Ninten-Doh!

Hearing a perfect storm of screaming epithets and slamming doors blowing in from an adjacent unit on the evening of May 7, a John Wallace Road residence called JCSO dispatch to report a violent domestic disturbance. Investigating, deputies spoke to the man’s youngish neighbor who admitted making a bit of a commotion, but said his wrath had been directed at the television, not his wife. Apparently, he’d been playing a video game with extraordinary gusto and let his enthusiasm get the better of him. His wife backed up his story, saying that her husband plays video games more or less constantly and “gets upset when he loses.” Officers relayed this information to the complainant who said that, in his opinion, the cyber-sportsman’s viciously insulting language made no sense in that context. In any case, he told the deputies, he was weary of his neighbor’s noisy disturbances and wanted him charged with something – anything – and he’d gladly offer testimony against him at trial. Hoping to pull his plug, or at least turn down his volume, deputies cited the virtual gladiator for disorderly conduct.

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Petty Theft, Auto

U.S. 285 – At least the stolen vehicle should be easy to spot in traffic. On the afternoon of May 21, a woman called JCSO dispatch to report the theft of an electric-blue Jeep with a neon-pink roll-bar and blazing orange seats and steering wheel. According to her statement, she’d parked the retina-searing prize near the top of her driveway – which opens onto U.S. Highway 285 – at about 4:30 p.m., only to discover it missing just five minutes later. Though she couldn’t provide the filched 4-by-4’s blue book value, the woman said she’d try to locate its VIN number. Until then, sheriff’s deputies should be on the lookout for (seriously) a 2007 Power Wheels Barbie Jeep.

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Why Don’t You Never Call?

Try to follow along: Mr. and Mrs. A, a middle-aged couple, have been renting a cabin from the kindly Ms. B, a lady in her 60s. Mr. A recently left his wife and installed himself in the manor house with Ms. B. On May 3, a harried Ms. B summoned sheriff’s deputies to her South Turkey Creek Road address because Mrs. A has been burning her telephone down to the jack looking for Mr. A. In her complaint, Ms. B said that Mrs. A had called her at least 20 times just that day, leaving annoying messages ranging from pleas to talk to her husband, to lamenting that she no longer rings her sweetheart’s bell, to protesting that Ms. B’s relationship with Mr. A is too chummy by half. Ms. B said she doesn’t mind Mrs. A phoning, but felt some restraint was in order. When confronted, a well-oiled Mrs. A angrily howled that her absent husband and “best friend” never return her calls, except for the several messages they’d left her at about 9 o’clock that very morning, which was entirely too early because she “doesn’t function well” at that hour. When the officer explained that Mr. A and Ms. B didn’t want her calling so often, Mrs. A became incensed and vowed never to call either of them again. Her husband and best friend said they’d try to adjust.

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If it’s Death, say I’m not here

At about 9:30 p.m. on April 12, a very upset Kerr Gulch Road resident called JCSO dispatch after receiving a sinister phone call. According to the woman’s statement, an anonymous female caller decreed “you’ll die in seven days” and hung up. Lacking caller ID, the woman asked Verizon to provide her prescient caller’s phone number, but was advised that she’d need an attorney to obtain that information. The incident had upset her so because, in 2007, someone left her a message saying “I hate you, I’m going to steal your stuff and kill you.” Then, during a snow storm last winter, a strange woman had appeared at her door asking for a ride to a gas station. Instead, the resident helpfully dialed a number the mysterious visitor provided and told the man who answered that his friend needed a lift. Rather than rushing to aid his lady-friend, the man cursed at the homeowner and suggested that she “just give her a ride.” When she refused and hung up, the man called back and demanded she put the stranded woman on the line, which she didn’t. Given that history of weirdness, the complainant hoped that JCSO could help. The officer promised to arrange an extra patrol for her neighborhood.

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Sighs Didn’t Matter

While parked along eastbound Interstate 70 at Floyd Hill at about noon on March 21, a radar-equipped JCSO deputy clocked a sharp, Pontiac G6 with four occupants hurtling toward Denver at a blistering 103 mph. Lights flashing and siren wailing, the officer pursued the speeding rental nearly to El Rancho, giving him a chance to appreciate his quarry’s highly developed tail-gating and crowd-weaving skills. Identified by his foreign drivers license and passport as a 20-year-old citizen of the Republic of Chile, the driver assumed “a look of despair” and “sighed deeply” when the deputy handed him summons for reckless driving and told him he’d need to appear in court in May. He would be back in Chile by the end of March, he explained, with some passion. Even at 103 mph, the 5,000-mile trip to Golden would take at least five full days driving. Standing firm before the young man’s heart-wrenching supplications, the officer explained that, should he fail to appear in court, a warrant would be issued for his arrest and he could say adios to any hope of getting another U.S. visa. Since he’s already arranged for a stateside job next year, the man at last gave in and promised to get square with the county.

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