Archive for the ‘cops’ Tag

Liberals and cop killers   1 comment

I received a call today from Frank (The Face) Cammarata. Frank told me that the Scumbag skell who murdered Det. Joe Taylor was to be released from prison on Thursday. This is why a death penalty is needed. The liberal politicians always say that there is no need for a death penalty that a cop killer will get life and never see the streets again. That is a lie. That is total bullshit. Joe Taylor was a good man. A far, far better man then the piece of shit that shotgunned him in a Bushwick hallway. I won’t mention the killer’s name, he doesn’t deserve to have his name on the same page as Joe. He should have had a bullet put in the back of his head years ago. I am happy to report Frank was wrong. The shithead has been denied parole. Now if only some fine upstanding prisoner would kill the bastard we could all rest easy.

Liberal NY politicians will always back the cop killers. Take the case of Judith Clark. She was involved in a robbery of a Brinks truck. That robbery left two cops Sgt. Edward O’Grady and Officer Waverly “Chipper” Brown and a Brinks guard Peter Paige dead. With the sentence she received she should have been eligible for parole when she was about a hundred. But Liberal Governor Andrew Cuomo jumped in to commute her sentence and make her immediately eligible for parole. After all it was only a couple of cops and a Brinks guard killed. It wasn’t like it was real people. How did he make this decision you ask. He went to the prison to speak to her. When he came out he said he got a “sense of her soul.” Another comment he made about her tells you all you need to know about how he really feels about her being involved in killing those men. According to an article in the NY Times, not the most conservative of sources, the conversation helped the Governor recognize some of the forces that helped propel the mayhem. Speaking of Judith Clark he said “You’re fighting for good vs. evil.” So Judith Clark I guess was fighting for good and the dead cops and Brinks guard were evil. The Parole Board did not agree with the Governor and she was not granted parole but now the families will have to deal with her coming up for parole every two years.

Cuomo isn’t the only low life politician in New York who sees killing cops as fighting for good vs. evil. Mayor DeBlasio honeymooned in Cuba. There have been many reports that while there he made a pilgrimage to see one his idols Joanne Chesimard. A convicted cop killer, she is believed to have been involved in up to ten cop killings. The wonderful Mayor never lets a chance to attack cops go by. He and the Governor like all liberals politicians love cops, dead ones. Dead cops are the only ones they ever back, the rest are just assumed to be guilty of something even if they can’t find anything.

Then there is the case of Mumia Abu-Jamal in Philadelphia. Anyone with half a brain looking at the evidence knows he is guilty as hell in the murder of Officer Daniel Faulkner. That of course does not stop the idiots in Hollywood from screaming that he is an innocent man. The prosecution had four witnesses who saw him shot Officer Faulkner. The gun used to shot Officer Faulkner was Abu-Jamal’s. Jamal was wearing an empty shoulder holster. His gun was beside him with five spent cartridges. In the shoot out Officer Faulkner had shot Jamal. I guess the cop hating left in Hollywood see all that as a coincidence. But what can you expect from a group that loves to have rappers that sing about killing cops playing cops on TV.

So once again my blog which I would rather be just me telling stories about years ago becomes a place to complain about the bullshit.

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Random Thoughts   Leave a comment

Not too much to say this week. My toe still hurts but not too much. At least it is healing. I did get a few pretty good stories sent to me. Thank you Wild Eyes and Frankie Face. I read a story at the Inspired Mic again on Thursday. It seemed to go over pretty good. I am almost ready to put out my second book this one will be called “EDIPS plus three”. It has four stories in it a “EDIPS” a zombie apocalypse set in NYC. The title comes the asshole politically correct cop hating Mayor of NY. When the plague first started the Mayor heard cops referring to the infected as zombies. He threatened to suspend any cop who called them that. He insisted they be called Emotionally Disturbed Infected Persons Hence EDIPs. That will be the long story at just over a hundred pages. In it I also explain how the zombies are able to physically exist moving and eating despite being dead. The another story is “Louie Carbone” it is about two retired NYPD cops who respond down to Flagle Beach, Florida to assist the daughter of a deceased cop when she is threatened by a mobster. That one is about thirty seven pages long.There are also two short fantasy stories that will be set between the larger ones. I am also over a hundred pages into the sequel to “A Year In Bushwick”. It will be titled “Back in Bushwick”. I decided to this one a bit different. It starts with a couple of retired cops sitting in a bar in Brooklyn. On a bet one of them dictates a whole year of stories. It will again start on New Year’s Eve. This time where to last one ended and will continue to the next New Year’s Eve. That’s all until next week.

Posted March 25, 2017 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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Louie Carbone   2 comments

red-hook

I didn’t blog last week but it wasn’t my fault. I switched from Direct TV to Dish. That also necessitated a switch of my internet service provider. The only way I could have blogged was with my phone. Now I have seen some of these kids who appear to be typing eighty words a minute with their thumbs but that is not me. I don’t think I could do eighty words an hour on my phone. So I am back now.

 

I have noticed in the New York papers that people being shot or stabbed only blocks from Wyckoff Heights Medical Center are being taken by bus miles away for treatment. I asked on one of the 83 web sites and was told there are two reasons. The first is that Wyckoff is not a full fledged trauma center. The other reason is that the city would prefer they go to a city hospital. I remember when I was working most victims of shootings or stabbings if serious went by RMP to Wyckoff. We believed seconds counted. It appears that the city no longer believes that. There was also a camaraderie that developed between the cops and the ER personnel. We knew all the nurses, doctors and other personnel. We would if available try to be around the hospital when shifts changed to make sure the nurses got to their cars safely and if we were injured and taken to Wyckoff we were given extra care. If we needed supplies gloves, bandages, band aids etc for our cars we could stop in and get it.  While there are many good things that have come up lately this does not seem to be one. It is a shame that some things have to change.

I am considering taking a short story I wrote and adding it to the blog in serial form. It runs about thirty five pages so I guess I would do it in about five installments. The story concerns two retired 83 cops, a young damsel in distress, the mob, a mob wanna be, and two retired 83 cops. The same two cops from “A Year In Bushwick” but many years later. Here is the first installment. If anyone is interested and would like to see more let me know

 

LOUIE CARBONE

By Kevin G Cox

 

Sean rolled over in bed and looked at the clock as he reached for the phone. Damn three o’clock, three a.m. phone calls suck. They are never good news.

“Hello.”

“Uncle Sean, I don’t know what to do. I’m really scared. I think he is going to kill me.”

“Carol, Take a deep breath, calm down. Now start from the beginning and tell me what is going on.”

“Ok but I am really, really scared. I was at a club in a few days ago. A cute guy I never saw before came up to me and we started talking. He asked if I was from Brooklyn. I said yeah. He smiled at me and asked if my father was Jimmy Morrisey. I said yeah, did you know my father. Then he stopped smiling he leaned in close to me and whispered that Louie Carbone was a friend of his family and I was going to pay for what my father did to him. Uncle Sean I think that was the name of the guy my father shot. He was in the Mafia Uncle Sean. I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do.”

“Did you tell the Police?”

“Yeah, they said that I may have misunderstood what he said. They didn’t consider it an overt threat. Unless he does more they can’t help me.”

“Okay have you seen this guy since that night?”

“I saw him and the three friends he was at the party with a few times near the school. At first I thought maybe I did have it wrong. I mean he could have just been playing a rotten joke on me. I live with a few girls from school. We rent a place in Flagler Beach so we can learn to surf and get away from school when we want to. Today every time I turned around I saw one of his friends. I think he was following me all day. What should I do Uncle Sean?”

“Were his three friends from Brooklyn too?”

“No, one of the girls at the party was complaining that they were there. She said they were local low lives and weren’t invited.”

“Okay that’s good. Stay calm I’m on my way. I’ll drive down and get to the bottom of this. “

“Good see you tomorrow. Bye Sweetie I’ll take care of everything don’t worry. Just stay home until you hear from me.”

“Okay, thank you Uncle Sean.”

As soon as he hung up Sean started planning and packing. At six he called Hank. Hank had been his partner when they were cops in Bushwick, Brooklyn.

Hank answered on the third ring, “Aren’t you dead yet.”

Sean replied, “Not yet but I was hoping you were. I was going to come over and get that H&K 9mm you have.”

“The H&K, you would probably shoot yourself in the dick with it. It is a man’s gun. What’s up?”

“Do you remember my cousin Jimmy Morrisey?”

“Isn’t he the guy who killed Crazy Louie Carbone? I heard he died. Didn’t he have lung problems from 9/11?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“I only met him a few times. Great guy, shame he had to go that way.”

“I got a call from his daughter Carol this morning. She’s been calling me Uncle Sean since she was a baby. Anyway she called because she is having a problem down in Florida. I am driving down to give her a hand. I was wondering if you can lend me your cargo van too.”

“What kind of problem do you need a 9mm and a cargo van for?”

Sean explained the phone call and what he planned on doing.

Hank yelled into the phone, “Are you out of your damn mind. I’m not lending you my van or my gun. You can’t do that, at least not alone.  You can’t but we can do it, so I’m coming with you.”

“Are you sure? Carbone was with Ferrante’s crew. I can’t see the mob being involved in this, but if they are it could get messy.”

“I don’t mind messy, never did. I hope you’re bringing a gun.”

“Two, my S&W 40 and the little .380.”

“You never come prepared. I’ll have my Chief, the H&K and just in case I’ll toss my Remington 870 in the back of the van.”

“Do you really think we will need a shotgun?”

“As the little old Jewish lady who lives across the street from me always says, “You never know, it couldn’t hoit.” When do you want to leave?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes. Have coffee ready. It’s a long ride from Brooklyn to Florida.”

The Plunger   1 comment

plungerIt was a quiet four to twelve. Harry and Sean were on patrol as the snow, nature’s policeman fell. The pure white snow-covered the dirty streets lending a beauty in the moon light.

At ten-fifteen the patrol car’s radio crackled breaking the silence.

“83 Charlie!”

“Charlie Standing by.”

“83 Charlie 10-10 screams. Meet complainant Johnson 2017 Greene Ave. third floor.”

“Charlie enroute”

Sean unkeyed the mike and turned to Harry, “Third floor again. I hope we don’t have to carry another fat bastard down to an ambulance. There should be a law that anyone over three hundred pounds has to live on the first floor.”

Harry laughed, “I know what you mean that last asshole was three decent sized men in one skin. Oh well let’s go see what we’ve got.”

Arriving at the apartment Harry rapped on the door with his nightstick.

“Police.”, why on TV do they always say NYPD who the hell do they think it would be Peoria?

The door opened and a short shaking man in a tee-shirt came out.

Sean said, “You called?”

“Yeah it’s bad.”

“What’s bad? What’s the problem?”

“I heard horrible screams coming from the apartment upstairs. I was in Viet Nam; I’ve heard people scream when they were dying. When they had arms or legs blown off, but I never heard anyone scream like this.”

On the fourth floor Harry knocked at the locked door, no answer, “Do you think we should take the door.”

Sean answered, “Wait let me try to see inside from the fire escape.”

“Sounds good.”

Sean went up over the roof and down the fire escape. Looking into the kitchen he saw nothing. Leaning far over he was able to get a look through the bathroom window. There he saw a huge man lying in the tub, looking at his face Sean was sure the apartment’s occupant was exceedingly dead.

Back in the hallway Sean said, “Harry, take the door.”

“Someone in there need help?”

“I think he is way past that but I guess we should check.”

The door crashed open and they went to the bathroom. The male in the tub was way over four hundred pounds and would never be any deader. When Sean checked the body in the bloody wet tub he noticed the rubber end of a plunger down between the DOA’s legs.

“Harry look at this.”

Harry leaned over for a better look and said, “Holy shit, the whole handle is inside him.  I think the lump up near his rib cage is the other end of the plunger.”

Sean said, “Damn, I don’t know why he was on it like that but it looks like he slipped and that thing tore right through him. I guess that’s when he screamed. I can’t blame him for that. I bet that had a sting to it. We better call the Sgt.”

Sean didn’t know if the plunger killed him or if he had a heart attack or what but the results were the same he was quite dead. So everyone showed up. The Detectives and the ME were trying to decide if it was an accident or someone rammed it up there.

Det. Glen Prince asked Sean, “Did you see the plunger in the body’s rectum right away?”

Sean told Glen, “Rectum, I think it fuckin killed him.”

Glen laughed, “You are one sick bastard.”

Sean said, “Yeah but you laughed. Harry and I are going out in the hall it’s too crowded here. Call us if you need us.”

As they exited the apartment they saw a drunk coming up the stairs.

Harry stopped him, “Sir, you can’t come up here.”

“Why not? I live on the first floor I have a right to know what’s happening in my building. Now move or I’ll move you.”

Harry stood to his full six-foot five-inch height and answered him, “Actually, one you don’t have that right and two if you try to move me I am going to throw you down those stairs. Understand?”

The drunk had an abrupt personality change and asked quite nicely, “Why can’t I go in?”

Sean answered, “It is a crime scene and only those involved are allowed in.”

“Was he murdered?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Can’t I just go and see him for a second?”

“No.”

“I won’t touch anything.”

Harry said, “Look turn around, go downstairs and have another drink. You are starting to annoy me. I don’t like being annoyed and believe me you won’t like annoying me.”

“Can you at least tell me how he died?”

“We don’t know yet asshole, get out of here.”

“What did you see? How do you think he died?”

Sean said, “If you agree to go away I’ll tell you but you can’t tell anyone I told you.”

“I promise I won’t tell.”

“Now keep it to yourself but he plunged to his death.”

Harry solemnly shook his head and said, “I’m sorry man.”

As the drunk headed down the stairs Det. Prince came out of the apartment, “Who’s that?”

Sean answered, “Just a drunk from the first floor.”

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to know how this guy died.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“I told him he plunged to his death.”

“You sick bastard. God’s gonna get you for that one.”

The body was bagged and tagged and in the dead wagon before too long. So the night ended and like most nights it was straight to the B&G after work. It would be a good night for pinball and beer. Plus this was a good story and Sean wanted to tell it. After getting changed he walked to the corner bar.

Sean opened the door and heard Det. Prince say, “Rectum the fuckin thing killed him.”

Sean thought, Son of a bitch he stole my story and my joke but at least I still got one good one line left.

As he reached the knot of cops laughing at the story Glen stole from him Sean heard Glen finish, “and that’s the story of the man who plunged to his death.”

As the crowd roared Sean turned to Bob the bartender, “Gimme a beer.”

 

Posted May 5, 2015 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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One for the Road   1 comment

coffinI am sure many of you who were cops have been asked how you handled the things you saw. I have been asked that many times. My short answer is humor. The more skin crawling the incident the darker the humor would be. It was not always ha-ha funny, often the reaction would be the groan of a bad pun. “That’s disgusting” was often heard from non-cops. As for cops the usual reaction to a real good/bad incident joke would be a laugh and “You are one sick bastard.” The secret was to never ever take it to heart. Here is a quick story to illustrate what I mean. How many of you who worked in the 83 remember this incident?

It was on a midnight when the call came in 10-10 Recorded Alarm. It was at a funeral home, which one I won’t mention. The assigned car was checking the perimeter when the owner arrived and opened the door for them. They went inside to check and all seemed secure. There are few places as eerie as a funeral home at two AM so they were moving pretty fast to get out of there. All the doors were unlocked except one.

One of the cops asked the owner, “What’s in this room?”

He replied, “Nothing it’s just a viewing room. Go on in.”

The cops answered, “The doors locked.”

The owner said, “It shouldn’t be. Hold on I’ve got the key.”

When he unlocked the door the cops told him, “Wait up, let us go in first to check it out.”

They entered cautiously sweeping the room with their flashlights. One of the beams of light illuminated a coffin on the far end of the room.

The cop holding that light exclaimed, “Holy shit.”

They approached the coffin as the funeral director entered the room. Inside the coffin was the body of a woman. She had been turned to face down in the satin lined box. She had been bent at the waist and up on her knees. Her dress pulled up over her back exposing her ass. A pair of pants was on the floor at the foot of the coffin. They found the perp hiding behind the drapes that served as a backdrop.

They pulled him from the concealing drapes at gunpoint. He started crying, “Don’t shoot me. I didn’t do anything wrong. She’s my girlfriend.”

After questioning the male told his side of the story, “We’ve been having an affair for ten years. Her husband is my friend and I am married. I really loved her but she wouldn’t leave her husband. When she died I knew I couldn’t let her go without saying goodbye. I hid in the bathroom when they closed. I wanted to make love to her for the last time. So it’s okay I can leave now that we have had our last goodbye.”

Turning to the funeral director he said, “ Do you want me to fix her clothes or do you want to do it?” To the cops he said, “Don’t tell my wife or her husband okay?”

The cop said, “Put on your pants. You’re under arrest.”

“No you can’t arrest me I just told you its okay. We are in love.”

The cop said, “Unless she gets up and tells me that you are under arrest.”

Unlike Lazarus she didn’t awaken. He was taken away to central booking and from there to court. It made for an interesting Arraignment the next day.

So that is an incident that would give many people nightmares. For the cops in the precinct the reaction was a bit different, for next month every time a cop drove past that funeral parlor he would ask his partner if he wanted to stop in for a cold one. That is one that usually gets the “That’s disgusting” from non-cops and a laugh followed by “You are one sick bastard” from cops.

Reunion war stories   Leave a comment

83 pctHarry and Sean signed into the annual Eight-Three reunion and were greeted by Frankie the Face. Frankie always ran a good affair. The partners grabbed a couple of beers and headed into the hall to mingle with old friends.

They were called to a table by Wild-Eyes. Willy was sitting with Sugar Bear and the Vulture.

As Sean and Harry sat down they caught the end of Willy’s celebrity story.

“So we’re driving by and I see some skell sleeping under the El on Myrtle and Broadway. I go over and wake the fool up. It turns out he was a player for the Islanders. They had just won the Stanley Cup and he was out partying all night. He had no idea how he ended up under the El in Bushwick. So we run this Canadian asshole into the house so he can call for someone to pick his drunk ass up. Twenty minutes later a limo shows up and takes him away. Why can’t I get service like that?”

Harry said, “I know what you mean. If you’re rich and famous you live by different rules. I used to work personal security guarding celebrities for that place on Morgan Ave. Most were okay but one famous comedian was the cheapest son of a bitch I ever dealt with. This bastard would wear his underwear once then have them burnt. He had no problem buying new tighty whities and undershirts every day but treated us like garbage. When most of the clients would go out to eat you would sit at the table next to them and they would spring for at least a cup of coffee or something. But this cheap bastard would go into a restaurant order a meal that cost three or four hundred and not drop a dime for us. Then he would complain to us that we should order something so we aren’t so conspicuous, like we could afford to pay twenty dollars for a cup of coffee. A cup of coffee cost about thirty cents in the seventies. When payday came we didn’t see a dime. I had to go up to the boss of the security firm and ask what the problem was. He said that this multi-millionaire claimed to be broke. He played a tape he had of a phone call with this son-of- a bitch crying that he was cash poor. He made more in a week than we made in a year and he expected us to carry his tab. I told the boss I didn’t work for him I worked for you. You pay me, I really don’t care if he ever pays you. Just don’t call me next time he needs security. I deal with enough assholes on my regular job. I got my money and next time he was in town they called and I told them to go to hell.”

Sean gave his favorite celebrity story next, “I was working a barrier detail putting up no parking signs and blocking streets off with barriers for a parade one day. Me and Herb were just getting done with one corner when a car goes two wheels up on the sidewalk to get around us and the barrier. He drives halfway down the block and parks under a sign. It turns out he is a famous actor, a real man of the people type married to a singer even more famous than him. Anyway as he’s getting out of his car I yell to him to move the car that he can’t park there. He just looks at me and goes right on walking towards an office building.

Now I am getting a little pissed off and I tell him, ”Hey, move your fuckin car now.

He turns and says, “Don’t you know who I am?” and keeps walking.

I told him, “I know who you are and what you are. You’re an asshole and if you take one step into that building you will be an asshole without a car because I’ll have it towed.

He got all pissy and stomped back to his car. As he opened the door he yells out “I’ll have your job for this.”

I smiled and said “Then can I have yours it pays better.”

That really pissed him off. He got in his car and drove away cursing out the window. I don’t know if they let the stars get away with that shit in L.A. but it don’t fly in N.Y.C.”

Posted October 9, 2014 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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It took me a long time   Leave a comment

Bushwick Well it took me a very long time but I finally have my book out in print form. It is available on Lulu.com. If anyone is interested the easiest way to find it is to search under my name(Kevin G. Cox). It is really a collection of stories of the 83 precinct in the 70’s. It is written as if by a cop who has just retired after 30 years. It is his remembrance of his favorite year. By the way he is not me. He is an amalgam of many cops. He is every cop who worked there back then.We were the last of the cowboy cops. We handled our own jobs and only called a Sgt. for an arrest or a dead body. It was a time before everyone carried a camera. Any way I guess it is time for me to start on a new book. This one will go in another direction. The working title is “Red Hook Memories.” It will be a coming of age story with a group of friends together down in The Point of Red Hook. You can expect to see me more often again as I send out little pieces of the new book.

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