Those aren’t my Charges!
A guy in Texas tried to give a fake name to a Game Warden to avoid a warrant for his arrest, only to catch a charge on the fake name.
I thought this one was entertaining so I wrote my own version of events:
“If we don’t get a hit in the next ten we’re out.” Kiefer Bagley declared.
Matt Bagley sighed quietly as he reeled in his plastic Yamamoto Senior and whipped it back into the still water of the Little Brazos River. He and Kiefer, his cousin from Dallas, had been fishing for exactly ten minutes before his bulky and sweating cousin, draped in a bright red tracksuit made his announcement.
Kiefer showed up out of the blue two days ago with a bullshit story about getting back home, closer to family, and some other shit. Matt had to let him in, of course, even assholes have families. But he didn’t have time to wade through his cousin's nonsense. He had to work at the shop.
Then Saturday came and there was no overtime to keep him at work, Matt tried. Sitting in his crappy apartment would have meant watching Kiefer clean him out of beer and food by ten AM, creating an even more slovenly cousin annoying the shit out of him for the rest of the day.
Fishing. Anything.
Matt had a couple of spots along the river and an extra rod so it was,
Get in the truck dick!
The spots were carefully targeted to those that had trails where Matt could disappear when his dumb ass cousin started bragging about what a badass he was back in the city.
“We’ve only been here ten minutes dude, chill.” Matt said not bothering to look Kiefer’s way.
They were about twenty feet apart. Kiefer lounging in a folding chair that was struggling to keep his ass aloft. Side flab birthed from the part between his red sweatshirt and matching pants. Matt was on his feet working the topography of the shore to pull a bass he knew was sitting in there just waiting for him.
He watched Kiefer awkwardly loop another cast into the middle of the river, not bothering to get out of the chair. While he did so, Matt realized Kiefer now had a joint hanging from his bottom lip. He also had a beer in his hand that he managed not to spill when he cast. That was actually impressive. The rig splashed down in the middle of the river like an Apollo capsule on re-entry. A clear sign to any fish within three miles to pack up and run. Matt was appraising the circular ripples reaching out from touchdown when he saw a boat swing around the bend.
“Oh Fuck!” Kiefer blurted, spitting the joint into the river and dropping his pole at his feet.
Matt creased an eyebrow, “Seriously?”
“I got warrants dude,” Kiefer hissed.
The boat, a rack of blue lights across the top brace, and two uniformed Game Wardens aboard angled toward them. Matt reeled in his last cast and watched Kiefer try to sink into his red attire as they approached. He waved as they pulled up and dropped a power pole.
“You guys having any luck?” Asked one of them.
“Not yet,” Matt answered. You guys might be though.
“I’m Game Warden Franks, this is Reed. You guys got your licenses?”
Matt grabbed his wallet and popped both out.
Kiefer shuffled in his chair.
Franks handed off Matt’s ID to Reed and looked Kiefer over.
Kiefer lumbered to his feet, “I don’t got it on me.” He mumbled.
“You know you’re supposed to have your license on you if you’re fishing?”
“Yeah,” Kiefer stumbled, “It’s in my other pants.”
Franks appraised the bright red tracksuit, “They anything like those?”
“Blue,” he answered.
“Right, got your ID?”
Kiefer threw his arms out at his sides and huffed.
Franks scoffed, “What’s your name?”
“Kevin,” he blurted, “Burgess,”
Matt looked sideways at his cousin as Franks relayed to Reed.
Kiefer/Kevin blinked and shrugged, “What?”
Matt denied himself the urge to shake his head.
Franks leaped onto the bank and flanked Kiefer/Kevin.” Mr. Burgess turn around for me,” he said, circling and guiding Kiefer/Kevin by the shoulder so Franks and Reed could maintain eye contact. “Put your hands behind your back.”
Kiefer/Kevin did as was told, “What? Why?” He asked. His eyes were wide.
“You have a couple of warrants out for your arrest Mr. Burgess,” Franks said.
“What charge?”
Matt saw Franks grin. “Indecent Exposure,” he said, “and Aggravated Buggery on a Work Animal.”
Matt stepped back when he saw Kiefer/Kevin shoot stock straight. His eyes bulged.
“What! No! Fuck No! Fucking Burgess,” he cried.
“What’s going on Mr. Burgess?” Asked Franks as he locked the cuffs.
“I, I, I got a Burglary charge back in Dallas. Maybe a bad check too. No fuckin animals though. Run Kiefer Bagley, 068-12-5978, date of birth June 12, 2000. I swear.”
Matt was transfixed by the panic in his cousins eyes. He hadn’t seen him that alert since middle school. Franks held still for a moment as if considering what Kiefer had just said. Then the Game Warden looked at his partner.
“I told you it’d work!” He exclaimed, “Fuckin told you!”
Reed shook his head and held up a twenty-dollar bill. “When you’re right, you’re right.”
Matt couldn’t help but laugh as he watched Kiefer comprehend what had just happened to him.
“That was all bullshit?” Kiefer sputtered, “The animal stuff.”
Franks giggled, “I called it that you had warrants the minute you dropped your pole son. He didn’t think I could pull it off if you tried something dumb.” Franks pointed at his partner, “And now you know bitch!”
Reed flipped him off.
Kiefer had the look of a man who’d just been hit by a car but landed on his feet without a scratch. Happy to be still standing, not real sure what was going on.
Franks turned to Matt as he moved Kiefer toward the boat. “Sorry for the trouble Sir,” he said.
“Happens every time he visits Sir,” Matt said.
Matt watched the wardens pull away with a sullen Kiefer seated aft. He watched them speed off suddenly wondering what to do with the rest of his weekend.
For sure not the way it went but I like my version of events.
For all audiobook fans don’t forget that the Audible version of Blood Red Ivory comes out May 2nd. In the meantime thank you all so much for the great feedback on the first Ty Benhoff novel. More to come.