the cash, thinking he was going to run, but was
instead handed my phone before everyone departed
and went their separate ways. Unfortunately all the
data had been erased and my SD card removed from
the phone, but it still worked, as I kept receiving
phone calls and text messages asking if I had a
‘teener’ or if I ‘wanted some black.’ Needless to say, I
turned the phone off and let it run out of minutes. “If
the cops look at my phone they’ll think I’m a drug
dealer,” I thought. “This is not good.” Despite my
trepidation I decided it would be best to update
Casias and let him know I’d also identified two
persons of interest who could possibly know more
about what happened to me the night I was attacked.
To add to my frustration, I was told Casias was off for
the day and that I could leave a message, which I did.
I waited several days before deciding that I should try
to contact Casias again, but this time was told by the
person answering the phone that the computers were
down and that I’d have to leave a message.
No one from the Albuquerque Police
Department attempted to contact me through the
whole month of December, so I took it upon myself to
report the incident to the Attorney General’s office in
downtown Albuquerque, which was a much easier
and less stressful experience than reporting the
incident to the police. They actually let me report the
incident in person, face-to-face with no wait time!
When January rolled around I’d pretty much given up
hope. One of the most traumatic experiences in my
life wasn’t even a blip on the radar screen for these
guys. And I’ve had some pretty traumatic experiences
in my life, like being shot at in Iraq and seeing dead
burned bodies littered across the highway, but this
was something else. I couldn’t think about anything
else other than the face of the officer and the time
that was missing from my life. I was pretty much fed
up, but then on Jan. 8, 2015 I received a call at 6:42
p.m. from Diane, the investigator with the CPOA,
phone number (505) 924-3727. My hope was revived,
as Diane was the only person I had talked to about
the incident who I felt might actually be able to do
something . . .
“Hello,” I answered.
“Can I speak to Scott Albright,” the voice said,
identifying herself as the Diane who had contacted
me earlier regarding my police complaint.
My excitement peaked, but then flattened out
not even a split second later. “I’m sorry to tell you” . . .
blah, blah, blah. . . No information, no interviews, no
video, no nothing. Diane hadn’t talked to anyone. Not
a single person. She was calling to tell me the CPOA
was done and wringing their hands clean of the case.
I interrupted before she tried to get off the phone.
“Just for the record,” I said. “After reviewing
everything that happened and looking into the
[6]
matter further I’ve come to the conclusion that either
a taser or stun gun was used on me when I was
assaulted.”
Diane interjected. “If it was a taser there would
be two puncture marks. . .”
“There were,” I said. “About a half an inch
across, not too far apart.”
“Oh, they would be further apart,” she
retorted. “If it was a stun gun there would be burn
marks.”
I didn’t even wonder if she’d considered that
the width of the marks should be smaller since the
officers were at such a close range, maybe 2-3 feet
away. Of course she hadn’t. She had no information.
She hadn’t talked to anybody or even looked at the
picture of the puncture marks on my forehead I had
taken almost as soon as I came home the morning
of Nov. 7. She told me herself that she had no
information, yet she continued to argue with me
about my own account of what happened, like she
knew more about it than I did.
“Nothing like this has ever happened to me
before,” I said. “I’ve never lost my memory like that.”
“Tasers don’t cause memory lose,” Diane lied.
I started shaking at this point. What the hell
did this lady know about anything? Why the hell was
she calling me? To lie to me? Of course tasers cause
memory loss when shot into someone’s head.
“I”m sorry, but I’ve done the research and
looked at the medical journals,” I told Diane. “Tasers
do cause memory loss. There was a cop who was
shot in the back of the head with a taser who lost his
memory for an hour,” I told her.
After reviewing the Canadian Medical Association
Journal article I was referring to a second time, I
realized the actual time of memory loss the cop
suffered was probably much longer. “You and I are
not jiving,” I told Diane. “Now you are just telling me
untruths.” I hung up the phone and proceeded to let
the shaking out of my body before attempting to
vent my frustration elsewhere.