Comments on: The start of a true story. I didn’t realize setting the scene would be so lengthly. https://habitablezone.com/2011/11/21/the-start-of-a-true-story-i-didnt-realize-setting-the-scene-would-be-so-lengthly/ Fri, 03 Apr 2026 18:20:54 -0700 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 By: bowser https://habitablezone.com/2011/11/21/the-start-of-a-true-story-i-didnt-realize-setting-the-scene-would-be-so-lengthly/#comment-8670 bowser Wed, 23 Nov 2011 01:44:58 +0000 http://habitablezone.com/?p=5429#comment-8670 Next. Saturday. I am parked at the intersection, pointed away from the main road, able to see the house by sitting with my feet on the front seat and leaning against the driver's door. It's overcast, cool, some snow on the ground, dry roads, listening to KSFO or something like that, a San Francisco AM station all talk. It's usually available via "skip" later at night. No activity. I need some activity. But not this. At 7:45 PM I see a couple of flashlights moving down the road I'm facing. I watch that closely, and it's a fellow with a hunting rifle and scope and another fellow without a visible weapon. I figure they're poaching, maybe, until they get close to me. The oldest one, about 50, dressed roughly but good for the weather, stands across the road and shines the damned light into my eyes. A friendly "Hi, whatcha doin'?" I turn off the radio, roll down the window, say Hi, and he adds a little more suspiciously, "Been watching you for a couple of days, wonder what you're doing?" I suspect they have been using the 'scope on the rifle, a bit chilling. I turn and glance down the road toward the house. There is a vehicle driving away, rapidly, the way kids drive. Oh, God! I consider leaving, but that's not really an option at the moment. There is nothing I can do, that one's gone, I explain that I'd love to tell them what I'm doing, but I can't. I pull one of the Sheriff's Department business cards I took off a counter from my shirt pocket and hand it out the window. I've left the cameras exposed, they sometimes intimidate people into remaining quiet. "I'd appreciate it if you'd call the Sheriff's Department." The younger fellow came over and took the card. The older guy stays across the street, probably wise from his point of view, ridiculous from mine. Guy looks at the card, "You with the Sheriff's Department?" No, but they know what's going on. I wish I could tell you. It's nothing, really. They allow as they will call the Sheriff, politely say good night, apologizing for being so cautious. I ask if they think it will snow, trying to make it all a bit more personal, and one of them says it's too warm, might rain. And they leave. I roll up the window and swear and swear. An entire day shot to shit because of those nosy bastards, goddamned pricks! All the while understanding what they're doing. I may as well leave, I'm thinking, but can't. I don't want those guys to think they've chased me off. Better give them enough time to call the Sheriff. Turn on the radio, excited enough to know I won't fall asleep for an hour or so. About 8:30 PM and I'm down to saying I'll just stay one more minute and then leave. I do that a lot, 8 or 10 or 15 times before I leave as a ploy to stay longer. I sit up to start the car, and there are headlights coming up the road driving past the subject's house. I wait. It's a Sheriff's patrol car which turns in front of me and drives up the road the two fellows walked down. He waves at me, I wave at him. Now I'm stuck for a while longer. Eight minutes later he drives by again, waving and smiling. Now I've had it. I drive back to my motel room, stopping at five bars along the way looking for my guy. This is the part I enjoy, as I have two drinks in each bar, all on the expense account. Back in the motel I call my answering machines, at home and in the office. I'm going to wait until it's too late to return calls from home to call that machine, I don't feel like dealing with any "Call me if it's before 11" messages. I'm tired of being here, I'm tired of this case, I'm tired of this family, I'm tired of working this and being a supervisor, I'm tired of my boss, the company, Montana. I call the office, and have 9 messages, most of them status with no follow-up. There's a restaurant associated with this motel, I call it and order something to be brought up. An advantage of an unlimited budget case. And then I can relax, and return the calls I have to. One if them is to an employee I don't really trust, so I give him some concrete things to do tomorrow, things which will require action and will be hard to lie about. The others are employees who are friends, and we BS about the trials and tribulations, what's working and what isn't, and it's nice to touch base. I'll call my office in the morning, listen to my boss piss and moan about the lack of activity here, grind my teeth, tell him how everyone else is doing, receive some instructions he could just as easily tell them as I could. For now I turn on Johnny Carson, eat my dinner, drink some more, undress and fall asleep until the wake-up call in the morning. Next. Saturday. I am parked at the intersection, pointed away from the main road, able to see the house by sitting with my feet on the front seat and leaning against the driver’s door. It’s overcast, cool, some snow on the ground, dry roads, listening to KSFO or something like that, a San Francisco AM station all talk. It’s usually available via “skip” later at night. No activity. I need some activity.

But not this. At 7:45 PM I see a couple of flashlights moving down the road I’m facing. I watch that closely, and it’s a fellow with a hunting rifle and scope and another fellow without a visible weapon. I figure they’re poaching, maybe, until they get close to me. The oldest one, about 50, dressed roughly but good for the weather, stands across the road and shines the damned light into my eyes. A friendly “Hi, whatcha doin’?” I turn off the radio, roll down the window, say Hi, and he adds a little more suspiciously, “Been watching you for a couple of days, wonder what you’re doing?” I suspect they have been using the ‘scope on the rifle, a bit chilling.

I turn and glance down the road toward the house. There is a vehicle driving away, rapidly, the way kids drive. Oh, God! I consider leaving, but that’s not really an option at the moment. There is nothing I can do, that one’s gone,

I explain that I’d love to tell them what I’m doing, but I can’t. I pull one of the Sheriff’s Department business cards I took off a counter from my shirt pocket and hand it out the window. I’ve left the cameras exposed, they sometimes intimidate people into remaining quiet. “I’d appreciate it if you’d call the Sheriff’s Department.” The younger fellow came over and took the card. The older guy stays across the street, probably wise from his point of view, ridiculous from mine. Guy looks at the card, “You with the Sheriff’s Department?” No, but they know what’s going on. I wish I could tell you. It’s nothing, really.

They allow as they will call the Sheriff, politely say good night, apologizing for being so cautious. I ask if they think it will snow, trying to make it all a bit more personal, and one of them says it’s too warm, might rain. And they leave.

I roll up the window and swear and swear. An entire day shot to shit because of those nosy bastards, goddamned pricks! All the while understanding what they’re doing.

I may as well leave, I’m thinking, but can’t. I don’t want those guys to think they’ve chased me off. Better give them enough time to call the Sheriff. Turn on the radio, excited enough to know I won’t fall asleep for an hour or so.

About 8:30 PM and I’m down to saying I’ll just stay one more minute and then leave. I do that a lot, 8 or 10 or 15 times before I leave as a ploy to stay longer. I sit up to start the car, and there are headlights coming up the road driving past the subject’s house. I wait. It’s a Sheriff’s patrol car which turns in front of me and drives up the road the two fellows walked down. He waves at me, I wave at him.

Now I’m stuck for a while longer. Eight minutes later he drives by again, waving and smiling.

Now I’ve had it. I drive back to my motel room, stopping at five bars along the way looking for my guy. This is the part I enjoy, as I have two drinks in each bar, all on the expense account.

Back in the motel I call my answering machines, at home and in the office. I’m going to wait until it’s too late to return calls from home to call that machine, I don’t feel like dealing with any “Call me if it’s before 11″ messages. I’m tired of being here, I’m tired of this case, I’m tired of this family, I’m tired of working this and being a supervisor, I’m tired of my boss, the company, Montana.

I call the office, and have 9 messages, most of them status with no follow-up. There’s a restaurant associated with this motel, I call it and order something to be brought up. An advantage of an unlimited budget case. And then I can relax, and return the calls I have to. One if them is to an employee I don’t really trust, so I give him some concrete things to do tomorrow, things which will require action and will be hard to lie about. The others are employees who are friends, and we BS about the trials and tribulations, what’s working and what isn’t, and it’s nice to touch base. I’ll call my office in the morning, listen to my boss piss and moan about the lack of activity here, grind my teeth, tell him how everyone else is doing, receive some instructions he could just as easily tell them as I could. For now I turn on Johnny Carson, eat my dinner, drink some more, undress and fall asleep until the wake-up call in the morning.

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