**DISCLAIMER – all stories in this series are true. The names of suspects, victims and officers involved have been changed to protect their identity. The opinions expressed are mine only, and do not reflect the policies or opinions of any of my former employers or co-workers.**

Several months ago, I was a guest on my friend Karl’s radio show. Somehow we got around to the topic of my former career in law enforcement, and I told a few stories on the air. This turned out to be pretty popular, and since then I’ve had several people suggest that I write about them. I thought that was a great idea, not only for my blog, but for me. This way when I’m old and drooly, I’ll be able to have some hot male nursing home assistant read them to me and I can remember the good ol’ days.

My path to law enforcement was more of an accident than anything else. Sure, it runs in my family, but only on the male side. My great-grandfather was Police Chief in Alexandria, Louisiana for years, my maternal grandfather was a cop in Alabama, and my uncle was in law enforcement as well. One of our dear family friends was also Sheriff of a neighboring county who went on to become a state representative before dying in a tragic plane crash. He was one of my heroes and I’m glad he got to see me start down the path that he himself had started on. I ended up enjoying it, and made the natural progression to a Reserve Officer while still in college getting my Criminal Justice degree. I worked as a dispatcher and a corrections officer as well, and in 1993 became a full-time criminal sheriff’s deputy with the Pearl River County Sheriff’s Department.

In 1993, I was dispatching for the Sheriff’s office when one of our deputies was killed in an on-duty traffic accident. A few days after the funeral, I was summoned to the Chief Deputy’s office. On the way, I kept thinking “Uh-oh, who did I piss off this time ? ” Walking in I saw the Chief, the Sheriff and the Captain over patrol. That’s where my illustrious career with PRSO began. *sarcasm* A few days later, I was handed the keys to an old patrol car and away I went. Curious about my training ? I rode around with the sheriff for about an hour and learned where the “north” and “south”ends were. Our county was split into two ends, because we had two deputies on duty on a 12 hour shift. Here’s the problem – the size of the county is 819 square miles …. and that’s kinda big. The population was not that huge, so that helped, but many times you could get a call on the other end of the county that would take you literally 30 minutes to get to. And depending on where the other deputy was, 80% of the time you were going on these calls alone. Needless to say, getting called to a possible prowler, shooting or domestic call at midnight and going all alone isn’t exactly the safest way to do it, but we all knew what we signed up for when we joined the department. And usually if you weren’t on a call of your own, you headed towards your partner’s call just as a precaution.

These days cops are spoiled. They have portable radios, cell phones, computers in their cars, GPS, and usually two or three other cops to go along with them on calls. Not us, not in 1993. We didn’t have portable radios, or “walkie-talkies” as some people call them. Once we left the car, that was it. We didn’t have cellular phones, and if we did , they were usually a bag-phone that stayed in the car. The protocol at that time was after you were at a call, the dispatcher would wait ten minutes and then call the house that the incident was at and ask if you were ok. If they didn’t get an answer they would eventually wake someone up or call the nearest city police department and have them send someone out when they weren’t busy. Not the safest method either, and when I think back now at all of the situations I went into that could have ended up with my name in the obituaries it makes my skin crawl. But, that’s what cops do. I also had a car that had a light bar that was kind of moody – it would run when it felt like it. If it went out while I was running code ( lights and sirens ) to a hot call, I just reached out the window and banged it a few times with my flashlight and it would start working again…..and GPS ? Our version of GPS was the caller telling us to “turn left at the Smith’s barn” or ” you know where old Bobby Joe So and So used to live.” Once I was driving around and had a lady flag me down who asked me what I was “doing way out here” and I told her I was just patrolling. She then informed me that I was about 15 miles into the next county. Whoops.

I was the first female full-time deputy in our county, which at that time, in rural Mississippi, was pretty rare. Even in my own department. When I went to the Academy( two years after I started on the road) I found out that some of the guys I worked with were placing bets on whether I would make it or not. I did, and along the way placed second academically and 8th out of 52 in physical training. And once I kicked a few asses and showed them I was able to handle myself on calls they pretty much shut up about me being a woman. Especially when those asses were theirs. Law enforcement is like a family. A big dysfunctional one. But it’s like no other – we can hate each other one second and take a beating or a bullet for each other the next. And then we get up, dust ourselves off and do it again. It’s like I had a bunch of big brothers that I worked with and despite their teasing would kill for me. The saying “we all bleed blue” is true. I’ve worked in other lines of work where they say “we’re a family”, but they’re not. Not like that. And until you strap on a gun and a badge and get a crappy little paycheck for putting your life on the line everyday, you just don’t understand. That’s why I get so fired up at the way the media and people in general often judge’s law enforcement’s actions from just a video tape or storied hysteria from a “witness”.

So that’s a start to my story of how I became the first “she-deputy” of Pearl River County, Mississippi. Next time I’ll tell you about how I got that nickname, and about my first call. It was a doozy.

Today on the news I saw where a Killer whale killed a Sea World trainer in Orlando. Many people are up in arms , wringing their hands and saying “Oh, euthanize that whale!” “That poor woman” ” What a savage beast” !!

Duh.

I’m sorry, but didn’t anyone see “Orca” ? They are killer whales ….. and taken by man and locked away into something that probably looks to them like a giant bath tub for our entertainment. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some flag-waving PETA member or anything, but I am not one who gets surprised if a creature of any sort reverts back to their natural instincts. Dogs bark, snakes bite and killer whales ….well, given the chance they’ll shake you right outta your shoes. I also know that Sea World and other organizations like it do so much good for injured wildlife and that many of the animals they save have to be kept in captivity to save their life, killer whales included. I don’t agree that they should be put on display to entertain us, and I don’t think anyone should be surprised when one of them hurts a human being who knew the risks of working with something whose natural instinct is to kill.

In the words of Tim Wilson, never fry bacon in your birthday suit.

It’s common sense.

And I think we’re running out of it.

Yesterday I was a hostess at my cousin Rachel’ s baby shower. Most of my family and lots of lifelong friends were there and in addition to the oohing and aahing over all of the baby stuff, there was lots of oohing and aahing over my face, which is still purple. My other cousin, who hosted the party at her home, knocked it out of the park as usual with the planning and prep. I forgot my camera so my pics were limited to what I could get with my iPhone, but I did get a few good ones.

Mom to be  …….

Opening the aforementioned stuff …..

Noms ……

Now, yall know that I don’t know nothin’ bout birthin’ no babies …… but I do know how to throw a party. Imagine my delight when I opened the freezer to find ice for the margaritas and found this …..

Totally not my idea, but it could have been ……

Margarita anyone ?

I’m doing a lazy blogger Friday post and giving yall a bullet post to catch up on a few things….I promise, more snarky writing and adventures next week, as well as the start of my weekly blog series about when I was a “she-deputy!”

• My eye is still aubergine and my face is still swollen. I am apparently immune to Darvocet because OWWWWWCCH.
• Beaux finally went to the canine dermatology specialist this week. He had blood work, thyroid tests and 4 skin biopsies. The results are being sent to Cali-I-For-Nia, and for what I paid these people for the appointment I could have gone on vacation out there. Once a week I give him a four-step bathing too, along with an ear flush, and – he is also taking 3 different pills twice a day, one of which is a human pill for anxiety. Apparently, in dogs it counteracts itching. Hmm. Next time I’m depressed, I’ll just pour myself a bowl of Kibbles and Bits.
• I have training for work tomorrow which I’m excited about because I hope it means I am headed toward my goals there.
• Probate is still in flux , but either way, I’ll be ok, and I just keep thinking that karma is a boomerang.
• I’m still exercising but I need to kick it up a few notches because I have been lazy the last two weeks and let excuses de-rail me.
• I am super excited because Amazing Race and Survivor both started recently ! And yes, I am a reality teevee ho-err. If I ever get back in shape I am going to try out for TAR with another crazy widow I know !
• I got TWO great blog awards in the last week, and once I stop being a re-re and figure out WordPress I’ll put them on here – thanks Ladies !!
• I’m letting my hair grow out because I’m looking for a new style. Something easy and simple that I can just blow and go. **giggle**
• I’m helping my family host a baby shower for my cousin Sunday. It’s hard for me to celebrate a new life when I’m mourning two others. That makes me feel like a shitty person. I hope she understands.
• I am looking forward to getting away on the “deathaversary” next month, and even more that one of my favorite internet friends and hopefully more will be going with me. At first, I wanted to be alone, and now, I feel strongly that I should be with people that make me smile.
• If you are reading this on Saturday it’s been 11 months today since Gregory died. This is the first month I’m not giving that day a blog post of it’s own. I don’t know if that’s progress or denial.
• And that’s all I have to say about that.

Have a swell weekend y’all !

I’ve always been the clumsy one. I blame the fact that I was tagged with the title of being “pigeon – toed” as a child , and it settled itself into my psyche and often reappears in the form of two left feet.

I fell off the roof of our house when I was 4 after wondering where the ladder that was leaned against it went to. That required several stitches and lots of neosporin as I took a header into a pretty large bush.

At 8 I ran my bicycle into a garbage truck. That was parked.

When I was 13 I ran into , and through a sliding glass patio door. A blood transfusion, 184 stitches in my legs, face and head and a few plastic surgeries and I was fine.

On a school trip a year later, I’m the one that fell off of the camel we posed for pictures on at the Great Wall of China.

When first learning to “drop off at the dock” while water-skiing …… I hit the dock and broke the skis.

During a police training session , I had to take my partner to the ground and handcuff him. I did, right on top of my hand. I broke my middle finger.

On one of G and I’s first “overnight” trips together, I ran into the hotel desk in the dark and broke my toe.

One Mardi Gras I was “over-served”  *cough*  and was attacked by a swinging bathroom door and the subsequent tile floor that rushed up to meet my head. This required stitches and resulted in a nasty black eye. Two days before I was to speak at a Battered Women’s Shelter.

There are many other “accidents” I can think of, and some I’m sure I can’t, but bottom line is, I’m an accident waiting to happen.

And now, this …….

Last night I went outside with the dogs and when coming back in, I slipped as I starting coming back up my entryway steps and face-planted myself right into one of my brick columns. Totally sober, totally clumsy. I knew it was bad because I could feel blood just pouring down my face and so I called the FD and asked them to send the rescue truck over to take a look. Their immediate diagnosis was for me to go to the emergency room, so I drove myself to the ER because I sure didn’t feel like spending almost $1000 for an ambulance to take me 1.5 miles, one way.  Upon arrival, blood still everywhere and showing no signs of stopping, the nice nurse at the intake station (evil bitch from hell) looked at me , handed me a wad of kleenex and told me to have a seat, it would be awhile. Now I’m usually a pretty nice person, but when it involves smacking ones face and head against a hard object I’d say I have a very good reason to have cause for concern. There were three other people in the waiting room, none bleeding and dripping all over the nice shiny floor. After a few minutes of sitting there I walked up and asked the nurse if I could see someone because I was feeling a bit dizzy and was still losing blood. I was also under the impression that at most hospitals, trauma takes precedence over other ailments unless of course it’s a heart attack, stroke, etc. Two of the three people in the waiting room went outside to smoke while I was there, so to me, their needs didn’t seem all that pressing. She sighed loudly, snapped on a glove and tok a look at my face. She then told me that the best thing for me to do was to go home, wash my face with peroxide and take an anti-inflammatory. WTF ?

Ok, I bit. Why ? In her humble medical opinion, that would be better than me sitting there bleeding all over the waiting room floor while waiting for a doctor to tell me the same thing. And, by the time I actually saw a doctor I would have probably stopped bleeding anyway and there wouldn’t be a lot they could do. Mmmkay.

So I left. Not happy with Shelby Baptist Medical Center. Dr. Twitter and I had  a nice long discussion about it, I seemed ok, so I finally went to sleep for a few hours.

This morning I took myself to my doctor’s office, where they saw me in about 5 seconds. CT scan and x-rays of my head were done, and he poked around in the cut , cleaning it all out and deciding that because of the location, it would be better to let it heal without stitches as it’s an avulsion, and do a follow-up with a plastic surgeon later if needed. A lovely tetanus shot, some antibiotics and a prescription for pain pills later and I was on my way home.

Now I gotta make up a good story about what happened so I don’t sound like some lame -ass klutzy foot. Or get called pigeon – toed.