In juvenile court, we get some wonderful excuses from kids as to why they missed court or didn't meet with their probation officer. One of my recent favorites.:
"Well, see, it was raining, and I didn't have no umbrella or nothing."
And yes, I berated his probation officer for setting up drug counseling, psych counseling, and job training but forgetting the brolly.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Monday, July 8, 2013
A dearth of death - that's good right?
Please excuse my long absence, it's been due a combination of busy-ness, laziness, and lack of worthwhile stuff to write about. I'm still busy and lazy, but I realized that a lack of worthwhile stuff to write about has never stopped me in the past.
Now, where was I? Ah yes, a dearth of death... especially over the 4th of July, well, you'd think that's good every which way. Right?
Not so.
Picture a group of young people interested in law enforcement, wanting to be DAs and cops, or at least know what DAs and cops go through. It's a summer morning, the Friday after July 4, and a field trip awaits. They've been looking forward to it all week, in a trepidatious kind of way. Most people are taking the day off, of course, but this group heads into work early, making a detour for the Travis County building that contains, among other things, the Medical Examiner's office.
Yes, they signed up to watch an autopsy.
Now, I was invited. My thoughtful and kind office-mate asked me to come along. But a few things you need to know about me: I'm not good with copious amounts of real-time gore. Death makes me sad. I don't ever plan to cut up a body, so I don't need to learn how. I've seen plenty of dead bodies (read about this one? I was riding out with APD and stood feet from her as EMS workers tried to save her, then covered her with a sheet). So I declined.
A couple of juvie prosecutors went, though, three I think, as well as a handful of interns.
But there was no body.
It's a rare occurrence, apparently, but there were simply no customers for the ME's table that Friday. After all that screwing of their courage to the sticking-place, I gather there was some disappointed. Which was immediately tempered by (a) relief and (b) a twinge of guilt at feeling disappointed that no-one had just died.
The group, I am told, promised the ME they'd return for a future demonstration, and promptly went out to breakfast.
Now, where was I? Ah yes, a dearth of death... especially over the 4th of July, well, you'd think that's good every which way. Right?
Not so.
Picture a group of young people interested in law enforcement, wanting to be DAs and cops, or at least know what DAs and cops go through. It's a summer morning, the Friday after July 4, and a field trip awaits. They've been looking forward to it all week, in a trepidatious kind of way. Most people are taking the day off, of course, but this group heads into work early, making a detour for the Travis County building that contains, among other things, the Medical Examiner's office.
Yes, they signed up to watch an autopsy.
Now, I was invited. My thoughtful and kind office-mate asked me to come along. But a few things you need to know about me: I'm not good with copious amounts of real-time gore. Death makes me sad. I don't ever plan to cut up a body, so I don't need to learn how. I've seen plenty of dead bodies (read about this one? I was riding out with APD and stood feet from her as EMS workers tried to save her, then covered her with a sheet). So I declined.
A couple of juvie prosecutors went, though, three I think, as well as a handful of interns.
But there was no body.
It's a rare occurrence, apparently, but there were simply no customers for the ME's table that Friday. After all that screwing of their courage to the sticking-place, I gather there was some disappointed. Which was immediately tempered by (a) relief and (b) a twinge of guilt at feeling disappointed that no-one had just died.
The group, I am told, promised the ME they'd return for a future demonstration, and promptly went out to breakfast.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
A balloon, all alone.
On my ride out last week, the first call was a low priority, a request to deal with a balloon. Not a hot-air balloon, but a regular one. A popped one.
A resident had found it in a patch of scrub near his home. It wasn't the balloon itself that bothered him, more the powder spilling from it. Another unit got there before we did, a rookie, and this is the conversation that ensued between him and my officer, AJ:
AJ: What does it look like?
Charlie: Errr, a balloon.
AJ: No, fool, the powder. Is it black?
Charlie: No, it's white.
AJ: So if it's heroin, it's China White. Balloons and heroin go together, but it maybe cocaine. How close are you?
Charlie: Standing right over it. Why?
AJ: It could also be anthrax.
Charlie: Holy s*#@, really?
AJ: Nah, just messing with you.
Turns out it was none of those things. Just some flour some kid (probably) had put in a balloon to throw at one of his buddies. I guess you'd call it a false alarm, of sorts, but I did suggest AJ taste the stuff just to be sure. He declined, and we went on our way.
A resident had found it in a patch of scrub near his home. It wasn't the balloon itself that bothered him, more the powder spilling from it. Another unit got there before we did, a rookie, and this is the conversation that ensued between him and my officer, AJ:
AJ: What does it look like?
Charlie: Errr, a balloon.
AJ: No, fool, the powder. Is it black?
Charlie: No, it's white.
AJ: So if it's heroin, it's China White. Balloons and heroin go together, but it maybe cocaine. How close are you?
Charlie: Standing right over it. Why?
AJ: It could also be anthrax.
Charlie: Holy s*#@, really?
AJ: Nah, just messing with you.
Turns out it was none of those things. Just some flour some kid (probably) had put in a balloon to throw at one of his buddies. I guess you'd call it a false alarm, of sorts, but I did suggest AJ taste the stuff just to be sure. He declined, and we went on our way.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Happy Launch Day!
Today is a day I never dreamed I'd see, and I'm excited to announce the release of my second mystery novel, THE CRYPT THIEF.
It’s summer in Paris and two tourists have been murdered in Père Lachaise cemetery in front of Jim Morrison’s grave. The cemetery is locked down and put under surveillance, but the killer returns, flitting in and out like a ghost, and breaks into the crypt of a long-dead Moulin Rouge dancer. In a bizarre twist, he disappears under the cover of night with part of her skeleton.
One of the dead tourists is an American and the other is a woman linked to a suspected terrorist; so the US ambassador sends his best man and the embassy’s head of security—Hugo Marston—to help the French police with their investigation.
When the thief breaks into another crypt at a different cemetery, stealing bones from a second famed dancer, Hugo is stumped. How does this killer operate unseen? And why is he stealing the bones of once-famous can-can girls?
Hugo cracks the secrets of the graveyards but soon realizes that old bones aren’t all this killer wants. . . .
"The Hugo Marston series now belongs on every espionage fan’s watch list."
—Booklist
"Mark Pryor has created a perfect second book for Hugo Marston. It delivers everything we loved about The Bookseller without being a retread. The Crypt Thief is proof that both Hugo and Pryor should be around for some time."
—MysteryPeople
“Haunting imagery in Père La Chaise cemetery sets the stage for Pryor’s chilling sophomore entry, and the City of Light becomes a backdrop for Marston’s adventures. The clever antagonist leads him on a merry chase that will keep the reader entertained throughout."
—RT Book Reviews
"Two young lovers make the fatal mistake of sneaking into Paris’s Père Lachaise Cemetery the same night as a bone-stealing psychopath in Pryor’s propulsive second novel starring affable former FBI profiler Hugo Marston…. The engaging characters sweep readers into a suspenseful chase from Pigalle to the Pyrenées."
—Publishers Weekly
Pryor's second case for Marston (after The Bookseller) doesn't disappoint.
—Library Journal
Author Pryor uses this truly creepy scenario to create a nail-biter of a novel. It has enough bizarre twists to keep you reading into the night. The setting in the famous Paris cemetery gives the story just enough of a sense of the exotic to pull the reader in, and to anticipate something far different from a run of the mill mystery. “The Crypt Thief” leads us on the trail of a cold-blooded killer to a truly fiery conclusion.
—Suspense Magazine
The story...
It’s summer in Paris and two tourists have been murdered in Père Lachaise cemetery in front of Jim Morrison’s grave. The cemetery is locked down and put under surveillance, but the killer returns, flitting in and out like a ghost, and breaks into the crypt of a long-dead Moulin Rouge dancer. In a bizarre twist, he disappears under the cover of night with part of her skeleton.
One of the dead tourists is an American and the other is a woman linked to a suspected terrorist; so the US ambassador sends his best man and the embassy’s head of security—Hugo Marston—to help the French police with their investigation.
When the thief breaks into another crypt at a different cemetery, stealing bones from a second famed dancer, Hugo is stumped. How does this killer operate unseen? And why is he stealing the bones of once-famous can-can girls?
Hugo cracks the secrets of the graveyards but soon realizes that old bones aren’t all this killer wants. . . .
Praise for The Crypt Thief...
"The Hugo Marston series now belongs on every espionage fan’s watch list."
—Booklist
"Mark Pryor has created a perfect second book for Hugo Marston. It delivers everything we loved about The Bookseller without being a retread. The Crypt Thief is proof that both Hugo and Pryor should be around for some time."
—MysteryPeople
“Haunting imagery in Père La Chaise cemetery sets the stage for Pryor’s chilling sophomore entry, and the City of Light becomes a backdrop for Marston’s adventures. The clever antagonist leads him on a merry chase that will keep the reader entertained throughout."
—RT Book Reviews
"Two young lovers make the fatal mistake of sneaking into Paris’s Père Lachaise Cemetery the same night as a bone-stealing psychopath in Pryor’s propulsive second novel starring affable former FBI profiler Hugo Marston…. The engaging characters sweep readers into a suspenseful chase from Pigalle to the Pyrenées."
—Publishers Weekly
Pryor's second case for Marston (after The Bookseller) doesn't disappoint.
—Library Journal
Author Pryor uses this truly creepy scenario to create a nail-biter of a novel. It has enough bizarre twists to keep you reading into the night. The setting in the famous Paris cemetery gives the story just enough of a sense of the exotic to pull the reader in, and to anticipate something far different from a run of the mill mystery. “The Crypt Thief” leads us on the trail of a cold-blooded killer to a truly fiery conclusion.
—Suspense Magazine
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Charlie Sector, cold and quiet
It was quiet all night. A may evening when the cops in Charlie Sector and I should have been wearing short sleeves. Instead, the car's heater was on and the cold wind seemed to have swept people from the streets.
Even at 12th and Chicon, where the dealers and buyers meet for huddled sales conferences, where the girls looking for Johns hang off the sidewalk in the hope of business, even on this busiest of east Austin corners, all was quiet.
We set up in an alley and saw little more than trash cart-wheeling in front of us. One man, his head down, waved a gloved hand as he passed, perhaps mocking or perhaps in sympathy. We bided our time but finally moved to a stretch of MLK where Nick, my officer for the evening, promised we'd catch people blowing away the 35mph limit. But fifteen minutes with the laser-gun gave us nothing, even the traffic was slow and lumbering, not happy about being out in the cold.
Then, at 9pm, a hot shot call. A disturbance, violence, people at risk. Nick hit lights and sirens and I checked the map on his computer. We were on the wrong side of Charlie but what caught my attention was the mass of units heading to the call from every direction, electronic bugs swarming to only light in the dark, like nerds spotting a hot girl at a Star Trek convention.
The call was downgraded soon enough, so we peeled off hoping to find something somewhere else. The best we could manage was a trip to the A&E at St. Davids to get the name of a woman injured in a car crash. When we got there, she'd gone.
Nick apologized several times for the quiet night but it wasn't his fault. I told him that, said he'd done such a great job the criminals were scared to come out and play.
And, for the first time since I started riding out, I actually wondered, "Should we go get donuts?"
We didn't.
Even at 12th and Chicon, where the dealers and buyers meet for huddled sales conferences, where the girls looking for Johns hang off the sidewalk in the hope of business, even on this busiest of east Austin corners, all was quiet.
We set up in an alley and saw little more than trash cart-wheeling in front of us. One man, his head down, waved a gloved hand as he passed, perhaps mocking or perhaps in sympathy. We bided our time but finally moved to a stretch of MLK where Nick, my officer for the evening, promised we'd catch people blowing away the 35mph limit. But fifteen minutes with the laser-gun gave us nothing, even the traffic was slow and lumbering, not happy about being out in the cold.
Then, at 9pm, a hot shot call. A disturbance, violence, people at risk. Nick hit lights and sirens and I checked the map on his computer. We were on the wrong side of Charlie but what caught my attention was the mass of units heading to the call from every direction, electronic bugs swarming to only light in the dark, like nerds spotting a hot girl at a Star Trek convention.
The call was downgraded soon enough, so we peeled off hoping to find something somewhere else. The best we could manage was a trip to the A&E at St. Davids to get the name of a woman injured in a car crash. When we got there, she'd gone.
Nick apologized several times for the quiet night but it wasn't his fault. I told him that, said he'd done such a great job the criminals were scared to come out and play.
And, for the first time since I started riding out, I actually wondered, "Should we go get donuts?"
We didn't.
Monday, April 22, 2013
TGIM!
Yep, you read that right - Thank God It's Monday.
I mean, seriously, last week was utterly insane (West explosion, Boston manhunt, DA DWI just for starters) so I, for one, am glad to move on to a fresh week.
Note, please, that all are topics of too great an import or too close to home for me to scribble about, hence the protracted silence.
In good news this weekend, Reese Witherspoon got arrested (kidding, kidding). I've always liked that name though, 'Witherspoon.' Think about etymology, did it come from a wizard who had it in for utensils?
Anyway, I wanted to say hello and spread some happy news (happy for me, that is) because I received a copy of the flyers they always send out for me to distribute. Somewhere. Have a look:
Yeah, you'll need to click on it to read it.
Not much crime news to report to you, my ride-outs have been quiet and my cases are still juvenile so I don't feel like I should share. The best I can come up with is something from England - a soccer player I like bit another player. Yes, you read that right, during a game he got mad and bit an opponent, and amazingly this isn't the first time he's done it.
You should see the choppers on him, in Texas those would be classified as deadly weapons. But it did make me think about the kicks and slaps, the pushes and trips players endure on the field that they'd never put up with in the real world. I mean, every Sunday I get a new set of bruises from my soccer games, and that's an over-40 league.
Biting though? Should that be a criminal charge? My first thought was, Grow up, dude.
I mean, seriously, last week was utterly insane (West explosion, Boston manhunt, DA DWI just for starters) so I, for one, am glad to move on to a fresh week.
Note, please, that all are topics of too great an import or too close to home for me to scribble about, hence the protracted silence.
In good news this weekend, Reese Witherspoon got arrested (kidding, kidding). I've always liked that name though, 'Witherspoon.' Think about etymology, did it come from a wizard who had it in for utensils?
Anyway, I wanted to say hello and spread some happy news (happy for me, that is) because I received a copy of the flyers they always send out for me to distribute. Somewhere. Have a look:
Not much crime news to report to you, my ride-outs have been quiet and my cases are still juvenile so I don't feel like I should share. The best I can come up with is something from England - a soccer player I like bit another player. Yes, you read that right, during a game he got mad and bit an opponent, and amazingly this isn't the first time he's done it.
You should see the choppers on him, in Texas those would be classified as deadly weapons. But it did make me think about the kicks and slaps, the pushes and trips players endure on the field that they'd never put up with in the real world. I mean, every Sunday I get a new set of bruises from my soccer games, and that's an over-40 league.
Biting though? Should that be a criminal charge? My first thought was, Grow up, dude.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
A Man in a Can
I've been quiet here for a while, partly because it happened again, and I didn't know what to say about it.
A prosecutor in Texas was murdered.
Again, I don't really know what to say and so don't plan to talk about it - for one thing, I don't know any more than has been reported in the media.
So let's move on, shall we?
On a recent ride-along I got to see a wonderful example of efficient law enforcement in action. Here's what happened: a driver allegedly caused an accident in which people in the other vehicle were injured. The law requires you to stop and render assistance in that case and failing to do so is a felony. In fact, we saw a high-profile case here in Austin relating to this kind of incident, only far more serious, if you recall.
Anyway, the chap who allegedly caused the accident decided not to stick around, and took off on foot. APD was called and their mission became to find him.
I was in the car with the shift Sargent who was calling some of the shots, but interestingly the patrol officers seemed to know what to do even before we got there: not charge into the crash scene but set up a perimeter. On the computer in Sarge's car, I could see the other units setting up on all egress points. Our man was fast and agile, supposedly hopping fences to get away, but with a police car on every street there wasn't much for him to do, nowhere for him to go.
So he hid.
Overheard, APD's chopper Air One buzzed the neighborhood. It was still light and there was a lot of foot and car traffic, but they had a secret weapon. Well, not secret really, just cool: heat-detecting visual aids. Over the air came the call:
"There's a trash can I'm seeing. Very hot. Never seen a trash can put out that much heat."
And just like that, it was over. One gentleman in custody, no one else hurt. Textbook, you might say, quick and efficient, with everyone doing their job. Very impressive to see first hand.
A prosecutor in Texas was murdered.
Again, I don't really know what to say and so don't plan to talk about it - for one thing, I don't know any more than has been reported in the media.
So let's move on, shall we?
On a recent ride-along I got to see a wonderful example of efficient law enforcement in action. Here's what happened: a driver allegedly caused an accident in which people in the other vehicle were injured. The law requires you to stop and render assistance in that case and failing to do so is a felony. In fact, we saw a high-profile case here in Austin relating to this kind of incident, only far more serious, if you recall.
Anyway, the chap who allegedly caused the accident decided not to stick around, and took off on foot. APD was called and their mission became to find him.
I was in the car with the shift Sargent who was calling some of the shots, but interestingly the patrol officers seemed to know what to do even before we got there: not charge into the crash scene but set up a perimeter. On the computer in Sarge's car, I could see the other units setting up on all egress points. Our man was fast and agile, supposedly hopping fences to get away, but with a police car on every street there wasn't much for him to do, nowhere for him to go.
So he hid.
Overheard, APD's chopper Air One buzzed the neighborhood. It was still light and there was a lot of foot and car traffic, but they had a secret weapon. Well, not secret really, just cool: heat-detecting visual aids. Over the air came the call:
"There's a trash can I'm seeing. Very hot. Never seen a trash can put out that much heat."
And just like that, it was over. One gentleman in custody, no one else hurt. Textbook, you might say, quick and efficient, with everyone doing their job. Very impressive to see first hand.
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