June 1, 2015

• Mentone Woman Arrested

  The following news article was based on a really true story. Only the names have been changed for the amusement of the author.

  A Mentone woman was booked into San Bernardino County Detention Sunday morning, after allegedly resisting arrest. She was later released on her own recognizance

  According to arresting Officer Dewey Bookem, they were responding to a report of a male, Hispanic, between the ages of 15 – 20, 5’6”, 145 pounds, wearing a green ball cap, who had been seen spraying graffiti on the back wall of the Mentone Senior Center, at the corner of Mentone Blvd. and Opal Avenue.

  A person matching the description was spotted behind a bush in the 1300 block of Opal Ave. and Sheriffs deputies ordered the suspect to surrender. When the suspect failed to respond officers fired twenty-five warning shots into the bushes behind which the suspect was hiding. The suspect screamed like a girl and ran towards the nearby house.  Whereupon officers courageously gave pursuit and tackled the suspect.  The suspect had evidently disposed of any evidence as no can of spray paint was found at the scene.

   

  WHAT REALLY HAPPENED…REALLY.

  It was a lovely, cool spring morning when I, Judy Rutrider, 62-year old, church secretary, 5’3”, 120 pounds, went out to mow my lawn. I put on my protective gear: earplugs; dust mask; gloves; goggles; and green sun hat. Foolishly, feeling sufficiently protected, I left my bullet-proof vest in the closet.

  With the roar of my gas-powered mower muted by my ear plugs, I was fully focused on the task at hand, oblivious to the world beyond the five-foot hedge at the front of my yard. Pausing to pull a couple of weeds with the motor running, I suddenly I felt a sharp sting on my ear. Supposing I had been stung by an irate insect, I “shrieked like a girl” (the reporter’s words, not mine) and hustled towards the house to get some baking soda to relieve the burning.  This was when the heroic officers, apparently seeing the suspect was unarmed, launched their line backer attack which hurled me to the concrete. Before they could rip off my hat and dust mask, they had their cuffs on my obviously girly wrists. Upon removal of my disguise, some of the officers may have felt some concern that this might not be the tagger they were seeking but the residual fear-induced adrenaline silenced any voice of reason whispering in their own heads.

  With a bleeding ear and scraped knees, I was escorted to the back seat of the patrol car, with the officer thoughtfully seeing that I did not bump my head as I was helped into the car. The neighbors in this quiet, residential neighborhood gaped like monkeys as the officers sheepishly collected their twenty-five spent shell casings. I suppose they didn’t know whether to be ashamed or relieved that their marksmanship resulted in merely a clipped ear.  Personally, I felt only relief though the ear hurt like hell.

  I fully understood that some serious face saving would have to occur so there was absolutely no chance I wasn’t going to jail for at least as long as it took for the neighbors to finish sending their cell phone pictures to their 6,523 friends on Facebook.  At least I was fairly certain I wouldn’t become one of the disappeared under the terrorist act. And luckily, the garage door was closed so my Lexus wouldn’t fall victim to Asset Forfeiture laws.

  Booking went pretty much as I expected, just like on TV except without the “You have the right to remain silent” part as I was already anything but silent. I’m not normally prone to overt condescension but I found it impossible to conceal my contempt for these idiots. In retrospect it may not have been the smartest tactic.  

  The cavity search might have been fun twenty years ago. But as most post menopausal women will admit, insertion of anything without extensive foreplay is not something we submit to willingly. And herein may lay the charge of resisting. I’m not saying the rotund booking clerk wasn’t as gentle as her kielbasa-sized fingers could be; however, even with the steadying influence of her gorilla-sized coworkers, I’m pretty sure she would rather have penetrated a feral tom cat by the time she got finished with prisoner # !@#! as I became known. It was hard to tell whose blood was whose by the end of it.

  The rest was just boring. There was nothing to do but sit and wait for someone to post my bail; nothing that is but write my Xanga blog and plan the revenge sequel.

  And this, my friends, is what you get when I don’t listen to audio books while doing my chores. If you think idle hands are the devil’s playthings, just see what comes from an idle mind!

  • 3:21 pm
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