Revenge is smelly - submitted by Margaret Davis

This was my last night on my 9 day stretch of the midnight to 8 shift.

I didn’t hate the midnight shift like some of my fellow police officers, but I wanted this stretch to end so I could begin my 4 day weekend. I had big plans on my days off and I needed some respite from the sweltering heat typical of Vermont weather in August.

At about 11:30 p.m., I pulled into the parking lot on South Winooski Avenue and as always, marveled at the ancient building which had been home to the Burlington Police Department since 1887. So much history! Back then, the rear of the police department was used to house the official police horse brigade and believe me, on a hot night in August, the smells emanating from deep in the wood, filled the current police station with the pungent smells of horse manure. But, no time to ponder, I was due at roll call.

Roll call was the captain’s opportunity to let everyone know what had happened on the previous shift, what to expect on the current one and to assign patrol coverage throughout the city. Roll call included updates on serious crimes committed, domestic and civil disputes and other issues of concern happening in the community.

Tonight we were given an update on the recent rash of rabid animal sightings and reminded to report any and all sightings to the Department of Health. We always concluded roll call with some light-hearted humor and this evening we heard about the latest antics of our beloved but troublesome town drunk, Stevie Bydette who hung out exclusively downtown - much to the chagrin of those in authority at City Hall.

Shift assignment had me patroling the downtown area of Burlington. Downtown was considered a good assignment because it was typically quiet on a weeknight. Patrol activity usually spikes around 2.a.m. when the bars let out and then, quiet descends from 4 a.m. until shift change. Officers use this downtime to patrol and catch up on their paperwork until it’s time to sign off-duty.

Still, it was going to be a long night. The heat and humidity were brutal and the cruiser I was assigned to wasn’t air-conditioned. The uniform I wore, which is designed specifically for a man, was uncomfortable and ill-fitting and sadly, the status quo for female officers in 1979 and this wouldn’t change much until two decades later.

My shift started out slowly as expected. A couple of speeders, a couple of drunk drivers - nothing too adrenaline producing. There was a slight increase of activity when the bars closed - not unusual, and I was able to park the cruiser on the side of the road by 3:30 a.m., where I began the mounds of paperwork accumulated over this 9-day midnight stretch.

At 4:02 a.m., dispatch called for me to respond to a man who was reported walking on Main Street carrying what a caller described as a dead animal. Dispatch went silent for a few seconds and then further advised; “the identity of the male subject carrying the dead animal is Stevie Bydette.” “Oh no,” I thought, “this is not going to be good”. 

To make matters worse, the radio dispatch produced a flurry of relentless transmissions of catcalls from my comrades who were obviously pleased with my predicament and wanted me to understand they would be following my progress closely. I know this exact moment is where my thoughts of sweet revenge began to formulate.

As I headed in Stevie’s direction, I smelled him before I saw him. If you’ve ever smelled the fresh spray of a skunk you know it’s vomit-inducing and it clings to you and everything around it like cotton on velcro. With my eyes stinging and watering, I saw Stevie walking up Main Street with the recently deceased skunk cradled gently in his arms. The skunk had been hit by a car and Stevie, who everyone knew as a compassionate sort, albeit deeply deranged, was smiling toothlessly as he was cradling the skunk gently in his arms. 

My job, according to the supervising officer was to take the skunk from Stevie, put it in an evidence bag and deliver it to the Vermont Department of Health for rabies testing.

As I carried out my duty, knowing my fellow officers were getting the laugh of their life, my thoughts of sweet revenge were blossoming nicely, but first I had to get the skunk and I was intent on doing so without touching it or Stevie. This was a task that required a wily opponent and I was up for the task.

I parked my cruiser about a half-block up the street from where Stevie stood. I placed the canvas evidence bag in the middle of the vacant street and tied one end of the rope to the handles of the bag and the other end I threaded through the cruiser trunk, through the back seat up to the driver's area of the cruiser. With no guilt or shame on duping Stevie, I used my loudspeaker to tell him we needed to work quickly if we were going to save the animal. I instructed him to place the skunk in the bag (to keep it warm, of course) and to zip it up.

Once the skunk was inside the evidence bag, I told Stevie to stay where he was and wait for the ambulance. Using the rope, I pulled the evidence bag taunt up against the trunk of the cruiser and with throat burning and gagging all the way, I put on my blue lights and siren and blasted up Pearl Street where I dropped my specimen on the steps of the Department of Health and fled.

When skunk duty was finished, I decided it was time to teach my co-workers a lesson in what happens when you don’t support your fellow comrade in times of need - they’d had their fun, now I’d have mine!

First, I radioed my supervisor and asked for a consult. I could tell by the slow response my supervisor didn’t want to meet up with someone who just had a close encounter with a skunk but a good supervisor always responds to an officer needing assistance or questions. 

When we met, one smell of me was more than she could stand and the offer to end my shift immediately was on the table. “Hmmm”, I thought, “is this a reward for a job well done”?

Eager to take advantage of paid time off, I gratefully took a shower in the ladies' locker room and prepared to leave but not before I threw my skunk soaked uniform as far into the men’s locker room as I could manage!

 Yup, revenge is smelly.