Police in Huber Heights, Ohio, said an officer initiated a traffic stop Monday, but the driver fled on foot.

Police said the officer briefly lost sight of the suspect but quickly established a perimeter in the area.

Police told the station the suspect actually made it several apartments away before officers caught up to him and arrested him.

“As luck would have it, ‘Oscar the Grouch’ — as we’ve nicknamed our suspect — appeared at just the right place and the right time,” police added.

True enough. Police video shows an understandably freaked-out sanitation worker backing off and pointing at a just-opened trash bin behind a garbage truck.

The object of the worker’s shock was the suspect in question, and video shows him popping up and jumping out of the container — and then making a run for it.

RELATED: Stolen car goes airborne ‘Dukes of Hazzard’ style amid police chase — but occupants sure ain’t no Bo or Luke

Police said “thanks to the impressive athletic ability and swift response” of a second officer, the “suspect was safely apprehended.”

Police added that “the suspect was taken into custody without injury to anyone involved.”

WHIO-TV reported that the suspect has since been identified as 27-year-old Jonathan McMillan.

Police told the station the suspect actually made it several apartments away before officers caught up to him and arrested him.

WHIO said McMillan was booked into the Montgomery County Jail on obstructing official business and resisting arrest. The station added that he also had a warrant from Miami County.

As for the original traffic violation that sparked the cartoonish ordeal?

WHIO said police gave McMillan just a warning for it.

How’s that for a “Sesame Street” episode in the making?

Like Blaze News? Bypass the censors, sign up for our newsletters, and get stories like this direct to your inbox. Sign up here!

​Arrest, Garbage truck, Huber heights, Ohio, Police, Trash can, Video, Trash container, Crime 

Can demons shape-shift to appear like aliens?

According to BlazeTV writer and producer Josh Jennings, yes. When he was a young teenager, he says, he was visited by an alien-like entity that terrified him so deeply that it took years for him to recover.

On this episode of “Strange Encounters” with BlazeTV host Rick Burgess, Josh shares his harrowing experience.

When he was 14 years old, Josh’s family moved into a “fixer-upper” he describes as having had “some strange stuff done in it.”

“The lower half had been a house; the upper part had been a boarding house. … And in one of the rooms upstairs, there was a room where there was all kinds of satanic imagery written on the walls,” he says.

Even though his parents kept the sinister room a secret from Josh and his siblings, “painted over” the dark symbolism, and “[prayed] for any demonic spirits to go away,” evil still had a foothold in the home.

For a time, life in the house seemed normal, but then one night when Josh was asleep in his room, the peaceful facade shattered.

“So I’m dreaming about baseball, and in my dream, somebody hits, like, a pop fly. And I hear the crack of the bat, and it instantly wakes me up and I’m fully alert,” he recounts.

“I’m looking at my window, and then something catches in the corner of my eye and I look up at my closet. And there, floating in the air, was a head. It was just a human head, except this thing was not human. It had very thin green skin, and it kind of had an inner glow. And it had short, cropped black hair, and when I looked at it, it bared its teeth at me.”

It’s been 27 years since this event occurred, and the sinister entity’s teeth are still the detail Josh remembers with the most clarity.

“Every tooth in its mouth was about an inch long, and it had, like, a pearly iridescence to it,” he recalls.

“This thing snarled at me, and it was between me and my door, so there was no way to get away from it. And so I did what any self-respecting 14-year-old boy would do, and I threw the covers over my head and turned my face to the wall and began just to pray, just to pray that God would make it go away. And when I eventually got the courage to look again, it was gone.”

But the alien-like entity isn’t even the wildest part of Josh’s story.

Later in life, he discovered that these types of encounters had been happening to people in his family for at least “two generations” before him. Both his parents and grandmother had experienced similar demonic run-ins that disrupted their sleep.

“That incident had a profound effect on my life,” says Josh, noting that he developed a “drinking problem that spanned about a decade” because it became so difficult to sleep at night.

“I would lie awake at night, afraid to close my eyes and afraid to open my eyes. So whichever state they were in, I was afraid to do the opposite of that,” he tells Rick.

A few years later, however, Josh had another supernatural encounter, but this time, he believes the entity was an angel that may have been protecting him from another demon-alien encounter.

To hear the story, watch the episode above.

Want more from Rick Burgess?

To enjoy more bold talk and big laughs, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution, and live the American dream.

​Strange encounters, Blazetv, Blaze media, Rick burgess, Strange encounters with rick burgess, Spiritual warfare, Demonic, Aliens, Ufos 

We had just come off a long hospital stay. My wife was exhausted, in enormous pain, and I was worn thin. Airports do not feel neutral when your life is measured in surgical cycles.

The terminal was under construction. Barriers had shifted. Signage was unclear. I did not know the layout.

A nation cannot remain free if its authority grows more comfortable correcting the harmless than confronting the dangerous.

I made a bad call.

Instead of threading a wheelchair and two carry-ons through a winding set of surprisingly empty nylon lanes, I released one barrier and moved us laterally toward what looked like the correct checkpoint.

No one stood behind us. No one was delayed. No one was endangered.

An agent met us there and, with visible seriousness, told me to return to the beginning and follow the empty maze properly.

At first I thought he was kidding. A beat later, I half expected him to channel the Soup Nazi: “No plane for you!”

Swearing under my breath, I turned the wheelchair around and pushed her back through vacant lanes, struggling to make all the 90-degree turns with her chair, two crutches, and two small carry-ons.

Security did not increase. Compliance did.

On another trip, in a different airport, TSA members approached us and said her shoes had triggered an alarm.

She wore ordinary flats with small bows on the toes. I picked them out myself.

Her feet are carbon fiber, encased in thin rubber shells. The pylons and mechanical joints above them are exposed. No flesh hides anything. Everything is visible. Everything is easily inspected with a glance and a handheld wand.

She dresses nicely to fly, but she wears a skirt for a reason. Years ago, TSA agents made her take her pants off so they could inspect her prosthetic legs.

Yes, that really happened.

So when her “shoes” set off an alarm, I was puzzled.

“What kind of alarm?” I asked.

“We can’t say.”

“What possible alarm can a double-amputee woman with clearly visible prosthetics and nice shoes cause?” I asked, with more than a little exasperation.

“We can’t say.”

They scanned her again — by hand, so thoroughly it might have spared us a doctor’s visit. Then they emptied her purse.

Every husband knows the territory of a purse. You do not rummage through it casually. You do not rearrange it without permission. It is not simply a bag. It is ordered space.

For Gracie, it held carefully packed medication, identification, medical notes, and personal items. It was not decorative. It was survival.

One by one, they removed those items and laid them out on a metal table under fluorescent lights.

She was already nervous. Another extended surgical session awaited her at the other end of that flight. She was in significant pain. Airports amplify vulnerability when your body has endured nearly a hundred operations.

She tried to remain composed.

Then she began to cry — quietly, the way people cry when exhaustion, pain, and exposure arrive at the same moment.

RELATED: Sometimes doing nothing is the hardest challenge of all

Devrimb / Getty Images

People noticed.

A woman nearby said, “This is unnecessary.”

A man shook his head. “C’mon!”

Another muttered, “This is ridiculous.”

Others shifted uncomfortably. They understood something: This might be permitted, but it was morally disproportionate.

The inspection continued without visible alarm or explanation. And no discretion. Only “policy.”

TSA Cares exists, and we have used it. But shifting discharge dates can make advance coordination impossible.

Years earlier, this same woman had sung twice for the president who created the TSA. She performed for wounded warriors at Walter Reed and at high-security inaugural events where real threats were assessed with seriousness and discretion.

None of the agents knew that. They did not need to.

Still … the irony landed.

An institution born in the aftermath of national trauma had become meticulous about procedure and careless about proportion.

Around the time this happened, I watched footage of thousands pouring across the southern border. Officials insisted the border was secure.

Standing there, watching a federal agent apply painstaking pressure to the purse of a woman in severe pain, I could not square the disparity.

The border has since tightened. Enforcement proved immediate — when leadership wanted it.

That raises the harder question: If enforcement can appear instantly when desired, why does it vanish when inconvenient?

Security matters. Borders matter. Authority matters.

Authority also requires judgment. Law-abiding citizens comply. Evildoers do not.

When enforcement concentrates on the people who already follow the rules and hesitates before the people who break them, something has gone very wrong.

RELATED: We don’t have to live this way

Lindsey Nicholson/UCG/Universal Images Group via Getty Images

It reminded me of classrooms where a teacher, unwilling to confront one disruptive student, punishes the entire class instead. Uniform enforcement feels strong, but it often masks administrative convenience. The compliant absorb the penalty. The disruptive test the edges.

Institutions can learn that habit too.

Anyone who remembers the movie “Airplane!” may recall the airport-security scene where officers violently interrogate a harmless elderly woman while an obvious threat walks straight through behind them.

The danger comes when parody starts to resemble policy.

A nation cannot remain free if its authority grows more comfortable correcting the harmless than confronting the dangerous.

When the maze is guarded more fiercely than the gate, trust begins to fracture. When power falls hardest on the obedient and lightest on the defiant, something deeper than inconvenience is at stake.

If we mistake ritual for security and compliance for justice, we will become a nation trained to submit. Maybe we already are.

We don’t have to live this way.

​Tsa, Regulations, Airports, Rules and regulations, Compliance, Opinion & analysis 

When Robert Duvall died earlier this month, Hollywood lost a legend. Christians lost something rarer: a fellow traveler who gave faith dignity on screen and never apologized for it.

That alone deserves a moment of silence.

‘Preaching is one of the great American art forms,’ he once said. ‘The rhythm, the cadence. And nobody knows about it except the preachers themselves.’

Duvall came from solid stock. His father was a Navy rear admiral; his mother practiced a quiet, practical faith — the kind that had her on her knees at 3 a.m. while her husband dodged U-boats. One morning she mentioned a dark feeling at breakfast. Later they learned that a German torpedo had narrowly missed his father’s ship that same night. For the young Duvall, faith was not a Sunday habit. It was the difference between his father walking through the door and a stranger delivering bad news in an envelope.

Crackling with the Spirit

He grew up moving between bases and coastlines, went to New York, and became an actor. He got good at it, then very good, then extraordinary. Boo Radley. Tom Hagen. Bill Kilgore. He built a filmography that made other actors seem industrious rather than indispensable. He disappeared so completely into characters that finding his way back felt beside the point.

Then came a search that changed everything.

In 1962, preparing for an off-Broadway role set in the rural South, Duvall traveled to Hughes, Arkansas. He wandered the streets, drank coffee in diners, listened to how people talked and moved. One Sunday morning, out of curiosity, he followed a crowd into a small white clapboard Pentecostal church.

What he found stopped him cold.

People were on their feet, singing at full volume — faces lit, clapping, shouting. Tambourines. Snare drums. Joy so physical, so unselfconscious, so utterly unashamed. Duvall, the measured craftsman and trained observer, wanted to join in. “The air crackled with the Spirit,” he would later say. He never forgot it.

Churchgoing

He filed the experience away. Career called. Decades passed. He made masterpieces. In 1983 he won an Oscar for “Tender Mercies,” playing a broken country singer stumbling toward grace — a role that resonated because broken men reaching for something better was the only story he ever really seemed drawn to tell.

Through the 1980s and into the 1990s, Duvall kept researching. He visited small churches across the heartland, listened to preachers, filled legal pads with notes. He took his idea to Hollywood and was told — politely at first, then less politely — that no one wanted to watch a movie about religion. The studios passed. Then passed again.

He was frustrated but not defeated.

He used his own money. Seven weeks of filming in Louisiana, casting real preachers and congregants because, as he put it, “true faith is something that’s hard to duplicate.” The result was “The Apostle” (1997), a portrait of a Pentecostal preacher named Sonny — genuinely called by God and genuinely capable of terrible things. A sinner and a servant. Broken and burning. It earned Duvall another Oscar nomination. More importantly, it earned something Hollywood rarely grants religious subjects: respect.

RELATED: James Van Der Beek’s message about finding God resurfaces after death: ‘I am worthy of God’s love’

Photo by Matt Winkelmeyer/Getty Images

Living faith

Duvall held his own faith privately. Christian Science by background, contemplative by temperament, he kept his beliefs close and his explanations brief. That was typical for a man of his generation.

What was not typical was the depth of his hunger for the real thing — his insistence on portraying faith as actual, embodied, dangerous, alive.

“Preaching is one of the great American art forms,” he once said. “The rhythm, the cadence. And nobody knows about it except the preachers themselves.”

He knew. And he made sure the rest of us could see it.

Kin through Jesus

Near the end of his long struggle to get “The Apostle” made, Duvall visited six churches in a single Sunday in New York, finishing at the Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem. Standing in that packed sanctuary, surrounded by a vast choir, he sang “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” Something broke open in him.

“We’re all kin through Jesus,” he thought — not a concept to analyze, but the living Christ present in the full-throated roar of a Sunday choir. He called it the greatest discovery he ever made.

Robert Duvall was no saint. Neither was Sonny. Neither are we, most of us. But he understood, with the bone-deep instinct of a great artist, that flawed people reaching toward something holy is not a contradiction but a confession.

He told that story beautifully. We should be grateful he bothered. One of America’s finest actors is gone. For 60 years, he proved that the truth about faith is more compelling than anything Hollywood tried to invent in its place.

​Culture, Hollywood, Robert duvall, Faith, Movies, The apostle, Christianity, Pentecostalism, Robert duvall: 1931-2026