Marietta Meg and the Marietta Police

If you know me at all...

...you know how much I am adored by my local police department. Like my idiot ex Mark Colletti, they just can't seem to leave me alone. You would almost think that they would have something better to do with their time than "visit" a grandmother 3 times in 36 hours, but apparently you'd be wrong.

Today I decided to document the uninvited visits of the Marietta Police Department. You know, if I'm right, they won't be happy until they arrest me or investigate my death. So, in the hopes that this record will help me, even if it's post-mortem, I present to you Meg and the Marietta Foot Men who became ever so much more pleasant once I turned on the video camera:

You know how cops are so much more responsive to young girls than they are to middle aged women? I remember that from when I was a young girl. Well, you just witnessed a perfect example of testosterone induced cops making excuses for a lying bitch who was OBVIOUSLY lying to them and being stupid little pricks to a grandmother who was at home, sober and minding her own business.

The lying 19 year old told them that she was told by other cops that she had to mail me her keys with a receipt proving that she mailed them back to me. Can you believe they would have fallen for that? I've heard of registered letters, but not registered keys. With the luck I have, my death will be investigated by these 2 geniuses.

Perhaps a little history is called for here. After I blogged about a past encounter with the Marietta Police Department back in February of 2007, the sudden and consistent interest in me began. The first incident occurred on an early Sunday morning before I was out of bed. My aunt had recently gone missing and the disinterested Georgia police still haven't figured out what happened to her (Mary Mergel-nee Broderick). There is no legal death so my father was appointed to care for his sister's finances until her body is found. He lives in Tampa and he wanted me to make frequent trips to Chatsworth Georgia (quite a drive) so he left my aunt's SUV with me.

My son came into my room that morning and woke me up, telling me that the police were at the door. Their story went something along the lines of this:

"Well, this officer (pointing to one of several) is a rookie and I was teaching him to run down plates. We happened to pick yours and noticed that it's registered to a woman reported missing. So, now we need to investigate this."

I've told that story to several non-local cops and they've all said the same thing, "That's bullshit. They were just trying to fuck with you." I was actually dumb enough to believe the cops back then. That was before I was informed of the corrupt reputation that the MPD has and also before they began showing me exactly how dishonest they were...not to mention swayed by that set of huge, 19 year old knockers. I'm smarter than that now...hence the video tape.

I tried to do a young couple a favor and move them in. I tried to treat them decently but it quickly became obvious that they were far too immature, dishonest, manipulative and destructive to be in my home. Very early yesterday morning, the police where here because I woke up in the middle of the night to find out that these 2 yahoos had moved in a 3rd person without so much as mentioning it. I could tell you stories about that experience, but not now, I'm bored of it. But...I will later. Trust me, you wouldn't believe it. I didn't say anything while it was happening because I was so embarrassed to have gotten myself in that situation again. And, I knew it wouldn't last much longer anyway.

While Rebecca "Becky" Dodrill and Jesse Dodrill were here, one night she started talking about doing cocaine. I could tell she just wanted to see if I would chip in for what she called a "ball". Well, I don't do cocaine. I'm not a fricking moron and I have too many health problems to take that chance. Somehow we got on the subject of the MPD and I mentioned how they didn't like me and how I hated to have them come to my house because it's so embarrassing to have them here with my neighbors looking on. She knows how much I despise having the cops in front of my house so she's trying to bring them over on an ongoing basis and I'm trying to keep my innocent ass out of jail. For some reason, the police are putty in her cocaine addicted hands. I think the official name for it is "harassment" by Marietta Police.

A few weeks ago I was assaulted and even though I reported the crime to 3 different cops (http://bit.ly/E0YXE), they were ALL as bored as they could be. One cop threatened to arrest me so I quietly got in his squad and let him take me home at which time I called 911 to ask for "ANY OTHER COP!" than the one who refused an assault victim assistance.

I blogged about that as well and the heat is on.

Did you notice how the cops sat and watched her open the dead bolt with a bunch of keys (even though she knows which one it is and always has) finally making the tumbler turn? Then she removed the wrong key and handed it to the cops. It was the wrong key and the cop said, "She has a couple that look alike." DUH!!! She had just unlocked the dead bolt and then she took the wrong key off the key chain. How observant can a cop NOT be? I noticed it and I wasn't even trained in police work. Of course, boobs have no effect on me.

Oh, don't let me forget the part where, although I was sitting at my computer 5 feet away from the cops, they demanded that I come outside. When I asked them why, they gave lame answers like "We need to keep you 2 separated." The other one said, "I had to explain to you what was going on." Well, first, the cokehead was on the other side of the house and I was right in front of the cops sitting here at my computer. The microphone is further than I was as I was sitting here and YOU can hear them so I'm quite sure that I would have been able to handle a conversation from where I was.

After Officer Arrowhead reassured the lying, manipulating wench that she wouldn't get any warrant (when I said that she would) I had to laugh because he has no idea for what I'm swearing out a warrant. I could have done it yesterday but I didn't want to be a mega-bitch. Today I do.

By the way, the young man who apologized was just a poor sap who got caught in the middle of this mess...he didn't do anything wrong.

Becky's veiled admission of a drug induced haze:

Submitting To Solitude
Interesting day today. I’m on drink number four, and still seem to find myself lost in a whole sea of emotions. Things usually seem so much clearer once I’ve had a few drinks, which is ironic considering my constant tendency to make a complete ass out of myself while under the influence, however tonight I drink alone. To me, liquor is the sincerest form of solitude.
Tonight all my creativity, my talent, and even my desire to write seem to have disappeared with the whiskey. I’m disconnected from the world, numb to every moment. It’s strange how friendly death can seem through the eyes of the intoxicated. I am not yet entirely intoxicated, but I eagerly approach the border. My husband is only a blur in the room adjacent to mine. He’s waiting for me to come to bed, I assume, and hates when I don’t. What he doesn’t realize is that this is my moment. The only moment of every night I am able to escape.
I married Jesse when I was eighteen, almost nineteen. That was six months ago as of the eighteenth of this month. I think of my life, and where I am now. A high school drop out armed only with dreams that could never come true. I left rehab when I turned eighteen. I spent exactly six months there in Rimrock, Arizona, and married not even a year after my departure. We were high school sweethearts. Those who knew us said we were meant to be and were ecstatic the day we tied the knot, those who didn’t made their opinions known. But as time goes by, I can’t help but watch my wings disappear. I’m falling so rapidly, and am terrified of what lies beneath me. I’m plunging into unknown territory, held hostage by my inner most demons and the sick, synthetic happiness of only the most toxic of chemical euphoria. My tolerance grows with every sip, and haunts me as I sleep.
I realize now that I have become everything that was expected of me. At least I managed not to disappoint. All the medically induced mood swings, emotionally pursued overdoses. I spent nine years in treatment for a disease I was never meant to have, only to trade one sickness for another. One wayward foot in front of the other. I stumble, I fall, I bend, I break, but I don’t feel it this time. Not tonight. Tonight, I submit to solitude.
-Becky Dodrill