I was fresh outta High School in the summer of 1976. My parents said, “College or work?” I chose work. My first job was for Fitzgerald’s Gas and the station manager, Billy T. I was employed as a gas pumper. Check your oil? After a couple of weeks, the money logbook was short each time I worked. After maybe three weeks, I was called into Billy’s office and fired for stealing. He said they always fire the new guy because the money count was O.K. before I arrived. Old man Fitzgerald himself was at the firing. And that’s how my first job ended.

A couple of months later I heard that my replacement, Harry, was fired for stealing. Also, the books were not adding up. A few months after that, Billy was found out. He was fired by the old man for stealing. It had been him all along.

I was promoted to jailer in the summer of 1979, I would see Billy often during the course of my duties. He was a staunch alcoholic. I had a long frank talk with Billy during his booking process about my firing at Fitzgerald’s. Billy had one leg with a prosthesis. How he lost the leg, I don’t know. Billy was most often arrested for DUI and driving on a suspended license. I booked him in and out, many a time. I didn’t like it, but he would make trustee every time he was sentenced to jail for his traffic offenses.
He would serve his few months in jail and go out drinking and driving again. His constant DUI arrests had suspended his driver’s license.

After two and a half years with the S.O., I was finally promoted to “Patrol Deputy” in the summer of 1981. One of the first people I met out there was Billy. He was walking from his trailer in Springtime M.H.P. to the mini-mart or whatever the store was off Riley Road. A few months later, while on day shift patrol, I stopped a weaving car to find Billy driving. He was drinking again and failed every test. I arrested him for DUI and for his suspended/revoked license. I told him that his license would be going into Habitual Violator with this DUI. My DUI and suspension citations were his third within the state’s allotted 5 years. To be declared a Habitual Violator on his driver’s license meant that if he drove anywhere at any time and was caught, he would be sentenced to five years in State Prison, whether drinking or not. Them’s the rules we played by. I did not see Billy again for a while.

A couple of years later, my zone partner Allen and I got bored patrolling in zone 2 and got Sgt. Eddie P’s permission to hold a road check. We chose Old Beulah Road, just down from Springtime M.H.P… We were checking for driver’s licenses and insurance. After a while, we heard a car with loud mufflers coming from over the hill where we were standing. As it rounded a curve and into our view the station wagon nose-dived and jerked into a driveway. I told Allen that it was my turn and went to check it out. The homes in that area were well-to-do homes. That junky station wagon with ladders on top definitely didn’t belong in that driveway. Patrolling knowledge. I hot-footed it and pulled into the driveway behind the station wagon which had pulled into the carport. There was Billy walking around in the carport. I yelled and motioned, “Billy, get over here!” “Do you live here Billy?” I knew the answer. He started the crocodile tears and said that he had to work to put food on the table for his children. They would starve if he didn’t work. Please… Please… don’t take me to jail. I then asked, “Is your license still in habitual violator?” He hung his head and said “yes.” He was tugging at my heartstrings, and he kept pleading. I suddenly smelled the odor of beer. I hadn’t even seen the inside of his car.
I said, “Billy, I smell the odor of alcohol and I haven’t been drinking today.” Well, yeah, he said. His whole demeanor changed. He looked like a little kid just caught in a lie. I became angry. I spoke loudly and said, “the money you spent on that beer today could have gone to feed your children.” He looked down and didn’t say another word. I placed him under arrest. Search, handcuff, vehicle inventory, and impound.

Billy was taken to jail and charged appropriately. In a way, I felt vindicated for the long-ago accusation of stealing.