December 24, 2018

Dear Sirs,

I am taking Officer Montez’s advice and I am hand-writing an exhaustive account of my actions earlier today. I am sure that in light of my explanation, I will be allowed phone calls and immediate release from custody. After all, I have committed no crimes and I am entirely a victim of cruel circumstance, and I am no danger at all to society! After all, I am a Baptist!

I am an honest, hard-working citizen; a resident and employee of The Waterin’ Hole Café, located at 911 Main Street, Heartbreak, Texas. (At its intersection with John McClain Avenue! Formerly Columbus Drive.)

Anyway, I am visiting my sister, Dottie, (name redacted for reasons of embarrassment) in The Woodlands of suburban Houston for a Christmas holiday.

Before I go further, I want to express my deepest apologies to anyone affected by my actions, but they were all reasonable and necessary under the circumstances … especially if y’all can see it from my point of view.

Those circumstances are as follows: My family, whom I was visiting, went shopping this morning. They left The Woodlands at an early hour. I was left to sleep in late, an unusual treat — as I am often employed as the late-night, genteel “bouncer” of The Waterin’ Hole — and when I awoke, I took my latest pot-boiler novel of espionage intrigue and a stout pot of coffee to my sister’s back porch to read and “gently wake up” as is my custom in li’l’ ol’ Heartbreak; just sayin.’ Here I should note that the coffee was unusually strong and produced unusually effusive effects on my aged physiology.

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Heartbreak Texas graphic

Anyway, after about an hour of blessed quiet and privacy, I arose to answer Nature’s calling, and I found to my great dismay that the back door was locked. I reached for the hidden key, but the container was empty. Only then did I realize that the “guest” key was in my pants pocket, locked inside.

It is important to note at this point that they were inside, and I was attired in JUST my bathrobe and slippers. Given the privacy of my sister’s porch, I did not consider this to be a concern when I first ventured out. Also, I must add, my cell phone was inside.

I considered my options and walked next door, hoping my sister’s neighbors would understand and perhaps call her for me, so I could get back inside without much fuss. It was only much later that I remembered that my sister had indicated at dinner the night before that she had a long history of disagreement with this neighbor, or that this neighbor particularly was head of the local Neighborhood Watch program.

During my walk, a rainstorm kicked up, blowing my robe open several times, despite my best efforts toward preserving the modesty my beloved mama taught me at age 3! Certainly, I would have dressed differently, had I known my immediate future.

There was no answer at the neighbor’s house, despite my saying as politely and plaintively as possible, “Help, please!”

After a reasonable time, I walked home in the rain. Now, we all know what happens when an old man drinks coffee and takes a walk. I suddenly found myself caught in the direst of Traveler’s Necessity. I crouched in the bushes for as much privacy as my circumstances allowed and did Nature’s calling. I had little choice over timing, Ms. Officer — Honestly, ask your grannie! — and I chose the best place that was available under the circumstances.

I have no previous record of Public Urination and Defecation in my nearly 70 years, so please temper the law with mercy on this charge. As to the charge of Unlawfully and Indecently Exposing, please note that the neighbor used a telephoto lens, and the wind was blowing mightily. Again, time and circumstance worked against me. I am a naturally modest person and I am deeply offended by this charge, in particular, ma’am.

Finally, when I arrived back at my sister’s home, I saw that I was to be trapped outside, wet (kinda filthy) and cold, until her return, a time of unknown length. When I walked around her porch, I found a stepladder and a sawhorse, and I spotted a window that was not latched.

I decided to make entry using the tools at hand. I was, please note, an invited guest of this household — my sister, in fact — not a burglar. At no time in my visit has she specified which point of entry I was to use.

I had the bathroom window half open, and I was struggling though, trying to span over an (unflushed) toilet, when several things happened at once. (Some might even say — instantaneously???)

I heard Harris County Deputy Jennifer Montez order, “Hands up!”

As I have already explained, complying with this order would have caused a faceplant into an unflushed toilet, as well as a concussion and possibly a few lost teeth! I needed a moment to collect myself, I WAS NOT noncompliant. I DID NOT moon an Officer of the Law. Either the wind blew up my robe, or — as I suspect — she raised my robe with her baton. Certainly, she could have seen that I was not only unarmed, but (largely) unclothed.

Nevertheless, she tazed me.

Upon being shocked by 50,000 volts in my tenderest parts, I lost consciousness for a short time. It is no wonder that I also lost bowel control, and the resulting mess on her uniform is entirely her fault. I mean if you stand behind a cannon and make it fire, who is responsible? I fell forward and got a slight concussion, a state that continues at the time of this writing. I did not “flee inside,” the act of tazing my rear end made an involuntary muscle contraction that propelled me inside, but not past the unflushed toilet. This explains much of my current state of distress, as well as my general lack of hygiene.

At this moment all I want for Christmas is a long hot shower and some dry clothes. Anyway, as I lay semiconscious on my sister’s bathroom floor, Officer Montez broke open the back door. If she had any real concern to Protect and Serve, this would have been sufficient to alleviate the situation, but she had determined on a course of action in which I was a “bad actor,” and all of her actions after that point stem from her original mistaken premise.

I suspect a certain prejudice against me, from the state of her now soiled uniform. In any event, I was summarily handcuffed and brought to the station.

I vehemently deny that I vandalized Officer Montez’s car! What happened next was from the most absolute of natural necessity. Please remember, Officer Montez caused my head-plant in the unflushed commode. I pause here to point out that my sister is potty-training her grandsons, and they have not yet reached the state of “… and pull the lever on the tank” stage yet.

I had an entire morning of their, well, output, on my hair and forehead, as well as a new concussion, confusion from being tazed, and my hands were handcuffed behind me, aggravating my rheumatoid arthritis all to heck!. Of course, I wiped my head on her precious, taxpayer-funded upholstery! It was getting into my eyes, my mouth, and my nose. Of course, I was verbally abusive to her, and that is still not a crime under the First Amendment, as far as I know!!!!!

At no point had she given me the benefit of the doubt — that is, a presumption of innocence, so of course, she got my every action and motivation wrong on her precious body-cam footage and in-car camera!

As a Texan and American citizen, it is my fervent and immediate plea the following charges be dropped:

1. Indecent exposure

2. Public urination, with aggravating circumstances aggravated

3. Creating a public nuisance

4. Unlawful entry

5. Indecency toward an officer of the law

6. Assault by bodily waste on an officer of the law

7. Refusal to obey a lawful order

8. Willful destruction of public property

Author’s Note: It is at this point that Dave’s written confession ends. At 6 that evening, he was transported to a mental health facility for an involuntary confinement. Subsequent events proved that Dave’s sister and family only returned about 6:30 p.m., ready for a real Christmas Surprise for Dave.

Lost paperwork and Christmas labor shortages proved to be the real problem behind his not being released from custody for another 72 hours. At the time of this writing, Dave declines further comment due to advice of his lawyer. While some degree of mental stability appears to have reasserted itself, Dave can still become highly agitated if he hears some words, like “flasher,” “demented,” or “highly agitated.”

With this happy note, we wish you adieu, and a very Merry (and, we hope, uneventful) Christmas.

David Mosley spent 50 years on his family ranch on the Brazos River. In 2014 he sold it after developing several physical problems, including age. In 2012 he married his editor-in-chief, Terri Jo Mosley. They have lived many ranch stories, some related in the Heartbreak series. Like the Bible, some parts are true; some are parables to express the truth. Some parts of Heartbreak, though, are just dang ol’ lies.