The name is O’Roarke. Johnny O’Roarke. Security is my game. I’m a sergeant in the University of North Carolina Department of Enforcement and Security. It ain’t all fun and games being a campus cop. Some people I know think I spend all my time chasing nubile young coeds. Well, I get my share, but I take my work seriously. Damn seriously.
Just the other day, a new case came in. Some broad had locked her keys in her car. I was on duty and ready for action. I grabbed up my gear, jumped on my bike, turned on the lights and the siren, and headed to the parking garage. A crowd had formed, although for some reason they were all lined up at the elevator, a good hundred feet away from the broad’s car. I filed that away for the moment. I had work to do. I arrived, jumped off my bike, and started studying the scene for evidence. There was plenty of it, and my razor sharp brain started putting the pieces together. The car was a Prizm, a cheap gift some Daddy gave to his Princess when she graduated and moved into the dorm as a freshman. It needed a paint job. Badly. The tires were bald. There was a puddle of antifreeze under the engine. All of this built a picture in my mind of the owner – an absent minded floozy who didn’t know how to take care of a car. I got out my camera and started taking pictures. This would be exhibit A if the case got into the courts. If it didn’t go to court, then, no big problem, the photos would go into the files just in case. As a law enforcement officer, it’s my job to collect the evidence. Someone else can figure out what to do with it.
It was then that I saw her. The dame. She was a blonde, tall, thin but not skinny. She was wearing a short skirt, and as they say in the business, her legs went all the way up to her ass. She was a beauty. Movie star looks. I had sized her up perfectly. A freshman. Probably was a cheerleader in high school. Still had that air of innocence. She probably read romances and dreamed of marrying a doctor. Or maybe she preferred the active kind, like a cop. I started playing it cool, knowing how chicks love a cool cop.
“You having a problem with your car?” I asked in my no-nonsense cop voice, knowing full well its effects on young ladies. My, she was tall. I found myself looking up at her, gazing into those beautiful blues. I admit it, I’m a little on the short side, and I have to look up at a lot of people. But great things come in small packages.
“Yes, officer”, she said. “I kind of locked myself out. I’m so embarrassed. I’ve got an English exam this morning, and I was just so preoccupied I got out and locked the car without thinking. Uh, what’s with the camera?”
“Documentation, ma’am, just documentation.” I knew her kind. They just cannot understand police work. They think it’s all about damsels in distress, and lockouts, and they think they can just take fifteen minutes of my time and not be late for their exams. Well, not this cop. I continued snapping photos, including a couple of her.
“Can you please hurry?” she asked impatiently, looking at her watch. “I’ve got to get to my class.”
“Well, okay, ma’am, I’ll get right on it”, I said in an air of exasperation. Sheesh, young kids nowadays, they think the world owes them a living. I reached into my bike bag and got out my lockout tool. I looked at her car. The Prizm is a felony waiting to happen. The easiest car in the world to break into. I had it open in 30 seconds. I should have taken my time, let her sweat a little, maybe chat her up a little while I was working. I managed a little flourish as I opened her car door and gestured her inside. “Voila”, I said with my patented lady-killer smile.
“Oh, thank you so much, I don’t know how to thank you”. She was in the car and had it started before I could react. I knocked on her window. She gave me a loaded look. You know that look a broad can give, that you’re being a pain in the ass, that she has more important things to do in the world than spending a few seconds talking to you, that she has a million things to do today, so would you please just get lost? You know, all of that in just a look? She rolled down the window and said “Yes?” Just that one word carried a paragraph of meanings.
“There’s the small matter of the paperwork, ma’am”, I said. “I have to fill out an incident report. That’s the curse of a cop’s life, all of that paperwork, but it comes with the territory. Now, can I please get your name and address?”
I reached for my clipboard in my bike bag, but she was backing out as I turned back to her.
“Later, sir, I really have to get to my class”, she said through the window. With a squeal of tires she was headed down the aisle of the parking garage. “My name is Amy Whitman, I’ll come to the security office later today”, she called out as she turned the corner. I jumped on my bike and chased after her, siren screaming, but of course could not catch up with her. She barely stopped at the gate, threw a bill at the attendant, and screeched out. I gave up trying to chase her.
“That is just great!” I said irritably. “This is just too freakin’ great! Now how am I going to do my report?” The Captain didn’t like it if I didn’t get my paperwork done. He would give me a few demerits, I just knew it. To top it all off, in the excitement I had not even gotten her license tag number. God, I hated days like this.
But this day was not over. Far from it. When I got back to headquarters, I slunk back to my desk, trying to avoid the Captain. I had an email from one of my campus confidential informants. It seemed there was a rumor that a ruckus was brewing over on the South Quad. The rumor was that a streaker was going to break out at noon today. This was the break I needed. I had just enough time to get over there. As I was leaving, the Captain came out of his office.
“O’Roarke, where’s your report on the lockout this morning?” he roared.
“No time now, Captain, I have to get over to the South Quad. I’ve got a hot tip on a disturbance over there. You might want to dispatch the Special Patrol Squad. I have a feeling there’s going to be trouble.”
That got his mind off of paperwork. He told me to head on over, and he would work on briefing the Special Patrol Squad and send them ASAP. I swear, one of these days he would retire, or get fired after the Chancellor realized how inept he was. Then I would become the Captain. I would set this place right. Forget the damn paperwork. What this place needed was some good, old-fashioned discipline. With these happy thoughts, I went out into the warm autumn morning and rode on over.
There was a large crowd gathered already, twenty minutes before noon. Word had spread fast. This was a dangerous situation. There was a tension in the air, apprehension and anticipation. We had to be careful, or we would have a student riot on our hands. There were hundreds of students, standing on the concourse overlooking the soccer field. Hundreds more were hanging their heads out of their dormitory windows, loud rap music blaring out. Many had binoculars and telescopes. I thought I could smell the distinct aroma of weed coming from one of those windows. Any other day I would be on it in an instant. Not today. Today we had a different crime to fight, more important fish to fry.
I heard a crackle from my walkie-talkie. The Special Patrol Squad was reporting themselves in position. I put my deductive powers into full alert. You never knew where the streaker was going to emerge. You never knew where he was going to head. The last time this had happened, everyone was looking out toward the soccer field. But the streaker fooled everyone, coming out of the library, behind everyone, and running down the concourse and into the gym, before anyone really noticed him. Once in the gym, he disappeared into the shower room, and he was able to blend in easily. That was one of the few unsolved cases in our files, and it was not going to happen again. Not on my watch.
I thought about the tactical situation. I put myself into the perpetrator’s head. Where would I go, if I was running naked through a crowd of hundreds of students? The soccer field. They had bypassed it last time, knowing it was the most obvious. Now, they would figure everybody would be betting on the back way, and so they would use the field. My eyes followed the imagined path of the streaker. Across the field, to the little copse of woods a couple of hundred yards away. There was a small parking lot there. Run to the parking lot, where your friends would be waiting to pick you up and carry you to safety. Sure enough, I saw a white van parked at the edge of the trees. Illegally parked by the looks of it. That was the getaway vehicle, for sure. I gave a sitrep on my walkie talkie, telling them I was going to handle this. I didn’t want a bunch of officers around, possibly scaring off the streaker.
I went into the library, down to the basement floor, through the tunnel, and came out at the soccer field below the concourse. I had to be careful. I didn’t want to spook the perp before he started his streak. I hung around just to the right of the door, hoping to nab the guy as he came through. I glanced at my watch. Noon was seconds away. He wouldn’t appear right at noon. He would wait a few minutes, increasing the drama. I was tense. I was ready.
He came out the door right beside me, running fast, and was past me before I had a chance to grab him. He had his pants wrapped around his head like a turban, disguising his face. He had on high top sneakers, and nothing else. He raced out toward the soccer field, his bare ass flopping in the breeze. The crowd gasped as they spied him, and started cheering him on. I took off after him. I knew I could catch him. My body was in tip-top shape. I had been a free safety in high school. He was fast, but I was faster. Still, he got almost all the way across the field before I caught up to him. I threw myself at him, taking him out at the knees. He hit the ground hard, and I landed on top of him. I had him in a full nelson before he knew what had hit him. .He was struggling, trying to get out of my grip.
“Stay on the ground, scumbag”, I yelled, as I let one arm go to grab my cuffs off my belt. “Put your hands behind your back, or I’ll break your arm. You’re under arrest for public indecency. You have the right to remain silent…” I recited his Miranda rights as I cuffed him, sitting on his bare butt. Technically, I could not arrest him, only detain him, and there was really no need to give him his Mirandas. Still, I was enjoying playing the part. I was in my element. This was what I had joined the Department for. This was what life was all about, bringing low-lifes like this to justice.
A few officers from the Special Patrol Squad caught up to us. I strutted like a peacock as they pulled the perp up out of the dirt. This was my collar. I had done it. I felt like a million dollars. I pictured my portrait on the front page of Campus Security Review, along with an article describing the collar. I would be famous. The Captain could not begrudge me a little lost paperwork now. I might even get a promotion out of this.
“Alright, let’s get a look at the rat we’ve just trapped”, I crowed. They turned him around to face me. His makeshift turban had fallen off in the tussle. I took a good look at his face. He was just a kid. Another frickin’ freshman, by the looks of him. Man, they were going bad so young these days. He was tall, a good six-three. He was blonde. My eyes traveled downward. He was quite well endowed. Well, after all, you don’t streak if you don’t have the physique.
One of the SP’s spoke up. “Sarge, we’ve got us a situation. That crowd up there is getting unruly. You hear them?”
I could hear them alright. Boos, catcalls, whistles. An ugly situation. Still, we were the law here. Let them shout. We had justice on our side.
“Alright men”, I said. “Form up, and let’s escort our prisoner to HQ. And for God’s sake, someone give that guy his pants.”
We formed a cordon around the guy and walked back across the field. We went up the steps to the concourse, the crowd of students shouting all around us. They were calling us every name in the book. Yeah, I may be a pig but those kids were piglets with dirty rotten mouths. It was a nasty situation but they made way for us as we walked back to the department squad car waiting for us. I put the guy in the back seat myself, putting my hand on his head and pushing it down as he got in so he didn’t bump his head. I got my bike and clamped it on the back of the squad car, got in on the shotgun side, and one of the SP’s got in back with the prisoner. Another SP drove us back to HQ.
I entered HQ to a rousing ovation. The Captain came up, slapped me on the back, and said “Nice catch, Johnny”. That was the first time the Captain had ever called me Johnny. I was a hero. But then he said “Now get me a report on that collar, pronto”. Back to earth. Back to paperwork. Still, I was in such a good mood, I didn’t mind at all. The SP’s escorted the prisoner into the back office. I had told the Captain many times we needed a cell, but he hadn’t listened. His claim was that we didn’t need one. He had a point. This was our first ever prisoner. Maybe the Captain would relent now and scrape up the funds for a cell. Honestly, I’ll turn this outfit into a first class law enforcement body yet.
I started in on my arrest report. The perp’s name was Andy Smith, a pre-law rich kid pulling a low C grade point average. Worked just hard enough to get through school. I knew his type, I saw them all of the time. They would graduate, get a nice cushy job working for Daddy, and make their way up the corporate ladder. Only maybe this kid would run into a nice stone wall, courtesy of the record he would carry because he chose to expose himself one day in public. Frickin’ pervert.
I worked for a couple of hours, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was still ecstatic, too keyed up to work on the report. I wished I had had the presence of mind to bring my camera with me to the scene. A couple of photos of the perp in all his glory would have been a nice addition to the report. What I really wished was that someone else had had a camera, a video camera, and had caught my race across the field and my beautiful tackle. I imagined my interview for the Review, how I would tell my life story, a poor Irish kid growing up in a rough neighborhood, how my dad had inspired me with his decades of work for the Banyon Detective Agency, about my years in the National Guard, and my stint in industrial security. I would disclose my ambitions, to one day form the O’Roarke Detective Agency.
I was roused out of my fantasy by Corporal Hannasey. “Sarge, we got more trouble brewing. Take a look outside.”
I looked out the window. The HQ building was surrounded by angry students. They were on some kind of protest march. They were shouting angrily, and waving their fists at the building. Those damn kids, they thought they owned the place. They’d protest at the drop of a hat. What was it this time? The streaker? Damn them! It was against the law to run around in public without your damn pants on. Didn’t they realize that? Didn’t they have any respect for the law? So far they were not violent. But the fuse was lit, and this situation would explode any second now. I decided to take charge. I turned to Hannasey.
“Corporal, call an alert”, I ordered. “Break out the riot gear. I want all available personnel assembled in 5 minutes. Got that?”
“Yes sir!” he said with a smile and left to carry out my orders. I’d have to deal with his attitude later. This was not fun and games. This was a serious incident.
I went to the equipment locker and started pulling out gear: a riot helmet, shield, riot-club, cattle-prod, bull-horn, and mace. This was second-hand equipment, and it was scratched, dirty, and broken. I wondered how many years it had been since the batteries had been charged on the prod. The department was woefully unprepared and ill-equipped to deal with a riot. Another thing I would change when I took over.
Men were starting to assemble. I handed out what equipment there was. There was far from enough to go around. Some of these men might have to face the horde outside with no protection. I pitied them, but there was nothing I could do about it. The Captain would take the fall if one of these brave officers were hurt today. By the time the equipment locker was empty, I had a squad of six more-or-less fully equipped men. That would have to do for now. I briefed them. Four of us would stand guard at the entrance to the HQ building. Three, the most poorly equipped of the squad, would go around back and guard the back entrance. We put down our helmet face-plates, picked up our shields, and went out to meet the enemy.
I’m not sure what I expected, maybe shouts of “Here comes the Man”, “Piggy, piggy”, and “Oink-oink”. I expected the tension level in the crowd to rise dramatically. I expected the crowd to surge toward us. That I could have handled. What I did not expect was what happened – laughter. Guffaws. Shouts of derision. I didn’t expect someone to shout out “What the hell are they supposed to be, the keystone cops?” I didn’t expect one of those punks to look me in the eye and say “Oh, look, it’s Officer O-Runt, boy wonder!”
My anger was seething at their disrespect – disrespect for the law and for the uniform. But I had to keep my cool. I had to restore order here. I flipped up my face-plate and turned on the bull-horn.
“Okay, okay, let’s break it up”, I shouted through the bull-horn in my take-charge voice. Thank God the battery was charged. “All of you go back home, there’s nothing to see here”.
“Free Andy Smith! Free Andy Smith!” The crowd took up the chant. “Free Andy Smith! Free Andy Smith!”
“Andy Smith is under arrest for public indecency”, I shouted. “He’s going to have to pay his debt to society for his crime. There’s no way he’s going to be freed. Now break it up. If you don’t disperse, we’re going to have to start arresting people.”
“Here, arrest this!” shouted one of the protesters, as he dropped his pants, turned around, and bent over, showing his ass to us. That got the crowd going. Four more dropped their pants and mooned us. One familiar face pushed to the front of the crowd. It was that broad from this morning, what was her name? Amy Whitman. “Here, kiss this!” she shouted, as she turned, pulled her pants down just over her hips, and mooned us as well. Just then one of the mooners let out the loudest fart I have ever heard, easily audible over the noise.
Damn! I thought I had something going with her. I thought she had been affected by the old O’Roarke charm. Now she was standing there mooning me! And the others were farting in our faces. This was just not right. This was too damn disrespectful.
The crowd took up a new chant. “Arrest Sergeant O’Runt! Arrest Sergant O’Runt!”
“Alright, you asked for it” I said, putting down the bull-horn. “You people, you’re under arrest for public indecency. Let’s go, men.”
But my squad hesitated. I sensed fear in them, fear of the crowd. There were only four of us, and hundreds of them. But these men were supposedly trained professionals. Professionals, my ass. Now Corporal Hannasey was standing there laughing. The man was laughing!
“Just what the hell is so funny, Corporal?” I screamed.
Just at that moment, the door to HQ banged open and the Captain burst out. “What in the name of God is going on out here, O’Roarke?”
I snapped to attention. “Sir, we are attempting to control the disturbance, Sir!”
“What disturbance?” he shouted in red-faced anger. “All I see is some kids hanging their asses
out. What’s gotten into you
Sergeant? This is a friggin’
school, for cripes sake, not the streets of
He turned to one of the mooners. “You, pull your pants up and turn around. What the hell is going on?”
I couldn’t hear what he said over the noise of the crowd, which was still chanting “Arrest Sergeant O’Runt!” Here we were in a near-riot, and the Captain was standing there chatting with a kid who was still working on getting his pants pulled up. The other mooners were pulling their pants up as well, as they were all trying to get in on the conversation. I looked with forlorn longing as Amy got her pants back up around her beautiful hips. I turned to my squad, and they were all smiling. Smirking, the bastards. I stood there like a jackass in the middle of this mess, my face as red as a beet, cursing my squad for their cowardliness.
The Captain picked up the bull-horn. “Alright, nobody’s going to get arrested. Andy Smith has not been arrested. He’ll be free to go as soon as his parents have been notified. In the meantime, I’m inviting a few of you inside where we can talk civilly. You can stick around and party for all I care, but, I repeat, nobody is getting arrested.” With that, he tossed the bullhorn at me, put one arm around Amy and the other around one of the other mooners, and led them into HQ, followed by my riot control squad.
I stood there for a moment holding the bull-horn in one hand, my cattle prod in the other, as the sun was slowly sinking over the campus. The crowd was now congratulating themselves for having faced up to “The Man” and making “The Man” blink first. Some of them started handing out beers. I thought I could smell the pungent aroma of reefer. Nobody was paying any attention to me any more. I stood there, defeated, and then walked back into the building and threw my gear into the equipment locker. I sat down at my desk, my head down, staring at my half-finished arrest report. It was so unfair! It was just so damn unfair!
“Are you happy with yourself?” I heard a voice ask.
I looked up, and there was Amy. I stared once again into her deep blue eyes. Maybe this day wasn’t a total loss just yet. Maybe I could salvage something out of this disaster. I started turning up the old O’Roarke charm.
“Say, maybe you can help me with that lockout report now”, I said, giving her just the slightest hint of a smile. I’d save the full shining illumination of it for a few moments. You had to reel them in slowly. Otherwise, they’d slip the hook and bolt.
“You’re the jerk that arrested my boyfriend, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Uh, what?” I asked, caught by surprise.
“Andy Smith is my boyfriend, you asshole” she said. “He was just having a little fun. Playing a dare. He didn’t hurt anyone; he didn’t steal anything; he didn’t do anything dangerous.”
The guy was her boyfriend? What did she see in that wimp? I didn’t get it. I mean, alright, he was young, blonde, tall, and well-hung; but other than that, what did he have that I didn’t? I just didn’t get it.
“I hope they bust you to Private, you disgusting little man” she said, and then she walked out. She just walked right out of my life.
The door to the Captain’s office opened and the other mooners strolled out, laughing and slapping each other on the back. The Captain poked his head out the door. “O’Roarke! I just cleaned up your mess. This is going on your record. Oh, and one more thing! You’re not leaving tonight until I have your arrest report in my hands. Now get to work!” With that, he went back in and shut the door to his office.
So, I reluctantly got back to work on my report. No more fantasies to distract me. Just the facts, that’s all. The fun and games were over, and now it was time for the paperwork. I got it done in time to go home and watch “Cops”. After all, I take my work seriously. Damn seriously.