By Brian KaremDuring the course of 25 years covering crime, you run across a lot of strange stories. Some of these are sad, some unbelievable, and some just down right weird. But my favorite stories always have a twinge of humor to them and I can’t imagine not telling them when given the opportunity.
I had a discussion with one of my sons about his friends the other day and that brought to mind one of my favorite crime stories.
Cue the Rap Music...
It was in the early 90s and I was in San Antonio, Texas working for KMOL-TV, which is now WOAI-TV but is still Channel 4.
We were riding with the county’s gang unit that night because the city police said the town had no gang problem. The county sheriff disagreed and Harlon Copeland, the sheriff, was a man as adept at getting press as he was wearing a clichéd Texas wardrobe which included a belt buckle the size of his head and a large cowboy hat.
But Harlan also had an ability to sniff out reality when others couldn’t and so while the city denied there was a gang problem afoot, he assigned a bunch of his best officers to ride around town and break up gang fights and problems before they occurred.
That night we rode with the gang unit to a nice, middle-class neighborhood and a nice suburban home.
It seemed unthinkable to me that there could be hardened gang bangers inside, but the cop I was with remained convinced there were. He also took the time to call someone on his cell phone and tell them there was a party going on in the home – a party consisting of teenage gang bangers.
“Who’d you call?” I asked.
Turned out, the cop knew who owned the home and called the man to let him know there was a party going on in his house.
“Hey, if there’s a gang party in there, those guys are probably packing guns. Shouldn’t we do something?” I asked.
“Just wait.” The cop said.
Soon a big red Ford F-150 pulled up, out hopped a man who had to be 6-5 (excluding his cowboy hat which put him close to 6-10) and the man ran for the front door.
The door opened, the man disappeared inside and for a few seconds there was nothing but dead calm quiet – and I was sure soon we’d have to go in and pick up pieces of the big guy from the house.
Then, suddenly, the door opened and the big, tall Texan had a kid by the seat of the pants and by his shirt collar. The man unceremoniously pitched the boy out, and a few seconds later came a second and a third – each tossed outside on the lawn and in a couple of cases, each kid had a weapon spill out onto the lawn as he flew.
Soon there were a couple of handguns, six or seven kids on the lawn and the guy was still hustling.
“Hey, shouldn’t we help this guy out?” I said again.
“Just wait,” the cop told me as we waited in his unmarked car across the street.
Just then the tall man’s rather tall son (he looked like a younger version of the man) ran outside screaming at his father. Other than the mountain of pimples on his young face he could’ve been his father’s twin.
“You can’t do this to me, dad. These are my friends damnit,” the kid shouted.
From inside the unmarked car I said, “This is going to get ugly, we’d better help.”
That’s when the kid threw a punch at the old man. The punch missed and the father grinned.
“Shhh,” my cop friend said as I was nearly in hysterics. “This is going to get good.”
“Oh, so you think you’re a man now,” the father said to the son. “Now, we know what you’re made out of. Go ahead. Take your best shot.” The father even stuck his jaw out for his son as a nice, meaty target.
Everything stopped on the lawn. Kids who’d been squirming, trying to get back their guns and assemble their dignity just froze. Everyone looked at the 16-year-old kid.
“Okay damnit,” the kid shouted. Then he took the bait and threw another swing at his father.
Very calmly the father stepped back, and the kid hit nothing but air. That was the good news for him. The bad news as his father had positioned himself to step inside the kid and deliver an uppercut to his son’s chin as his son finished his own attack.
The young, pimple-faced boy must’ve gone airborne at least six inches. He landed flat on his back and unconscious on his front law.
“Okay, now we’ll help,” the cop said.
I used that story the other night as my son lobbied to stay up late with a bunch of his friends. I smiled as I told the story, but made my point.
So, while crime doesn’t pay, covering crime certainly gives you an advantage with young teenage boys.
***POST BY BRIAN KAREM***
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