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Police Department of Greater Skrote County, Idaho Police Chief: Jimmy "Duster" Dodd ARREST/INVESTIGATION REPORT Date: March 1, 2002
Name: Wade Allen Tucker Vital Statistics
OFFICER REPORT This is the report of Officer Bug Hooper, and what I write here is what I seen on the first of March in 2002. Now, the suspect (Mr. Tucker) admitted to me he had had him some sourmash so he weren’t always easy to understand. I do believe, however, that I got the general gist of the events that done had transpired at the Billygoat Gardens. And these are them. At approximately 8:02 p.m. on March 1, I received a call from one Shirl Ninebears at the Potato Arms at 35 N. Au Gratin Pl. Ms. Ninebears said she had been looking out her kitchen window when she seen a man in a tree across the street with a pair of binocular glasses. At first, she said she thought maybe the man had done lost his kite up there and was only to looking for it. But it were night, and she didn’t see no kite and anyhow didn’t know what binocular glasses might do for night kite looking. So Ms. Ninebears asked her husband, one Eddie Ninebears, what it were that a man might be doing in a tree such as that. Her husband asked if it were a kite. They then, according to Ms. Ninebears, proceeded to watch the man and missed almost all of Hollywood Squares, which is a one-halfhour-long program and can be quite exciting if you’re betting on it. By that point, they done figured the man were surely up there trying to catch naked people in private-type acts, e.g., clothes changing, wrassling and/or lovemaking, eating sandwiches, etc. I reported to the scene at approximately 8:15 p.m. at which point I saw for myself the suspect (Mr. Tucker) some good way up a large and leafy spruce tree, I believe it were. At this time, I noted in my log that no kite was anywhere to be seen. No stuck cat neither, which was one of my other theories. It were a nice night too for sitting in trees, as I recall. Mild like. I do believe you could’ve gone about in short sleeves without much discomfort. I approached quietly because I had reason to believe the man might be liable to fall if I were to yell out to him. That had done happened to me one time before, and I had no desire to break my collarbone again. It didn’t heal right and now people were always asking what I was shrugging for. So, anyway, I used the shuffle-shuffle-walk-walk tactic we learned in training to move up on him without a sound and it worked perfect. At approximately 8:32, I called to the suspect. I said, "Excuse me, Mister in the tree." But he didn’t hear me and kept right on with his binocular glasses. I cleared my throat some and said it again, a bit louder, "Say Mister, excuse me there." He still didn’t hear me. So at 8:46 or thereabouts, I proceeded to climb the tree myself to interrogate the subject. It were a good big tree with thick branches and so was pretty easy to climb. At one spot, I stopped to catch my breath. I become aware that in one particular apartment of the Billygoat Gardens (number 216, I later discovered) were a bunch of these kids jumping up and down and waving loads of cash. This were interesting. Then what they done was they brought out a few of those painting type pans, three of them in all. In each pan they poured a different color paint, red in one, blue in another, and green in one. I didn’t know what they could might be doing with any of it till they brought the gerbils out. Then a course I figured probably what they was going to do was race gerbils. And that’s what they done, dipping each of the gerbils in the paint and then whacking them with rubber bands to get them going. Pretty soon, there were red, blue and green gerbil tracks over everything and the kids just hooting and hollering. It were sweet kid stuff. I recorded in my log: Kids racing gerbils. I kept to climbing up the tree to the suspect (Mr. Walker). A bit ways up I snagged my shirt on a branch and as I worked to unhook myself I caught sight of a tall white male Caucasian man and a woman of the same kind, both dressed in orange jumpsuits and football helmets (apartment 308). As I ain’t never seen a man and woman in orange jumpsuits and helmets, I was curious what such people do in their private time. But I still don’t claim to cogitate rightly what they done next. The man made a pile of newspaper in the middle of the floor. Then the woman put some liquid on the paper and the man lit it afire. Then the two took turns diving off the couch onto the fire till it were put out and smoking. Then, by god, they done it again. Some kind of fire party was what I figured. I recorded it in my log: Jumpsuit man and woman do fire diving. Once you see that once, you’ve sort of seen it. So I continued up the tree, and I must say, it were right nice to be up that high on a clear night like that. In between the branches, the stars looked like the far-off flashlights of a vigilante mob. When I got up aways, I found myself looking right into a fifth-floor place (apartment 402). That’s where I seen this man in his briefs and he were applying shaving cream to himself from head to foot. Then the man he went about shaving every last inch of himself, and when he wiped himself clean with a towel he was all shiny like he were a giant type baby and made of plastic or somesuch. Then what he done was the man left the room and come back with a small empty kiddie pool, which he set in the middle of the living room. And then he left again and he come back with an armful of pies. And then he left a third time and come back with more pies still. These he stacked on the floor. I wondered what a man could think to do with body shaving, a kiddie pool and pies. But then he showed me. The man he stood himself in the pool and then come another man with a beard and dressed in a dress and apron and what that man done was one at a time throwed the pies at the first man. I recorded this in my log: Man in apron throws pies at man in kiddie pool. This all made me quite hungry a course. What I thought was I could really go for some stew, the kind with those little onions. That would be good. But I’m a police officer, on a call, and I knew any stew with little onions would have to wait. I kept climbing. I called to the suspect (Mr. Walker) but I guess he didn’t seem to hear me because he didn’t move or nothing and only kept looking with his binocular glasses. I stopped at a sitting spot and tried to think what to do next. Before I could move more I become distracted by another window in the apartment building there (number 512). What I seen was a woman dancing with a small dog. It’s not the sort of thing you see every day. She held the large-eared, large-eyed mutt by its two front legs while the rest of it liked to dangle like a hairy necktie. The animal for his part seemed quite frightened by the whole procedure. But still the two moved around the room, the dog sort of swinging, and they looked kind of graceful, truth be told. When the song was finished, the woman dropped the dog to the floor and wagged her finger at it to stay. She moved quick-like to the stereo, and restarted the music. Then she come back, and they danced some more. I recorded this in my log: Woman dancing with dog. At approximately 9:27 p.m., I started my climbing again. By 9:30 p.m., I done reached the suspect (Mr. Walker). Up close, he was all soft-looking and smelled of sourmash like my Uncle Zoomer. I said, "Say there, Mister." The man he heard me this time and turned his binocular glasses on me. He said, "Oh, officer. I didn’t see you. Evening." So I said, "I been calling to you." And he said, "You have? I didn’t hear you. Were you calling loudly? I guess I’m a little distracted." I said, "So, I see. You like to tell me what you’re doing in this tree here." And he seemed nervous, which I noted, and he said, "Hmm, well, it’s actually a bit embarrassing, officer. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not say." But I told him clear it weren’t all the same to me, it were all in fact very different to me and I needed to have an answer. Finally, the man said, "OK, I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anyone. You see that apartment there? The one with the TV on?" I told him I did. He said, "Well, see, that’s my apartment, and I locked myself out. You can even see my blasted keys right there on coffee table." I hate being played a sucker and so I said, "I’ve seen what goes on in this here building and you expect me to believe you been trying to crawl from this here tree to that apartment there? Because I’ll tell you, Mister, I ain’t buying it." To this he said, "No, officer, not climbing. No, I just came up here so I could watch my TV. With these binoculars. It’s a very special Judging Amy tonight." Well, that seemed a fine answer by me. And as he weren’t breaking any laws that I could name, and because he had a tin of mixed nuts, I stayed and watched with him till it were over. Dutifully submitted by: Officer Bug Hooper, Greater Skrote County Police
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