Three Dangerous Desperados Are on the Lamb…and a pig story

Three dangerous desperados are on the lamb

Yesterday, while glancing through the never-ending offerings of news headlines, I ran across a real gem. This one, from one of our local papers, stood out from the typical attention-grabbing click-baits, such as:

Flesh-Color-Hating Trump Skins His Own Body in Bizarre Campaign Move

Hillary Laughs Hysterically While Discussing War, Violent Death, and Bill’s New Victoria Secret Undies

Cops Shoot Other Cops Until They Are No More

White Privilege Cause of Sun Setting Earlier in Winter

Black Lives Matter Movement Finally End Police Woes by Destroying All Donut Shops

Radical Islamic Terrorist Elected as U.S. President, Blows Up White House on First Day in Office

Classrooms Off-Limits for College Students: Entire Campuses Declared as Safe Spaces

U.S. Population Mandated to Apologize for Every Word Ever Spoken

President Announces New Czar of Political Correctness

Obama Sells U.S. to Iran

Police to No Longer Carry Guns, Drive Cars, Walk, Talk, or Breathe

…yada, yada, yada.

Anyway, the headline that caught my eye was one from a local paper here in California, the Napa Valley Register. And, for your reading entertainment, here it is.

“Napa Police Report Foiling a Bike Heist, with 2 Suspects in Custody and 3 Still on the Lamb.”

Now, I’m no rocket scientist but I believe the reporter meant “lam,” not “lamb.” Unless, of course, the three who got away are currently clippity-clopping off into the sunset while seated on the back of a small and very tired young sheep.

So, the “lamb” headline brought to mind a case I once worked that involved a couple of thieves and a few pigs. Some of you have already seen this, but I thought in light of the “lamb” tale (get it? tale/tail…) today would be a good time to re-post the story I call “Takin’ Bacon.”

By the way, Takin’ Bacon, is a true story . . . really, it is.

Crime-solving is not always as easy as television would have us believe. Sometimes police officers really have to work hard to get to the bottom of a particularly complex case. In doing so, cops use a variety of means to crack each of their cases, and one really unusual series of events comes to mind when I think about odd crime-solving techniques.

As most of you know, I was a police detective for many years and part of my job was to solve major crimes, such as murder, rape, and robbery. Sure, I paid my dues early in my career by writing tickets and directing traffic, but my real passion was the puzzle-solving that’s associated with tracking down a murderer.

Before most detectives are allowed to investigate the more serious crimes, though, they’re normally assigned to easier-to-solve, less intricate cases, such as bad checks and stolen tricycles. One of my introductory cases was unusual to say the least. My boss, a gruff and tough-as-rusty-nails sheriff, dispatched me to get to the bottom of a rash of stolen hogs. No, not the cool and expensive motorcycles. These were real pigs, as in walking pork chops.

Yes, someone was stealing live four- or five-hundred pound porkers directly from a farmer’s hog farm, and they were taking at least one or two each weekend. The pigs (hundreds of them) were kept in many buildings on the large farm, so my partner and I thought the best way to nab these guys was to wait inside one of the elaborate hog parlors until the criminals arrived to do their dirty deed. Our plan was simple. When the crooks entered the building we would jump up, turn on the lights, and nab the rustlers in the act of felony pig-napping.

So Friday came, and just before dark we entered one of the hog shelters and sat down on a couple of upside-down buckets a to wait. I soon discovered that the stench of pig feces and other foul goodies were overwhelming. I also learned that pigs are sneaky, and they have very cold and very wet noses.

We’d been hanging out for nearly two hours when we finally heard someone open a door and come inside. My partner and I both drew our weapons and waited, allowing the thieves enough time to begin the act of stealing. We wanted to catch them with ham hocks in hand.

There was a period of time where we heard two voices, but they were muffled by the sound of low pig grunts and oinks. We figured they were being selective, choosing just the right pigs to bring them the most money at the market. Then, a bright light flashed. Then another flash, followed by another and another. I realized, detective material that I was, that the bad guys were taking pictures. Confused by their actions, but anxious to catch the guys, we couldn’t stand it any longer. We jumped up, aimed our Beretta 9mms in the general direction of the thugs, and switched on the lights.

I was shocked, to say the least, when I saw that one of the young men was standing directly behind a female pig (a sow, as they’re properly addressed) with his pants down around his ankles.

I was even more shocked when I realized he was actually having sex with a big, fat, female pig, and his buddy was taking pictures of him while he did it. Our sudden presence obviously caught the two off-guard and they both stopped what they were doing, in mid-action, and looked toward us. Each man had the same deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression.

(Not the actual suspect)

(Not the actual victim)

We immediately placed the two crooks under arrest and took them to the sheriff’s office for processing (that’s “booking” to laypeople.) During my questioning of the guy who’d been literally caught with his pants down, the embarrassed animal lover confessed to stealing over one-hundred pigs from several different farms over the past few weeks, and that they’d taken their “booty” to hog markets and sold them for a nice profit.

At the end of his confession, the pig-stealer shook his head and asked how we found out they were going to be there that night. He added that they’d been extremely careful not to leave behind an evidence trail of any kind.

I smiled because the perfect answer crept forward from that goofy spot in my head. I looked at the guy and said, “How did we know?  It’s simple, the pigs squealed on you.”

He just shook his head slowly from side-to-side. After all, what could he have said to justify his little affair with Petunia?

I really should mention that the thief was married, and he wasn’t practicing safe sex with his porcine partner, if you know what I mean. So, if you’re ever having a bad day, just be really thankful that you’re not married to this guy. Unless you don’t mind that he’s literally bringing home the bacon.

By the way, I learned that the purpose of the pig pornography (each man photographed the other having sex with a pig) was insurance so that neither of the two men would tell on the other. If so, they’d face having the photograph sent to family members. What I didn’t understand was why they felt the need to have a barnyard affair each time they stole a pig. Wouldn’t one photo be enough?

I do hope you’ll think of this curly little “tale” as you’re tossing the next pork chops on the grill. Bon appétit!