The learning curve
SOUTH JEFFCO ― It’s almost painful to recount. The woman who called JCSO on Aug. 23 admitted to habitually submitting her name and personal information to questionable lottery operators. On Aug. 22, a thickly accented “gentleman” with an “American” name called to say she’d won $2 million and a car. When she expressed skepticism, he solemnly “promised” he wasn’t a scam artist, and further guaranteed she’d receive both prizes that very afternoon provided she paid two separate taxes immediately. Despite her nagging doubts, the silver-tongued stranger “convinced” her to drive to the nearest Walmart, purchase two “money pack” cash cards, and read their secure access codes to him over the phone. He then asked for her address so he could rush her big pile of cash and posh ride right over. She was still awaiting the booty the next morning when a different man called to say the car was in the neighborhood and would be delivered the last few miles to her house the moment she settled the transport charge, which is when the scales began to fall from her eyes and she told him she was “no longer interested in lottery prizes.” That angered her benefactor, who “started yelling” that she must “pay the taxes.” He also demanded that she not contact “the police or sheriff” because, as an honest lottery operator, he “hates them and does not like to deal with them.” At last tumbling to her financial peril, the woman called sheriff’s deputies anyway. Officers collected the compromised “money packs” and tried to determine how much money ― if any ― remained on them. The store said it couldn’t release that information “for security purposes.” Officers told the woman to expect the worst, since legitimate lotteries don’t charge fees for prizes. Sadder but, presumably, wiser, the woman said she kind of knew that all along, but “thought it was worth it to see if it was true.”
It’s a nicer way of saying ‘fat’
SOUTH KIPLING PARKWAY ― On the afternoon of Aug. 25, a deputy advised Lady that she was parked in a no-panhandling zone and would have to move along. Lady agreeably said she’d repair to the nearby home of a friend and moved off into the trees next to the road. Before the officer could clear the scene, however, she re-appeared, frantically waving him over to where she stood. No sooner had she stepped into her “camp,” Lady breathlessly told the deputy, than she saw her panhandling pal, Tramp, lounging in her personal camp chair, bold as brass. When she demanded he move it or lose it, Tramp cussed her out and dared her to call a cop. Knowing where she could find one on short notice, she’d done so, and the officer accompanied Lady to the campsite. As bad luck would have it, Tramp had only moments before elected to vacate Lady’s chair, as well as their campsite, and he apparently took Lady’s wallet with him as a memento of their time together. His trail led to the nearest liquor store, then went cold. Lady said she was in a bad way without her wallet, which held all of her money, a McDonald’s gift certificate and her Jeffco jail-issued identification card. She described Tramp as graying and “husky.” Deputies promised to keep a lookout for her faithless friend and return her property if they could.
Other people’s kids
VISTA VIEW DRIVE ― Watching his dogs “go potty” on (hopefully his) front lawn at about 10 p.m. on Aug. 24, the sharp-eyed homeowner’s attention was caught by a pair of furtive figures skulking through the darkness. As he watched, the two dark-clad, 5-foot, tween-ish lads went from car to car ― some parked at the curb, others at rest in driveways ― trying the doors of each one. Startled by the homeowner’s challenge, the bold delinquents “threw fireworks” into the street and bolted. The homeowner gave chase, but lost his quarry among the tangle of yards along South Owens Street. Deputies scouted the area but turned up no clues. Because none of the cars appeared damaged, and since the homeowner didn’t recall seeing the youthful snoops actually gain entrance to any of the vehicles, the officers moved on to other pursuits.