It’s late Spring in Ft. Worth, Texas, in 1988. My partner and I are working foot patrol in the downtown area. We had to drive downtown from the north precinct. We would pull into a parking space and walk the streets talking to people, letting them know their police department was at work. It was a good job for the most part, but seeing as my partner and I were both burned out, we needed a job like this. -Talking to nice people. We got everyone in their offices safely and walked around a while longer. It was just before lunchtime, and we were getting ready to get something to eat. We got back in the car, and before we could call the dispatcher for lunch, she called us, “Paul three fourteen and Paul three eighteen copy call (designated as P-314 and P-318). A white male running around the courthouse area harassing people. He’s about five foot ten, a hundred and eighty pounds in his mid-twenties. He should be easy to spot; he’s naked.”
My partner got on the radio, “He’s completely naked?”
The dispatcher (who had a good sense of humor) said, “Not a stitch on. Not even shoes.” We could hear laughing in the background.
We looked at each other, and my partner acknowledged the call. We proceeded to the area by the courthouse. We knew places where the transients and winos hung out. After checking the winos, we then moved to the financial district by the courthouse. There was a large lunch crowd pouring out of the buildings. Most of the people were secretaries, meaning a lot of women on the street. We came around the corner and saw the subject of our call. He was buck naked and running by people. Every so often, he would slow down by a woman and yell in her face, then take off. I turned to my partner, “If that’s not him, we at least need to stop him and check it out.”
My partner rolled his eyes as I accelerated towards the guy. We are putting on a great lunchtime show for the downtown business people. We closed in, and my partner jumped out to pursue on foot. The guy was tired, and my partner caught up to him quickly. He put him against the wall and held him for a second. I came running up with a towel to back him up. There was no need to search him; we could tell he had no weapons. I wrapped the towel around him and heard a round of applause from the lunch group. We sat in the car for a second, deciding what to do. My partner asked him, “You got some ID?”
The guy looked at us and yelled, “Man, I ain’t got no job, I ain’t got no money, and I ain’t got no clothes, I sure as hell ain’t got no ID.”
That made sense, and I told him, “You don’t need to yell. We’re right here.”
He responded with a yell, “Sorry, I just got a big voice.”
My partner and I looked at each other and wondered what to do. It was a matter of jail, a halfway house for clothes, or taking him home.
We decided he needed some clothes. We took him to the halfway house, and they gave him a t-shirt and a pair of old blue jeans. -No underwear, no socks, and no shoes. The blue jeans almost fit, but he had to hold them up. The shirt was oversized and unwashed, but he wasn’t naked anymore. We tried to figure out where he lived, but he didn’t know. We decided to take him to jail for indecent exposure. The jail lieutenant processed him in. We figured our troubles were over for a while.
About thirty minutes later, we got a call from the dispatcher, “Uh, Paul three eighteen, your guy is back. Mr. Naked is running around in the same area. When you get a chance, can you come by dispatch?”
My partner acknowledged the call and the request. We came around the corner, and there he was. We grabbed him again and put him in the backseat. This time, there was no towel. To hell with that. We asked him how he got out. He had a big smile and said, “They just let me go. They got mad at me for taking off my clothes.”
I asked the guy, “Where are your clothes? We need them so you have something to wear.”
“They gave them back to me, but I took them off right when I got out of jail. I don’t know where they are.”
By now, my partner and I are perturbed. We returned to the halfway house and got more clothes that didn’t fit. While trying to figure out what to do, I told my partner, “Let’s go back to the jail and see what’s going on.”
My partner agreed, and we headed to the jail. My partner says he’ll get out and check things with the jail lieutenant. As he’s leaving, I tell him to stop by dispatch and see what they want. He acknowledges.
About thirty minutes later, my partner returned. He’s looking at me like I just ran over his dog.
He gets in with a somber look. “Okay, I’m sorry, but I got caught up with the lieutenant.” He slowly looked down at the floorboard, “And in dispatch.”
“Okay, what about the lieutenant? Can we take him down there?”
“No, he said, ‘don’t bring him back down here. Y’all find something else to do with him.’ That wasn’t the bad part, though.”
Now I’m concerned, “What’s the bad part? Don’t tell me they want us to drive around with him all night.”
“No, the bad part comes from dispatch. Darla wants us to take a picture of our subject. She wants a naked picture, then a close-up of his crotch area.”
I wasn’t shocked. Darla was known to have a crazy sense of humor, “So, did she give you a camera?”
“No, " she said to get one from the crime scene office. Apparently, the women calling in were commenting about the size of his tool, and the dispatchers want to see.”
I was bored with this call, “We need to get rid of this guy now. How about we drive him to Arlington and let them deal with him? I bet their jail isn’t full.”
My partner jerked his head around in amazement, “That’s a great idea. We’ll just drive him to his home in Arlington and drop him off. It’s actually a public service.”
“Yeah, exactly. We’re taking care of a fine citizen.” I asked him, “Hey Mike, where do you live?”
He looked around and smiled, “I don’t know. Somewhere that way.” He pointed east, which fit right into our plan.
We drove east out E. Lancaster into Arlington. We went into the city several miles and found a quiet neighborhood. We pulled up in front of the house, and I said, “Hey Mike, is this your house?”
He looked around and said, “I don’t know. It looks like it.”
My partner said, “This is where you told us to go.”
He said, “Yeah, okay.” He got out of the car and walked towards the house. As he did, we took off. We were done.
We went back to Ft. Worth and cleared the call. Everything was fine. About two hours later, we got a call from John Peter Smith Hospital. The hospital was the county hospital where all destitute and crazy people came from all different agencies. We had to watch a prisoner for a while. When the department sent a prisoner to the hospital, Ft. Worth Police had to guard them. We took one-hour shifts. My partner and I arrived and found the prisoner. He was a burglar, and we sat outside his room. Unfortunately, we were in the emergency room area. After sitting there talking for thirty minutes, the emergency room doors opened, and Arlington police entered with Arlington EMT’s. They had a white guy on a gurney strapped down with a sheet covering him. He was yelling, “It was those other cops! They took me there!” It was the guy we dropped off in Arlington!
My partner and I looked at each other in disbelief! We put our heads in our hands and looked at the floor. We did not want that guy to recognize us. They rolled him past us as he was yelling. They didn’t bother to stop and check anything out. They kept going. After they passed, we got up and walked to another area. We put an extra set of handcuffs on our burglar to ensure he didn’t leave. We meandered around for a while until it was time to go. We finally got the hell out of there. We could hear Mike yelling from down the hall as we left.
Everything turned out fine from our point of view. Arlington never connected us with the crazy naked guy. Some were thinking we shouldn’t have taken him to Arlington. It’s just what happened in police work back then. It was a game. We later found out Arlington Police were doing the same thing. Crime is a dirty business, so you must find some kind of activity to keep your sanity. Swapping crazy guys between cities was a part of doing business. Anyway, we never saw the naked guy again; the mission was accomplished.
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NAKED MAN
by Doug Moss
Doug Moss is a San Antonio native and graduate of the University of Texas in Austin with a degree in business administration. After several jobs in the business sector (Bank of San Antonio and the J.C. Penney Co.), he joined the Fort Worth Police Department and moved to the Dallas/Ft. Worth Metroplex, serving the department for 15 years in patrol, S.W.A.T., vice, bike patrol, and the police helicopter.
He had about every kind of police experience, such as car chases, fights, and shootings. He has conversed with the lowest scummiest wino up to the president of the United States (George Bush, 41) and almost every type of person in-between. He has talked with top businesspeople, foreign dignitaries, murderers, and trailer trash.
Most of his " crazy police work" happened at the Ft. Worth Police Department. He also worked with a small police department serving the very wealthy.
To add to his impressive resume, Doug has worked as a private investigator on corporate undercover cases, which included surveillance and infiltration using hidden video equipment.
He is retired and widowed with three grown kids and several grandkids. He is working on his next adventure of bringing his magnificent law enforcement stories to light.
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