Faulkner
Member
Here's a recent story from the Faulkner Files:
With all of these so called mass shootings that have occurred across the country it seems to be that there are a couple of things in common with the perpetrators of these heinous crimes. In my observed opinion, the primary mitigating factor is the breakdown of a cohesive family. Sure, regular middle class American families have their share of domestic problems and issues, but as I observe a microcosmic view of the country, it seems 90% of the people issues I deal with as a LEO lack a family foundation for support.
A recent call triggered my pondering on this subject. I had just finished up having lunch with a friend who is also a local Justice of the Peace. When I got back in my patrol car I radioed dispatch;
"Unit 4 to S.O., I'm back in service."
"10-4 Unit 4, I have a welfare check that is not too far from your location."
"Unit 4 to S.O., go ahead and send me the information," I replied.
The dispatcher sent me a message with the pertinent information. I was being asked to go check on a Mr. Files who lived alone in a house in a subdivision in the unincorporated part of the county about a mile or so outside the city limits. Mr. Files' daughter, who lives in Michigan, had called the sheriff's office requesting that someone go check on Mr. Files and ask him to call his daughter. Reportedly, Mr. Files' daughter had been trying to call and text Mr. File for about 3 months and was not getting a reply. She said he had not been feeling well when she last spoke with him on the phone around Christmas.
"Unit 4 to S.O., I've received the info and I'll be 10-96 (in route), ETA about 15 minutes."
"10-4 Unit 4."
I noted above the address was in a subdivision in the unincorporated part of the county. Seems this is attractive to a lot of people because they get the advantages of city living in a rural setting without all the restrictions and taxes of city government. The downside is there are usually less services like animal control, if any, no city trash pickup, and no restrictions on things like holiday fireworks like there are in most municipalities. So basically, you get city living with no city rules, and without rules for guidance it seems people these days have a hard time exercising consideration for their neighbors.
I entered the relatively new subdivision of 2 to 3 year old middle class homes and turned down the street where Mr. Files address was located. I found the address and turned into the drive and noticed the yard had been freshly mowed and the yard was neatly kept.
"Unit 4 to S.O., I'm 10-97 (arrived on scene)," indicating to dispatch I was at the address.
I got out of the patrol car and looked around. Often times when a police car pulls into someone's driveway a lot of neighbor eyes focus in with natural curiosity. I noticed a fellow a few houses down who was mowing his yard had stopped and was looking in my direction. Across the street was a lady standing on the front porch with her arms crossed checking me out too.
I walked up to the front porch and rang the doorbell. After a long wait with no answer, I rang it again. After another wait I rapped on the front door, and a few moments later I rapped on the door again and said loudly, "SHERIFF'S OFFICE!" No reply, and I could not discern any movement in the house. I stepped over to the front window to take a peak but the shades were drawn and I could not see in. I stepped off the front porch and went over to the garage to see if I could see anything through the garage door windows. I wiped off a little surface dirt with my hand and noticed there were no vehicles in the garage, but I did see a wheelchair a folded walker leaning up against the wall.
I walked around the side of the house to see if anyone was in the backyard, but didn't see anything that particularly caught my attention, so I went back to the front porch and rapped on the door once again. Still no answer. I pulled out a black nitrile glove from my pocket and put it on my left hand, then reached over and tried the front door knob. The knob turned and the door cracked open. At this point I have zero probable cause to go any further, but with the door cracked open a couple of inches I called out "SHERIFF'S OFFICE!" No reply. I took a quick whiff to see if I could smell anything suspicious, but alas, no unsuspecting odors so I pulled the door closed.
I turned and stepped off the porch and took another look around the neighborhood. The guy mowing the yard a couple of houses down was still mowing so I started walking in his direction. When he noticed me coming he stopped and shut down the mower, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead as I approached.
"Good morning, I'm Deputy Faulkner with the sheriff's office, how you doing?" I asked
"Doing well," he replied. "Trying to get this yard mowed before it gets too hot. Who are you looking for?"
"I'm looking for Mr. Files, do you know him?"
The guy had a puzzled look on his face before he answered. "Well, yes sir, I knew him pretty well but he passed away about four months ago. He's buried up at Wade's Point Cemetery."
"I'm sorry to hear that, what happened to him," I asked.
"He had cancer. He was diagnosed around Thanksgiving and it advanced quickly. Hospice came in and took care of him the last month of so."
"Did he have any relatives close by?" I was fishing for info.
"As far as I know he didn't have any relatives at all, at least, he never mentioned any and I came by and visited with him just about every day."
Curious, but it's looking like he and his daughter weren't close. "What happened to his estate then? Do you know?"
"Oh yes," he answered, "Mr. Files was very meticulous about that. Had a lawyer come in and draw up a trust and will and all that. He had a real estate agent lined up to sell off the house and personal belongings and I think everything went to charity. Wasn't much, but I believe he said he didn't owe anyone anything either. The house sold about a month after Mr. Files passed and a couple from Little Rock bought it and moved in."
"Thanks for the info," I pulled out my notepad. "Can I get your name and contact info in case I need to follow up?" He showed me is driver's license and I copied down the data and thanked him for his help.
I walked across the street to the where I saw the lady standing on the front porch earlier. I knocked on the door and she answered and after introductions we had a conversation that collaborated the yard mowing neighbor. I acquired her contact information for my report, thanked her, and walked back over to my patrol car and radioed dispatch.
"Unit 4 to S.O."
"Go ahead Unit 4."
"Unit 4 to S.O., I'm finished up at this location but I need to come back to the office to do some research and complete the report. Do you have any further calls for me?"
"Negative Unit 4. You are clear. Do you need us to contact the caller on the welfare check?"
"Negative S.O., I'll take care of that when I get to the office. Show me back in service and 10-96 (in route) to the S.O."
On my drive back to the sheriff's office I called the county clerk at the courthouse and gave her a short overview of the situation with Mr. Files and asked her if she would do some confirmation research for me to officially confirm the information the neighbors had shared with me. The county clerk said she'd be glad to look into it for me and send me an email with her findings. When I got to my office and checked my email the county clerk was as good as her word and I even had a contact at the funeral home with a link to Mr. Files' obituary, the attorney who took care of the estate, and the real estate agent. After about 45 minutes on the phone with these contacts I had a pretty good picture of Mr. Files' final months. Interestingly, no one mentioned a daughter or any other relatives other than that Mrs. Files had passed away some ten years earlier and Mr. Files was laid to rest next to her at Wade's Point Cemetery.
I walked down the hall to the dispatch center and got the name and call back information on the daughter who requested the welfare check. I had to go back and spend another 30 minutes on the terminal doing some research but was able to confirm that Mr. Files had a daughter named Cynthia. The original caller's name for the welfare check was Cindy.
So, after I had a good grasp of the facts regarding Mr. Files, I called the number for his daughter, Cindy, back in Michigan.
"Hello?"
"Is this Cindy?" I asked
"Yes, who is this?" she replied.
"Cindy, this is Deputy Faulkner with the sheriff's office in Arkansas that you called to perform a welfare check on your father, Mr. Files."
"Yes, did you find him?"
"Yes ma'am, I did. Unfortunately, Mr. Files passed away four months ago," I told her.
"FOUR MONTHS AGO!"
"Yes ma'am," I answered.
"And you're just now finding him dead after four months!"
"No ma'am. He knew he was ill and he made prior arrangements. He was buried next to your mother at Wade's Point Cemetery," I told her
There was a pause for a few moments then she said, "Is that in Arkansas? I wasn't able to go to my mother's funeral and I've never been to her grave."
"Yes ma'am."
There were a few more silent moments but I just let go until she asked, "do you know anything about any details?"
"What details are you specifically asking about?" I replied.
"Well, about the estate. What happened to the estate?"
I figured we'd get to that. "Well ma'am, I can provide you with the name of the attorney and real estate agent who dealt with that. They may or may not share information with you depending on the instructions Mr. Files provided them. I do understand that he was quite detailed in his instructions to them."
Another pregnant pause . . . "No, I don't suppose I need their information. If he's been dead for four months they'd have reached out to me by now if the old man had left me anything."
I had numerous questions that I wanted to ask just to satisfy my own curiosity, but, it was really none of my business and I had performed the task at hand.
"Are there any other questions I can answer for you?" I asked.
"I guess not," she answered. "Thanks for calling me back."
"You bet . . . " and I heard the click as she hung up.
With all of these so called mass shootings that have occurred across the country it seems to be that there are a couple of things in common with the perpetrators of these heinous crimes. In my observed opinion, the primary mitigating factor is the breakdown of a cohesive family. Sure, regular middle class American families have their share of domestic problems and issues, but as I observe a microcosmic view of the country, it seems 90% of the people issues I deal with as a LEO lack a family foundation for support.
A recent call triggered my pondering on this subject. I had just finished up having lunch with a friend who is also a local Justice of the Peace. When I got back in my patrol car I radioed dispatch;
"Unit 4 to S.O., I'm back in service."
"10-4 Unit 4, I have a welfare check that is not too far from your location."
"Unit 4 to S.O., go ahead and send me the information," I replied.
The dispatcher sent me a message with the pertinent information. I was being asked to go check on a Mr. Files who lived alone in a house in a subdivision in the unincorporated part of the county about a mile or so outside the city limits. Mr. Files' daughter, who lives in Michigan, had called the sheriff's office requesting that someone go check on Mr. Files and ask him to call his daughter. Reportedly, Mr. Files' daughter had been trying to call and text Mr. File for about 3 months and was not getting a reply. She said he had not been feeling well when she last spoke with him on the phone around Christmas.
"Unit 4 to S.O., I've received the info and I'll be 10-96 (in route), ETA about 15 minutes."
"10-4 Unit 4."
I noted above the address was in a subdivision in the unincorporated part of the county. Seems this is attractive to a lot of people because they get the advantages of city living in a rural setting without all the restrictions and taxes of city government. The downside is there are usually less services like animal control, if any, no city trash pickup, and no restrictions on things like holiday fireworks like there are in most municipalities. So basically, you get city living with no city rules, and without rules for guidance it seems people these days have a hard time exercising consideration for their neighbors.
I entered the relatively new subdivision of 2 to 3 year old middle class homes and turned down the street where Mr. Files address was located. I found the address and turned into the drive and noticed the yard had been freshly mowed and the yard was neatly kept.
"Unit 4 to S.O., I'm 10-97 (arrived on scene)," indicating to dispatch I was at the address.
I got out of the patrol car and looked around. Often times when a police car pulls into someone's driveway a lot of neighbor eyes focus in with natural curiosity. I noticed a fellow a few houses down who was mowing his yard had stopped and was looking in my direction. Across the street was a lady standing on the front porch with her arms crossed checking me out too.
I walked up to the front porch and rang the doorbell. After a long wait with no answer, I rang it again. After another wait I rapped on the front door, and a few moments later I rapped on the door again and said loudly, "SHERIFF'S OFFICE!" No reply, and I could not discern any movement in the house. I stepped over to the front window to take a peak but the shades were drawn and I could not see in. I stepped off the front porch and went over to the garage to see if I could see anything through the garage door windows. I wiped off a little surface dirt with my hand and noticed there were no vehicles in the garage, but I did see a wheelchair a folded walker leaning up against the wall.
I walked around the side of the house to see if anyone was in the backyard, but didn't see anything that particularly caught my attention, so I went back to the front porch and rapped on the door once again. Still no answer. I pulled out a black nitrile glove from my pocket and put it on my left hand, then reached over and tried the front door knob. The knob turned and the door cracked open. At this point I have zero probable cause to go any further, but with the door cracked open a couple of inches I called out "SHERIFF'S OFFICE!" No reply. I took a quick whiff to see if I could smell anything suspicious, but alas, no unsuspecting odors so I pulled the door closed.
I turned and stepped off the porch and took another look around the neighborhood. The guy mowing the yard a couple of houses down was still mowing so I started walking in his direction. When he noticed me coming he stopped and shut down the mower, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead as I approached.
"Good morning, I'm Deputy Faulkner with the sheriff's office, how you doing?" I asked
"Doing well," he replied. "Trying to get this yard mowed before it gets too hot. Who are you looking for?"
"I'm looking for Mr. Files, do you know him?"
The guy had a puzzled look on his face before he answered. "Well, yes sir, I knew him pretty well but he passed away about four months ago. He's buried up at Wade's Point Cemetery."
"I'm sorry to hear that, what happened to him," I asked.
"He had cancer. He was diagnosed around Thanksgiving and it advanced quickly. Hospice came in and took care of him the last month of so."
"Did he have any relatives close by?" I was fishing for info.
"As far as I know he didn't have any relatives at all, at least, he never mentioned any and I came by and visited with him just about every day."
Curious, but it's looking like he and his daughter weren't close. "What happened to his estate then? Do you know?"
"Oh yes," he answered, "Mr. Files was very meticulous about that. Had a lawyer come in and draw up a trust and will and all that. He had a real estate agent lined up to sell off the house and personal belongings and I think everything went to charity. Wasn't much, but I believe he said he didn't owe anyone anything either. The house sold about a month after Mr. Files passed and a couple from Little Rock bought it and moved in."
"Thanks for the info," I pulled out my notepad. "Can I get your name and contact info in case I need to follow up?" He showed me is driver's license and I copied down the data and thanked him for his help.
I walked across the street to the where I saw the lady standing on the front porch earlier. I knocked on the door and she answered and after introductions we had a conversation that collaborated the yard mowing neighbor. I acquired her contact information for my report, thanked her, and walked back over to my patrol car and radioed dispatch.
"Unit 4 to S.O."
"Go ahead Unit 4."
"Unit 4 to S.O., I'm finished up at this location but I need to come back to the office to do some research and complete the report. Do you have any further calls for me?"
"Negative Unit 4. You are clear. Do you need us to contact the caller on the welfare check?"
"Negative S.O., I'll take care of that when I get to the office. Show me back in service and 10-96 (in route) to the S.O."
On my drive back to the sheriff's office I called the county clerk at the courthouse and gave her a short overview of the situation with Mr. Files and asked her if she would do some confirmation research for me to officially confirm the information the neighbors had shared with me. The county clerk said she'd be glad to look into it for me and send me an email with her findings. When I got to my office and checked my email the county clerk was as good as her word and I even had a contact at the funeral home with a link to Mr. Files' obituary, the attorney who took care of the estate, and the real estate agent. After about 45 minutes on the phone with these contacts I had a pretty good picture of Mr. Files' final months. Interestingly, no one mentioned a daughter or any other relatives other than that Mrs. Files had passed away some ten years earlier and Mr. Files was laid to rest next to her at Wade's Point Cemetery.
I walked down the hall to the dispatch center and got the name and call back information on the daughter who requested the welfare check. I had to go back and spend another 30 minutes on the terminal doing some research but was able to confirm that Mr. Files had a daughter named Cynthia. The original caller's name for the welfare check was Cindy.
So, after I had a good grasp of the facts regarding Mr. Files, I called the number for his daughter, Cindy, back in Michigan.
"Hello?"
"Is this Cindy?" I asked
"Yes, who is this?" she replied.
"Cindy, this is Deputy Faulkner with the sheriff's office in Arkansas that you called to perform a welfare check on your father, Mr. Files."
"Yes, did you find him?"
"Yes ma'am, I did. Unfortunately, Mr. Files passed away four months ago," I told her.
"FOUR MONTHS AGO!"
"Yes ma'am," I answered.
"And you're just now finding him dead after four months!"
"No ma'am. He knew he was ill and he made prior arrangements. He was buried next to your mother at Wade's Point Cemetery," I told her
There was a pause for a few moments then she said, "Is that in Arkansas? I wasn't able to go to my mother's funeral and I've never been to her grave."
"Yes ma'am."
There were a few more silent moments but I just let go until she asked, "do you know anything about any details?"
"What details are you specifically asking about?" I replied.
"Well, about the estate. What happened to the estate?"
I figured we'd get to that. "Well ma'am, I can provide you with the name of the attorney and real estate agent who dealt with that. They may or may not share information with you depending on the instructions Mr. Files provided them. I do understand that he was quite detailed in his instructions to them."
Another pregnant pause . . . "No, I don't suppose I need their information. If he's been dead for four months they'd have reached out to me by now if the old man had left me anything."
I had numerous questions that I wanted to ask just to satisfy my own curiosity, but, it was really none of my business and I had performed the task at hand.
"Are there any other questions I can answer for you?" I asked.
"I guess not," she answered. "Thanks for calling me back."
"You bet . . . " and I heard the click as she hung up.
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