ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story) by Glenn Langohr Page B

puckered like they were sunburned and swollen. He had a small wiry build without any tattoos.
    Detective Maltobano got both drivers licenses and checked the driver Damon Smith’s registration and insurance. After a check for warrants came up clear of any he had Damon and Todd step out of the Buick.
    “I’m going to give you a chance to be honest with me. Give me anything you have on your person or in your vehicle that is illegal.”
    Damon pulled out his two samples that were partially sticking out of his shorts.
    Todd rose his hand like he was in class and said, “That’s my pipe on the floor of the passenger seat.”
    While Todd gathered the pipe, Damon remembered his Hawaiian Kush sample. He reluctantly pulled it out and handed it over.
    Detective Maltobano accepted the third bag of pot and asked Damon, “Are you a dealer?”
    Damon just looked at the detective. He didn’t vigorously shake his head no, or even say no.
    Detective Maltobano stared at Damon for over a minute until Damon finally just looked at the ground. Detective Maltobano said, “You don’t like to lie do you?”
    Damon immediately responded, “No.”
    Detective Maltobano asked, “Am I going to find anything else inside the car?”
    Damon looked into detective Maltobano’s eyes and said, “No.”
    “Then you won’t mind if I look?”
    “Go ahead.”
    Detective Maltobano said, “I’m going to put you both in the backseat of my car while I look.”
    While Damon and Todd got into the backseat of the Crown Victoria Todd asked, “What kind of cop are you?”
    Detective Maltobano flashed his Orange County Sheriff’s badge and said, “I’m with the rape and sex crime branch. Sit tight.”
    Damon and Todd watched the detective search the Buick for over twenty minutes. He searched the interior, the trunk, under the hood and even under the car along the frame. When he was done with the search he walked back.
    “Okay guys get out and let’s take a walk to check the waves while I figure out what I’m going to do with you two.”
    Damon and Todd walked ahead of the detective to the cliff line overlooking the ocean above strands point. The path down the cliff was a couple hundred feet to the sand affording a good view up and down the beach. There was a south swell pushing four to six foot waves for the surfers to play on. Directly below at Strands point seven surfers were packed together awaiting their turn, down the beach for another half a mile around twenty heads bobbed more spread out and at Salt Creek’s point two thirds of a mile away another twenty or so fought for position in another pack.
    Detective Maltobano watched the surfers and thought to himself that possibly half of them had smoked some pot before their surf session. He also ventured a guess that about 90% of the surfers in the water had at least experimented with pot. He wondered if it was really a good way to police the community to start criminal files on as many of them as possible for doing so.
    Damon and Todd’s attention was torn between watching the swell peel down the beach and the three bags of pot in the detective’s hand.
    Detective Maltobano asked, “What do you two do for work?”
    Todd answered first. “I bar back and wait tables at the Chart House around the corner… I’m also hoping to make the pro surfing tour this year!”
    Detective Maltobano nodded his head and looked at Damon. “What about you?”
    Damon answered. “I used to own my own landscaping business until the Mexicans underbid almost all of my clients. It turns out they will work for a lot less then we will because they will share a house with twenty people. I guess it’s better than struggling in Mexico.”
    Todd chimed in, “The Mexicans are coming over so fast it looks like they are reclaiming California.”
    Damon breathed a sigh of relief. The detective dumped the pot out of the bags onto the ground. He used his boot to grind the pot into the dirt until it was no longer