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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Action & Adventure
- Subject: Crime
- Published: 03/14/2022
Sheriff Deputy
Born 1954, M, from St Louis Mo, United StatesLet me start with a introduction, my name is Bill Baxter. I am a simple sheriffs deputy in a small county In Missouri. I make a whooping $28,000.00 a year, less than my Dads social security and small pension. I put my life on the line everyday for the people of Cat County.
No one in high school ever expected me to be a cop, for that matter they expected I would find some way to draw disability and live in a shack, with a passel of kids and fat wife with stringy hair.
Somehow meeting their expectations was not on my list, so to my disappointed classmates, I offer you my behind which you are welcome to kiss.
Well I guess if I am going to tell my story I should be honest, I expected to be on disability, marred to cheerleader, in a shack. I might add, I expected she would be a cheating slut and a half dozen kids that not a one would be mine.
After graduation from high school I went Southwest university and had intended to become the real Perry Mason or Ben Matlock. Some day headed to a judgeship, ending with an appointment to the supreme Court. Reality is rarely even a close reflection of our dreams. To that I am a witness to daily.
I watched our big shot basketball players end as drunks and dope heads. Most of those hot, nose in the air, cheerleaders lost their beauty and popularity the day after graduation. Now they are bar room sluts in our counties one bar. Most have been married more then once, might still be but you wouldn’t know by how cheap they can be had for at Pats place.
Yes, you guessed it, Pat was the hottest cheerleader our school ever had and is now a double chinned three hundred pound brown bottle pusher. She still loves showing a lot of cleavage if that helps, and a foul mouth that matches her even fouler bad breath.
She has made a nice living making sure all those star players are now drunks that treat their wives worse than they do the bar room sluts that they remember as hot cheerleaders. Most work at least sometimes at the local saw mill, or cutting logs for the saw mill.
Oh, I know Pats well, as it is a regular stopping place for me, and I smile every time I put the cuffs on those Boys, that used bully me. And when big Joe gets mouthy and I get to wop him on that dumb head of his with my nightstick, my smile is huge and I think someday I might hit him right behind that big floppy ear. Why I haven’t is all the paper work, and I could not bare his mommy’s loud protests and threats.
So as you can see being the local fuzz is not all bad and if vengeance is your game, sometimes it’s mine, one might say it’s a delightful job. For a boy from a poor family and yet to rich for me to get all that free money to finish college. Thus my options were limited, corrections or a cop.
I could not have stood all those rules on corrections officers as they are forced to endure watching inmates pretend guys are girls and look the other way. And doing body cavity searches was also not appealing, not even for those swags in the women's lock up.
At least when I was the one going to do those tasks I could pick the cuties to feel up. The ugly ones and guys I let my flunky partner get those jollies. He was a nephew to our sheriff and not overly bright but a good enough kid.
A good cop even in a small area with small towns still requires common sense. At least a general idea of what is legal or not. For sure the understanding that someone probably has a phone videoing your every action and words.
Thus acts of vengeance must appear justified or where you are dog gone sure there is no witness. If not your the one getting cavities inspected and become the new Jane at the states worse corrections facility.
You must learn the tricks of the trade, like when those fancy radar speed detectors come in, they are certified to be accurate, knowing how to make a slight adjustment and just how to place them at the right angle is an art.
Knowing just where to hide your Patrol car and how often in same places not to get nailed as a speed trap, takes practice. After all practice makes perfect. Knowing who drives what is a big help.
Plus knowing the right people, to them they say you’re a saint, as they inform you of who is doing what. Most often having no idea they just gave up uncle Larry, cousin Tom, or sweet aunt Peggy.
One thing you either love or hate is domestic disputes. They always promise to be at least entertaining and hop up the adrenaline level as they are often a bit dangerous. Yet, hey a cop needs some excitement and stories to tell.
One of my personal favorites was a call for domestic violence at the mayor of Ellen. When I got there his very attractive wife, wearing only see through blue panties was beating Jack up good with a chair leg. Who would have guessed he wore pink women's panties and was a cross dresser.
It was hard not to smile as I dragged her off him and put cuffs on her hands. As she yelled, I am going to kill that ….. ….. …. Can you believe he has been cross dressing and going to Poplar Bluffs gay club? He was even doing it while we dated and on our wedding night.
He was begging her to shut up and forgive him and the promise of changing his ways. She avoided arrest because he would not press charges. Whatever promises went back and forth that night was quickly forgotten in a very messy divorce. Plus his photo mysteriously being passed around town ended his political life. Now he is one of Pats regulars and some say her latest boyfriend.
There are heartbreaking cases as well. When Bobby was beating his wife senselessly because she caught him cheating. Not with one of the counties many willing wives or sluts, but with his ten year old daughter. I was more than a little upset as the evidence supported her claim.
We are not by the law judge or jury, but truth is every cop I know at one time or another became just that. Is it my fault he attacked me? And than tried to make a break, did I have any other choice but to shoot? Now so you know, I did not kill him, they will do worse at our correctional center. Yet, he does not have the equipment to stand up drain his radiator any longer.
Folks often think being a cop is full of heroic action. If not they think we are pigs and scum. Well we might at times not agree with how really bad guys get off due to some slick attorney finding some loop hole. Yet, in most cases I try to be fair.
I stop a lot people speeding, and try to show mercy unless the person is acting like a jerk. I never forget these people elect the sheriff.
We get calls out to farmers places a lot dealing with stuff like a neighbor breaking down a fence. Some make claims of poisoning their animals. We get a lot of calls to homes about kids that won’t mind, run away, or hit a momma.
The highway stops are dangerous, now so many carry guns and have self discipline issues. A angry person at being stopped, and almost all think that is unjust, may grab that gun, and I could end up dead. If they are hauling drugs, they hold to that idea of shoot first and run like the devil is on their tail.
I am still a young guy, only 28. I have been hit over the head by a drunk woman, a broken jaw trying to break up a fight at Pat's. Shot at by a drug pusher, a kid I went to high school with. I have had a broken arm from falling trying to push a stuck car out the snow.
On November 23 I pulled a car over, two kids of 18. They were friendly and I stopped them for speeding. I wrote only a warning ticket, after all I remember being a teen with a heavy foot. As I turned and headed back to my car I felt a sharp pain, then heard the pop.
I went face down on the ground, I could not move. I heard the car speed away. I lay there bleeding, I heard a car stop, a old sounding man on phone, he tried to stop the bleeding. I don’t know how long it was, I could hear the voice of a highway patrolman I knew. A ambulance soon had me loaded and I made it to the Poplar Bluff hospital.
Odd I could not move and I can’t speak. I now lay in this stark white room, I see my momma cry and pop try to comfort her. I pray in my head, I repent and beg God to forgive my own unjust actions and sins. I can’t tell if he hears me, but I recon not, as I still can’t talk or move.
I heard doctor say I am a vegetable and asked to take off the life support systems. Mommy is saying no, Poppa is saying we must. I stopped praying for healing, I just pray God will show me the mercy Jesus showed the thief on the cross.
The nurse is unplugging the machine, I hear the thump and hum stop. I am alive, how long? My sister has my hand, I wish I could feel it, is it night? Has someone turned off the lights, darkness is sweeping over me, I want to shout goodbye……….
Sheriff Deputy(Rich Puckett)
Let me start with a introduction, my name is Bill Baxter. I am a simple sheriffs deputy in a small county In Missouri. I make a whooping $28,000.00 a year, less than my Dads social security and small pension. I put my life on the line everyday for the people of Cat County.
No one in high school ever expected me to be a cop, for that matter they expected I would find some way to draw disability and live in a shack, with a passel of kids and fat wife with stringy hair.
Somehow meeting their expectations was not on my list, so to my disappointed classmates, I offer you my behind which you are welcome to kiss.
Well I guess if I am going to tell my story I should be honest, I expected to be on disability, marred to cheerleader, in a shack. I might add, I expected she would be a cheating slut and a half dozen kids that not a one would be mine.
After graduation from high school I went Southwest university and had intended to become the real Perry Mason or Ben Matlock. Some day headed to a judgeship, ending with an appointment to the supreme Court. Reality is rarely even a close reflection of our dreams. To that I am a witness to daily.
I watched our big shot basketball players end as drunks and dope heads. Most of those hot, nose in the air, cheerleaders lost their beauty and popularity the day after graduation. Now they are bar room sluts in our counties one bar. Most have been married more then once, might still be but you wouldn’t know by how cheap they can be had for at Pats place.
Yes, you guessed it, Pat was the hottest cheerleader our school ever had and is now a double chinned three hundred pound brown bottle pusher. She still loves showing a lot of cleavage if that helps, and a foul mouth that matches her even fouler bad breath.
She has made a nice living making sure all those star players are now drunks that treat their wives worse than they do the bar room sluts that they remember as hot cheerleaders. Most work at least sometimes at the local saw mill, or cutting logs for the saw mill.
Oh, I know Pats well, as it is a regular stopping place for me, and I smile every time I put the cuffs on those Boys, that used bully me. And when big Joe gets mouthy and I get to wop him on that dumb head of his with my nightstick, my smile is huge and I think someday I might hit him right behind that big floppy ear. Why I haven’t is all the paper work, and I could not bare his mommy’s loud protests and threats.
So as you can see being the local fuzz is not all bad and if vengeance is your game, sometimes it’s mine, one might say it’s a delightful job. For a boy from a poor family and yet to rich for me to get all that free money to finish college. Thus my options were limited, corrections or a cop.
I could not have stood all those rules on corrections officers as they are forced to endure watching inmates pretend guys are girls and look the other way. And doing body cavity searches was also not appealing, not even for those swags in the women's lock up.
At least when I was the one going to do those tasks I could pick the cuties to feel up. The ugly ones and guys I let my flunky partner get those jollies. He was a nephew to our sheriff and not overly bright but a good enough kid.
A good cop even in a small area with small towns still requires common sense. At least a general idea of what is legal or not. For sure the understanding that someone probably has a phone videoing your every action and words.
Thus acts of vengeance must appear justified or where you are dog gone sure there is no witness. If not your the one getting cavities inspected and become the new Jane at the states worse corrections facility.
You must learn the tricks of the trade, like when those fancy radar speed detectors come in, they are certified to be accurate, knowing how to make a slight adjustment and just how to place them at the right angle is an art.
Knowing just where to hide your Patrol car and how often in same places not to get nailed as a speed trap, takes practice. After all practice makes perfect. Knowing who drives what is a big help.
Plus knowing the right people, to them they say you’re a saint, as they inform you of who is doing what. Most often having no idea they just gave up uncle Larry, cousin Tom, or sweet aunt Peggy.
One thing you either love or hate is domestic disputes. They always promise to be at least entertaining and hop up the adrenaline level as they are often a bit dangerous. Yet, hey a cop needs some excitement and stories to tell.
One of my personal favorites was a call for domestic violence at the mayor of Ellen. When I got there his very attractive wife, wearing only see through blue panties was beating Jack up good with a chair leg. Who would have guessed he wore pink women's panties and was a cross dresser.
It was hard not to smile as I dragged her off him and put cuffs on her hands. As she yelled, I am going to kill that ….. ….. …. Can you believe he has been cross dressing and going to Poplar Bluffs gay club? He was even doing it while we dated and on our wedding night.
He was begging her to shut up and forgive him and the promise of changing his ways. She avoided arrest because he would not press charges. Whatever promises went back and forth that night was quickly forgotten in a very messy divorce. Plus his photo mysteriously being passed around town ended his political life. Now he is one of Pats regulars and some say her latest boyfriend.
There are heartbreaking cases as well. When Bobby was beating his wife senselessly because she caught him cheating. Not with one of the counties many willing wives or sluts, but with his ten year old daughter. I was more than a little upset as the evidence supported her claim.
We are not by the law judge or jury, but truth is every cop I know at one time or another became just that. Is it my fault he attacked me? And than tried to make a break, did I have any other choice but to shoot? Now so you know, I did not kill him, they will do worse at our correctional center. Yet, he does not have the equipment to stand up drain his radiator any longer.
Folks often think being a cop is full of heroic action. If not they think we are pigs and scum. Well we might at times not agree with how really bad guys get off due to some slick attorney finding some loop hole. Yet, in most cases I try to be fair.
I stop a lot people speeding, and try to show mercy unless the person is acting like a jerk. I never forget these people elect the sheriff.
We get calls out to farmers places a lot dealing with stuff like a neighbor breaking down a fence. Some make claims of poisoning their animals. We get a lot of calls to homes about kids that won’t mind, run away, or hit a momma.
The highway stops are dangerous, now so many carry guns and have self discipline issues. A angry person at being stopped, and almost all think that is unjust, may grab that gun, and I could end up dead. If they are hauling drugs, they hold to that idea of shoot first and run like the devil is on their tail.
I am still a young guy, only 28. I have been hit over the head by a drunk woman, a broken jaw trying to break up a fight at Pat's. Shot at by a drug pusher, a kid I went to high school with. I have had a broken arm from falling trying to push a stuck car out the snow.
On November 23 I pulled a car over, two kids of 18. They were friendly and I stopped them for speeding. I wrote only a warning ticket, after all I remember being a teen with a heavy foot. As I turned and headed back to my car I felt a sharp pain, then heard the pop.
I went face down on the ground, I could not move. I heard the car speed away. I lay there bleeding, I heard a car stop, a old sounding man on phone, he tried to stop the bleeding. I don’t know how long it was, I could hear the voice of a highway patrolman I knew. A ambulance soon had me loaded and I made it to the Poplar Bluff hospital.
Odd I could not move and I can’t speak. I now lay in this stark white room, I see my momma cry and pop try to comfort her. I pray in my head, I repent and beg God to forgive my own unjust actions and sins. I can’t tell if he hears me, but I recon not, as I still can’t talk or move.
I heard doctor say I am a vegetable and asked to take off the life support systems. Mommy is saying no, Poppa is saying we must. I stopped praying for healing, I just pray God will show me the mercy Jesus showed the thief on the cross.
The nurse is unplugging the machine, I hear the thump and hum stop. I am alive, how long? My sister has my hand, I wish I could feel it, is it night? Has someone turned off the lights, darkness is sweeping over me, I want to shout goodbye……….
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Shelly Garrod
03/18/2022Wow Rich, that story pulled at the heart strings. Being an officer in today's world is a very risking job. Putting their lives on the line each and every day. My gratitude and thanks go out to all men and women who work deligently to keep our communities safe. Great story! Absolutely loved it! Well done!
Shelly
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Rich Puckett
03/18/2022Thank you so much! I have a number of police friends and have heard them speak so often of the things they deal with. I am so happy there are men and women that love this country and. Their homes enough to protect us. I also understand they are human, who see and deal with so much that sometimes the frustration can lead them to make a mistake. As a wise man once said, he who is among you that has no sin, throw the first stone. I couldn’t, because I have many mistakes as do we all. Thank you again
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Gail Moore
03/14/2022Rich, for the mother of an ex-police officer, this is a very real story for me.
I was afraid for my son every time he went to work.
That was a great story and true to life :-)
My son turns 40 today. A super special day for us :-)
Please read a story I wrote about him a few years ago.
Title......Friday night.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Rich Puckett
03/14/2022Thank you, I indeed will look up your story. I have several friends that are in law enforcement and it’s a unappreciated low paying job. These folks put their lives on the line for us daily. To many this year have lost that life this year already, and it is heartbreaking. You can tell him he has my gratitude.
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