Faulkner
Member
It was early in the morning mid-week. I had advised dispatch that I would be in the northern part of the county following up on leads regarding the theft of a couple of side by side ATV’s from two different farms the previous weekend. The farms where the ATV’s were stolen are off the beaten path in a part of rural Arkansas where folks don’t always lock stuff up, mainly because thefts like this are quite rare. Rural folks in this area don’t typically utilize security cameras and other security technology, but they all keep an eye out for one another and notice every passing vehicle, especially ones that they don’t recognize from the community.
After stopping at half a dozen farm houses and talking to the locals, I actually had good description of a suspect vehicle and the thieving culprits who had been nosing around. I was even able to get a partial license plate number from one of the farmers. He said the first three letters were TAB, it caught his eye because his daughter’s name is Tabitha and they often call her Tab. Later in the morning I stopped to talk to another farmer and his crew who were taking a break in the shade of a big hickory tree on the edge of a field where they were cutting and bailing hay. In talking with them I finally got a break in the case because one of the high school boys working for the farmer this summer to earn spending money recognized the description of the truck and matched it to a description that matched one of the suspects as a recent high school graduate from a rival school in the next county. He gave me a name and I called it in to dispatch, who in short order sent a copy of his driver’s license photo to my phone. I asked dispatch to cross reference the name with any vehicle registration with the first three letters as TAB. Sure enough, they found a match to a Chevy pickup that matched the description of the suspect vehicle that was registered to the suspects father.
The case was starting to come together and was leading to the next county. Fortunately, I have a great relationship with the sheriff over there and have helped train most of their deputies since they often come over and use our shooting range. I knew we’d have no problem with cooperation in tracking these guys down in their jurisdiction
I had pulled over in the shade on a gravel road making some notes when dispatch called me on the radio.
“S.O. to Unit 4”
I picked up my mic from the passenger seat and replied, “Go ahead S.O.”
“Are you still 10-6 (busy) up north?”
“I’m available, whatcha got,” I replied
“Unit 4, we have a car vs deer accident. The vehicle is disabled.” She gave me the location on a state highway and a vehicle description. “State police said their closest unit is an hour out and if you are not 10-6 you are the closest deputy.”
“10-4 S.O., show me in route with about a 15 minute ETA. Are there any injuries?”
There was a long pause then, “Unit 4, no injuries, but there, ah, seems to be a lot of drama in the background on the 911 call.”
“10-4”.
I put my vehicle in gear and headed down the gravel road. It was about five miles to get to an intersection with a paved county road, then the paved county road took me up to the top of a typical Ozark plateau for a couple of miles and then down the other side in a steep, winding path that would eventually intersect with the state highway. While coming down the hill I came upon half a dozen whitetail deer that were feeding in the green grass alongside the road easement on both sides of the road. They looked up as I went by but otherwise didn’t pay me no mind.
Once I came to the state highway, I hung a right and after six or seven miles came upon a car that fit the description on the shoulder of the highway with its emergency flashers on. I pulled up behind the vehicle and turned on my blues.
“Unit 4 to S.O., I’m 10-97 (on scene).”
“10-4 Unit 4.”
As soon as I pulled up the driver and passenger got out of their car and headed in my direction. I noticed the vehicle had Indiana plates and I quickly radioed the license number to dispatch for the log. I exited my patrol vehicle as the two people came up to the front of it. Both occupants, a man and a women, appeared to be in their mid-thirties. The driver was Caucasian male, about 5’ 10” of medium build around 160 lbs. sporting a dark brown hair with a man bun. The female passenger was also Caucasian, 5’ 5” and around 120 lbs., long blonde hair. They were both jabbering at the same time and waving and gesturing excitedly.
I held my left hand up palm out to them and said, “hold on a second. I’m Deputy Sheriff Faulkner, are you guys alright.”
“Yes, yes,” the guy said excitedly, “we hit a deer, we hit a deer. It’s busted up the front of our car and green liquid and smoke is leaking out.”
The woman interrupted him, “nobody gives a f about your car Larry.” She looked over at me and continued, “there is a hurt deer over there in the ditch. It’s hurt bad and we need to get it to a veterinarian quick.”
I reached up to my lapel mic for my handheld radio on my belt and made a call to dispatch. “Unit 4 to S.O., I’m going to need a wrecker at my location for a passenger vehicle.”
When I finished the woman said, “what about the deer? Aren’t you going to call a vet or a game warden to come help the deer?”
“Well, ma’am, let’s go take a look,” I said.
They both turned and ran back past their car and on another 15 yards or so and stood pointing down into the grassy roadway ditch. When I got there I saw a medium sized whitetail doe and it was indeed still alive, but it bad shape. The vehicle had hit it just in front of the hind legs and there were multiple compound fractures to the rear legs and I could see entrails from the abdomen. Yeah it was hurt bad.
“They came out of nowhere,” the guy said. “There must have been four or five that crossed the road in front of me, I didn’t have time to slow down or nothing. They all made it across but this one and it slammed into the car then up on the hood and into the windshield and busted that too.”
“Yeah,” said the woman, “it scared the living f out of us. Aren’t the owners supposed to keep them penned up or something? Are we going to be able to find out who owns them so they can pay for the damage to Larry’s car?”
I looked at her with mild amusement. “Where are you guys from?
Larry said, “La Porte, Indiana. Not far from Chicago.”
“Where are you headed?”
The woman spoke up first. “We’re headed to the Texas Hill Country to help find flood victims.”
“Are you guys with an organization or church group or something? Is there anyone that can come pick you up because your car is not drivable?”
They both looked at each other then back at me. Larry answered, “no, we’re not with any group. We just saw what was happening down there on the news and on Facebook and felt so bad we wanted to help. So we decided we’d load up and drive down there and help somehow. Maybe the Red Cross or somebody can use us to help find victims or something.”
“Hmmm,” I said. “Okay, I need to deal with this deer. You guys wait here and I’ll be right back. Please stay out of the road so you don’t get hit by a passing car.”
I walked back to my vehicle and rummaged until I found my hard case with a Ruger MKIV .22LR and my Surefire suppressor. I screwed on the suppressor and inserted a magazine with subsonic hollow point ammo, pulled the slide and inserted a round in the chamber. Once loaded up I walked back up to where the two folks were standing.
“What is that?” Larry asked, seeing the Ruger MKIV in my hand. “Is that a gun?”
“Sorry folks, but that deer is beyond saving. Right now it’s just suffering unnecessarily so I’m going to go end it’s suffering.” I started down into the ditch so I could get to point blank range.
“Hey, hey, don’t do that,” the woman shouted at me. “That’s cruel and inhumane! Hey, don’t do that . . . Larry, Larry, stop him.”
When I got down close to the deer I looked up at them, “if you don’t want to see this you might want to turn around.”
“Oh my God Larry, that S O B is going to kill it. He’s going to kill it.” She turned around, but Larry looked on.
I put the end of the suppressor a couple of inches from the does head. “Sorry girl.” Then I did two quick pulls on the trigger. There were two soft pfft, pfft, sounds. It was a quick end to the suffering.
I went back and stowed the Ruger and came back with my clipboard with incident forms to write up an report. The women went and sat in the passenger seat of the car and didn’t want to have anything further to do with me. Larry cooperated but I watched him close as I was concerned he might go into shock or something as he was much subdued after I put the deer down. Made me wonder what they were going to do when, or if, they ever made it to Texas.
Eventually the tow truck showed up. While the tow truck operator was hooking up their car I asked him if he would give them a ride into town until they figured out what they were going to do.
“Sure Faulkner, I’ll take care of them. Get ‘em to a motel or something.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. They’ve had a traumatic day.”
“Hey, have you found who stole those side by sides yet?” the tow truck driver asked.
“No, but I’m getting close.”
After stopping at half a dozen farm houses and talking to the locals, I actually had good description of a suspect vehicle and the thieving culprits who had been nosing around. I was even able to get a partial license plate number from one of the farmers. He said the first three letters were TAB, it caught his eye because his daughter’s name is Tabitha and they often call her Tab. Later in the morning I stopped to talk to another farmer and his crew who were taking a break in the shade of a big hickory tree on the edge of a field where they were cutting and bailing hay. In talking with them I finally got a break in the case because one of the high school boys working for the farmer this summer to earn spending money recognized the description of the truck and matched it to a description that matched one of the suspects as a recent high school graduate from a rival school in the next county. He gave me a name and I called it in to dispatch, who in short order sent a copy of his driver’s license photo to my phone. I asked dispatch to cross reference the name with any vehicle registration with the first three letters as TAB. Sure enough, they found a match to a Chevy pickup that matched the description of the suspect vehicle that was registered to the suspects father.
The case was starting to come together and was leading to the next county. Fortunately, I have a great relationship with the sheriff over there and have helped train most of their deputies since they often come over and use our shooting range. I knew we’d have no problem with cooperation in tracking these guys down in their jurisdiction
I had pulled over in the shade on a gravel road making some notes when dispatch called me on the radio.
“S.O. to Unit 4”
I picked up my mic from the passenger seat and replied, “Go ahead S.O.”
“Are you still 10-6 (busy) up north?”
“I’m available, whatcha got,” I replied
“Unit 4, we have a car vs deer accident. The vehicle is disabled.” She gave me the location on a state highway and a vehicle description. “State police said their closest unit is an hour out and if you are not 10-6 you are the closest deputy.”
“10-4 S.O., show me in route with about a 15 minute ETA. Are there any injuries?”
There was a long pause then, “Unit 4, no injuries, but there, ah, seems to be a lot of drama in the background on the 911 call.”
“10-4”.
I put my vehicle in gear and headed down the gravel road. It was about five miles to get to an intersection with a paved county road, then the paved county road took me up to the top of a typical Ozark plateau for a couple of miles and then down the other side in a steep, winding path that would eventually intersect with the state highway. While coming down the hill I came upon half a dozen whitetail deer that were feeding in the green grass alongside the road easement on both sides of the road. They looked up as I went by but otherwise didn’t pay me no mind.
Once I came to the state highway, I hung a right and after six or seven miles came upon a car that fit the description on the shoulder of the highway with its emergency flashers on. I pulled up behind the vehicle and turned on my blues.
“Unit 4 to S.O., I’m 10-97 (on scene).”
“10-4 Unit 4.”
As soon as I pulled up the driver and passenger got out of their car and headed in my direction. I noticed the vehicle had Indiana plates and I quickly radioed the license number to dispatch for the log. I exited my patrol vehicle as the two people came up to the front of it. Both occupants, a man and a women, appeared to be in their mid-thirties. The driver was Caucasian male, about 5’ 10” of medium build around 160 lbs. sporting a dark brown hair with a man bun. The female passenger was also Caucasian, 5’ 5” and around 120 lbs., long blonde hair. They were both jabbering at the same time and waving and gesturing excitedly.
I held my left hand up palm out to them and said, “hold on a second. I’m Deputy Sheriff Faulkner, are you guys alright.”
“Yes, yes,” the guy said excitedly, “we hit a deer, we hit a deer. It’s busted up the front of our car and green liquid and smoke is leaking out.”
The woman interrupted him, “nobody gives a f about your car Larry.” She looked over at me and continued, “there is a hurt deer over there in the ditch. It’s hurt bad and we need to get it to a veterinarian quick.”
I reached up to my lapel mic for my handheld radio on my belt and made a call to dispatch. “Unit 4 to S.O., I’m going to need a wrecker at my location for a passenger vehicle.”
When I finished the woman said, “what about the deer? Aren’t you going to call a vet or a game warden to come help the deer?”
“Well, ma’am, let’s go take a look,” I said.
They both turned and ran back past their car and on another 15 yards or so and stood pointing down into the grassy roadway ditch. When I got there I saw a medium sized whitetail doe and it was indeed still alive, but it bad shape. The vehicle had hit it just in front of the hind legs and there were multiple compound fractures to the rear legs and I could see entrails from the abdomen. Yeah it was hurt bad.
“They came out of nowhere,” the guy said. “There must have been four or five that crossed the road in front of me, I didn’t have time to slow down or nothing. They all made it across but this one and it slammed into the car then up on the hood and into the windshield and busted that too.”
“Yeah,” said the woman, “it scared the living f out of us. Aren’t the owners supposed to keep them penned up or something? Are we going to be able to find out who owns them so they can pay for the damage to Larry’s car?”
I looked at her with mild amusement. “Where are you guys from?
Larry said, “La Porte, Indiana. Not far from Chicago.”
“Where are you headed?”
The woman spoke up first. “We’re headed to the Texas Hill Country to help find flood victims.”
“Are you guys with an organization or church group or something? Is there anyone that can come pick you up because your car is not drivable?”
They both looked at each other then back at me. Larry answered, “no, we’re not with any group. We just saw what was happening down there on the news and on Facebook and felt so bad we wanted to help. So we decided we’d load up and drive down there and help somehow. Maybe the Red Cross or somebody can use us to help find victims or something.”
“Hmmm,” I said. “Okay, I need to deal with this deer. You guys wait here and I’ll be right back. Please stay out of the road so you don’t get hit by a passing car.”
I walked back to my vehicle and rummaged until I found my hard case with a Ruger MKIV .22LR and my Surefire suppressor. I screwed on the suppressor and inserted a magazine with subsonic hollow point ammo, pulled the slide and inserted a round in the chamber. Once loaded up I walked back up to where the two folks were standing.
“What is that?” Larry asked, seeing the Ruger MKIV in my hand. “Is that a gun?”
“Sorry folks, but that deer is beyond saving. Right now it’s just suffering unnecessarily so I’m going to go end it’s suffering.” I started down into the ditch so I could get to point blank range.
“Hey, hey, don’t do that,” the woman shouted at me. “That’s cruel and inhumane! Hey, don’t do that . . . Larry, Larry, stop him.”
When I got down close to the deer I looked up at them, “if you don’t want to see this you might want to turn around.”
“Oh my God Larry, that S O B is going to kill it. He’s going to kill it.” She turned around, but Larry looked on.
I put the end of the suppressor a couple of inches from the does head. “Sorry girl.” Then I did two quick pulls on the trigger. There were two soft pfft, pfft, sounds. It was a quick end to the suffering.
I went back and stowed the Ruger and came back with my clipboard with incident forms to write up an report. The women went and sat in the passenger seat of the car and didn’t want to have anything further to do with me. Larry cooperated but I watched him close as I was concerned he might go into shock or something as he was much subdued after I put the deer down. Made me wonder what they were going to do when, or if, they ever made it to Texas.
Eventually the tow truck showed up. While the tow truck operator was hooking up their car I asked him if he would give them a ride into town until they figured out what they were going to do.
“Sure Faulkner, I’ll take care of them. Get ‘em to a motel or something.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. They’ve had a traumatic day.”
“Hey, have you found who stole those side by sides yet?” the tow truck driver asked.
“No, but I’m getting close.”
