I Barely Got Here Podcast is police storytelling done as conversation. Host Kevin Buncher draws on 24 years in law enforcement, and across these episodes Jay, Brian and Ross each take a seat across from him, so the stories get questioned and corrected as they unfold. The frame is part of the appeal. Episodes open with a parody of a rights advisement: the right to be disturbed, the right to disagree, a warning that sarcasm and dark humor come with everything, and a closing 'Do you understand your rights?' Then comes 'buckle up, buttercup', and the show goes '10-8'. The sign-off mirrors it, with a pair of call signs and '10-7'. Between those bookends, the material is the job itself. In 'Happy to be Here, Proud to Serve', a suspect in the back of a transport vehicle kicks at the door, knocks the officer to the ground and takes his gun. The conversation then turns into something close to a debrief. Did the officer call out his stop on the radio? Would anyone want to face a combative prisoner without a second person there? '3 Clicks' runs on the same instinct with Ross: a noise complaint at a run-down apartment complex, a gun thrown down and left in the open during a foot chase, and a mid-story correction over whether a second officer was ever dispatched to the call. 'Plata o Plomo' shifts to drug trafficking. The adversaries are described as very smart, and one shrugs off a seizure as the cost of doing business. A courier driving money from Atlanta to Phoenix stages a break-in that convinces nobody and ends up held hostage in Gilbert, which leads to the point that many such cases are collections rather than kidnappings. The two 'B Sucio' episodes, recorded with Brian, make a natural starting point for anyone who wants a story built across installments. In 'B Sucio, Part 1', the talk turns to crack houses, where dealers were armed against customers who might rob them more than against police, and where layered locks and reinforced hinges had to be defeated before anyone got inside. 'B Sucio, Part 2' follows a panicked phone call from a woman who believes everyone has been busted and wants to start over in Colorado, and a meeting at a Taco Bell arranged with an arrest in mind. The question of betrayal is asked out loud, and the answer is yes. 'End of Watch' is the most somber of the set, holding on to the memory of blood on a SWAT officer's gray camouflage pants and the need, whether a wounded man could be saved or not, to get him off the pavement. The language is rough and the detail graphic, exactly as the opening warns.