Dispatched to investigate a reported disturbance between neighbors in the wee hours of Feb. 24, deputies reached the Mauff Court address just in time to nearly run over a well-oiled man driving an ATV. He was apparently driving because he could barely walk, and deputies returned him to the alleged crime scene with some difficulty. According to the man’s wife, she and hubby had been “partying a little bit” with a neighbor and discussing country music when that volatile subject predictably led to violent discord. Her husband shoved her, prompting the gallantly lubricated neighbor to intervene, thus widening the conflict. Seeing his wife call 911, the man shoved her again and hit the trail on his trusty 4-wheeler, perhaps hoping to T-bone a police cruiser. As in any decent country western song, the unforgiving county lawmen tossed the hard-drinkin’ range-rider in the calaboose.
Just after breakfast, a mysterious female phoned a local woman for information regarding the current whereabouts of an apparently mutual acquaintance to be herewith designated “Waldo.” When the caller refused to identify herself, the woman suggested she lose her phone number and hanged up. A short time later, a male friend called and immediately handed his phone over to the aforementioned mysterious female, who again demanded to know where Waldo was. Again denied, the surly stranger growled “you better watch your pretty little boy, and you better watch your (caboose).” Alarmed, the hassled lass alerted sheriff’s deputies, who contacted her male friend, who cravenly denied knowledge of the threatening exchange, He did, however, admit knowing the mysterious female, and said he suspected she and her mysterious husband were gunning for Waldo with cruel intentions. Deputies eventually caught up with Mr. and Mrs. Mystery, who were visiting from Alabama, and asked how their interest in Waldo involved the complainant. Waldo owed them money, the couple explained, and may or may not have drained oil from their car. As to harassment charges, they said they’d never even met their accuser, and had certainly never spoken to her, unkindly or otherwise. Officers recommended they keep it that way.
One sunny afternoon a local developer summoned sheriff’s deputies to a Hilltop Road residential construction site to investigate what could be termed anti-sculpting. Sometime during the previous 24 hours, a determined anti-artist had transformed a handsome 9-square-foot stone mega-sign welcoming passers-by to “The Observatory on Independence Mountain” into four smaller signs that, individually, convey no clear message. Although the anti-sculptor didn’t sign his work, the doleful developer suspects he may have seen his handiwork before. Other anti-acts against the planned subdivision have included strewing roofing nails along the entrance drive and depositing the site’s building permit and blueprints into the most fragrant part of a portable toilet. Officers promised a month’s-worth of increased patrols and, with luck, the destructive Degas will soon be making big rocks into little ones for the county.
A resident of Northwood Drive called authorities on July 16 to report that someone, quite possibly his landlord, had “cloned” or “spoofed” his cell phone number. The aggrieved tenant – who claimed to have run a modeling agency from that address and “has always dated younger women” – told the responding deputy that he suspected his landlord – a former “top guy” with either NASA or the CIA who owns a houseful of “high-tech spy equipment” – may be using the pirated phone number to call the complainant’s many girlfriends. The officer contacted the landlord, who didn’t seem overly surprised at their visit and flatly denied the allegations. The complainant, he said, “is a paranoid schizophrenic and goes up and down, but lately he’s been making a lot of wild accusations.” The deputy hung up the case after both parties agreed to put their difficulties on hold until the tenant’s lease runs out next month.
Sheriff’s deputies were dispatched to King Soopers in Conifer where a justice-minded young delicatessen employee stood accused of making his sandwiches too light on the bread. According to the store’s security official, the 18-year-old man consistently undercharged customers for their deli sandwiches. When asked why he’d charged only $3.29 per pound instead of the advertised price of $5.99 per pound, he told officers that “I think $5.99 per pound is too much to be charging.” He said he’d made that point with his supervisor about a month ago and that she’d given him verbal approval to charge the discounted rate, or “maybe I misunderstood her.” He figured he gave the unofficial sale price to about 95 percent of his customers, and only charged the official rate sporadically to allay suspicion. Determining the magnitude of the delicious crime, a deputy concluded mathematically that, during five months behind the counter, the ham-fisted employee sliced deli profits by $167.43. He was issued a summons for theft and had to turn in his apron.
Used with the permission of Evergreen Newspapers