Friday, December 08, 2006
Remembering a Bizarre Encounter
(1)
Rereading the posts from Tuesday (below - not above) was interesting in the usual sense that they were only dimly remembered. But the encounter with the 'drug detectives' was of special interest because while I remembered the incident intensely I remembered few of the details. For example, I did not remember that I had declined to be interviewed, but that they had pressed the issue, insisting on an interview and even providing a phone number I could call to 'verify' their 'authenticity.' (The phone number, by the way, turned out to be the same ACSD phone number which is written on a more or less permanent note hanging on one of the kitchen cabinets.)
Frankly, I had serious doubts about those 'detectives' at the time. They seemed phoney to me:
(1) They had not called ahead but had arrived in the middle of the night. Furthermore they had arrived after I had been boozing for about five hours. Excellent timing.
(2) They refused to describe their 'agenda.'
(3) They refused to allow me to inspect their badges up close. They apparently would not trust me to give their badges back to them.
(4) The 'officer' who interacted with me seemed to be either Hispanic or Arabian, and had a slight, unidentifiable accent. (By the way, I could see the other 'officer' through the opening. He was about ten feet East, walking in circles with what appeared to be a cell phone held to his ear.)
These warning signs prompted me to take self-defensive measures. I went into the bedroom and picked up my .357 revolver (I upgraded the Detective Special .38 some years ago but that is another story). I woke up Kootch because I could not find the voice recorder (I later found it). I then carried on the conversation with gun in hand, fairly drunk.
Rereading the posts from Tuesday (below - not above) was interesting in the usual sense that they were only dimly remembered. But the encounter with the 'drug detectives' was of special interest because while I remembered the incident intensely I remembered few of the details. For example, I did not remember that I had declined to be interviewed, but that they had pressed the issue, insisting on an interview and even providing a phone number I could call to 'verify' their 'authenticity.' (The phone number, by the way, turned out to be the same ACSD phone number which is written on a more or less permanent note hanging on one of the kitchen cabinets.)
Frankly, I had serious doubts about those 'detectives' at the time. They seemed phoney to me:
(1) They had not called ahead but had arrived in the middle of the night. Furthermore they had arrived after I had been boozing for about five hours. Excellent timing.
(2) They refused to describe their 'agenda.'
(3) They refused to allow me to inspect their badges up close. They apparently would not trust me to give their badges back to them.
(4) The 'officer' who interacted with me seemed to be either Hispanic or Arabian, and had a slight, unidentifiable accent. (By the way, I could see the other 'officer' through the opening. He was about ten feet East, walking in circles with what appeared to be a cell phone held to his ear.)
These warning signs prompted me to take self-defensive measures. I went into the bedroom and picked up my .357 revolver (I upgraded the Detective Special .38 some years ago but that is another story). I woke up Kootch because I could not find the voice recorder (I later found it). I then carried on the conversation with gun in hand, fairly drunk.
