Shootin' the Breeze

and random targets

Call the Police!

As a prerequisite to reading this post, you should first read the one on the link below.

So Miss Sugar and I have a rental house in a town 50 miles away.  The tenants were to move out by the end of December.  On the last day of the month and of the year, they were to vacate the premises.  On January 1, we arrived at the rental house.  Imagine our surprise that the moving truck parked in the driveway was empty.

I knocked on the door.  It was locked.  I went into the back yard.  The two Mastiffs greeted me.  I walked into the open patio door.  They were not exactly packed up.  I looked around.  I got Sugar to come in too.  She had her camera.  See link. 

 I have been told that the power of my personal presence can be intimidating.  Shucks, I am just a country lawyer.  For some reason, over the years Miss Sugar has gotten the impression that I am a fighter as well as a lover.  She exaggerates about both.  Still, she was concerned when the tenants returned and I had a conversation with the male tenant, whom the police later described as “a large individual with a female companion with blue hair.” 

I might have let it slip during the conversation that I was not pleased that our house had been used to grow marijuana, that we had not given permission for a vent in the roof of the garage, and when the large individual denied the growing of marijuana, I might have inadvertantly called him a liar and encroached into his personal space, at which time he told me that I did not have to get aggressive.  I do recall gently responding that I am very aggressive and, perchance, I may have described myself, with typical self-deprecation, as a mean son of a bitch, without meaning disrespect for my own mother.  It was just a literary tool. 

In a few brief minutes, when I was inside the house and he was loading the truck, there was a knock on the door.  It was two police officers.  They informed me that they had received a call about an altercation.  I said there was no physical alteration, yet, and stated that our tenants were not out as promised, which I realize is a civil matter, and that this is a marijuana grow house, which in other states would be a criminal matter.  They did not seem interested in the latter.  

I thought, “What a weanie, calling the police on me.”

Sugar told me that she is the person who made the call.  I was insulted.  “I could take him, Sugar, you know I can, and you could handle the blue hair chick.”  

“I know.  It was not you that I was worried about.  A murder conviction could interfere with your ability to practice law.”

That Sugar is always considerate of the feelings of others.


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4 thoughts on “Call the Police!

  1. That’s true; ten years in the pen would definitely interfere with your law practice. Oh, what am I thinking? You’d have a captive audience for your legal advice–pardon the pun. Then with time off for good behaviour, you’d be out in no time.

    We could export some of our legal pizzazz to you folks to go with your new laws. In our fair city two fellows went out one evening with a baseball bat looking for someone to beat to a pulp. (Mind you, they were stoned.) Sad to say they did find some innocent passer-by and beat him to death. They got 18 months. (After all they were stoned, so hardly responsible.) Sometimes a person really wonders…

    But even if the police weren’t interested in the grow op, surely damage to property on that scale is a crime? But hereabouts, if you posted such defamatory statements about people, they’re apt to charge you with slander.

  2. My Green Bay Packers should have signed you up to be a defensive lineman. Of course, you probably would have declined the offer since it was not for a linebacker position. On the other hand, if Ms. Sugar were to start a cheerleading squad for them, I am quite sure you would not be offended at their kind offer.

    As for the growing… I won’t get into that.

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