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The Big Lie

Police Adventures

By Gregory Dolan DiesPublished 3 years ago 4 min read

The Big Lie

I was eleven and good at math so I got my first paying job, at Kona Lanes, score keeping for adult bowling leagues on Saturday mornings. My penmanship was excellent so I had quite a few teams bidding for my services. My parents were pleased I’d found something to do during the summer but the yard maintenance fell on Matt which just pissed him off. He was better in math than I was but his handwriting looked like cave drawings.

One particular Saturday my dad sent me packing, it was about a mile walk, no big thing back then, but he sent me with one order; don’t buy rock candy on your way home. This wasn’t a request, it was an order from the family General.

The day went swimmingly and I collected about eight dollars in tips, a fortune in 1967, especially for an eleven year old. I crossed Harbor boulevard on my way home and noticed a new liquor store had popped up. Being of adventurous mind I stopped in with my pockets full of cash and checked it out. Lo and behold I noticed a fancy packaging of rock candy and despite my direct orders I purchased this treasure.

I decided to take old Warehouse Road home, which would give me time to abolish the bag of rock candy and who would be the wiser? While I slowly strolled I noticed an emergency phone about halfway down the street directly in front of the warehouses. No one was working and no one was around so my curious mind got the best of me.

I opened the fancy door and saw it was just a regular phone, so I picked it up. A voice immediately came on so naturally I hung up. I’d satisfied my curiosity so I kept trucking, slowly looking around. Suddenly an uproar filled the street behind me, sirens and flashing lights were heading right at me. Like a heroine addict I took that rock candy from my pocket and heaved it under one of the porches of the warehouses.

A cop car cut me off and this huge policeman got out like his hair was afire. He stopped me in my tracks and the questioning began. “Did you call us on that phone?” He was pointing to the fancy box I had just picked up. There wasn’t a soul in sight so I naturally just lied. “No officer”, came out of my mouth and we both knew that was a lie.

The officer had two other police cars with him and two fire engines were in tow. “Well son, you seem to be the only one here, you care to elaborate on how we got that call?”.

I didn’t even know what elaborate meant but in for a penny. “ I have no idea sir”, came from my mouth but to this day I don’t know why. He harangued me for sometime but now I felt I had no alternative but to keep up The Big Lie.

After what seemed like an eternity he and his partner first threatened me then put me in the back of the squad car. I was thinking by then I should probably just tell them the truth but I had watched a prison movie or two and doubted I could have survived a nickle stretch up the river.

When we pulled into the back parking lot across from the OC Fairgrounds, things got real. I was being hauled into the Costa Mesa Police Department . More threatening came rushing from his mouth but this now hardened eleven year old was keeping his mouth shut. He tricked me into spilling my parents phone number by asking, “what’s your parents number?”.

Within minutes the old man came into the bullpen with a look of disgust on his face, had a parlay with a few officers and the show was on.

The now growing officer, he was probably six foot tall but at that moment looked like Andre the Giant. “we have a black light machine downstairs and you’re father agreed we could take you down there and scan your hands. We put a fine powder of yellow tint on every phone and if you touched it this light will show you picked it up”. He looked pissed but I owned my lie and kept up the ruse.

He grabbed me under my arm and led me to the staircase heading down to the basement. By then, it must have been a slow Saturday in Costa Mesa, a parade of officers and my dad followed. I’ve since seen baton twirlers lead parades with less people behind them.

He set me down at the ‘black light machine’ and made a grand gesture of turning it on. It was me against the world at that moment but I’d gone too far and kept up the lie. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me the truth?” For apparently it had become personal for Andre and I. “I am” I stuttered and this black magic machine roared to life.

He took my little hands and thrust them under the dark light and sure enough traces of yellow was all over my fingers. “Ah ha, what’s that young man?” He thought he had me dead to rights.

“That’s from keeping score at the bowling alley sir, we use overhead projectors and I use a yellow pen to keep score”. The lie was still alive!

The coppers had nothing to hold me on and released me to my dad with a stern warning but by then I knew I had beat the rap and wasn’t listening.

In my dads death bed I finally came clean and he smiled knowing all along I was a big fat liar, but I never admitted to the rock candy. He’s probably reading this in heaven both laughing and pissed about the candy.

Crack Egg Out

Childhood

About the Creator

Gregory Dolan Dies

I’ve been around the block a time or two but due to a bad left hip I never get far, I just keep walking in circles. I’m an old rusty merry-go-round that will leave you cut and in stitches.

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    Gregory Dolan DiesWritten by Gregory Dolan Dies

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