By B. Gallatin
Published: October 20, 2007 PrintEmail
A customer entered Dave’s guitar shop. The customer was dressed in a thigh length brown suede leather jacket with six-inch long fringe sleeves from shoulder to cuffs. He had long blond hair and a neatly trimmed Van Dyke beard. Dave thought, ‘doesn’t this person know the sixty’s are over’. Dave wanted to tell the guy he looked like Buffalo Springfield recaptured.’
After some small talk, Dave invited him back behind the counter and led him into the shop to show him around. Dave was proud of his little shop he thought by showing the guy how neat and orderly things were he would perhaps become a loyal customer. It had worked in the past.
In an instant the man flashed a badge and yelled,
“Lowden County police, while Dave stared at the shiny gold badge the officer quickly pulled and cocked his pistol and put barrel on his nose.
This officer’s face now beet red, veins popping out on his forehead, now screaming even louder was shaking and motioning, “Put your hands UP! ---UP! ---Don’t move a muscle-- don't even breathe hard MOTHERFUCKER! ---- I'll blow your god damn head off.”
Five other people appeared and rushed in the front door. One of them handcuffed Dave while Buffalo Bill the lead officer showed Dave the search warrant. It read an unknown white male at 4487 Popular St., believed to have a control substance, namely cocaine, in violation of state law 44-11-18 and federal law 251-119. Dave thought, ‘What the fuck is happening? They don’t have a reason for this I don’t have any coke---oh shit---then he remembered---oh shit---oh, shit--- there’s a quarter pound of pot in the desk drawer.’ Dave could do nothing but watch out of the corner of his eye while the other officers were rifling through drawers, pulling them out and dumping them on the floor, raking cabinets bare, knocking everything off to the floor. A woman officer wearing her blues strolled in with a medium size black bag. She took some things out of the bag and started gathering up all of the glass-framed pictures hanging on the walls of the showroom. She stacked them on the sales counter. In hand a squirt bottle and the other some sort of special lamp. She was sprit-zing each glass front followed by waving the light over the surface then placed each face down and moved to another. She glanced up to see Dave looking at her; she smiled and said, “If there is any cocaine here; if there has ever been any here I will find it.” To Dave it seemed surreal at the time. She looked as thought she was a happy host cleaning pictures up for a party. There were more than fifty autographed pictures of famous customers from the music business. Dave noticed she would linger on her favorites. Dave was only able to listen to the others as he was facing the showroom; while the others not in his line of vision were laughing and joking. Only interrupted by Buffalo Bill saying repeatedly, “Where’s the shit, man? ---Somebody saw it here today---we know it’s here---where’s the shit? ---you know we’re gonna find it---why don’t you tell me where it is and save us all a lot of grief?” Dave with the initial shock wearing off was getting angry because they were throwing stuff and breaking things, his things, for no good reason. All laughing like it was funny. Dave, finally disgusted, “Come on now, that’s not necessary.” Buffalo Bill spun Dave around and shoved him backwards into the wall putting a forearm into his throat and got nose to nose and said, “Oh yea, son of a bitch; it’s necessary. Now, you better just shut the fuck up and only talk when I tell you to you---you got that you piece of shit?---you got that?----fucking answer me motherfucker, shoving his arm harder into Dave’s throat---I’m talking to you.” Dave nodded yes. Someone yelled out, “Bingo, do I get the prize?” They found the pot.
They shoved Dave and his employee into the back seat of the funky brown, Pimpmobile looking Cadillac Buffalo Bill arrived in, no rights read to either one. Upon arriving at the jail, Dave and his employee were separated. In the jail, they were finger printed and photographed. The officer’s began questioning them in different rooms. They wanted Dave to tell them what he did with the cocaine. Dave answered, “I don't mess with cocaine because to me pot is on the level with parking tickets and cocaine is like the death penalty.”
They insisted that a reliable witness told them there was cocaine on the premises earlier that day. Buffalo Bill and another officer took him to a room and said take a look and gestured toward a mirror on the wall, then turned the light out in the room and the mirror turned into a window. Dave could see his employee talking with two other officers but he couldn't hear what they were saying. They turned the light back on and gestured, “Your partner there is telling us every thing so you had better tell us every thing about your operation and don’t lie.” Dave said, “Jimbo is an honest guy and whatever he’s saying is the truth.” Both officers appeared stunned one saying, “You know we can make it easier on you if you tell the truth, he turned to Buffalo Bill and said, isn’t that right?” He nodded yes. Buffalo then said, “Sit down you want a smoke? How about something to drink? You like coffee? You know I can put in a good word with the judge if you tell me who sold you that pot.” Dave spoke up and said, “You can’t do anything but arrest me and gather evidence. What you think or say doesn’t make a bit of difference to the judge.” Buffalo stared at Dave and said, “Are you a lawyer?” No, “But I’d like a lawyer.” After that, they relented on their interrogation. After being fingerprinted and two photos taken Dave was allowed to use the phone and called his wife. Then they took him and put him in a cell. His wife came and bonded him out of jail. She was mortified. Dave told her not to worry that he knew the law and it was his first offense. “I’ll get off without jail time on the first offenders act.” Dave told his wife.
