Two Pursuits in Two Days.
Both from vehicle thefts.
First one: Bad Guys steal a car in a neighboring county while also up to other forms of no good (burglary has been mentioned.). OnStar is activated, and locates the vehicle moving about within my city. I am directed toward that vehicle. As I attempt to overtake it on a Farm To Market road, I am getting updates on the car's location. It's widening the gap, but the roads are slick, and he's driving it like he stole it. Because, of course, he has.
I, in a rare fit of responsibility, give up some tactical advantage, and run all lights and sirens before I even see it, and drive slowly enough on the rainslick roads to maintain control. Eventually, as he doubles back, we see each other, and I command him (with a voice like an angry Moses) to "STOP!" A mighty hand gesture is involved. The driver looks pie-eyed, hesitates a milisecond, and stomps on the accelerator. By the time I'm turned around, he's gone, and another cop is soon also given the slip.
But OnStar keeps vectoring us in, and the driver and his buddy off-road for a bit before ditching the car and "going to ground"-- they run like striped-arse apes. Through muddy, muddy fields and pastures.
Coupla city agencies, two county agencies, and two state agencies, I believe, get involved in the manhunt. Of the 20 some-odd cops, no one of them has a bloodhound. Pity. It grows dark and rainy.
At this point, the excitement and fun are over, and it's time to do some rather distasteful stuff called "work." We set about to searching barns and ravines, and notifying the ranchers, farmers, and country-living folks that fugitives are at large, and ask the good citizens to call 911 if they see the guys. Some folks I speak to even decide to pull the keys from the ignitions of their pickups.
Finally, three and a half hours later, a call comes in-- a ranch hand has called his boss that a muddy guy has appeared on his porch, asking to use a phone. The rancher calls us, and declares that if he gets there first, the fellow won't be leaving. I start en route. Somehow, it's storming even harder than before. While I'm en route, another rado call goes out-- seems the other bad guy has shown up on the porch of a residence, and the caller is (ahem) hysterical. Her husband has him at gunpoint. I think about the situation, and decide to continue on to the first guy, who is not yet declared to be secured. I arrive to find that he is enjoying his second cigarette and belching from the beer he's just slammed ("He said I might as well enjoy the last one for awhile"), and I arrest him without any fuss. He's tickled to get into a nice warm dry patrol car.
at the same moment, the other guy is being arrested by my off-duty lieutenant, who has heard the radio call and comes to ease the tension. The events at that location: after the suspect tries to enter the residence through a side door, the man of the house presents his favorite over-and-under 12 gauge, loaded with high-brass #4s. When the suspect does not immediately sit down and await police, the man of the house demonstrates the rather impressive hole that such a load from such a gun can make in, say, the patch of yard 2 feet to the right of the suspect. The suspect, properly impressed, does his best impression of a ballpark tarp, and proceeds to protect as much turf as he possibly can from the downpour, using his own body stretched out as much as he can.
A guy is observed driving a stolen truck. It's not a new truck-- it's a very distinctive piece-of-crap OLD truck. For whatever reason, he's decided that it's worth a felony to drive it around. But he's got a plan.
I am dispatched to stop this truck. I find that said truck is flying through my city with the caller behind. Before I can arrive, another unit arrives to get in behind, and a medium-high-speed chase goes on down some very low-speed roads. The pickup leaves the road into a plowed field. (Remember the rain from yesterday?) The pursuing officer declines to follow, and watches as the pickup makes it 500 yards in the field before getting stuck. Remember how the car thief's got a plan? He pulls a dirtbike out of the bed of the pickup to effect his getaway along the nearby railroad tracks. He fires up the motorcy...
...oh, the chain slipped off the sprocket.
Here's where it gets weird.
He then PUSHES the motorcycle through the field to the nearby ravine, and is attempting to get it across a fence when a helpful law enforcement officer assures him that he won't need to struggle so, all alone. I assist in helping the new prisoner up and down a rather steep railroad embankment, but that's about the extent of my help.
With a nice venue to escape, WHY did he push the motorcycle to the fence? The motorcycle, by the way, was stolen, too.
Note the complete absence of reference to the names of agencies, officers, suspects, or jurisdictions. Note that I've not given a date. Note that I'm just an anonymous guy tellin' stories, here. Let's just keep it that way. :)