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The Call Box

The Call Box: The Remorseful Rapist

lapd callboxBy Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD

As a detective, I must admit to a small amount of envy…                                                                                                                                                                        

In the early 1960’s Los Angeles held the title “bank robbery capitol” of America.  At the time, one in every 10 bank robberies in the USA occurred in the LA area.  

The LAPD Robbery Division Bank Squad and the FBI Bank Squad were two elite units and they took down a good number of suspects. 

 Metro Division flooded banks with stakeouts, and also got their share.  OK, so why the envy?   Well with so many bank robbers running around sticking up so many banks. they were given nicknames to keep them straight.

 money-941228_960_720The “Counter Jumpers,” “Takeover Bandits,” “The .45 Caliber Bandit,” “Yellow Scarf,” “Gold Tooth,” and on and on. They, by God, had nicknames! How cool is that (did I just say cool)? Ok, so it’s obvious why a detective (me) working routine everyday run-of-the-mill robbers would be envious. I mean, none of my criminals had any panache, any flair, even any style. We had “Blue Chip (see post March 29, 2017),” but we got him on his first job and the only thing outstanding was his stupidity. We did have one I can remember, “The Buntline Bandit,” so named for the very long barrel of his revolver, and we got him after job number 9. 

Caspar_Milquetoast_Christmas_cardAnyway, the real subject matter of this piece is the sexual predator they named “The Remorseful Rapist.” The name attached to the will-o-the-whisp had sexually assaulted in excess of 50 women over several years. He was small in stature, wispy thinning hair, horn-rimmed glasses, every bit the Casper milk-toast character. Inoffensive in appearance, virtually invisible, ghost of a man, barely noticed. His hunting grounds were within three large LAPD divisions: Hollywood, Wilshire, and West LA; and one sheriff’s area: West Hollywood area. He would accost the victim as she entered her home displaying a small handgun. His actions indicated that he spent much time on surveillance. He earned his nickname due to the fact that after the assault he would be overcome with guilt, apologize to the victim, beg her forgiveness and vow, “Never again.”

With multiple detectives involved, a task force was established. Metro supplied the manpower for the rolling stakeouts, but the problems presented were many. No discernible pattern emerged as to location, days, and times. He chose his victims very carefully, and even after getting 25-30 victims together for a brain storming session we came up with nothing. We never got close—he was everywhere, and he was nowhere.

Then we got lucky. A woman resisted him, hit him in the face and snatched his glasses. He screamed like a 12-year-old girl, yelled something like “mama,” and fled.

Finally.

Working with the prescription from the glasses and some other information we had obtained, he was finally arrested. 

 

Now the kicker…

 One of our detectives had married earlier in the year and “Remorseful” was one of his groomsman. There he was, in the wedding album, looking at the camera in all his “wimpiness.” The detective made very rude remarks when it was suggested that he leave the wedding album at the station for use as a “mug book.”

 Paroled many years later, “Remorseful” went right back to his old habits, but he was much easier to catch the second time around.

 

Afterthought: the weapon that he used in his original spree was a toy gun. Overcome with guilt afterwards, he would throw it away. Vowing never again, he lost count of how many toy guns he had to buy.

~~~

Read Thonie Hevron’s books: By Force or Fear, Intent to Hold,

and With Malice Aforethought are all available through Amazon. Malice coverCop loc auth close up

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More Street Stories Tales from the Barking Muse

10-33 Silent Alarm

10-33 Silent Alarm

By Gerry Goldshine

 

Conducting a building search under the best of circumstances is a trying, tedious job. The places inside a house where the average human being can find to hide boggles the mind. Unlike what you see on television, a thorough search is far more involved that pointing your gun inside a room and shouting “Clear!” when you don’t see anything. Every closet and every cupboard have to be checked. You have to make sure the attic, under beds and even the drum of the clothes dryer are clear because I’ve found people in all those places. Piles of dirty clothes? Toss them because I found a warrant suspect hiding at the bottom of one. Despite all the complications that come with searching a residence, when clearing a large business establishment properly, the problems multiply exponentially and it can become downright tedious, taking up precious time and manpower.

This particular night, I was assigned to back-up another officer on a silent burglary alarm call at the Local Generic Tire Warehouse. When we got there, the first thing we noticed was an open side door. Great! Now for sure, we are committed to a search. As there were no other units available to help, it was just Officer Mike, me and hundreds, if not thousands, of tires. We strategized about how we were going to conduct the search and as the open door was on the opposite side of the building from the office, we decided to keep things as simple as possible. We would each take one side of the building and work our way back to the office. If anything was moved or disturbed we would then start checking each neat stack of tires. If there was concrete evidence of a break-in, we would back out and wait for more help.

Guns drawn, we asked dispatch to clear all radio traffic and made a quiet tactical entry into the darkened building. We were immediately confronted with row upon row of industrial warehouse shelving units, each piled high with tires of every imaginable size. Naturally, the light switches were located by the office so flashlights were our only source of illumination. Yes, it was creepy. Tires rearing up from the darkness, seemingly all the way to the ceiling, everywhere you looked.

We began working our way laboriously in the direction of the office and were about two thirds of the way to it when we suddenly started hearing some strange clanking noises coming from that vicinity. Now we had to settle on whether to back out, secure the building as best we could and wait for additional units to help or continue the search. Officer Mike being the senior and more experienced officer decided we’d reassess the situation when we reached the last row of shelves and could see the office.

Ten or so minutes later, we were at the last row of shelves and I could see the source of all the noise we were hearing; it was coming from one of those large, ceiling mounted industrial heaters.

Just as we both were starting to feel foolish, from behind a six-foot tall stack of tires by the office door, I caught sight of something moving! I let Officer Mike know via my portable radio but he couldn’t see anything from his position.

At high alert once again, we stealthily advanced, each covering the other, using other stacks of tires to conceal our presence. I could feel a rivulet of sweat trickle down my chest, behind the confines of my body armor, from heat being thrown out by the device overhead coupled with the adrenaline surging through me. The closer we got, the tighter I gripped my revolver. Closer still now, we realized that there was no way to confront whatever was behind that pile of tires without exposing ourselves. So I got down on my belly, dirtying up my spotless uniform and inched my way around the final stack of tires and finally saw our suspect.

 There, swaying in the exhaust of the overhead heater, was The Michelin Man; a five-foot high cardboard cutout.

To this very day, I am oh so glad that I resisted the impulse to yell, “Freeze, asshole! Petaluma Police!”

 

Traffic Officer Gerry Goldshine circa 1985
Traffic Officer Gerry Goldshine circa 1985

Gerry was born in Providence, Rhode Island but raised in Southern California. 

Upon graduating from California State University, Los Angeles, Gerry enlisted in

the Army and was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant. After leaving active duty

in 1979, he worked for Sonoma County Sheriff’s Office. From 1980 until his retirement

in 1996, he was a patrol officer, traffic officer, and a trainer at Petaluma Police Department.

Gerry is married, has a daughter and lives in Sonoma County, California.

Gerry is a regular contributor to Just the Facts, Ma’am. Check in weekly or so to see his newest posts.