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Beaverton, OR

September 24th, 2021

He had indeed ended up puking in the cop’s car. When the young officer had insisted that he’d be making him clean it up it was all he’d been able to do to stifle a laugh. There were few, if any, cases in which a man or woman about to be taken in and booked would be made to clean out a cop car, at least none that were documented. Plus, given that every dash cam that had ever been put into a cop car was on all the time he kind of doubted that the young officer would avoid a severe scolding for talking to a compliant perp in such a manner would be given much leeway. Of course he didn’t know the young man and didn’t care how he was talking to him,. he’d passed out on the ride to the jail.

Thankfully he woke up by the time they arrived since he didn’t want to be yanked out of the car by his wrists. That hurt too much and only made the cops even angrier when they had to expend the extra effort. He could remember the complaints and trouble he’d stirred when he’d broken a few fingers and sprained a wrist or two trying to get someone out of the back of his cruiser. In his defense though he’d usually brought in a lot of people that were doped up or so belligerent that pain was an afterthought. They’re main goal had been to be as difficult as they could be.

It took a while to get him booked, fingerprinted, and then put into the system. When they’d seen who he was though the questions had started.

“You were a cop?”

“What brought you to this sorry mess?”

And his favorite, “Is there anyone you can call?”

“Yes,” he’d replied honestly, “But she wouldn’t answer. No one I know would answer.”

It was true, he’d been cut off from everyone, no matter many times he’d told the truth, his friends, his co-workers, even his family had cut him out of their lives. His life wasn’t the type of story where he’d lost everything and yet still knew that people loved him. He’d taken to burning every bridge he could in his life, hell he’d even done it with his kids, who’d loved him as much as they could until they couldn’t take it anymore.

So he’d been booked and shuffled off to a cell which had thankfully only had one other occupant in it. That occupant had been sleeping on the bottom bunk, or had at least been resting his eyes. He’d shrugged and made his way painfully to the top bunk, grimacing every time his muscles flexed as he finally made it to the top. Setting down his sleeping mat and thin but serviceable blanket he’d then settled back and just waited for the call to mealtime.

That was about all you do in county unless you had other methods of distraction.

(to be continued)

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