He haunted his ex at work and wouldn’t go away. When a manager told him to shove off, he refused. After police collared him, he tried for a last-minute jailbreak — a futile sprint that ended in a scrum.
The boyfriend was 22, from Tacoma. His ex was 20. She broke up with him Sept. 18, ending a relationship that had lasted two years.
She didn’t go to work the next day. The boyfriend did. He waited outside the sit-down burger joint where she waited tables.
The next day, she came in for her shift. The boyfriend showed up again. He hung around the parking lot. A security guard spotted him and gathered details from employees. The girlfriend said she was afraid of the boyfriend and didn’t want to talk to him. He was stalking her, she said.
The guard spoke to the boyfriend and told him to leave. The boyfriend argued before stepping back to a sidewalk. A little later he was back in the parking lot again. The guard spotted him and told him to go. The boyfriend refused.
The guard spoke to the restaurant manager. Both men went back outside and confronted the boyfriend, who balled his fists.
“You’re nothing but a cheap-ass rent-a-cop,” the boyfriend said. “I’ll beat your ass and knock you out right now.”
The manager called police. An officer drove to the 3900 block of South Steele Street. He walked into the restaurant and saw the guard, the manager and the boyfriend.
The officer told the boyfriend he was under arrest. He walked him out the door.
The boyfriend didn’t want to be cuffed. He wouldn’t put his arms behind his back. The officer called for backup. He took the boyfriend down. The boyfriend’s sunglasses fell off.
Another officer arrived. That was enough to get the cuffs on. The first officer read the boyfriend his rights. The boyfriend said he didn’t understand them. The officer read them again. The boyfriend said he understood the first two, but not the third. The officer read the rights one more time. The boyfriend said he didn’t understand any of them.
The officer asked why the boyfriend refused to leave the restaurant. The boyfriend said he wanted to talk to his ex. He wanted to give her something to express his love.
The officer took the boyfriend to the Fife City Jail. The intake area is a fenced parking lot with a motion-controlled gate. The boyfriend and other arrestees stood in line.
Nearby, an officer in a patrol car started backing out, potentially triggering the gate.
Abruptly, the boyfriend took off, sprinting for the exit.
“Stop! Stop!” one officer shouted. Heads turned in the commotion. The officer in the patrol car was backing out. He stopped short of the gate as police officers and jail officers ran by, pursuing the boyfriend. Three of them caught up with him; soon it was a swarm, and the boyfriend was on the ground.
The arresting officer asked him why he ran.
“He only stared straight ahead and did not answer,” the police report states.
He was 21, from Tacoma. He was driving a black 2008 Acura. Shortly before midnight, he bombed through 1400 block of South Jackson Avenue at 80 miles per hour and rolled up on a police officer.
The officer swerved into the center turn lane to avoid a collision, switched on his lights, pulled the car over, called for backup and walked to the driver’s window.
The driver said, “I’m sorry, I’m going to be honest with you — my mom called me and told me to come home.”
The officer told the driver he was under arrest for reckless driving. The officer asked for a driver’s license.
The kid said he didn’t have it with him.
“It’s also suspended,” he added, and swore. “God, I’m dumb.”
In the back seat of the patrol car, the driver kept talking.
“It’s just me being a dumbass, trying to show off for my friend,” he said. “This is exactly what I get every time I try to show off.”
The officer asked if the kid had had anything to drink.
“Sir, I’ll be honest — I had a sip of Old E.”
The officer knew what that meant: Olde English 800 — foul stuff. How much had the kid had?
“A 40,” he replied. The officer knew what that meant, too: a 40-ounce bottle.
The officer asked the driver to take a field sobriety test.
“No,” the kid said. “My dad is an attorney and he told me never to do field sobriety tests.”
The officer booked the driver into the Fife City Jail on suspicion of reckless driving, driving with a suspended license and drunken driving.
He was 21. A loss-prevention officer spotted him in a store in the 7200 block of Pacific Avenue. He walked through the store carrying a duffel bag and stuffed it with clothing and shoes.
He tried to walk out. The officer stopped him and asked for a name. The man gave one, but he said he had no identification. The officer called police.
A police officer arrived, spoke to the man, asked for a name and date of birth, and warned that lying could lead to a charge of obstructing.
The man gave a name: Andrew, plus a last name. The officer asked him to spell it. The man misspelled “Andrew,” then caught himself. He said he had a Texas driver’s license but he couldn’t remember the number.
The officer ran a records check. The name came back with no hits, in Washington or Texas. The officer told the man he was under arrest. He patted him down and found a handwritten note: a list of items to gather.
On the way to the Fife City Jail, the man apologized, cried and asked the officer not to arrest him. He gave a different name. This one came back with a hit: a prior arrest warrant for theft.
The man was booked on the prior warrant and suspicion of third-degree theft.