You may remember I was in Florida last weekend.

I arrived late Thursday night.

Friday I went and visited with the gal’s from the corporate office of the company I work for, then got in my rental car and headed over to the Clearwater area where I would spend Friday and Saturday night.

Friday evening after crashing attending the rehearsal dinner, I called Hubby then settled in to write Saturday’s blog post and watch the new episode of In Plain Sight.

About 10:30 (give or take) Hubby called and said, “There’s been some trouble at the other house.”

(One side of the duplex is vacant.  Our tenants left at the end of February and we’ve been working over there, trying to get it ready for new tenants.  Well ok, mostly it’s been Hubby that’s been working over there, but I paint!)

I said, “What happened?”

“Apparently Bobby got inside and barricaded himself in the attic.”

WHAT?

For real.  WHAT?

Me trying not to lose my cool, “How does that happen?”

Ok, for the sake of getting you the entire story, I’m not going to share our back and forth conversation.  I contacted my tenant to ensure she was ok and asked her what happened.

Between Hubby and my tenant the gist of it was, apparently Bobby was wanted on some charges and the cops showed up so he ran.  Next door.

He ran next door to my tenant’s house and knocked on the door.  My tenant’s son opened the door where upon Bobby pushed his way thru, ran down their basement steps, up the other basement steps, and up the stairs to the second floor, where he pulled down the attic stairs and locked himself in.

The police tasered him and escorted him out.

That was the story I had Saturday morning.

Sunday morning as I was traveling across the state to visit family and friends, I called my sister and we were discussing the events at the other house.

“He’ll go away for a long time” she said, “he assaulted a police officer.”

“He did?”  Why doesn’t Hubby tell me these things?

“Oh yes, a police dog is an officer.”

I about ran off the Beeline.

I’m pretty sure I was shaking my head in disbelief.  “He hurt a dog?”  “In my house?”

Yup, now you know why Hubby didn’t tell me.

That was the story I had Sunday morning.

Monday I flew home and immediately took my puppies for a walk, deciding to deal with this incident in the morning.

Tuesday I placed a call to the police department asking to speak with the arresting office.  As of today’s post, still no call.   I stopped by the police station yesterday to pick up a copy of the report, but I missed the Records Department by 18 minutes.

Last night I got a hold of a copy of the police blotter (thanks to my tenant) and think I can give you a fairly clear story.

Bobby and his girlfriend had broken up.  On March 31st he broke into her house and sexually assaulted her (according to the police report.)

Here is the information I have from the Judicial website.

On March 27th there was a 6th degree larceny offense, a reckless endangerment offense and a 3rd degree criminal mischief offense; all misdemeanors.

On April 3rd there was a false incident report charge and a misuse of emergency 911 charge.  The false incident report is a felony.

I have also read the press release and am surmising the story in this fashion.

Friday Bobby went over to his ex-girlfriend’s house and said he’d been attacked and beaten on April 3rd.  He was high on PCP and they fought and he threatened her so she called the police and he ran.

That brings you up to speed on what I’ve already told you.

From what I’ve read he went up into our unfinished attic and using a live electrical cord, tied the attic stairs up.  (It’s a pull down ladder/stairs.)

(Process that for a minute and think about what happens when you take a 2oo (give or take) pound man high on PCP and put him in an unfinished attic.)

The police cut the electrical wire and sent the dog up.  Bobby threw a box that might have had a computer in it (previous tenants left it) at the dog, knocking the dog down the stairs where he was caught by the police officer.  The police officer then sent the dog back up the stairs and the dog attached himself to Bobby’s arm, wherein both dog and Bobby tumbled out of the attic.

Bobby was then whacked a couple of times with a flashlight (supposedly) on the leg and eventually tasered and removed from the premises.  The dog was taken to the emergency vet hospital where he was treated for injuries to his right hip and nose.  He was given anti-inflammatory medication.

After removing Bobby from the house, the police went back inside and took pictures.  They then left the house, without benefit of locking the doors and never notified either Hubby or myself.

On April 6th, Bobby was arrested for 2 counts of 1st degree burglary, 2nd degree sexual assault, interfering with an officer, assaulting a public official, 2nd degree reckless endangerment, cruelty to animals, 2nd degree criminal trespass, 2 counts of 3rd degree criminal mischief, breach of peace and threatening.  Five of those charges are felonies.

Unfortunately in CT the cruelty to animals is a misdemeanor U, whatever the hell that means.  Basically on the website I found, there was no recommended sentence for a misdemeanor U.

Hey CT, I don’t like that, do you hear me?  This blogger doesn’t like the misdemeanor U!  And U will be hearing from Me!

According to my calculations if he gets convicted on all charges his minimum sentence will be just shy of six years.  If he gets the max, well he just may never see daylight again without the benefit of fencing.

On April 6th, we were left with cut electrical wires and holes in our ceilings.

I’m not whining, I know this could have been a whole lot worse.  If Hubby and I had still been living there, it’s a very real possibility that Bobby would have been shot.

You can’t make this shit up.

Author’s Note: I was so busy trying to process and deal with this issue, that I forgot to mention I did a guest post.  If you have a minute, go on over and check out The Writing World.

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