Cache of Ammo

My daughter and I went for a walk to the market, right down the street. We had a package to mail at the pharmacy / post office culminating with a stop at the grocery store to check out the super cereal price wars that seem to be underway.

On Puente St., the final stretch to the shopping center, the south side of the street is lined with a white fence running parallel to the sidewalk all the way down the street. We were talking, enjoying the mildest of sprinkles, when we observed a tan duffel bag on the other side of the fence, the side with the tall weeds and untended native growth.

“Hey, think we should see what’s in that duffel bag,” I asked.

“Yeah,” was all the encouragement I needed.

“OK, you stay here,” removing the backpack containing the package to mail and a reusable shopping bag to be employed at the market.

I walked around the fence, about 30 feet back from whence we had just come. Maybe this is the bag of cash I’ve day dreamed of finding through much of my adult life. The weeds were tall and I purposely chose my steps to topple the bulkiest to minimize my interaction with the unwanted growth. There it is, the duffel bag at my feet.

I notice immediately that it had been a recent acquisition, observation based on the manufacturer’s tag still attached. I also note that the bag had probably been there at least overnight, an observation based on the numerous rabbit turds on top of the bag. [What gives, I thought, a rabbit bothered to crest the bag for a bowel movement?] Regardless, I reach for the zipper of the main compartment and pull. This will require more than one point of contact, the other hand will be needed to provide the necessary counter force of holding the bag in place. With that I feel the heft of the bag and hear the contents clatter. With some degree of sadness I realize, based on the sound, this is not the aforementioned bag of cash. I also find reassurance that the noise renders the possibility of this being a sack of snakes to near nil. The zipper pulled, the flap released, I pull it open to reveal contents I do not immediately recognize which activates the caution alarm in my brain. This is so far outside the realm of expectation that it just did not register. Rather than reaching inside I shift the weight of the bag to move the contents. They appear to be ammunition magazines! Not magazines, the written word publications, but actual firearms hardware, about 10 of them plus additional paraphernalia! Some of the magazines are rectangular shaped, others are of the curved variety. No weapons were observed, but at this point my curiosity had been extinguished.

“I think we need to call the police,” I utter before returning to the pedestrian side of the fence and call 911.

“What’s your emergency,” asked the operator.

“I’m in San Dimas and I’d like to speak with the San Dimas Sheriff, please.”

“This is the San Dimas Sheriff. What’s your emergency.”

“I found a duffle bag of what appears to be ammunition. It’s possible it’s just for paint ball guns, but I don’t think so.”

The operator is furnished with our coordinates and advised that we’d remain on site. Within minutes a police car arrived with two officers.

One officer walked to the bag while the other remained with us. My contact information and ID were requested and provided.

“Did you touch anything,” asked the officer by the bag.

“Just the zipper.”

“I was hoping it was a bag of cash,” I told the officer nearest us yielding absolutely no reaction.

The officer opened the bag. Finding the contents of interest he then opened the other pockets. He quickly looked around the hillside and scoured the immediate vicinity for any additional firearms hardware. Finding nothing, he zipped the bag, tossed it over the fence toward the car. 

“I guess it’s not paint ball gear,” I mentioned to the second officer again yielding no response.

The first officer returned to where we were and he was looking very serious. I thought he going to frisk me, search my backpack and arrest me. I didn’t like the look he was bearing down with.

“Put the bag in the trunk,” he said to his partner, “we have another hot call to get to.” With that they left.

My daughter and I continued our walk down the street. Our lucky finds were not yet done for the day. At the grocery store we came across a sale on Kellogg’s brand cereal and they had the rare find of Chocolate Frosted Flakes! Can’t wait for breakfast tomorrow.

[An actual event that occurred on 5/26/2018.]