Working patrol almost guarantees an officer will eventually become jaded. Calls that amuse, annoy or amaze you as a new officer simply become “Tuesday” after a few years on the job. The bar gets higher and higher before it becomes something that stands out in your mind. One of the quickest ways to realize this is to have a Ride along with you during your shift. Riders are like having children. Sometimes Riders can remind you just how amazing and hilarious the job is when seen from an outside perspective. One of my riders learned two very valuable lessons during one of these forays…
#1 Mismatched stereotypes can be hilarious
My Rider had come out a few times before and was interested in a career in law enforcement. It was a normal (busy) night on patrol during late November and we were running from call to call. I was dispatched to a physical domestic between a male and his girlfriend. The female had allegedly kicked the male in the head, bit him and then fled the area on foot in an unknown direction of travel. The caller advised it had been approximately 30 minutes since the incident occurred. I comment to my rider that if he had called right away instead of waiting, we could have called a K9 to do a track after establishing probable cause for an assault.
Upon our arrival, I see the victim standing outside the home. He is a tall, chubby, asian male in his early twenties. I can see he is pacing back and forth in the driveway, talking on his phone and sobbing hysterically in a high pitched, nasally voice. It makes a striking dichotomy since he stands about 6’3″ and probably weighs at least 250 pounds. It is strange to see this hulking, slightly goofy dude sobbing openly with big wracking sobs.
My rider and I get out and walk up to the guy who identifies himself as “Cameron.” I ask Cameron what is going on. Sniffling he hangs up the phone and tells me his girlfriend of 3 months “went crazy” on him tonight and kicked him in the head, bit him and fled on foot after an argument. I ask if he knows which direction she went and the male says he doesn’t know where she went after she jumped the neighbor’s fence. I glance over and do a double take. The fence is one of those 8 foot wooden privacy fences. The kind, I would NOT try to go over unless being chased by a large dog. Or maybe three.
A bit incredulous, I ask him to describe his girlfriend. Cameron says her name is “Desarae” and she is blond haired, blue eyed, white female who stands about 4’9″‘ tall and is 90 pounds. I look at the fence and then back at him. I look again at his height and at this point am a bit dubious about his version of events. I ask, “So…she kicked you in the head?” Cameron nods vigorously and points to the side of his head where I could see a small red mark on the side of his temple. Not being able to help myself, I give a little laugh and ask, “So she’s a ninja?”
I have a hard time imagining a 4’9″‘ tall 90 pound blonde woman kicking her 6’3″ boyfriend in the head. Cameron looks a bit sheepish and says, “No she’s a stripper.” For a second I have to bite my tongue and not laugh as I think about the diminutive stripper utilizing her stripper pole dancing flexibility to kick her big doofy boyfriend in the head like she’s spinning around a pole. I ask if “Desarae” is her stage name or real name. Cameron looks confused for a minute and assures me Desarae is her real name. I have to bite back a chuckle at that, since I have never heard a more appropriate stripper name that wasn’t a stage name.
I ask what they are arguing about. Cameron begins to sob and says, “She is so mean to me! I asked her to stop stripping and move in with me. We have been together for three months and I take care of everything for her financially. She called me a ‘pussy’ and just went crazy.” Some pieces of the puzzle are falling into place as I look around the very nice home I am standing in front of and the goofy, chubby guy in front of me. I am guessing he isn’t exactly a Don Juan with the ladies and imagine he probably met her in the strip club where he was throwing around a lot of cash and a sharp smell of desperation.
Mentally shaking my head and knowing nothing I say will make this guy leave this toxic situation, I get the rest of the details. I am going through step by step what happened and when he gets to the part about Desarae biting him on the chest. Half distracted as I write my notes, I ask if he has any marks from the bite. Cameron looks down and says, “Well it was bleeding a little, but it might have stopped.”
I look up from scribbling in my notebook and ask if I can snap a few pictures of the marks. Cameron agrees and we step inside his residence. Cameron lifts up his shirt. For a second I am completely speechless then blurt out, “Holy fuck, she did THAT!?” It did NOT look like a human bite mark. It wasn’t a little nibble or a love bite. It looked more like a Werewolf attack. Cameron had a mauled spot directly over his heart that was approximately 6 inches in diameter. It was deeply bruised and mottled red and purple with dozens of savage bite marks and several areas that were weeping blood. I look at Cameron in amazement and ask how the HELL she could have bitten him that badly?
Cameron starts crying again and says, “I begged her to stop, but she just kept biting me!” I tell Cameron that in order for his girlfriend to chew on him like that she would have been exerting a LOT of pressure and numerous bites. I tell Cameron, “It looks like she tried to eat your freaking heart!” I am completely amazed at this point. How can this even happen? Did he just stand there while she latched onto him like a tick and started chewing through his chest, trying to get at his heart? How did he not just push her away!? I ask Cameron why he didn’t just push his feral stripper girlfriend off him? I assure him if he had pushed her away from him he wouldn’t get into trouble. Cameron just stares at me helplessly and shrugs saying, “She’s my girlfriend.” He looks miserable and pathetic in equal measure.
I finish up the photographs and recorded statement and leave the residence. I advise the other officer who had been checking the area for the unusually nimble, acrobatic suspect that he could clear. As soon as we get in the car, my rider starts to shake. He’s making weird little noises and tears are running down his face. Not knowing if he was having a seizure or something, I ask if he’s okay. As we get around the corner from the house my rider starts to howl with laughter. He is slapping his leg and between gales of laughter, he manages to gasp out, “Midget stripper used her ninja moves…she tried to eat his HEART!…The HATE you have to feel!” and “Bwahahaha! She kicks her 6 foot ASIAN boyfriend who CAN’T FIGHT in the head! And her REAL name is DESARAE!” As he gasps and sobs next to me I realize that he’s right…it truly is hilarious.
The fact that this diminutive stripper beat up her unusually large asian boyfriend who couldn’t defend himself in violation of all established stereotypes WAS pretty funny, even though the young lady was obviously unhinged and needed to be locked up before she chewed through somebody else’s chest cavity. We spent the rest of the evening occasionally laughing over how unusual people are. Little did we know we would be hearing from Cameron and his feral high kicking paramour later in the shift. That was when my rider would learn lesson #2.
#2 You are never unarmed when you’re a savage…
I will continue the tale of the amazingly violent diminutive stripper later this week! It is too bizarre to be able to make up and calls like this remind me why I love my job so much!
Also published on Medium.