hadn’t worn out his welcome was a topless joint. One of the few neighborhood establishments where Joe Jr. The bar exercised its right to refuse service, permanently. allegedly slammed a hollow limb on the countertop and insisted it be filled knee-high with booze like an improvised bierstiefel. We expanded our search to bars within shambling distance of the family residence. Same square dance-a grunt, a call, a shrug. It was a couple of weeks later when we made another pass at the house. Eventually, one officer asked if me and Dodson couldn’t follow other leads for the time being. used his considerable weight to physically assault one of us upon entry…well, then they could turn it into a police matter. In a whisper session, the officers said that they couldn’t provide direct assistance in searching the premises. The police stood just a few feet away, silently assessing the situation as I tried various sales tactics. was on his front lawn, screaming in my face. According to the officer, civil servants and emergency personnel weren’t allowed to keep him separated from the deadly weapons for any length of time since, legally speaking, they were a part of his body.īy the time a second officer approached, Joe Sr. got to fighting, he’d unlash the hard plastic limbs and wield them like cudgels. The problem with Joe Jr., he said, wasn’t the drinking. “Oh, nice,” he deadpanned, after being told of the assault charge.
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