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Sheriff's Calls

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An Offbeat Look at Area Crime

Pajama party-pooper

SOUTH GORE RANGE ROAD — Missy and Sissy met while both were staying at a women’s shelter, struck up a friendship, and stayed in touch ever after. It was only natural, then, that when Sissy found herself in a bind and between addresses, she looked to Missy for a sympathetic shoulder and a couch to crash on. Missy’s sense of responsibility to her one-time shelter-mate was genuine, but time-limited: Sissy could stay with her five nights only before making more permanent arrangements. As it happened, five nights was optimistic, at best. Three nights later, on Feb. 19, the two ladies were sitting around the coffee table reminiscing when Sissy abruptly leapt from her seat and came down on Missy like a Siberian asteroid, hammering her into a bi-fold door hard enough to knock it from its track. When Missy threw up her hands to defend her face, Sissy deliberately seized on her previously injured index finger, wrenching it until the stitches tore open. When Missy fled upstairs where her sons were fast asleep, Sissy hunted her down and threw her to the floor of the boys’ bedroom. Sissy eventually relaxed enough for Missy to summon deputies, who found Sissy waiting outside in the parking lot and Missy sitting inside wondering what happened. Missy told officers she had no idea why Sissy had gone off that way, and Sissy couldn’t seem to grasp what all the fuss was about. Missy told deputies she didn’t want to press charges against Sissy but did want her out of the house. When deputies told Sissy they were taking her to detox, she declared herself unjustly arrested and “went limp.” While wrestling Sissy’s determinedly inert carcass into the back seat of a squad car, officers assured her that she wasn’t properly under arrest but soon would be unless she cooled her jets. Alas, Sissy’s jets remained hot, and she spent the rest of the night in the cooler.

 

Making a geopolitical omelet

WEST MASSEY DRIVE — Sometime during the night of Feb. 19, the caller said, forces unknown nuked his 1983 Chevrolet Blazer with a salvo of high-cholesterol missiles, and he believed he could identify the godless aggressor responsible. For all of recent history, he explained, he’s been in a cold war with an ideologically abhorrent neighbor, and he was “almost positive” that’s who egged his ride. Although his supposition seemed to be supported by the fact that no other neighborhood vehicles appeared to have been targeted, it did not support a unilateral response by JCSO. Even so, the complainant asked the deputy to leave temporarily, and return for photographs of the destruction “when I’m gone.” Although the officer couldn’t begin to guess why the man preferred to not be present for the picture-taking, he diplomatically obliged, then consigned the case to the ash-heap of JCSO history.