Now, Big Marie was a rather large woman. She and her four or five children lived in a mobile home on about an acre of cleared land. No trees. On that cleared land sat two mobile homes a good way off the road. But of course, you could see the trailers easily on an acre of cleared land. I could tell it was a poor lifestyle. I was on day shift patrol one bright Sunday morning, eastbound on Skyview Drive. Just west of Sweetwater Creek, an old clunker of a 4-door crossed into my lane, causing me to pull from the road. I turned around and stopped the big clunker to find out what was the reasoning for the driver’s attempted maneuver.

The vehicle was filled with four old white men. I knew them from around Austell and the Old Alabama area. Three of them I knew from public drunk related observations and calls and the driver I had not met. I smelled odor of alcohol from inside the car because all four windows were down. The three men were blitzed, and the driver appeared to be less intoxicated. I had them all stumble from the car and sit on the bank. They had trouble standing. The driver failed the roadside field tests. This was long before on site breathalyzers were used.

I sat down the arrested driver beside his friends and called for a wrecker. Now, how in the hell did these guys get so bombed on a Sunday morning? These guys are usually passed out before midnight. Could they have been drinking all night? I began the impounding procedure of inventorying the vehicle’s contents. In the back seat were two large brown grocery store bags full of freezing cold Budweiser. The back seat contained at least three fifths of bourbon and vodka, and at least six, ice-cold, six-packs. I asked the four, where did you get the alcohol? In unison they replied, “Big Marie!” I told the three passengers to hit the road and walk back to Cobb County. I then took the driver to the jail for a DUI test. Of course, he failed, so I finished writing the tickets. I knew that the Sheriff was in his office that Sunday and decided to tell him of my plans.

I knocked on the Sheriff’s door and popped my head in to see if he could see me. He never turned me down. I said “Sheriff, I got a drunk driver this morning and he said he bought liquor and beer from Big Marie who is bootleggin’ on Sundays. The Sheriff sat back in his big high-back judge’s type chair and said, “Close the door and have a seat, Englett.” He always called me Englett. He told me he knew about Big Marie but was letting it slide. Her husband had run off and left her and her kids with nothing. And Big Marie’s daughter had run off and left Big Marie to raise the grandkids. So, I’ve been letting it slide.

The Sheriff didn’t have to tell me that whole tragic story, but that was just the way he was. Plain as day. I wrote my reports and returned to the dirt roads.