Faulkner
Member
As I sit and write this I suspect some may accuse me of being insensitive. This is a summary account of an incident I was recently dispatched to and subsequently wrote a report regarding a dog that was injured and later died.
“S.O. to Unit 4,” I heard the dispatcher call as I just finished up a traffic stop.
“Unit 4,” I replied on the radio.
“Would you proceed to 500 Williams Road to meet with a Mrs. Brannon who would like for a deputy to take a report regarding an injured dog?”
“10-4 S.O., I am in route.”
Fifteen minutes later I find the mailbox for number 500 on Williams Road. This is a rural part of the county where folks living out in the country mostly run cattle on 20 to 100 acre parcels of land. Fifty years ago this was probably all farm land, mostly cotton, but no one does any serious row cropping in these hills any longer. It’s either beef cattle or family dairy farms these days. I look past the mailbox and see a long driveway of about a quarter mile that leads to a ranch style brick house and a couple of barns.
I turned down the driveway and as I pull up to the house a lady comes out on the porch, I guestimate she’s in her mid-forties.
“Unit 4 to S.O., I’m on scene.”
“10-4 Unit 4. Time out 15:25.”
The lady who met me was Mrs. Brannon and she was visibly upset in that I could tell she had been recently crying. After I introduced myself and asked what the sheriff’s office could do for her she explained that her dog had just died. I offered my sympathies and asked what happened. Mrs. Brannon advised me they have 20 acres and they run about a dozen head of cattle. Her teenage boys are in the FFA program at school and they raise registered red Angus for show and to sell. They also have a couple of family dogs that run around the place. Apparently one of them had been hit by a pickup truck on the road earlier in the day, it survived a few hours but in the end didn’t make it.
“What can I do for you Mrs. Brannon?”
“My son had gone to get the mail from the box down by the road and the dog went with him. Our dog was out in the road when a white Ford pickup came whizzing by and hit our dog. The truck didn’t even slow down or stop. My son thinks he got most of the license plate on the truck.”
“Did your son recognize the truck or driver?” I asked.
“No, he didn’t. He was distraught over the dog getting hit, but he did think to look at the plate.” She gave me a post it note with the first five of a six digit license plate number.
I took the note and asked, “Mrs. Brannon, I want to be clear, was your dog in the road?”
“Yes, Deputy Faulkner, but the driver didn’t stop or even slow down for that matter. I mean, he ran over our dog right in front of our son and just kept going. Would you have stopped if you’d run over our dog?”
“Yes ma’am, I would have, but I’m not sure what it is that you want the sheriff’s office to do in this situation. Your dog was in a county road and got hit by a passing vehicle. You’ve not indicated that the vehicle swerved to hit the dog or that the truck was even driving at an excessive rate of speed. I noticed on my way in that the speed limit on this stretch of road is 50 MPH.”
“What I want, Deputy Faulkner,” her dander was starting to get up, “is for you to do your job to try and track this person down so we can make them pay restitution for killing our dog.”
Now to break the bad news to her, this probably wasn’t going to be well received. “Mrs. Brannon, the driver of that vehicle may very well return on their own accord and when they do they may be asking for YOU to pay restitution for any damage that was caused to their vehicle. According to the county animal control ordinance, since the dog was in the roadway it could be considered “at large”. Even if that does not happen, I’m not at liberty to track this person down because I don’t have reasonable suspicion that a crime has been committed. Like you, I wish the driver had stopped and at least expressed some concern. I have son at home and we have a dog, so I’m sorry your son had to witness his dog getting hit.”
Tears began to stream down her cheeks and after a moment she said, “so you’re not going to help us?”
“I will try and match the license number to a white Ford truck and check to see if it’s stolen or something, but unfortunately, that’s all I can do unless something else turns up.” I answered. “Again, I’m sorry about the loss of your dog.”
We shook hands and Mrs. Brannon turned and went back in the house as I got back in my patrol car.
“Unit 4 to S.O., I’m back in service.”
“S.O. to Unit 4,” I heard the dispatcher call as I just finished up a traffic stop.
“Unit 4,” I replied on the radio.
“Would you proceed to 500 Williams Road to meet with a Mrs. Brannon who would like for a deputy to take a report regarding an injured dog?”
“10-4 S.O., I am in route.”
Fifteen minutes later I find the mailbox for number 500 on Williams Road. This is a rural part of the county where folks living out in the country mostly run cattle on 20 to 100 acre parcels of land. Fifty years ago this was probably all farm land, mostly cotton, but no one does any serious row cropping in these hills any longer. It’s either beef cattle or family dairy farms these days. I look past the mailbox and see a long driveway of about a quarter mile that leads to a ranch style brick house and a couple of barns.
I turned down the driveway and as I pull up to the house a lady comes out on the porch, I guestimate she’s in her mid-forties.
“Unit 4 to S.O., I’m on scene.”
“10-4 Unit 4. Time out 15:25.”
The lady who met me was Mrs. Brannon and she was visibly upset in that I could tell she had been recently crying. After I introduced myself and asked what the sheriff’s office could do for her she explained that her dog had just died. I offered my sympathies and asked what happened. Mrs. Brannon advised me they have 20 acres and they run about a dozen head of cattle. Her teenage boys are in the FFA program at school and they raise registered red Angus for show and to sell. They also have a couple of family dogs that run around the place. Apparently one of them had been hit by a pickup truck on the road earlier in the day, it survived a few hours but in the end didn’t make it.
“What can I do for you Mrs. Brannon?”
“My son had gone to get the mail from the box down by the road and the dog went with him. Our dog was out in the road when a white Ford pickup came whizzing by and hit our dog. The truck didn’t even slow down or stop. My son thinks he got most of the license plate on the truck.”
“Did your son recognize the truck or driver?” I asked.
“No, he didn’t. He was distraught over the dog getting hit, but he did think to look at the plate.” She gave me a post it note with the first five of a six digit license plate number.
I took the note and asked, “Mrs. Brannon, I want to be clear, was your dog in the road?”
“Yes, Deputy Faulkner, but the driver didn’t stop or even slow down for that matter. I mean, he ran over our dog right in front of our son and just kept going. Would you have stopped if you’d run over our dog?”
“Yes ma’am, I would have, but I’m not sure what it is that you want the sheriff’s office to do in this situation. Your dog was in a county road and got hit by a passing vehicle. You’ve not indicated that the vehicle swerved to hit the dog or that the truck was even driving at an excessive rate of speed. I noticed on my way in that the speed limit on this stretch of road is 50 MPH.”
“What I want, Deputy Faulkner,” her dander was starting to get up, “is for you to do your job to try and track this person down so we can make them pay restitution for killing our dog.”
Now to break the bad news to her, this probably wasn’t going to be well received. “Mrs. Brannon, the driver of that vehicle may very well return on their own accord and when they do they may be asking for YOU to pay restitution for any damage that was caused to their vehicle. According to the county animal control ordinance, since the dog was in the roadway it could be considered “at large”. Even if that does not happen, I’m not at liberty to track this person down because I don’t have reasonable suspicion that a crime has been committed. Like you, I wish the driver had stopped and at least expressed some concern. I have son at home and we have a dog, so I’m sorry your son had to witness his dog getting hit.”
Tears began to stream down her cheeks and after a moment she said, “so you’re not going to help us?”
“I will try and match the license number to a white Ford truck and check to see if it’s stolen or something, but unfortunately, that’s all I can do unless something else turns up.” I answered. “Again, I’m sorry about the loss of your dog.”
We shook hands and Mrs. Brannon turned and went back in the house as I got back in my patrol car.
“Unit 4 to S.O., I’m back in service.”
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