For the most part, we don’t put trackers on many offenders. It’s a sure giveaway that someone is on probation or parole. You see a guy with a black, bulbous band on his ankle, you know he’s being tracked and likely hazardous. Putting someone on one was expensive for the department and time consuming for the officer, no one liked it. I got my one guy and was advised to keep a constant eye on him.
Robert was freshly released from prison after serving 20 years for three counts of attempted murder. Yeah, three separate counts. He was charged with attempted murder because the victims did not die right away, but later due to complications. For example, the first victim was stabbed in the forehead with a steak knife, and passed years later due to an infection caused by the tip of the knife that snapped off and embedded in her skull.
Robert battled with mental health issues and used street drugs to self medicate. On his first office visit he arrived wearing white framed sunglasses, a sun hat, pushing a shopping cart loaded with cartons of cigarettes, pinwheels and other crap commonly found in a convenience store. Think of the Dumb and Dumber bare essentials scene (google it). Robert spent all his prison release cash on his way to his appointment. Despite Robert’s perilous criminal history, he was liked by everyone. He had a charming way about him, as most dangerous people do. The ankle monitor was installed by a contracted professional, a female. As the monitor was fitted to his ashy skinned, pus blistered ankle, Robert was hitting on the installer causing a chuckle and collective eye roll throughout the office.
I was charged with tracking Robert electronically, checking my computer or cell phone every so often to be sure he wasn’t anywhere he wasn’t supposed to be, which was everywhere. Robert was homeless, so we set him up at a halfway house with the directive to not travel more than 300 yards away. He did. All the time.
As a surprise to no one, Robert was testing positive for a cocktail of narcotics and needed to be brought back before the parole board. I was working with the detective team at the time so I figured we’d go out and get him together. Because Robert had a glamorous, violent record, there were plenty of officers wiling to help. I figured it was a great way to impress the detectives and show them our cool technology. He’d be an easy grab, I knew where he was at all times, I let the tracker do its job. There was one small issue though… the tracker had a 15 minute delay. So I couldn’t tell where he was exactly, only where he was 15 minutes ago.
At the public library; “Oh yeah, I saw that guy he left a few minutes ago.”
7-11; “You just missed him.”
Street corner; “He’s right there… oh wait, I think he left about 15 minutes ago.”
No kidding? 15 minutes? It was like I was in a time machine, traveling 15 minutes into the past everywhere I went. The officers parading behind me were getting frustrated and annoyed. It was a super hot afternoon and we were spinning our wheels driving all over the city chasing a 15 minute ghost. Lunchtime was approaching, and instead of eating, we were racing to an area Robert once was. I could hear the hanger in the voices of the officers. Suddenly I didn’t feel so cool with my technology. My ballistic vest was getting tighter and warmer with embarrassment. With every step I was hit in the face with a compressed puff of heat and funk like a old hair dryer under my vest. I could already hear the jokes and inevitable ball busting from the detectives. The smirks and sarcastic comments were leaking out every time I was asked for an update from the tracker app on my phone.
We decided to do it old school and split up, each group going to a place we figured he will be, maybe in about 15 minutes. It wasn’t long before we found him in “The Foundations” an area of town known for drug sales.
Robert wasn’t a direct booking into jail. Because of his mental health history we spent the next six hours in the psychiatric hospital to make sure Robert wasn’t in any danger to himself. We later booked him into jail, and I cut off the tracker. Any time that happens there is an instant notification sent to the officer’s phone. I got the alert about 15 minutes later.
Weird Beard Blog 
This story, “15 Minutes,” is an engaging and almost darkly comedic look into the realities of parole monitoring and law enforcement’s sometimes faltering reliance on “modern” technology.
It’s sharp, honest, and doesn’t sugarcoat the complex, sometimes absurd struggle of doing this kind of work—especially when bureaucracy, technology, and unpredictable people collide. It’s both entertaining and a sly commentary on how systems meant to control risk sometimes create entirely new kinds of problems.
What stood out to me was how the author does a great job of depicting both the humanity and the flaws within the criminal justice and parole systems. Robert, despite his dangerous history, is characterized by both tragedy and charm, showing that people can be more complex than just their rap sheet. It’s a subtle reminder that the system must handle not only “dangerous people,” but complicated, often mentally ill individuals who resist easy fixes.
Secondly, the running gag—anchored in reality—about the ankle monitor’s 15-minute delay is a perfect metaphor for the obvious gap between what technology promises and what it often delivers in real-world law enforcement. It’s both frustrating and amusing, illustrating how “cool tech” can become a badge of embarrassment rather than an edge.
Lastly, the final jab, getting a “real-time” tracker alert 15 minutes after cutting the monitor, perfectly wraps the story with irony.
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