Being a police officer is probably hard enough without some of the crime victims just making shit up.
Yet, often elaborate and even brutal crimes turn out to, upon investigation, never have happened at all. Why would people make up such an convoluted lie? For a series of really fucking stupid reasons.
Christmas 2008 wasn't so jolly for Miami resident Meagan McCormic. Instead of the normal annoyance of fake smiling over a God-awful sweater someone bought her, she had a regular silent nightmare on her hands: her son had been abducted.
Meagan said she had left six-month-old Riley with Camille, his gap-toothed, French nanny. When the au pair absconded with the tot, nearly 20 police officers bravely sacrificed their own priceless yuletide memories for a statewide Christmas Eve baby-hunt. Mom described the kid as having a mohawk, one tooth and a fake tattoo.
While there are definitely some snaggle-toothed, Brie-loving babysnatchers running amok out there, they certainly weren't near McCormic or her awesomely coiffed son. Why? Because the darn kid never existed.
Riley seen here on the swings.
Say you're having trouble getting over an ex. Whereas most of us choose to wank the pain away or drown our sorrows in fermented grain juice, McCormic refused to accept that her ex-boyfriend just wasn't that into her. To win her former beau back, she pulled one of the oldest tricks in the book: the unplanned mohawked pregnancy. And why go through all the trouble of actually having a kid when you can just tell him you did?
McCormic's plan fell to tatters when she forgot one eensy-weensy fact: maybe, just maybe, her ex would actually want to meet the tyke. When her boyfriend came down from Massachusetts to meet the lil' rebel, McCormic scrambled to concoct a tale involving an evil French crone with pissoir-poor dental hygiene. Presumably she made the nanny French to capitalize on law enforcement's latent Francophobia, but hatred of fine wine and semi-soft cheeses can blind your average Florida cop with rage for only so long.
A Frenchman, in a rare moment of not surrendering.
Once police realized they could drive their cruisers through the holes in McCormic's story, she was arrested. Her crime? Filing a false police report, and presumably inventing a baby too awesome to actually exist.
In October 2008, a 43-year-old Swedish man went to the German police with one heckuva tale: he'd been abducted from Sweden and transported to Germany in a Volvo. After stealing his money and credit cards, the Swede's captors unceremoniously dumped him at the Nuremberg railway station. Authorities initially believed his account, seeing as how there's nothing especially exciting to do in Nuremberg, other than stand trial for war crimes.
"Weather's fine. Wish you were here."
After Nuremberg police ordered a manhunt, the Swede admitted that he might have embellished things a little. The truth was, he just really, really, really didn't want to talk with his wife.
When your average Swede gives his wife the silent treatment, he usually tunes her out with an ice hockey match and a couple big swigs of aquavit. Very rarely does he simply hop in his car and make an impromptu cross-continental road trip without telling the ol' ball-and-chain where the fuck he's headed.
That's exactly what our Husband-of-the-Year candidate did. Our Swede clearly didn't give a fig how his wife's day was going, so he conveyed this indifference by driving from Scandinavia to Austria to Italy to the middle of Bavaria.
It was this point that the hubby realized that he may have crapped the wedding bed, so he did what any wayward spouse would do in this situation: fabricate a ginormous fib.
For those readers who may not grasp the total lunacy of this lie, imagine if the next time your significant other asks you to go the grocery store, you jump in your car and burn rubber 1,000 miles in the opposite direction. When you get there, call your mate and blame your absence on al Qaeda. See how well that goes over.
"...so then Osama bin Laden lets me go! In Manitoba! Crazy, right?"
In late 2007, Amanda Bulliner of the tiny hamlet of Newport, New Hampshire told law enforcement that she had received cryptic phone calls from a stranger who had threatened her family. In February 2008, Bulliner again contacted the police, only this time a home invasion had left her and her young children bruised and battered.
Newport's finest frantically tried to find this violent stalker but came up empty-handed. How come? Well, perhaps in a town as small as Newport the police department operates with a certain degree of charming incompetence, a la Mayberry...
"I have no fucking clue what I'm doing!"
...or maybe it's just because Bulliner was stalking herself.
The calls? Fake. The mysterious stranger? B.S. The attacks on herself and her children? Sadly, that was real. In a move deserving of a "World's Worst Mom" mug, Bulliner hit her kids and then turned the full force of her poor parenting on herself.
What in God's name did she seek to gain from smacking herself in the face? The love of an ex-husband. Whenever her ex began seeing other women, Bulliner's "stalker" would materialize, thereby putting the kebab on his budding romance. She was a serial cockblocker, if you will.
Luckily, she was no criminal mastermind, which isn't really a surprise considering her plan to reunite her family hinged upon beating her kids. When the "stalker" left a threatening voicemail for the case's lead investigator, the cop did a little bit of gumshoe-ing (he tracked her via caller ID) and quickly threw the book at Bulliner.
A sad case indeed, but at the end of the day, we're still left with one question: how the fuck did she get custody of the kids in the first place?