Just as I was about to call it a week at work and head out for the weekend, I got a call from the Warren County DA’s office in regard to a 3-year old case against a homeless guy to whom we’d given some food, but not Martin. Martin stole my lawnmower. This guy stole a Honda scooter from my garage. The case has dragged out for numerous reasons and been nothing but a nagging irritation to me up to this point.
Just as we were about to wrap up our business, the Assistant DA mentioned they had arrested somebody else that hung out around my part of town. He asked if I knew Martin (last name redacted). I smiled as my heart filled with gleeful sunshine, and I almost shouted with joy, “I sure do know that sonofabitch! Tie a railroad iron around his neck and throw him off the damned river bridge!”
He chuckled and said, “I guess you do know him. He’s finally gotten himself into something he can’t easily get himself out of.”
After chatting for a few more minutes, and him giving me the lowdown on the criminal justice system, I gave him a link to this blog and offered to testify against Martin. He laughed and told me he’d keep that in mind before we ended the call.
As I write this, I’m still basking in the warm glow of post-phone-call bliss, and I’m smiling like a mule eating briars. Have a good weekend, folks! I know I will!
P.s. There is still one more post coming in the Martin series. I just couldn’t let this moment of glee slip by undocumented.