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BEST REASON NOT TO MIX DRUGS AND ALCOHOL
No, we're not talking a Karen Ann Quinlan-style coma, although a persistent vegetative state may be a side effect of mixing your poisons. It's JOHNNY LAW you should be worrying about--something Luis Alfonso Puerto-Gomez found out the hard way in March. According to a police report, officer Dave Junkin found Puerto-Gomez slumped over the wheel of his car illegally parked and partially blocking the roadway near Southwest Vista Avenue and King Court. Junkin yelled at Puerto-Gomez and shook him like the oversized martini he seemed to have become, but to no avail. He was drunk, gleefully and admittedly so. Upon searching Puerto-Gomez at Hooper Detox, workers found a bag of a white substance, thought to be cocaine. "That's mine," Puerto-Gomez said. The hapless imbiber later agreed to an even more extensive search of his person with an easy "Sure." All told, Junkin found seven baggies of cocaine on his drunken charge, who couldn't seem to stop babbling. "You want some more coca?" Puerto-Gomez said on the way to the lockup. "I can get you the big man." BEST CAR CHASE THAT WASN'T
May 18 was not a good day for NAM TANH NGUYEN. According to police, at 4:05 pm, driving his '87 Chevy Caprice, Nguyen stopped on the corner of Northwest Couch Street and 12th Avenue to talk to a known drug dealer. In retrospect, this was a big mistake, because it attracted the attention of officer Carol R. Miller, who pulled in behind the Caprice. She played it cool and followed slowly. He spooked. As soon as Nguyen got onto Highway 26, he took off, quickly reaching 70 mph. Miller briefly fell into place behind her suspect but gave up quickly; high-speed chases are not advisable for minor crimes. Her gamble paid off. Within seconds, Miller saw a cloud of dust in the distance at the Canyon Road exit. Nguyen's Caprice had crashed. Still fearing the police, Nguyen sprang from his car and took off running. Or at least that's what he planned to do. A little leap over a guard rail turned into a 40 foot drop. When Miller found Nguyen crumpled on the roadway below, she asked him why he fled. According to the police report, Nguyen said, "I didn't have a license. I was afraid. I think my leg is broken." BEST CONTINUATION OF A TREND
Last year, it was the Porta-Potti taper, that nefarious nitwit whose directorial debut centered on (or more precisely, in) the portable toilets at the Rose Festival and the cinematic possibilities of unmentionable bodily functions. This time, we have the SAVAGE TAN SLEAZE, otherwise known as Michael West. Apparently, the tanning salon entrepreneur had more than bronzing in mind when he rented his suntan beds to nearby Franklin High School students. According to police, West had a videocamera (and a secret peeping booth) hidden in the wall of his Southeast Portland business to capture customers slathering on the oil. BEST REASON NOT TO PLAY MISSION IMPOSSIBLE
For reasons that remain unclear, CARY BELL climbed into a heating duct in August at a construction site in Northwest Portland. What is clear is that Bell, who lived at a nearby homeless shelter, found the 10-by-14-inch duct a little snug for his 225-pound frame. "Both firefighters and construction workers were amazed that this large man could possibly have gotten down 15 feet, from the third floor to the first floor, inside a 14-by-20-inch heat duct, then maneuver another 15 feet horizontally inside a 10-by-14-inch duct, before he became stuck," said Fire Bureau spokesman Neil Heesacker. Bell, 32, apparently spent a weekend in the duct before his screams were heard by an electrician on Monday morning. He was dehydrated, but otherwise in "fair condition," according to Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital, where he was treated. Above is the Fire Bureau's illustration of the incident, including Bell's frown. BEST JUDGE'S CHAMBERS
Judge Diarmuid O'Scannlain, with the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit, has some pretty nice digs at the Pioneer Courthouse. But nothing can top the menagerie that JUDGE HELEN FRYE has assembled in her chambers in U.S. District Court. Here, on the first floor of the Gus Solomon Courthouse, it's cactus heaven. Assembled in front of the floor-to-ceiling bulletproof window are more than a dozen of the prickly creatures basking in the Southwest exposure. Frye's star attraction is a 5- or 6-foot monster she acquired as "a little teeny thing" when she first came to the court in 1980. Squint your eyes just right and its snakelike stems resemble scores of intertwined alien arms reaching for the mothership. "Some people smoke a cigarette," Frye explained of her passion for the strange creatures. "I go poke around in the dirt. If I'm working on a legal issue and I'm having trouble, I go over and play with the cactus and I feel better." BEST PROSECUTORIAL VOICE
DONALD REES, who works in the felony drug unit of the Multnomah County District Attorney's Office, claims he got his sonorous speaking voice from his father. We object to that testimony in the interest of full disclosure. While his baritone timber may be genetic, Rees owes his crisp articulation and punchy delivery to the magic of television. For seven years, he worked in TV news, most recently as a reporter for KGW from 1987 to 1992. After graduating from Lewis & Clark's law school in 1995, he was snapped up by the DA and has worked there ever since. Does the experience of appearing in thousands of living rooms help Rees in front of a jury? He says no. "I've had to live down my background," he says. "In court, the content of what you say is paramount. In television, unfortunately, it's the style over the substance. That was one of the things that kind of bothered me." BEST LEGAL RESTITUTION
In October, WW called lawyer JODY STAHANCYK Portland's "scariest divorce lawyer"--not a very flattering designation. Far from being upset, however, Stahancyk was amused by the back-handed compliment. Her firm has since reprinted the story's accompanying cartoon in its monthly client newsletter and on its Web site (www.stahancyk.com). Eventually Stahancyk decided that her office--the final resting place for many a marriage--should be the site of at least one marriage's beginning. "Maybe if it starts here," she reasoned, "it won't end up here." Conveniently enough, law clerk Deanna Ballou was engaged to be married, and she agreed to hold her April ceremony in Stahancyk's posh downtown office. The family law firm pitched in just like a family. After the vows (presided over by now-retired judge Sid Brockley), there was a sit-down lunch by the firm's own chef, and receptionist (and aspiring opera singer) Beth Madsen sang "All I Ask of You" from Phantom of the Opera. It's too early to make any predictions, but at press time, Ballou was still happily married. BEST ANIMAL MEMORIAL
HONDO the police dog, may he rest in peace, left this world on March 12, the accidental victim of police bullets. The Oregonian's coverage of the "friendly fire" event and the subsequent memorial service, attended by 500 tearful human mourners and 47 K-9 comrades, speaks for itself. Here are excerpts from reporter Holly Danks' stories: "Hondo the heroic police dog was remembered for his loyalty, courage and unflagging spirit Tuesday.... Immediately afterward the four remaining Hillsboro K-9 teams fanned out to the four corners of the city, where they scattered Hondo's ashes in a gesture symbolizing his continued vigilance over the community." Police dogs in attendance, Danks wrote, "whimpered and whined as they took their places in the honor guard at the beginning of the 45-minute ceremony. But they remained well-behaved, at-heel next to their masters, even as the mournful bagpipe strains of 'Amazing Grace' cut through the steady drizzle." "It comes down to, a police officer died that night," Hondo's human partner, Hillsboro police officer Bruce Kelley, told The Oregonian. "It doesn't really matter if he has two legs or four." BEST WAY TO SPEND LIFE IN PRISON
We're not advocating any criminal activity, but if you do happen to find yourself with a one-way ticket to the penitentiary, joining the LIFERS UNLIMITED CLUB can help you pay your debt to society. The club was founded about 30 years ago and now has about 200 active members at Oregon State Penitentiary. "It's grown as the years go by, because more and more lifers come in and few leave," observes Randy Geer, the activities manager at OSP. Club members volunteer on special projects, like making stuffed toys to donate to children's charities, and they pay for an annual Christmas party for some of Salem's most disadvantaged kids. "Lifers are a real stabilizing influence within this population because it's their home," Geer says. "They like to look at themselves as having possibilities. Rather than focusing on the doors, they focus on what's beyond that." |
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