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Watching too much shit tends to make you trivialize how horrible people actually are! That's why we laugh and joke at the devil, but in fact we're scared to death!
THEY KEEP WHAT WHERE?
One of our prize providers of clips and comments, Jezebel, asks what I was doing during the 1992 riots. The story is mildly interesting and is as follows.
I was as sick as a dog when the 92 riots broke out. While Darrel Gates, LAPD Chief of Police was drinking at a banquet and elected to do nothing until the riots blew up. I was home in bed recovering
from a severe cold.
The patrol Captain called me and pretty much ordered me to get to the Sleepy Hollow station, as fast as I could get there. I would need a note from the coroner to stay home. I went to the station, hacking and gagging all the way, got in my uniform and wandered into the briefing room. As a rookie and a trainee, the city could fire me without cause during my first 18 months. So I couldn't bitch about anything.
Myself and three other cops, dragged in from days off, were paired off and told to patrol around a Quonset hut in the back of the station lot, that was owned by the California National Guard. We saw the Guard dudes once in a while. Every summer they packed up their stuff and went out to the desert for training, otherwise we rarely saw them. Two of us guarded the entrance to the hut and the other two walked around the perimeter of the building.
After about an hour, we were bored out of our minds. We did 12 on and 12 off that night and the following night. Suddenly, every Guard truck and several MP vehicles rolled up. These guys were as tense as if they were driving into Baghdad on Mo-peds. Without going into a long and boring story, it turned out that that Guard Hut in Sleepy Hollow had all of the GUARD'S LIVE AMMO, everything from 9mm pistol rounds to 50 cal machine guns and tons of tear gas.......tons. If the bad rioters knew that, there could have been a full on war in Sleepy Hollow.
The Military Police took over security for the ammo hut. I figured I could go back home and try not to die from my cold. Oh heck no, three of us got stuck in the station lobby guarding the front of the station. We would trade off working the two desk phones that never quit ringing.
"OH MY GOD, THERE ARE BLACK PEOPLE DRIVING DOWN________ BLVD!"
"What are they doing?"
"THEY ARE DRIVING INTO THE MALL PARKING LOT!"
This went on and on for 5 days, until the riots and fires mostly died out.
When I transferred to the Ghetto, I heard wonderful stories about beat and release. All of the city and county jails were filled. So they threw car keys on roofs, disabled looter's cars and violated those
poor oppressed minorities rights. The coroner quit responding, due to our location. So they put homicides in the hospital morgues for days. The Ghetto cops had a ball and everyone made a piss pot full of overtime cash! The Sleepy Hollow Chief had a blood feud going with LAPD and refused to respond our officers for mutual aid for the riots.
I now have over 100 short stories under Charredtorso and go to favorites.
You asked me a question and I can't find it to answer it.
Please send it to me again and I will knock out a story.
THE HORROR, THE HORROR.......
People ask me what bothered me about my 22 years as a Coroner's investigator and Mortician. Other than a miserable pay check every two weeks, not much bothered me. I think some people are "cut out" for certain types of work. Others THINK they are cut out for a certain type of work and they are seriously disappointed, terrified or seriously injured. The following stories are a few that I can recall with little dredging into the Charredtorso psyche. Some may be reposts, I have written over 100 stories to date.
I responded to a private residence on a bright Christmas morning. When I arrived, even the city cops were teary eyed. Dad was a 35 year old that chain smoked and was probably morbidly obese. While the kids and other relatives were opening gifts, dad lit up a smoke and reclined on the couch, as was his custom. A few minutes later, one of the kids tried to show dad the gift he had just opened. Dad was purple and as dead as their Christmas ham in the oven. The entire family went nuts. The paramedics arrived and made dad prove how dead he was, then called the cops, then I got the call.
I started working at night while still in High School, picking up bodies for the Coroner and private mortuaries all over L.A. County. I had to ACT like I was very mature and knew what I was doing.
Often, I was able to bullshit my way and gradually learned the professions out in the field, the hard way.
I had just turned 18 and was dispatched to represent the coroner at a crib death, also known as SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome). I show up at the house, not knowing what to expect. A mother, father and neighbors were all there. Mom was holding her infant daughter and naturally didn't want to let go of her baby. I let mom hold the baby for the time it took me to fill out the investigator's forms and conduct a related interview. Finally,I asked mom for her baby. She lost her shit and three neighbors removed the baby from her arms and handed it to me. That first one and all of the following crib deaths were never easy.
Suicides are challenging. The family is always in shock, sometimes they are pissed at you when you show up, for no apparent reason. Suicides involving pills or poisons are easier to deal with, because there often isn't a big mess. The "fun" starts when Junior blows his head off with dad's shotgun for some extra stupid reason. There is nothing quite like the crunching sound your feet make when they land on skull fragments. Betty June doesn't get out of bed and mom forces her bedroom door to find she slashed her wrists and bled out all over her bed and the floor.
People that jump from heights usually make a big mess too. The higher the fall the more trauma on impact. Heads will explode, bones shatter, making an adult look like a child in adult clothing, as the muscles contract around the shattered bones. If they hit something on the way down, they can leave hunks on people's balconies or roofs. Guess who has to remove that gore too.
Undetermined deaths can be bizarre. I went to an apartment building pool. A for real body builder, with no health history, came home from his workout, got in the pool, pushed off face down and never came up for air. A mortician friend's wife went to sleep one night and never woke up. the coroner did two autopsies and full tox screens. They never found out why she died, never.
The most danger I faced was from surviving relatives. I have had wads of cash thrown in my face, been spit on, shoved, punched and been called every vile name you can think of and some you have never heard. This was not from demanding money or abusing the relatives, they were often pissed and just needed a focal point. Several times in 22 years, I lost my cool ant threw families out of my funeral home. Out in the parking lot, threats often began anew, resulting in police reports and me carrying a gun illegally (at the time).
If you have questions about any of this or police work or executive protection. I would be happy to answer questions posted in here or in my "in box."
Jason, I was TRYING to bring you to LAUGH.
No, I did not read my g-mails yet. I had gone straight to bed after my treatment.
While YOU are being NAUGHTY in Bangkok, I just MIGHT 'Rock' Brent Patrick's WORLD!!!
WOW!!! The strength of his will is quite impressive!!!
Mine was the usual Wednesday routine.