I’m a rookie in training at the Metropolitan Police Department in Washington, D.C. This day I’m working one-on-one with my training officer, Sergeant Grossman. Acting on orders from the deputy chief to clear out Lafayette Park, across from the White House, we’re locking up drunks by the dozen.

On one frequent stop at the D.C. lockup, a jailor calls out: "Hey, Sarge, remember that guy you brought in two weeks ago? He’s still here. Better charge him or cut him loose."

Sarge is irritated and perplexed. He looks over the booking sheet and finds the guy we’d brought in 16 days earlier for "investigation of burglary." The fact is, the burglary case was cleared by arrest the next day. Somebody else got busted. Our guy should be back on the street.

"What are you going to do?" the green boy-cop asks sarge.

"Follow me and keep your mouth shut and learn something," sarge says, moving toward the jail office. There he grabs a six-inch stack of paper and quick-steps it back toward the lockup.

At the prisoner’s cell, sarge storms in holding this mountain of paper. "I got enough here to put you away for the rest of your rotten life! But I’m gonna do my good deed for the day and give you a break."

Next thing I know, we’ve got this guy in the back of our patrol car and we’re headed over the Fourteenth Street Bridge toward Virginia. Over there, we let the bum out as sarge warns him about what’ll happen if he ever sets foot back in the Nation’s Capital.

Far as I know, this guy is still in Virginia, or maybe in South Carolina. He’s definitely not in D.C. This all happened back in 1952. Can you imagine that happening today - in the early 21st Century? The feds and lawyers would be feasting on our remains.