direct
result of bond enforcement is usually incarceration—and fugitives tend to not
like this. Go figure. To encourage fugitive cooperation on the way back to the
pokey I usually persuade the guys I capture to wear handcuffs and leg shackles.
This works pretty good most of the time. And, if done right, cuts back on the
rolling around on the ground stuff.
Unfortunately, today wasn't most of the time.
Martin Paulson, weighing in at 297 pounds and standing five feet, eight inches
tall, was arrested for credit card fraud and for being a genuinely obnoxious
person. He failed to show for his court appearance last week, and this put
Martin on my Most Wanted List. Since Martin is not too bright, he hadn't been
too hard to find. Martin had, in fact, been at home engaged in what he does
best . . . stealing merchandise off the Internet. I'd managed to get Martin
into cuffs and leg shackles and into my car. I'd even managed to drive Martin
to the police station on North Clinton Avenue. Unfortunately, when I attempted
to get Martinout of my car he tipped over and was now rolling around on
his belly, trussed up like a Christmas goose, unable to right himself.
We were in the parking lot adjacent to the
municipal building. The back door leading to the docket lieutenant was less
than fifty feet away. I could call for help, but I'd be the brunt of cop humor
for days. I could unlock the cuffs or ankle shackles, but I didn't trust
Paulson. He was royally pissed off, red-faced and swearing, making obscene
threats and horrifying animal sounds.
I was standing there, watching Paulson
struggle, wondering what the hell I was going to do, because anything short of
a forklift wasn't going to get Paulson up off the pavement. And just then, Joe
Juniak pulled into the lot. Juniak is a former police chief and is now mayor of
Trenton. He's a bunch of years older than me and about a foot taller. Juniak's
second cousin, Ziggy, is married to my cousin-in-law Gloria Jean. So we're sort
of family . . . in a remote way.
The driver's side window slid down, and Juniak
grinned at me, cutting his eyes to Paulson. "Is he yours?"
"Yep."
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