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Sheriff's Calls

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An Offbeat Look at Area Crime

 

From the Art Crimes Division

SOUTH JELLISON STREET — Not one to tread lightly, the tire store manager asked JCSO to get their investigators rolling. On the morning of Aug. 2, he told deputies, a “customer” parked in his lobby had availed himself of the crayons and coloring books the store provides for the entertainment of its younger “customers.” After scribbling for a while, the “customer” moved on down the road. Curious to see what the young Rembrandt had been working on, the manager paused to admire his work and felt instantly deflated. The masterpiece featured one blue stick figure marked “daddy” and another blue stick figure labeled “mommy.” With remarkable assurance, the artist had portrayed “daddy” holding a pistol in his extended hand and “mommy” displaying X’s for eyes and a splash of red crayon. For a thrilling touch of realism, the “customer” added short, bold lines radiating from the gun’s barrel, visually approximating the moment of firing, and a subtle line of dashes tracing the trajectory of the presumed bullet’s flight. Such sublime verity seemed ominous to the manager’s critical eye, and, out of “concern for his safety,” asked deputies to contact the crayon Caravaggio and make sure art wasn’t imitating life. Officers attempted to contact the “customer,” but without success.

 

The Petit Privateer

WEST KEN CARYL AVENUE — Sailing eastbound on the evening of Aug. 4, Nuestra Senora de Atocha was approaching the C-470 on-ramp when an Infiniti SUV hove alongside and somebody within pitched an article of jetsam out of the vehicle’s aft starboard porthole. The object, “about the size of a small river-rock,” she told deputies, whanged off of her keel, and the vessel has been “making a knocking noise and leaking fluid” ever since. De Atocha took a license plate number and asked deputies to fire a shot across its bow. Officers quickly located the Infiniti moored in a berth on Rangeview Drive and asked its skipper to explain himself. Cap’n Infiniti told officers that neither he nor his wife had thrown anything from their vehicle, but it was within the realm of possibility that their mildly rambunctious 6-year-old daughter, who’d been traveling in steerage, had. Either way, he said, they’d been completely surprised when de Atocha screeched up at the next stoplight and hailed them in salty fashion. “What the (frigate)?” Infiniti recalled her screaming. “(Frigate) this and (frigate) that, etc. … !” Not sure what de Atocha’s problem was, the couple steamed home and thought nothing more about it until the deputies dropped anchor in their driveway. It was Infiniti’s off-the-cuff opinion that nothing their little bosun’s mate was physically capable of heaving out the car window would likely cause the kind of damage that de Atocha described, but he was willing to hear her out. Since what, if anything, had struck de Atocha below the waterline was unknown, and as the county brig doesn’t offer accommodations suitable to 6-year-old pirates, and because the officers deemed the incident an accident in any case, they advised de Atocha that she’d have to take her case to a civil court of inquiry.