Behavioral Detective
Everyone's hiding something. After nine years as a Washington DC process server and private investigator, I got pretty good at finding it. Now I'm writing everything down: true stories, crime fiction, and everything in between.
The Behavioral Detective.
True(ish) stories on Sundays. Fiction on Wednesdays. Give it one episode. Just one.
True crime adjacent with a real estate bent.
Behavioral Detective
He Had a Badge. I Had an Attitude. - Case File #034
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He Had a Badge, I Had an Attitude
Case File #034
PARENTAL NOTE: This episode has adult language.
Twenty minutes. That's how long a Prince George's County police officer made me wait behind bullet-proof glass while he ate his lunch. Slowly. Deliberately. Making eye contact every few bites.
When I finally served him the subpoena, I might've muttered something under my breath on my way out. Or maybe I just thought it. Either way, he heard about it.
What happened next? A parking lot confrontation. A 6'2", 240-pound cop standing over me, demanding to know if I called him an asshole. Me, 5'7" and stubborn, with a choice to make: apologize or double down.
Spoiler: I doubled down.
This is the story of petty power moves, onion breath, and why sometimes the only thing standing between you and an arrest is a sergeant with stripes who's seen enough.
Connect with the Inner Circle:
- Read more stories: ProcessServerChronicles.com
- Join the community: Detective's Lounge Facebook Group
- Coming This Fall: Notice of Assignment, the first Cal Brink novella.
Disclaimer: This production is for entertainment purposes only and does not constitute legal or professional advice. Names and details have been altered for privacy.
Nine years as a DC private investigator, twenty-five years in real estate, a lifetime of reading people who didn't know they were being read. I'm Chris Lengquist, and this is the Behavioral Detective. True stories, crime fiction, and everything in between. Let's get into it.
SpeakerI want to give a warning before we get into today's podcast that there is colorful language. There's simply no way to tell this story as it happened without the colorful language. So if you have little ears in the car, you may want to be advised this is not the podcast for them. Normally and rarely do I have cuss words because I try to be more creative than that. But this is how it happened.
SpeakerI'm standing in front of bulletproof glass at a Prince George's County police station. 18 to 20 feet away, on the other side of that glass, a six foot two inch, two hundred and forty pound officer is eating slowly. He knows I'm here. I can see him glance at me every few bites. Then he goes back to his meal, chewing each bite an inordinate amount of times. Twenty minutes. That's how long he made me wait.
SpeakerThis week's episode, he had a badge. I had an attitude. Case file number zero four three. Serving a police officer shouldn't be this difficult.
SpeakerThe woman at the front desk had been helpful, but almost friendly. She turned her seat around and said, Hey officer, name redacted. This guy is here to see you. Says he has a subpoena. Officer, name redacted, had just walked in, uniformed pressed and clean, holding a paper bag from a local sandwich shop in his hand. Tell him I'll be a minute. Then he smiled directly at me and sat down at a table less than twenty feet from me, behind the glass.
SpeakerHe proceeded to unwrap his meal as slowly as possible before leaving it on the table and disappearing for a minute or two. When he returned, he had a cold beverage in his hand. This guy, what an asshole, I thought to myself.
SpeakerFinally, he disappeared and reappeared into the lobby with me. He even brought a napkin to wipe the corners of his mouth like he'd just finished lunch at the palm. Here you go. I said it with, admittedly, a little bit too much attitude and transparent disrespect.
SpeakerI turned to leave, popped open the glass doors, and heard the sudden sound of the whoosh as the door opened with a bit too much force. As I exited, I brushed by another incoming officer and headed down the stairs.
SpeakerI was just about to put the key in my car when I heard you. I stopped and whipped my head around. The same six foot two, two hundred and forty pound officer is heading straight toward me, and now he's pissed.
SpeakerA fellow officer told me you called me an asshole as you stormed out the door. His voice was loud and accusatory. Hmm. So it wasn't the subpoena he was mad about. I mean, he knew it was coming. I had left a message that it was about an accident he responded to. Standard stuff for a patrol officer in Prince George's County, Maryland.
SpeakerBefore I responded, he was standing over me, eye to eye. Well, I'm five foot seven and a half inches tall, a hundred and fifty five pounds. More like, he's posturing me. So close I can smell the onion on his breath.
SpeakerWell, I don't remember calling you an asshole. I remember thinking you were an asshole, I said, looking up into his chin. Another officer had come to see the confrontation, then another, and I felt outnumbered, and yes, intimidated, until one laughed out loud.
SpeakerSo you did call me an asshole, he thundered. A vein in his neck looked ready to pop. No, I don't remember saying it, I replied, staring him back down. I do remember thinking it. I ought to arrest you, you sorry son of a bitch. For thinking you're an asshole? Will a judge really convict me for thinking you're an asshole?
SpeakerI noticed one of the officers who'd gathered had stripes on his arms. He walked up to officer, name redacted, and said softly, but in command, Come on, you've had your fun. The situation de-escalated quickly. Thank God.
SpeakerI was outnumbered, though I was pretty sure I was in the right. I was too young, too stubborn, or too stupid to back down. It could have gone another way. Part his fault. A large part his fault.
SpeakerYou need to know. Leading up to this event, I'd left three messages for him before this, and I had made an additional visit to a station at quitting time, but he'd already gone. Sure he had. For this serve, I had arrived before the shift start that day.
SpeakerMost cops I served over nine years were professional. One time, a Prince George's County officer pulled up behind me while I was surveilling a house. Once he saw my PI license, and I explained why I'd been parked there for hours, he basically said, He's home, let's go. I followed him up the stairs, he knocked, announced, police. When the door opened, I served the guy. After the door closed, the officer looked at me and said, Now get out of here so the neighbors will quit calling us. He was matter-of-fact, not upset, not kind, just go. So I thanked him, got in my 87 Ford Escort, and popped in the clash. I responded to Mick Jones that I should go.
SpeakerAnd off I went.
SpeakerThat's it for today. If this is your first time here, go back and start at Case File 1. Trust me, it's worth the trip. If you want more truish stories from the Process Server Chronicles or fiction from the Cal Brink case files, well, they're waiting for you over at the ProcessServer Chronicles.com. You can find the link in the show notes. And coming this fall, notice of assignment. Cal Brink's first novella. A real estate investment purchase gone bad. And this is a Chris Writes LLC publication. It's not legal advice, not professional guidance, do not imitate tactics. Fictionalized, composited, altered details, and no identification intended. You can read the full legal lease on my website. Copyright 2026, Chris Writes LLC, all rights reserved.