Master-Beaters: A Father’s Day Weekender for Fists, Fury, and Felony-Free Thinking

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Image for Illustrative Purposes Only: The individuals shown in this photo are not the actual suspects referenced in the article. This image is a dramatized, AI-generated depiction used purely for illustrative and editorial purposes to represent the general tone of the booking report. No real persons depicted.
Image for Illustrative Purposes Only: The individuals shown in this photo are not the actual suspects referenced in the article. This image is a dramatized, AI-generated depiction used purely for illustrative and editorial purposes to represent the general tone of the booking report. No real persons depicted.

By Mack Callahan | June 20, 2025

Topeka, Kansas – While the rest of us were busy debating whether dad needed another set of BBQ tools or just to be left alone, a few local gentlemen (and we use that term loosely) chose to celebrate Father’s Day week with closed fists and open charges.

At least two aspiring cage fighters opted to take their domestic disputes to the mat—err, living room—this week, earning themselves all-expenses-paid overnight stays at Shawnee County’s finest concrete suite.

One such man was booked for “domestic battery; knowing rude physical contact with a family member or dating partner.” If that sounds like the world’s angriest Hallmark card, it’s because nothing says I love you like a shove, a scream, and a stern “You’re not even on my lease.”

The other contender was tagged for “domestic battery; unknown circumstance; misdemeanor,” which is code for “We’re not entirely sure what happened, but it probably involved shouting, bad decisions, and at least one broken remote.” Investigators say they’re still trying to decipher what part of the argument started with “Why are you texting Jessica?” and ended with “You’re just like your mother.”

Neither suspect posted bond—which might have something to do with the jail’s firm policy against bartering bail in Xbox controllers and Little Caesars gift cards.

Meanwhile, love was clearly not in the air—but hands were. So if your relationship lately feels like a contact sport, maybe it’s time for therapy… not a police escort.

As always, Mack’s tip of the day: If your version of romance involves a trip to county lockup, maybe swipe left on the relationship—and right on a court-mandated anger management class.

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