Rural Ways was detained by state law enforcement personnel today. Well, not detained, exactly, but certainly interrogated. I was standing at the gas pump at Maverick in Cedar City ($3.10/gal for regular; the place was packed), when I noticed a DNR cop pulled up nearby. I guess he was looking at me, but I didn’t pay any attention—like I said, the place was packed. He must have been running my plates, and pretty soon he was joined by two or three other trucks, including a K9 unit. Just before I finished what I was doing, he strolled over.
He wanted to know where I’d been all morning. They’d had someone involved in an illegal shooting incident in the Parowan foothills and the accused had been driving a “green Chev.” I told him that I’d come to Cedar City about two or three hours ago for church. He asked me how many guns I had in the truck. I told him, “none,” and offered to let him search the vehicle. The truck was, of course, covered in mud, which had not gone unnoticed by the cop. I told him that I’d got the mud when I was cutting firewood last week. He admitted that the mud seemed dry. “Besides,” I said, “I’m in Cedar City, not Parowan, why are you looking for me here?” He told me that the shooter had last been seen headed for Cedar City. After another minute, he said, “Well, I guess you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’re free to go.” So, I went.
While driving back to Parowan, I told Valerie the story. “The sad thing,” I said, “is that, when the guy ran my plates, he got nothing. No speeding tickets, no parking tickets, no jaywalking tickets, nothing. I’m surprised he bothered to come and talk with me. I’m so boring it’s boring. I don’t drive fast, I don’t play cards, I don’t chew tobacco, I don’t dance, I don’t carry guns, I don’t listen to rock music, I don’t even have a bumper sticker. If the law enforcement database is really thorough, the guy knows that I turn off the lights when I leave the room, I don’t stick my chewing gum on the bottom of the waiting room chair, and I put the seat down after I pee. If I weren’t so pathetic, I’d be funny.”
“Maybe,” said Valerie, “they’re looking for Cruz.” That wasn’t a bad idea. Cruz is our youthful next-door neighbor who does throw the occasional party and often listens to loud hip-hop music. He also drives a green Chev. Anyway, when we got home, Cruz’s truck was gone, and the town cop drove up and down our street a couple of times. So, maybe they were looking for Cruz? Um, nope. A few minutes later, Cruz pulled up with the music blaring. He was wearing his jammies, looking a little hung over, and, in his hand, instead of a sig-sauer, he was carrying a super-slurpee. Cruz looked like he had just crawled out of bed and stumbled over to the Sev for breakfast. I don’t think he was a wanted man.
Despite the lack of criminality in our two-Chev neighborhood, I do hope they caught the bad guy. I mean, the law enforcement officer who stopped me seemed so disappointed by my innocence that I almost felt bad for him. “Sorry,” I told him, “I wish I could help you.” I guess I wouldn’t have seemed like such a failure if I’d at least carried a gun to church.
Isn't everyone in southern required to own a gun? The law should have been suspicious of your squeaky clean record.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Keith,no one can be as "innocent" as your record would indicate. I would suggest you hacked the database (a felony, perhaps). Since that is the only logical explanation, you must indeed be the green Chevy illegal shooter. Let me make a call.
ReplyDeleteNow having said all that, the only way your story gets better would include a delousing and an orange jumpsuit (just for a little while while Val scrounged up bail).