SOUTH OAK WAY — You could call it a preemptive accusation. On the morning of Jan. 7, Girlfriend warned deputies that Boyfriend might be planning to steal a diamond ring she’d asked him to pawn for her. According to her statement, Boyfriend had recently accomplished numerous repairs to her home, for which he then asked to be paid. For her part, Girlfriend considered his labors the rightful due of a doting lover, and she would not demean them by crass remuneration. Boyfriend had texted her to the effect that if she wouldn’t fork over the dough, he’d take the aforementioned ring out of hock and sell it for cash. Contacted by deputies, Boyfriend said that, as far as he knew, the ring was still sitting in the Arvada pawnshop where he’d left it, and while he still thought he should be paid for fixing Girlfriend’s house, he assured the officers he wouldn’t stoop to theft to settle the account. And that was the end of that, except that 20 minutes later it wasn’t because Boyfriend called the officers back to report Girlfriend for theft. According to Boyfriend’s statement, after sharing his bed the previous night, Girlfriend had departed his place with two pillows, two dresses he’d purchased for her, a cell-phone charger, an as-yet-unbestowed engagement ring, and a folder containing documents relating to a business deal he was putting together. Boyfriend said the pilferage had been witnessed by another member of the household, and while he didn’t care too much about the pillows and such, if he didn’t get the folder back, he’d be out a pretty penny. Officers went back to Girlfriend, who adamantly denied taking anything from Boyfriend’s house, then adamantly denied taking anything that wasn’t hers from Boyfriend’s house, then adamantly agreed to give Boyfriend his stupid folder back if it meant so much to him. Deputies delivered the folder back to Boyfriend, who had by then decided to sue Girlfriend for the money due him for improvements to her house, and who’d further resolved to press theft charges against her for the missing engagement ring. Hoping to achieve a little damage control, Girlfriend rushed to the pawnshop to see if Boyfriend had purloined her diamond ring, but the darned thing was still there. Girlfriend took the ring out of hock and went home to wait for the process server.
Song of the Souse
WEST QUINCY AVENUE — On the morning of Jan. 9, an annoyed neighbor called JCSO to report a woman standing in the middle of the street and screaming bloody murder. Deputies were met at the scene by Chester, who said the howling harridan was his common-law wife, Charleen. According to Chester, his wife is subject to occasional bouts of extreme tippling, and not infrequently uses the last dregs of her coherence to hide her car keys, phone and booze to prevent Chester from confiscating them as soon as she loses consciousness. Trouble is, when Charleen woke up that morning, she couldn’t remember where she stashed the goods and accused Chester of misappropriating them. When Chester denied the allegation, Charleen stormed out into the street, engaged in “a few minutes” of wordless primal screaming, then stalked away to, Chester supposed, the nearest bar. Sure enough, officers found Charleen holding down the brass rail and asked after her earlier serenade. Charleen denounced Chester’s as a cheating scoundrel who was “probably with some chick this morning.” Deputies told Charleen that, while they couldn’t attest to Chester’s activities at other times, he was definitely not catting around at that moment. Charleen didn’t look convinced, or drunk enough for a trip to detox, so the officers thanked her for her time and quietly took their leave.
The fine print
SHAFFER PARKWAY — Violet told deputies that Victor was in violation of the restraining order she had against him. He’d called her something like “99 times” during the last six months, each time professing his profound love for her before hanging up. Even worse, said Violet, she’s a “model” and recently posed for some rather steamy lingerie photographs, and somehow Victor got hold of one and posted it on his Facebook page. Violet wanted deputies to make Victor stop calling her, and to make him remove her silk-draped derriere from Facebook. Consulting Violet’s restraining order, deputies noted that the document permits “all contact,” which is legal shorthand for “he can call you 99 times a day if he wants to, and post your boudoir pictures all over the Internet from now until the crack of doom, and there’s not a whole lot you can do about it.” Officers suggested that Violet have the restraining order modified to permit somewhat “less contact.”