Last week I spent most of my time either in court or driving to counties where we were having court. Court hearings are, as you've no doubt noticed, my favorite part of the job. Monday morning was completely consumed with hearings and waiting for hearings. I got several new probationers out of the deal and one of the newbies was Angela.
Angela is not from around here. She and her son came to Texas from the Pacific Northwest at the behest of her boyfriend several years ago. They assimilated quickly and the son is currently a long-term guest of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice due to his propensity for unauthorized house sitting.
Despite promising beginnings, things didn't work out for Angela and her paramour. They have been "on and off" for the last couple of years. It's a shame really. They made a handsome couple - she with her neck tattoo and he with his uncanny resemblance to an ugly Danny Trejo. Love did not conquer much, and Angela was in court on Monday to plead guilty to aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. She got 10 years probation for knifing UDT.
Angela came to my office after lunch to begin the probation process. After gathering some data and explaining the rules and regulations, I asked her how it came to be that she stabbed Ugly Danny Trejo.
According to Angela, UDT called her on the afternoon in question and requested that she come over so they could talk. He had amends to make and wanted to see her. And he was making tacos.
Angela, who admits she'd been drinking, accepted his offer and went over to his house.
At this point, Angela paused in her narrative. Her gaze faltered and she looked down, fingering the paperwork in her lap.
"Well?" I asked. "What happened? Why did you stab him?"
Angela's eyes hardened as she looked up from beneath bushy brows and answered, her voice grave.
"He didn't have any tacos."
The End.
Well, it should be the end. But it's not.
I managed to contain my laughter at Angela's highly serious comment and finished the interview. She left with a fairly complete understanding of the terms and conditions of her release. It was a busy afternoon, with several such interviews and when they were finished, I leaned back in my chair to relax for a moment. I picked up the District Attorney's file on Angela's case which sat atop a precarious pile on the corner of my desk.
The DA is good enough to give me her files when we finish a hearing so I can go through it and copy anything that might be helpful to my supervision. I knew there was something interesting in this file from the wicked smile that turned up a corner of her mouth as she slid the it across the counsel table to me at the end of the plea. She never said a word.
Barely glancing at the letters back and forth between DA and defense attorney, as well as the bills from the hospital detailing the amount of restitution due for medical care, I kept turning pages until I found what I was looking for - the offense report.
I skimmed the officer's narrative and was looking for witness statements when I found it. Fourteen pages of full color photographs of Angela's cell phone screen showing a long progression of text messages.
It turns out, that shortly after her arrival at Ugly Danny Trejo's house, Angela began texting the next door neighbor. The gist of the texts were as follows:
Angela: Hey, you wanna come over and have a threesome?
Neighbor Lady: With who? You and your ex?
A: Yeah.
N: I don't know. Your ex-husband? That's kind of weird.
A: Come on over!
N: I've never done a threesome before.
A:
N: Well, only with two guys. Not with another woman.
A: Come on - you know you want to!
N: Do you have dope?
A: No dope. (That was the most surprising bit of the entire exchange.)
N: I'm nervous. Do you have alcohol?
A: Yeah - we've got lots of alcohol.
N: I don't know. Still nervous. Will you hold my hand?
A:
N:
A:
N: Hello?
A: He's really still, but I think he's still breathing.
N: What?! What are you talking about?
A: There's a lot of blood. And he's really still...
N: What is going on?! What have you done?!
A:
N: Angela? What is going on?!
A:
N: Where are you?
N: Angela...?
N: Should I still come over?
I sat up straight, dropping my feet from the edge of the desk and flipped furiously back to the witness statements. Turns out, UDT was not only not interested in menage a trois, but he wasn't interested in any kind of sex with Angela, at all. He just wanted to thank her for 'being there' for him during a recent emotional upheaval and he'd hoped they could bury the hatchet.
Angela seemed to be all for the hatchet burying part. She got pissy and stabbed him in the gut and the hand.
I've told this story a couple of times this week. The clean version, which ends with "He didn't make any tacos", is chuckle worthy. The 'trois' version illicits a different level of response. Men and women definitely react to it differently. The women laugh out loud. The men laugh but seem to be weighing their options in case they are confronted by a similar situation. I reacted with the snarky, which proved to be a mistake when I got blindsided by unexpected snark from another quarter. I'll probably never be able to look at the beer store menu board again without blushing.
And all of that is why Randy wouldn't cook tacos for dinner tonight - dinner with Katie's boyfriend who was meeting us for the first time.
