By the time the cops arrive, Furman has been downing long-necks at Cooter’s Bar & Grill for about three hours. Furman loves his brew, but when he starts using the bottles for clubs—well, Furman is smashed.

By the time three cops subdue and cuff Furman he’s ready for a rest. Two "patrons" are stretched out on the cold linoleum floor after challenging Furman.

Cops on this beat know to cuff prisoners’ hands behind them, never in front. Cuffed in front, Furman and kindred spirits will use weapons of opportunity as a club. With hands behind them, prisoners are more cooperative—but don’t count on it.

During a search officers find a .22 caliber semi-automatic in Furman’s belt, and a .38 caliber revolver in an ankle holster.

"Mullet-head," as the cops call Furman, is booked into the county jail. They tell him to take a shower while a jailer stands near the shower room entrance. The book says that jailers will "watch" prisoners shower, but guys being guys, few of them do. They fear teasing from their peers.

Now that Furman is dressed in an orange jumpsuit and shower shoes, he is escorted to a cell. Furman is sleeping off his hangover.

Four hours later, Furman begins yelling at the jailers, "Get the captain—I got something for him," he yells repeatedly.

Finally the jail captain goes up to Furman’s cell. "Okay, Mullet-head, what is it you got for me?"

Furman reaches out between the bars of his cell holding the barrel end of a fully loaded .38 caliber, snub-nose revolver. The captain grabs the gun before Furman changes his mind.

How can such a thing happen? The gun was tucked into Furman’s jockey briefs all the time. He knew the cops would never search him "there." Neither did anybody search him at the jail, or watch him when he undressed in the shower room.

Cops just got really lucky that day!