Wednesday, March 29, 2017

"No, really..."

Any cop you know can tell you the story about the time that he or one of his buddies at work was conducting a pat-down of a suspect and found a bundle of dope in the dude's trousers, only to be told with a straight face "These aren't my pants!" Which is such a lame excuse that it's a wonder anyone would try and tell such a whopper...

Well, apparently there's an exception that proves the rule.

Now, personally, I think that The War on The Fourth, Drugs needs to go away and quit trying to burn the village to save it, but at the same time, given the current climate in the narcotics trade, dealing cocaine out your master bedroom closet in a sketchy neighborhood while raising a kid in the house is showing a cavalier indifference toward that kid's well-being.

One of the hardest parts about writing my "Good Guys Win" column for S.W.A.T. Magazine is trying to ensure that any reported home invasions are not actually Bad Guy-on-Bad Guy incidents, and I'll bet I only bat about .750. The vast majority of home invasions are either on dope dealers or at least think they're invading a dope dealer's home.