This will not be my usual post.  I admit that I blog across a wide range of subjects:  triathlon training, nutrition, secularism, family, law school.  But this subject is out there.  Waaayy out there.

What follows is a true story.  It was told to me by my brother, the attorney in the story.

South of Atlanta, there is a small town by the name of Griffin, Georgia.  Somehow, near the “downtown” center of Griffin (“downtown” is in quotation marks because the difference in uptown and downtown is about 25 yards), a rooster had gotten loose from its unknown owner and set about terrorizing the merchants and residents.  He took up primarily in the Verizon store parking lot, and made front page headlines with his aggression and bad aviary attitude.  Both Animal Control and a pest-control company were hired to capture the rooster, to no avail.  In some chain of events, it was discovered that someone knew or was related to a trapper in Gay, Georgia, who would guarantee the rooster’s removal.

The Trapper made his trip to Griffin, and proceeded to successfully remove the rooster from the Verizon parking lot.  Permanently remove, with the help of a 22-caliber pistol loaded with ratshot (teeny-tiny beebees, for you non-gun folks).  Unbeknownst to the Trapper, the entire bank of windows of the IHOP faced the artillery action, and cell phones lit up the 911 switchboard with reports of an armed, overall-clad, denture-challenged individual in the Verizon parking lot.

There followed then an encounter which resulted in the Trapper in handcuffs, charged with both reckless conduct and discharging a firearm in the city limits.  Here is where my brother comes in.

The Trapper calls a friend who calls Eric and tells him the highlights of the deal, and Eric agrees to represent Trapper.

The day of the hearing (yesterday) Eric met with Mr. Trapper and proceeded to go into the courthouse, but not before the obligatory security check.  As we all know, that requires emptying ones pockets, which Mr. Trapper did.  And in Mr. Trapper’s pocket was this:

We’ll leave the explanation of what this is for later in the post.  What Mr. Trapper said is that it is his good luck charm and he carries it with him at all times.  The security personnel allowed him to put it back in his pocket and proceed to his hearing.

The hearing was rather anticlimatic; the more serious of the two charges was eliminated, but Mr. Trapper would be responsible for the reckless endangerment charge that was accompanied by a fine of $200.  As they were walking to his car, Eric commented that his good luck charm worked, and he asked what the charm was.  Mr. Trapper said:

“It’s a raccoon pecker.  How much do I owe ya?”

Without missing a beat, my brother said:

“Well, the fee is $50, but because we got you off on the big charges, I’d like the good luck charm as a tip.”

Trapper thought a minute and said:

“Alright, I can git another’n.”

Then he proceeded to tell my brother that he was never coming back to the town of Griffin, that where he was from in Gay, GA, he knew everyone and they knew him.  In fact, he said, if Eric ever needs anyone shot, just make sure it was in Gay, Ga.

Sometime during the day he also shared with Eric his personal trick of trapping coyotes.  One of the sentences included the phrase “ground-up housecat”.  I am not making this up.

Ok, so the good luck charm.  It’s a raccoon baculum, and the Trapper was indeed, correct.  Did not see that coming, and I pride myself on the number of NatGeo and Discovery Channel specials I have watched.

So there you have it.  The Great Griffin Chicken Murder of 2012.  And its added bonus content of genitalia rodentia.  And coyote bait.  Gotta love the south.

Thanks for reading?