Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Pleased to Death

I remember well my first DOA in a home of natural causes.   In some ways, it was more disturbing then my first DOA who was shot in the head.

The apartment was on the 4th floor of a six story walk up.  It was late spring, so when I arrived at the location with the Sergeant, there was still sunlight (as my hours were from 530 PM untill 2 AM - otherwise known as Six to Twos).  EMS had already arrived and left when we got there.  The sector car on the scene left when we arrived, as I had to learn the process of processing the deceased.

The deceased died in his bedroom, in bed, on his back.  He was in his mid fifties, light skinned hispanic and he had what appeared to be a single black / blue ball sack the size of a fairly large grapfruit.  There was no way to miss it - he was totally naked.  It appeared that he had passed from a heart attack while pleasuring himself.

Both myself and the Sergeant looked at the body for an uncomfortable moment.  It might have been natural causes, but this just wasn't natural.

"Right.  Time to look for valuables.  Cash, jewelry, checks, etc.  Whatever we find has to be vouchered back at the command.  Think you can handle that?" I was asked.

Before I even had a chance to answer he continued: "Start with the closet, I'll work on the dresser. "

We only had to search this one room, as the apartment was shared and this was his bedroom, so really, how hard could it be?

The first valuable I found was one of those Home Delivery Water Jugs, the type that hold like 5 gallons of water.  This one was full of change.

"Sarge?" I asked.  "What do we do with this?"

"Shit!  Looks like you'll be counting change for the rest of the tour!"  He smirked when he said it.  I foresaw a long night ahead of me.

Digging deeper into the closet, I pulled out a large plastic bag, which seemed to hold multiple items.  I reached in and pulled out… I pulled out something that still makes me want to cring.  I dropped it to the floor and it landed with a light thump.

"Whats that?"

"I'ts a fucking greasy dildo that looks like a 12" penis!" I exclaimed.

The sarge looked at me, then at it, then at the bag I was still holding.  "More of the same in the bag?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Right, put all that shit back in the closet.  We're done.  Almost done."  He paused.  "You still need to remove the ring from his finger."

I could feel the bile building in my throat at the thought of it.

"Sarge, we KNOW where his hands have been.  I have to wait for the family anyway.  Why don't I have them take it off him?"

"I guess that could work.  Hey, where are you going?"

"The bathroom, because I know where my hands have been and I'm none too happy."


  1. Interesting story. I won't say "good" story, because nothing was good about handling that stuff!

  2. yeah, i preferred the raspberry jam over the blue grapefruit myself ;)