There's a story that's been all over the local news about a truly horrendous crime—I'm going to skimp on the details, but the mostly non-bile-raising short version is that a 15-year-old girl was raped and murdered on Dec. 3rd, and her body discovered on Dec. 30th, not having been treated well in the interim. (Here's a local ABC station story with more details.) Yesterday, the scumbag who did it ("allegedly"? yeah, right) was charged with "kidnapping, rape, first-degree murder, abuse of corpse and other counts"—charged, but not arrested, because he was already in prison. And—this is why I'm posting about this—the cop who arrested him on Dec. 11th on unrelated charges was: my brother.

Well, damn.

I think that's probably the best thing anyone in our family has done since one of my great-uncles liberated a concentration camp in World War II.

I mean, damn.

This is the e-mail my brother sent to my mom, along with the newspaper story:

It turns out, I arrested this guy. Not that there was any big trick to it, he was asleep in a stolen car on the side of the road and the hardest part was waking him up to tell him he was under arrest. As they say, there is no such thing as a "routine car stop."

Indeed. Amen. Thank God/gods/heaven and the Philadelphia police academy.

Current Mood: impressed