Stabbed Between the I's: Idolatry Vs. Integrity

By Bernard Fife

Two murder attempts were made on me by members of my own department, where I served as deputy sheriff.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524624668

Bernard Fife

The author is depicting his life and career in law enforcement despite two murder attempts made on him by members of his own department.

Book preview

Stabbed Between the I’s

Idolatry Vs. Integrity

Bernard Fife

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© 2016 Bernard Fife. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse    09/14/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-2467-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-2465-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-2466-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016913437

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter One

Good evening friends. It’s not quite the New Year and some thoughts came to mind. The New Year will be 2016 and, coincidently, will be an election year here in Taylor County. It will be interesting to observe the challengers of the incumbents who are presently in office. Even if one person were to use part or partial documents from my first two books, just might cause my books title to surface and get some free marketing. I sent some of my books to the influential persons of this county in hopes that my story will get out.

For those of you who would like a brief update, this is the story so far: I started my career with the local PD and after 4 years, transferred to my counties sheriff’s department. It was there that I learned about a certain Captain (Fred House) who had a grudge against my father, Bob Fife. Pop was a special agent for the FBI who was at the local field office resident in Vista. Contacts between the two were abrasive and usually ended in a poor, but civil professional relationship. Now I was employed as a deputy sheriff, with that same captain who, unknowingly was going to make my career miserable. I did perform my duties with Integrity so as to not bring shame to the badge. As my monthly stats were above average, I was intending to attain my goal: to work dope and swat.

After 5 years of working in uniform I applied for advancement to the tactical unit which included my goals that I had strived for. Along with the promotion came some of the best educational experiences of my life. The conception of teamwork was pushed to the limits. Organization with a singular goal is essential.

Upon reflection of the years I spent on the tactical unit, I recollect some pretty odd duties. One was called the New Britain Goat caper. Yes, I had to position myself in a goat pen waiting for an arsonist who was going to torch a building. Another one that pops in my brain was the prestigious Placerville Pamphlet Pass out detail. It was an election year and we were to spread the word of safety by offering in essence, reelection campaign material. It was no big deal, but we did it in the month of July which the temps hit into the hundreds. Wearing a class A uniform and cover, it got a little old. It was there that plans were in motion to ruin my career. My friend, who was also the best man at my wedding, coincidently was my sergeant in the tactical unit. It was he (who reported directly to the captain [House], and reported, with special attention, to keep an eye on Fife. From there on, unusual orders were given to me. One of the worst memories was being ordered to move a crate of decomposed dynamite and carry it 90 feet, where it was later neutralized. No supervisors were present and where were the other support vehicles? No fire, ambulance, CHP for road closures, or evacuations were ordered, it was a hit. Another episode was where I was UC and making dope buys and property transactions. On one of the dope buys, the procedure was changed by my sergeant who told me at the last minute to vary from procedure. My duty, as per the order from a superior, made me appear to remove myself from the buy, and walk away. Well, I followed orders and got a jacket that I might not be able to be counted on during a crisis situation.

This information your about to read actually happened which resulted in me being totally disabled, being diagnosed with severe PTSD.

Chapter Two

Since I went down and collapsed on 2-14-1995, while on the job in uniform, I have been attempting to obtain two reports that I had written regarding the issues described in Chapter One. For some reason, they had disappeared! No Way! The whole reason for writing a police report is that a document will be on file for potential future examination. Also, on both of these incidents where a report was filed, they had to ultimately pass by the Captains (House’s) desk for approval. Even though, it had to be approved by middle management, sergeants and lieutenants passed my reports up the chain of command. The single most integral part of my complaint is that I