STORY BEHIND THE POEM LITTLE STEVIE

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While cruising around on patrol today, I spotted a suspect vehicle of a person wanted for Attempted Murder.  I called for a plainclothes unit, and Steve Shaw and his recruit trainee Adrian Thomson arrived.  A plan was made and we decided to stake out the house to see if we could spot the suspect.  When the wait proved lengthy, we had decided to phone the house and see if we could get some indication that the suspect was there.

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Prior to Steve making the call, his pager went off, displaying his home number.   Steve’s Mom was in town, visiting from New Brunswick and she was looking after his kids.  Thinking something had happened to them, Steve phoned home.   Steve’s Mom, Gayle, who I have known for many years, is an extremely kind and caring person.  Even more so when it comes to her “Little Stevie”.

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Anyway, Steve had been at home last evening and had a nasty headache.   She was phoning to see if he was feeling ok.   Unfortunately when she called, it was right in the middle of the stakeout, just prior to moving in and attempting to arrest the suspect.   This guy had stabbed a 16 year old boy through the chest, missing his heart by less than half an inch.

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Steve was trying to explain to Mom, that he was just a little busy at this time and couldn’t talk.  Well, unfortunately for Steve, his regular partner Darren Foster heard about it and later over breakfast, the ribbing started.   “Oh Steve”, Darren cooed, “would you like some chicken soup?”.   The laughter grew in volume and the comments grew proportionally.   It finished off with a comment borrowed from Bill Cosby, Dear Sergeant George.  Please let my son Steve come home as he has a headache”.   Signed, Steve’s Mom.

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That finished us.  We were howling by this time and so having gone through a poetry slump since September last year, the poem was born.

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