GROFF MEDIA 2024© TRUTH ENDURES IMDBPRO
Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II©s
The Missing Man Case 1986
It had been a relatively slow night. There were the usual calls—nothing out of the ordinary. A lady reported a prowler near her home in the North Division. Tim was assigned there for the night due to staffing shortages. Usually, he worked in the South Division, but tonight, he was covering unfamiliar ground. He had made several traffic stops—broken taillights, expired tags, and speeding violations—but nothing major.
Tim was known for his relentless patrol work, stopping burglaries in progress, nabbing car thieves, and making felony arrests. He led his department in felony arrests. But just after midnight, he got a call from dispatch that promised to be something different.
“Unit 852, report of a missing man. Dialysis patient. Suicidal. See the reporting party at 515 North Main Street.”
515 North Main was in the oldest part of town. The houses date back to when the city was just a settlement. It wasn’t a known trouble location—not one of the repeat offenders officers constantly got sent to.
As Tim pulled up, he saw a porch light glowing. The house was a white A-frame with an overhang, modest but well-kept. Before he knocked, the door swung open. Inside, several people stood around, dressed as if they were about to go out for the evening.
Tim identified himself.
“Hello, I’m Officer Roff. I understand someone is missing?”
A woman stepped ahead.
“I’m Kathy Gifford. Yes, my husband is missing. I don’t know how, but he’s gone!”
Tim raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t know how?”
Mrs. Gifford wrung her hands.
“He’s skin and bones. He can barely walk. He’s on dialysis, and he probably doesn’t have long to live.”
She took a deep breath.
“He didn’t want me to go dancing with my friends tonight. He begged me to stay. He said it would be the last time I saw him if I walked out that door. But I thought he was just being dramatic.”
Tim had been a cop long enough to know that people sometimes exaggerated. He took her words with caution.
“Did you search the house?”
Everyone nodded.
“We did. He is not here.”
“What’s his name?”
“James Gifford, but he goes by Jimmy.”
Tim instructed everyone to stay put as he searched the house. He checked every room, corner, under sheets, and inside closets, calling out Jimmy’s name at every turn.
Ten minutes into the search, he entered the couple’s bedroom.
Mrs. Gifford sighed.
“There’s no use looking in here. I’ve already searched everywhere.”
Tim wasn’t about to take her word for it.
“I have to be thorough before filing a missing persons report.”
He called out again.
“Jimmy, this is Officer Roff with the Police Department. If you’re in here, tell me now! I’m about to search your room, and anything unlawful I find will result in criminal charges.”
Silence. Then, whispers from the people behind him.
Tim checked under the bed. Nothing was there. He turned to scan the room when Mrs. Gifford suddenly gasped.
“Oh my God, he has the gun!”
Tim spun around.
“A gun? Don’t you think that’s something you should’ve mentioned earlier?”
His hand instinctively went to his sidearm, unsnapping the holster. He stepped to the closet door and pulled it open. It was dark inside. He clicked on his flashlight and swept the beam across the space. Nothing. Then, near the front of the closet, he saw a pile of laundry.
Beneath it, Jimmy lay motionless, staring straight up at the ceiling. A .25 Automatic rested on his bony chest.
Tim’s breath caught.
“Jesus!”
His outburst sent the people behind him scattering, running out of the house.
His training took over. Tim drew his weapon and leveled it at Jimmy.
“Don’t move! Don’t reach for the gun!”
But Jimmy never flinched. He just looked up at Tim, his expression empty.
Tim quickly reached down, grabbed the pistol off Jimmy’s chest, and took a step back.
“Get up. Get out of the closet.”
Jimmy slowly sat up, his frail body trembling.
Tim exhaled, his adrenaline still surging.
“What the hell was this all about?”
Jimmy sighed.
“I just wanted to scare her. Make her feel bad for leaving me. Make her think twice next time. That’s all.”
Tim shook his head.
“You know, there are better ways to ask for attention.”
Jimmy just looked at him, defeated.
Tim crossed his arms.
“Look, you have two choices. Either you voluntarily go to a mental health unit tonight, or you surrender this gun until Monday.”
Jimmy hesitated.
Tim pressed on.
“You can come pick it up at the police department after you cool down. But I’m not walking out of here knowing I am back in two hours for a murder-suicide.”
After a long pause, Jimmy sighed.
“Fine. Take the gun.”
Tim secured the weapon and turned back toward the doorway, where Mrs. Gifford and her friends had cautiously gathered again. He shook his head and muttered,
“This is the Ruby Don’t Take Your Love to Town call to beat all others.”
One of the men raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
Tim smirked.
“You know, the song. The guy’s disabled, and his woman goes out dancing anyway. I never thought I’d see it play out in real life.”
The room fell silent.
Tim exhaled, holstered his weapon, and radioed in.
“Unit 852, situation under control. Subject located. No further assistance needed.”
As he walked out, he couldn’t help but shake his head.
“Damn country songs. They’re always right.”
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