There is a low growl of discontent among the natives here as to the efficiency of the local constabulary. I can't understand this as the PBPD is the progressive place where seeing eye dogs were placed in front of the cars for the blind deaf cops taht the dogs are sworn to "serve and protect." Knowing even more at this point, let's just up the old ante and give them more guns and explosives and things to play with - that's a smart move, right?
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Now we finally cut to the chase or unchase or to the events that unravelled that fateful day and unravelled us as a family unit. It's
sort of simple, especially by 1990's standards. My wife semi-owns a house. I moved here to
be with her and our children (they were his and now they are mine). I get to yell at them as much
as I want. Just kidding - wouldn't want to get on an HRS list. This hovel we are in was quick deeded to my lovely
wife by her caring parents and the uncaring mortgage company said that the ex's (asshole's)name
had to be on the deed even though they were in the midst of a divorce at the time. Being a creature of habit, he said that he
would sign his half over and never has and he has never made a payment or improvement on this place. We're stuck and made the mistake of looking for houses on a Sunday hoping we'd won the lottery which we hadn't because we're not Cuban and don't "leave in Meeammee." So we see a nice house but can't do a thing as we are stuck in the water with the bit. We see, we like, and the next day it is off to school with her and the kids. My wife is the teacher. I get to sit home and fester and rot. I got drunk and pissed at the whole situation. My wife got home from her school soon after our semi-darling angels did that day and she could see and smell that I was not my usual charming self and sreaked of something other than Halston.
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We sat down
and argued about what to do with "our dump." It got fairly strong on the decibal
side of things but not unmanageable - no threats of violence, just pure frustration
and, on my side, alcohol. My son, Leo, as instructed by his mother in case he hears anything unusual, hears Helen, my wife, and I arguing for the first time ever and he skips out his window to next door to do "the right thing" and calls 911. Our neighbor, Mike, instructs him to tell 911 that I own guns, which I do. Leo does that but says that the guns are not playing a part in anything. Needless to say, here come the cavalry. They do take their time, as usual. My wife is pissed but by now, I have time to get my arms around a toilet bowl and heave, and as mad as she is, she still takes the time to tuck me in and prop me up so that I don't choke on my own vomit and kill myself. Helen's a fairly quick thinker even when hot as a hornet, so she tells the children to pack their bags and that she and them are going to have a blast at a nice hotel to show me how mad they are as hitting me in my wallet hits me hard. Before she can ever act on her plan, an official sort of vehicle with a light show on top wheels up. She is thinking, "Are these some more of my husband's weird friends?" First to the "rescue" was a Jesse Sulter of PBPD. Notice that I do not use the word "officer" as I find it offensive and use it reservedly for those with ability, training, brains, and common sense in the armed forces only. He inquires as to what the problem is and my wife says that there is no problem and does not invite him onto the property. He just comes onto it like a friend of the family and it is Thanksgiving, and he's an invited guest. Then he grabs my wife by the arm and guides here to the backyard for her "safety" as if she didn't know where the backyard was. Perhaps he used to do lawn maintenance on this place and thought that he knew better than she where that area was. Then he told her to sit as if she were a dog. My son was there and confirm all of this. Helen said that she wanted to go back into the house to get our daughter because I was passed-out, and she wouldn't know where anyone was. Jennifer, in her room, finally came out and told everyone that "Dad is asleep." My wife wanted to go in and check on me to mak sure that I was ok. She was told if she tried that she, too, would be arrested for interfereing with "police procedure." Now what exactly is police procedure? Is it a certain way to go to the bathroom? Is it how I am to make love? Is it printed anywhere whre the populace can get a copy to make sure that they never deviate from it and expose themselves to possible arrest? When did police procedure take precedence over the Constitution of the United States of America? I must have been out of the country when that one went down. Sulter now takes command of the situation as a true wanna be hero would. He tells my wife to shut up. Then he informs my family that hte Russian and Chinese SKS rifles that I purchased legally were "sniper rifles." No mention was made that the SKS rifles have been the largest selling hunting rifles in this country over the last decade. Now that boy, true to PBPD form is really up on things in general. More back up was arriving on a steady basis due to the result that Sutler called it in as a hostage situation despite the fact that my wife insisted there was no problem except a possible hangover on my part the next day and that if I was having alcohol related problems then i should be takn to Circles of Care, an alcohol abuse facility in this area. Otherwise she was happy as a pissed off clam with me. This is when the first indications that PBPD is staffed by deaf mutes occured as they heard nothing that she said or that the children were saying to them. The children that I am talking about are 14 and 12 years old. We are not talking about 4 and 2. Then it gets hokey. The police cars arrive with megaphones outside and saying, "Come out with your hands up." The front door is open as is the back door as Helen has taken the keys and that is the only way to lock these doors and she points that out. She gets nowhere. The police, in their own way, wrote this up differently. The arrest report states that "upon arrival" of the units, I barricaded myself in the house. Picture what this states. The cops are outside and supposedly watching while I go like a good little Doug, fetch wood, nails, and tools, and they stand there and let me nail boards to the outside of the windows of the house. It is an odd circumstance that these panels of wood had been up for months (due to approach of Hurricane Andrew) and that can be substaniated by neighbors and photos taken from outside months before.
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