When I was just starting out in this gig, I could run. Now a 6 minute mile ain't all that great but when your 6' 2" 245 right out of the shower, it ain't bad. Wrestled, Football and Rugby when I got to college. I'm not a track guy. But when you're the new kid out of the academy and the two old guys have between them over 60 years on the road, you're the designeated runner. Oh, yeah their office was the designated smoking area.
So Ralph and Claude got a Warrent. Not just any warrent, but an Agg. Assault on a Police Officer. Tom was a trooper before I got to Little House on the Praire. He transferred downstate to Troop headquarters but would make a special guest appearence when we were short as he know the county. Tom went and assisted Local PD with a domestic. The Domestic involved Keith and a generic female. Keith was a frequent flier and we'd had numerous dealings with Keith. When Tom went in with the locals he and Keith rodoed right off the front porch. Tom got a little messd up and Keith took a ride to the locla crowbar cafe'. Come Prelimanary hearing Keith had bonded out and had escambayed. So the Magistrate issues a Failure to Appear Warrent. Keith's hiding out at his folks place out in the woods. Place is up a quarter mile drive way and I'm riding with Ralph and Claude. Oh Yeah, Unmarked Police car. This particullar one was an all black Dodge Diplomat. Steel Rims, Small hubcaps, All black. Obvious as a drunk on his wedding day. OK, we pull up to the house and I head around back. Designated runner remember. I see this pair of blue jeans and a Levi jacket heading out through the back yard. Keith ain't small, I guess he goes 200 normally but he can scoot. And he's running. I start to shift up through the gears and I see a knife scabbard on his belt. Back in the old days we carried 12 rounds of .357 in speedloaders and a pair of handcuffs. That's it, no radio, No baton, no pepper spray, Taser, ETC. We went to fists quite often. I carried a C Cell Mag light from when I was a Paramedic. Had a Baton Ring and it fit quite nicely. Didn't have it that day. So here we go. I yell at Keith to stand and deliver. He just puts his head down and starts to motor. Claude sees me pull the revolver and yells at me to put the gun away. I yelled back Keith had a knife. So Off we go. Keith has a bit of a head start on me and it's an uphill chase. At some point I'm thinking I'm gonna have to shoot this bastard or he gonna get away from me. Then Keith Stops, I catch up and yell at him to get on the ground. He told me to go pound sand. Ok, Skippy. Remember, No Intermediate tools. I kicked his leg out from under him and down he goes on his face. His hands are up under him and I see the knife scabbard is empty. "Put your hands out to the side!" "Go Fuck youself." At which point I proceed to put the boot in. Tell Him again to put his hands out to the side. He's a little bit more amenable at this point and I cuff him up. Claude and Ralph come chuggin up sounding like two steam locomotives. Two old guys remember, probably smoke a carton of cigs between them a day. Ralph starts to read the Warrent and then says "Fuck it, John just grab him. Let's go"
I field Strip Keith looking for the knife, seems he dropped it when his Mom yelled that the Gendamerie' were here and he ran out of the bedroom. I was all for crating Mom but Ralph and Claude said not too. Keith got 3-5 years in State for that one. Side note Keith saved the life of a Prison Guard while in the joint. Keith was a jerk but he never bitched about getting thumped. Dealt with him on later occasions but you always know were you stood with him. He always knew when we came for him there would be no quarter but when it was over it was done. Damn few bad guys like that anymore.