jahwarrior
Member
some background:
i was prohibited for a year by a PFA my ex filed against me, for alleged abuse. it was all lies, but i was given the PFA anyway, because it turns out you don't need actual evidence to file one. it finally expired in June, and i was issued a new LTCF, and was given a gun by my girlfriend. still, i wanted my guns back, that were confiscated by the Sheriff's department, so i filed a petition for the return of weapons. the first hearing, my ex never showed, so i had to refile.
so, i went to another hearing today, to request my property back. this time, all my paperwork was in order, and the ex actually showed up. after sitting for nearly two hours, we finally had our turn, and to my surprise, she didn't oppose my petition. "he'll just go and buy another one, so what's the point?" is what she said, more or less.
i should mention that i checked my firearm with no problem, as usual. this was in the Family Court building. i had to take my paperwork across the street to the main courthouse, where i also have never had a problem checking a firearm. that is, until today.
when i entered, one of the deputies immediately took up a defensive position behind the scanner. "what are you doing with that?"
"i need to go to the sheriff's office, so i need to check this here with you."
he scowled, and said, "first, i need your ID."
i shrugged, and said, "sure, whatever." i handed over my driver's license. he inspected it, handed it back, and instructed me to walk slowly over to the locker area, keeping my hand away from my gun. i chuckled, and said, "what's wrong?"
"i'm only letting you bring that in right now, but you're not supposed to even have that in the building!" he walked over to a sign on a stand, and dragged it over to me. "see this? it says it right on the rules. no guns...period. you're not supposed to have that in here."
"soooooo.......which locker can i use?" i said, smiling.
he stared me down a bit, while the other deputy sat there, shocked.
"just pick a damn locker, and sign in for it."
"sure. what time is it? oh, nevermind, it's right there.' i signed in, removed the holstered gun, and locked it up. i slid the key in my pocket, then went back through the metal detector to be checked. you know, in case i had another weapon that i didn't bother to check.
after that was done, i went to the sheriff's office, and handed my paperwork to another deputy. "so," i asked, "it says here you need to run a background check. what system do you use?" the deputy stared at me, and replied, "why do you need to know that for?"
"because i'm curious about the process," i said.
"well...it takes about a week or two. after i copy your ID, i need you to write down your social security number and a number we can reach you at. the guy who does it is a bit backed right now, so at least a week."
"that's nice. you still didn't answer my question, though. what system do you use?" i stood there, smiling nonchalantly.
she stared back at me, disgusted or confused, i couldn't tell which, so i continued. "do you use PICS? NICS? which one?"
she glowered at me, and forced the words out, "we..use...PICS."
"why a week then?"
"because that's how long it takes."
"really? because when i applied for my license, it took 10 minutes. if you're using PICS, i don't see why you just don't do it now."
"because it's different paperwork, that's why. is that all...sir?"
"nope. that's it. see? that wasn't so hard, was it?" i chirped in my best sing-song, happy-go-lucky voice.
an old man stopped me on my way out of the office, and said, "that's it, boy! that's how you deal with these bastards!" and clapped me on the back.
back at the entrance, i approached the deputies, holding my key out to them. "i don't want that! go get it yourself." usually, when leaving, i hand my key to a deputy, they retrieve my gun, and walk me to the exit, and then hand me my gun back. but, he didn't want to do it that way. fine by me. i got my gun out, and slid the paddle holster back into place.
"hey? you got a license for that?"
"i have a license, sure."
"that license is for concealing. you have a license, you conceal it, you hear me?"
"what's that?"
"i said you better conceal it next time, and leave it home if you come back here. that's the LAW."
time stopped then, as the words he spoke became a static wave of unintelligible words. i was sure i heard him correctly, though. all i could see was his freckly face, his ill kept red hair, his pompous stance, and his lips pursed tightly. i know the laws. i know them, and i could spend my day telling him he was wrong, quoting statute to him, and he'd disagree with me, in any case. he knew what the law was; he WAS The Law, as far as he was concerned. i stood there, as time marched by me ponderously. i felt myself aging as i debated whether to inform him of his mistakes, to ignore him and continue with my day, or insult him.
i'd made a decision.
"whatever," i sighed, waving him away. "i know the law. so, yeah, whatever."
i walked off. i heard him turn to the other deputy, and grunt, "these people, think they all know the law..."
i came out to find a parking meter violation under my windshield for $20; my time expired about 5 minutes ago, probably during the exchange with the deputy in the sheriff's office.
Johnny Law, they'll get ya, one way or the other, right? i stopped at City Hall to pay it 10 minutes later. a woman walking past me on her way out stopped me and said, "sir! are you in law enforcement?"
"why, no, thankfully. i still have a personality."
why does no one ever get my jokes?
"you can't bring that in here! this is City Hall, for God's sake!"
"ma'am, you're wrong. i'm not gonna argue with you about it. i can, and i am. have a good one."
i walked past her, paid my fine, and left, to go and retrieve my son from his grandmother's house, so i could go home, and type this out for you! yes, you!
i was prohibited for a year by a PFA my ex filed against me, for alleged abuse. it was all lies, but i was given the PFA anyway, because it turns out you don't need actual evidence to file one. it finally expired in June, and i was issued a new LTCF, and was given a gun by my girlfriend. still, i wanted my guns back, that were confiscated by the Sheriff's department, so i filed a petition for the return of weapons. the first hearing, my ex never showed, so i had to refile.
so, i went to another hearing today, to request my property back. this time, all my paperwork was in order, and the ex actually showed up. after sitting for nearly two hours, we finally had our turn, and to my surprise, she didn't oppose my petition. "he'll just go and buy another one, so what's the point?" is what she said, more or less.
i should mention that i checked my firearm with no problem, as usual. this was in the Family Court building. i had to take my paperwork across the street to the main courthouse, where i also have never had a problem checking a firearm. that is, until today.
when i entered, one of the deputies immediately took up a defensive position behind the scanner. "what are you doing with that?"
"i need to go to the sheriff's office, so i need to check this here with you."
he scowled, and said, "first, i need your ID."
i shrugged, and said, "sure, whatever." i handed over my driver's license. he inspected it, handed it back, and instructed me to walk slowly over to the locker area, keeping my hand away from my gun. i chuckled, and said, "what's wrong?"
"i'm only letting you bring that in right now, but you're not supposed to even have that in the building!" he walked over to a sign on a stand, and dragged it over to me. "see this? it says it right on the rules. no guns...period. you're not supposed to have that in here."
"soooooo.......which locker can i use?" i said, smiling.
he stared me down a bit, while the other deputy sat there, shocked.
"just pick a damn locker, and sign in for it."
"sure. what time is it? oh, nevermind, it's right there.' i signed in, removed the holstered gun, and locked it up. i slid the key in my pocket, then went back through the metal detector to be checked. you know, in case i had another weapon that i didn't bother to check.
after that was done, i went to the sheriff's office, and handed my paperwork to another deputy. "so," i asked, "it says here you need to run a background check. what system do you use?" the deputy stared at me, and replied, "why do you need to know that for?"
"because i'm curious about the process," i said.
"well...it takes about a week or two. after i copy your ID, i need you to write down your social security number and a number we can reach you at. the guy who does it is a bit backed right now, so at least a week."
"that's nice. you still didn't answer my question, though. what system do you use?" i stood there, smiling nonchalantly.
she stared back at me, disgusted or confused, i couldn't tell which, so i continued. "do you use PICS? NICS? which one?"
she glowered at me, and forced the words out, "we..use...PICS."
"why a week then?"
"because that's how long it takes."
"really? because when i applied for my license, it took 10 minutes. if you're using PICS, i don't see why you just don't do it now."
"because it's different paperwork, that's why. is that all...sir?"
"nope. that's it. see? that wasn't so hard, was it?" i chirped in my best sing-song, happy-go-lucky voice.
an old man stopped me on my way out of the office, and said, "that's it, boy! that's how you deal with these bastards!" and clapped me on the back.
back at the entrance, i approached the deputies, holding my key out to them. "i don't want that! go get it yourself." usually, when leaving, i hand my key to a deputy, they retrieve my gun, and walk me to the exit, and then hand me my gun back. but, he didn't want to do it that way. fine by me. i got my gun out, and slid the paddle holster back into place.
"hey? you got a license for that?"
"i have a license, sure."
"that license is for concealing. you have a license, you conceal it, you hear me?"
"what's that?"
"i said you better conceal it next time, and leave it home if you come back here. that's the LAW."
time stopped then, as the words he spoke became a static wave of unintelligible words. i was sure i heard him correctly, though. all i could see was his freckly face, his ill kept red hair, his pompous stance, and his lips pursed tightly. i know the laws. i know them, and i could spend my day telling him he was wrong, quoting statute to him, and he'd disagree with me, in any case. he knew what the law was; he WAS The Law, as far as he was concerned. i stood there, as time marched by me ponderously. i felt myself aging as i debated whether to inform him of his mistakes, to ignore him and continue with my day, or insult him.
i'd made a decision.
"whatever," i sighed, waving him away. "i know the law. so, yeah, whatever."
i walked off. i heard him turn to the other deputy, and grunt, "these people, think they all know the law..."
i came out to find a parking meter violation under my windshield for $20; my time expired about 5 minutes ago, probably during the exchange with the deputy in the sheriff's office.
Johnny Law, they'll get ya, one way or the other, right? i stopped at City Hall to pay it 10 minutes later. a woman walking past me on her way out stopped me and said, "sir! are you in law enforcement?"
"why, no, thankfully. i still have a personality."
why does no one ever get my jokes?
"you can't bring that in here! this is City Hall, for God's sake!"
"ma'am, you're wrong. i'm not gonna argue with you about it. i can, and i am. have a good one."
i walked past her, paid my fine, and left, to go and retrieve my son from his grandmother's house, so i could go home, and type this out for you! yes, you!
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