appeared screaming into his radio. I kept wondering why he wasn’t helping me, then it dawned on me. Most of the mall guards knew me, but this kid was brand spanking new. And I was in civilian clothes and he must have thought this was just a fight between patrons. So he stood there watching. I can still remember the flashes of his excited face as my adversary and I fought.
I finally got behind Rhames and tried to encircle his neck so I could choke him out with one of my patented rear naked strangle holds. But Rhames was an extremely adept street fighter. He tucked his chin down on his chest not allowing my arm to find its path. Then he did something I didn’t expect: He pushed backward against the second story railing trying to knock me over the top. It was about a thirty foot drop onto solid marble so I held on tight, whispering in none too uncertain terms that if I went over, he was going with me. He smashed me into the railing again. We bounced hard onto the floor and I ended up on top. We struggled for what seemed like hours, although it was probably only about thirty seconds, until I finally got him in a full Nelson wrestling hold and held him. As I looked over my shoulder with Rhames thrashing under me, I saw the uniformed police officers running down the corridor toward us. I said later that I finally knew how the wagon train people felt when the cavalry arrived to chase off the Indians in those old western movies.
Anyway, just like Tiffany, Rhames never showed up for court, and a bond forfeiture warrant was issued. Although he was positively identified through his fingerprints, he was from Indiana and never got caught in Cook County again, thus avoiding those geographical boundaries of the warrant. So he’s another one of those who got away. But at least, as Marshal Dillon used to say, he stayed the heck out of Dodge. <Grin.>
Don't even *think* about settin' foot 'round here ever again...
------------------------------
(Aside: Speaking of things that you don’t want to let get away, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the PSWA (Public Safety Writers’ Association) annual conference in Las Vegas on July 14th through the 17th. It’s at the Orleans Hotel and you don’t have to be involved in public service to attend. It’s a great little conference with a lot of nice people. So don’t let that one get away.)
