Editor’s note: Compiled from reports to Tacoma Police.
March 22: It’s not the only way to end a friendship, but making a drunken pass at a friend’s teenage daughter tends to get immediate results.
The two men were drinking whiskey. One was 41, with a beard. The other was 42, a father. By early evening, they were well oiled.
Officers responding to a reported fight drove to a house in the 400 block of South 36th Street. They found the bearded man standing outside, his face covered in blood. They cuffed him. The father was inside, unconscious on the kitchen floor.
The prone man’s wife had called for help. She and her 17-year-old daughter told officers the story.
Mom had been in the bedroom upstairs when the daughter came to talk to her.
The daughter said the bearded man got close to her and said he loved her. He kissed her with pursed lips. His beard tickled her chin. She recoiled and ran upstairs to Mom.
Mom walked downstairs. She heard the men arguing.
“She’s only 17 — what are you thinking?” the father said.
“I don’t care,” the bearded man replied. “I’m in love with her.”
“You stay the hell away from my daughter,” the father said, and pushed his friend.
The friend pushed back. Then came the wrestling match. The two men rolled on the floor. The bearded man ended up on top. He punched the father in the face, more than once.
Another drunken roll, and the father was on top, throwing punches. Mom rushed in, pulling her husband back. The bearded man scrambled to his feet and attacked again, punching the father at least four times in the face.
Mom rushed to the phone and called police. She heard the fight crank up again. She saw her husband on the floor. The bearded man stood over him.
She ran outside. The bearded man stumbled out to the front steps and tangled himself on the handrail, breaking it.
The father came to when officers arrived, but he wouldn’t answer questions. Officers took the bearded man to Tacoma General Hospital for treatment and cited him for criminal assault.
March 24: She was defending her cousin’s honor — the school principal was just an obstacle.
An officer working truancy duty took the call: a reported assault on a staff member at a local high school. The principal was waiting. He was 44. He said he tried to break up a fight in the cafeteria and got clocked in the process.
The fight started when a 15-year-old girl walked up to a 15-year-old boy and asked a question.
“Did you call my cousin a bitch?”
The girl didn’t wait for an answer. She started throwing punches and caught the boy at least twice in the face. The principal rushed forward and pinned the girl’s arms. The two toppled backward. The girl struggled, freed an arm and tagged the principal in the mouth. Security officers untangled the mess.
The boy didn’t want to say much. He showed the officer a cut lip, but he said he was fine. The principal said the boy was embarrassed because the girl “put a beatdown on him.”
The girl sat in a counseling room. The officer told her she was under arrest. She didn’t argue. She didn’t want to answer questions.
The officer took her to Remann Hall and booked her on suspicion of misdemeanor assault. During the booking, he told her it was wrong to hit the principal.
“I know,” the girl said. “He just got in the way. It was an accident.”
March 24: The 23-year-old man crossed the street far too slowly, stopping traffic, goading cars in the 7000 block of Pacific Avenue.
An officer watched from a patrol car, rolled over to the man and explained the definition of jaywalking.
The officer asked for ID. The man said he didn’t have any. He admitted he’d been arrested before. The officer asked for a name and date of birth. The man gave a name, but it wasn’t right.
The officer warned the man that he’d be arrested for obstruction if he refused to provide a real name. The man refused. The officer arrested him and drove to the Fife City Jail, the city’s contracted destination for misdemeanor inmates.
During booking, the man put on a show. He staggered and dry-heaved. He told jail staff members he sometimes faded in and out of consciousness. He said he’d swallowed heroin. He refused to wear a jail smock.
Jail staffers refused to take him. The officer walked the man back to the car and drove to the SCORE jail in Des Moines, another city-contracted site for low-level arrestees.
During booking, the man replayed his routine. He rolled his eyes back and banged his head against the wall.
A nurse at the jail took a look at the man and recognized him.
“You pulled this same stunt the last time you came in,” she said. “Nice try.”
The nurse remembered the man’s name. The jail staff found records of his last visit. The man was a Level 2 sex offender with an active warrant for failing to register in Pierce County. He was booked into the jail on the warrant and suspicion of obstructing a police officer.