Diary of a Police Officer

Is There Anybody Out There?

2011-10-16T23:14:00.003-07:00

It's been almost three years since I posted an entry on this blog. Does anyone still read it? I am considering starting the blog up again and am wondering if there is any interest.

Pulling Rank (and the plug)

2009-03-06T22:08:00.006-07:00

To my family, friends and readers,

I've been told by my Lieutenant the content of my blog does not adhere strictly to the policy of the department and could subject me to an administrative investigation of wrongdoing.

I was told the opinion of the Precinct Commander, upon learning of my blog was, "shut it down."
His assessment was some of the content could be considered a violation of privacy.

I was careful to avoid using names, addresses, dates, or any other information I felt may identify a specific individual. Nevertheless, it was made clear to me a potential for liability exists for both the department and for me.

Although I was not provided with any specific policy, order, code, or rule I was in violation of it was implied the content of my postings was not appropriate.

I was not ordered to discontinue my blog but was given this sole restriction: I am free to write about whatever I want to as long as it is not "police related."

I've tried envisioning a written account of the observations and experiences of a police officer without including anything 'police related.' I have yet to visualize exactly how this would be done.

In any case, I'm not ready to jeopardize my career at this time for the sake of a web log. I also lack the motivation to turn this into a rebellious fight for freedom of speech. So for the time being, I've chosen to take a break from my writing until I've had a chance to figure out how it can be done in a harmless but interesting manner.

I wanted to take a moment to say 'Thank You" for the comments, feedback, praise, and even criticism you've shown me over the past few years. I never would have guessed I'd have over 100,000 visits to my blog.

Gone

2009-03-01T00:20:00.004-07:00

A Mom gathered 2 of her kids and headed out to the grocery store leaving her 3 year old son home with Dad. About an hour into the shopping trip, Dad called his wife to ask if she brought the 3 year old with her to the store.
"No", she replied. "I told you I was leaving him home with you."
"That's what I thought but I can't find him anywhere and was hoping he was with you."

Mom raced home to find her husband checking the house for every possible hiding place. They screamed his name and double checked every room. The front door was unlocked when she left for the store and the son had gone outside in the past to play in the front yard or with the other neighborhood kids.

She dials 911 and is on the verge of hysteria. Convinced her son has been kidnapped she is paralyzed with fear. My trainee and I arrive first at the house but don't see the parents. Mom is running door to door recruiting an army of frantic neighbors desperately searching for the boy. Mom sees us and runs over sobbing uncontrollably. We do our best to get the boy's description, clothing, and possible destinations. She tells us Dad is driving around the area and several neighbors can be heard yelling his name and checking bushes, garages, and cars.

I ask the mother if she has a swimming pool. Her eyes widen with terror and whimpers, "no, but my neighbors do." She had not thought of this possibility and I could tell my question sent her mind to an unknown level of desperation. I tell her, "Calm down. We're going to find your boy." I look her directly in the eyes as I speak and hope she believes my assurance. I tell her to wait out in front of the house in case he wandered by.

With several other officers in the area, I go into the house to make sure the boy's not there. My Sergeant has arrived and is also checking inside the home. As I'm looking under beds and opening cupboards, I hear my Sergeant announce, "He's right here." He gets on the radio and advises the other officers the boy has been found. I join him in a girl's bedroom and see the little guy wrapped in a sleeping bag fast asleep in the closet.

I walk towards the front door feeling the exhilaration building inside me. I know my next words will affect Mom in a way she's probably never felt or even anticipated.

"Mom.", I say. "We found him. He's inside."
"WHAT!!" she shrieks.
"He's fine...sleeping in the bedroom closet."

Mom released a scream of fearful elation as she bolted for the house yelling her son's name. She ran into the boy's bedroom so I redirected her to his older sister's bedroom across the hall. She ran over to the closet, fell to her knees and scooped up the bundle of bedding and boy. She repeatedly screamed his name as the outpouring emotion took over. The boy awoke confused and dazed to be in his hysterical mother's arms.

"Oh my God, he's never done this before. I checked everywhere and yelled for him. I can't believe he was sleeping in there the whole time.", mom cried.

I told her to call her husband and let him know his boy was safe.

As I walked outside to my patrol car, mom carried her boy out into the yard to thank the neighbor's for their immediate and dedicated help. Dad pulled up and got out of his car. His cheeks were streaked with tears of relief, fear, and guilt. He gave me a smile and a nod since speech had not yet returned to his faculty of senses. He joined his wife and son with a long embrace.

I saw raw emotions that day like I've never experienced close up. I can't imagine the feeling of believing one of my own kids to be missing. I know how the mind races towards the unthinkable when panic and fear set in. I'm just glad this time the 'unthinkable' was an overlooked boy safe asleep in his sister's closet.

Thank you, David Spade

2009-02-06T11:17:00.007-07:00

Everyone is well aware of the financial difficulties being played out across the country. The city I live and work in has the highest budget deficit in the nation (22% of the city's general fund). The general fund is used to pay for all city services including police and fire departments.

To make up for this shortfall, all kinds of city services have been reduced or eliminated and many city employees will likely lose their jobs. Luckily for me, police and fire department personnel will not be reduced (for the time being).

During this time of tight budgets, the police department has been forced to put off or abandon certain programs. One of these was the patrol officer rifle program. The idea was to have at least one officer on each squad carry a rifle. The fight against crime has escalated and we have seen an increase in the use of high powered rifles and automatic weapons by criminals. Our handguns and sparse shotguns are no match for the arsenal being used by the bad guys.

Just when we thought the rifle program would be cut out of the budget, former Phoenix resident David Spade stepped in and donated $100,000 to the department. His gift provided and extra 50 AR-15 rifles (along with equipment, ammunition, and training) to the police force.

I was the rifle carrier on my previous squad but had to give it up when I moved to my new training squad. I was disappointed when I learned there was no rifles available for the training squad.

Now, however, I have David Spade to thank for my newest piece of equipment:

My brand new Bushmaster AR-15 rifle.

This isn't the first time David has helped out with the police department. On September 18, 2007 my friend and fellow officer Nick Erfle was shot and killed while on duty. I see Nick's portrait on the memorial wall at my station before every briefing. He left behind a wife and two young sons. David donated $25,000 to Officer Erfle's family when he heard about the killing. I've always thought David was a great comedian and actor but I now believe he's an even greater human being.

Family Matters

2009-01-28T00:29:00.002-07:00

A 35 year old man was recently released from state prison serving a 10 year sentence for armed robbery and vehicle theft. He was released on parole 18 months early for good behavior. He returned to civilian life with a resolution to become a law abiding citizen.

He reconciled with his family who welcomed him home with hopes for a better future together. They were short on space as five adults and one child lived together in the small 2 bedroom apartment. They were happy to be together, though, and hoped he would be able to help care for his 23 year old special-needs sister while Mom worked.

After a few months, things began to sour. It was unfortunate he was unable to find work but even more so that he didn't even bother looking. One thing he did find, however, was alcohol -and lots of it. He decided it was much easier to pass the time drinking 40 ounce malt liquors with his buddies than to actually attempt a productive life. Mom was becoming fed up with him but it wasn't the drunkenness that pushed her over the edge;

It was the rape of his 23 year old mentally challenged sister that did it.

Mom came home to find him and his buddy passed out on the couches. She called police to have him escorted out. While we were on the way, her daughter (and his sister) called her to report he had sexually assaulted her 3 times in the last 2 weeks. One time, her 4 year old son walked in on them in the act. Mother was appalled, furious, and thankful police were there to stop her from fulfilling her own punishment on him.

Of course he denied sister's accusations and blamed it on her mental instability. When I informed him she had undergone a forensic examination at the hospital in which DNA evidence was collected, his eyes opened wide with fright. Even through his drunken state I could sense him contemplating his pending return to state prison with the possibility of another decade or so of added time.

We contacted his Parole Officer (PO) by phone and told him of the convict's current drunken state. One of the provisions of his parole was no consumption of alcohol. The PO revoked his parole which meant an immediate trip back to prison to serve the remaining year and a half of his original sentence. While there, the detectives will be busy preparing multiple charges of sexual assault.

People do all kinds of bad things but those who victimize a vulnerable member of their own family epitomize the sentiment: "Lock 'em up and throw away the key."

Ripoff

2009-01-24T22:36:00.003-07:00

I was driving my patrol car towards a busy intersection and spotted a small SUV speed out of a parking lot and then turn right onto a major street without stopping for the red light. I sped up to follow and saw the vehicle make another quick right turn into a neighborhood without signalling.

This SUV was driving erratically and speeding through a neighborhood streets so I caught up and pulled him over. A 20 year old man immediately jumps out of the driver's side and starts walking towards me. Anytime a driver approaches this quickly signals danger to me so I met him with gun drawn (this is why you should wait in your car with hands on the steering wheel and let the officer approach -unless instructed otherwise.)

He sees my gun pointed squarely at his chest and holds up his hands to show me his empty hands. I yell, "What the hell are you driving like that for?!"
"I just got robbed and was chasing the guy."
"Did you call 911 to report the robbery?"
"No."
I put my gun away and patted him down to make sure he wasn't armed.
"How were you robbed?", I ask.
"Well, this guy I know needed some money so I loaned him $120. Then he took off so I chased him to get it back."

It didn't take a genius to figure out this was not a robbery. To make sure he wasn't a victim I asked why he would chase a person he willingly loaned money to.

He paused for a moment (probably mentally planning the next lie) and said, "Well, after I gave him the money, he didn't tell me when he was going to pay me back so I chased after him to ask when would he pay me back."

I explained that loaning somebody money was not exactly 'robbery' and that the only crime committed was his driving. I told him I didn't believe his story and knew something else had happened. I suspected he had just been ripped off in a bad drug deal so I asked for his consent to search his pockets. He acted nervous and said he didn't thing there was any reason for that.

My Sergeant arrived as backup and kept an eye on the driver while I walked up to the passenger of the SUV. I asked him what happened but he was clueless. On the floor of the vehicle was a couple syringes, a shoelace, and a spoon with a sticky dark residue. I told my Sergeant in police jargon that I had spotted drug paraphernalia in plain view. This provided us with the probable cause to arrest the driver.

What a shock it was to find a small baggie of heroin in the driver's pocket. He swore it was fake and begged us to test it. On the way to the police station he told me he bought Heroin from a dealer a few days ago but when he and his friends used it, none of them felt anything. Suspecting they were sold phony drugs they called the dealer back to complain. The dealer said he sold them a bad batch by mistake but would make up for it by giving them a much larger quantity for $120. I happened to drive by just as the driver realized the drug dealer took the $120, walked to his car and drove away without giving him anything. He was chasing after him for being ripped off twice in the same week.

He told me several of his friends (many of them high schoolers) were addicted to Heroin and hoped his arrest would help him kick the habit.

If any of you readers are parents of teenage kids please talk to them about Heroin. I've arrested so many young kids hooked on this stuff and have seen even more adults living pathetic lives because of it. It's cheap, easy to find, and socially acceptable to use.

Shocking!

2008-11-25T12:15:00.007-07:00

My new trainee and I pulled into the restaurant parking lot and were just about to start dinner when a domestic violence hot call was broadcast. Our Sergeant was en route to the call so we answered up for backup with another training unit.

We arrived to find our Sergeant waiting outside the front door of an apartment. A grandmother with 3 grandchildren were outside telling us her daughter and son-in-law were in the bedroom fighting. She heard things breaking in the bedroom and thought the fight was physical.

The other training unit arrived and the 5 of us entered the apartment. The living room and kitchen were empty and we heard noised coming from the bedroom. We approached it down a short hallway when a woman came out and closed the door behind her. "We're fighting." she stated calmly and walked past us. "And, he has a knife", she added.

Four of us drew our handguns while Sarge stood back to direct us. The two trainees and I approached the closed bedroom door with guns up. They threw the door open and stepped back. A man in his 20's was standing in the middle of the room with a three-foot Conan the Barbarian sword raised above his head. He wielded the sword with both hands holding it over his right shoulder. He was shaking the sword slightly like a baseball player in the batter's box anxiously awaiting the pitcher's throw. I shouted, "DROP THE SWORD!"
"NO!"
"DROP THE SWORD NOW!" I commanded again.
"AAAAHHHHH.......NOOOOO!"

I advised the other two officers to keep their guns ready and I transitioned to my Taser. I engaged the power switch and aimed the red laser dot in the center of his chest. I commanded one more time, "DROP THE WEAPON!"

His third refusal was also his last. I announced Taser deployment and pulled the trigger. I heard a small popping noise as the Taser cartridge was activated and two metal darts were launched forward. One probe penetrated his left nipple and the other punctured his upper left thigh. The sword instantly dropped to the ground. As 50,000 volts of electricity repeatedly cycled through his body, his body became rigid. With fists clenched and arms at his sides, his paralyzed body fell backwards like a Douglas Fir in December. If a lumberjack was present, I would not have been surprised to hear, "Tiiiiimber!".

With the suspect immobilized on the ground, the training officers holstered their guns and placed him in handcuffs. He was totally compliant and apologetic. He went from mighty dragonslayer to frightened schoolboy in 5 seconds. He looked up at me and whimpered, "Oh my God........That hurt soooo bad."

He then told us he had been drinking and was upset because his wife "wouldn't leave him alone." him. He grabbed the sword and started slicing through household items. When we arrived, he was hoping we would shoot and kill him in front of his wife as "payback" for her nagging. This genius believed his violent death would teach his wife a lesson.

(Taser vs. Sword)

I've heard and read many things about the safety of Tasers. I know they have been blamed for deaths. Without them, our only option would have been the lethal force of our handguns. I don't know for sure if Tasers actually cause deaths but I'm certain they have saved countless lives where police would have been forced to use guns instead.

Close Call

2008-11-07T14:39:00.003-07:00

I knew becoming a cop would subject me to a more unpredicatable and dangerous lifestyle. I am reminded of the potential for violence each day I put on my ballistic vest. On Tuesday night, I had my closest brush with disaster yet.

I sat in the police station break room with a dozen other officers watching the election results come in. I was surrounded by the very traffic officers that escorted Senator McCain and Governor Palin to the nearby rally headquarters. The other officers watched with growing dismay as Sen. Obama's electoral vote count continued to rise.

Shouts of anger, disgust, and panic arose in chorus. Then it happened: The network 'called' the election and announced Barak Obama as the next president of the United States.

The officers jumped to thier feet, cursing and fuming with defeat. Although my fellow Arizonans overwhelmingly voted for the hometown Senator McCain, it was no use as the election was over.

One of the officers noted my calm smile and upbeat demeanor and asked, "Aren't you upset about this?"

Keeping the same grin, I looked back at him and answered by saying nothing at all.

Understanding my position, he and the others gave a look of utter contempt and disbelief. As they stormed out of the room I heard such words as, "damn liberal", "traitor", "muslim communist" and "country's going to shit". I felt like my uniform was the only thing keeping me from getting lynched on the spot.

I was left alone to watch the television feed of the celebration in Chicago. Thousands of Obama supports danced and cried tears of joy. I felt what they did and was letting it all soak in when another officer stormed in and slammed the television power button. He let out a long and winded wail of frustration. With fists cleched tightly in fury he repeatedly told me, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I had to turn it off."

He stomped back out of the room.
I turned the T.V. back on.

I felt strange belonging to a family of brothers who felt so differently than I did. I understand and even respect other's opinions about who they believe would make a better leader. But why the anger and disgust? Do they all really believe the slanderous lies about Barak being a muslim terrorist, socialist, or foreing policy pushover? I know we cops have a reputation for being closed-minded and intolerant homophobes, but witnessing my comrades' behavior was sickening.

Some of you who read this might be surprised to find out I voted for Obama. You'll be even more shocked, then, to learn I'm also a tree-hugging, bleeding-heart, liberal.

"What kind of an American are you?", I can hear some people saying.
"A proud one." is my answer.

Domestic Terrorist

2008-09-14T21:15:00.005-07:00

You may remember a few years ago the capture of notorious Al Qeada leader Khalid Sheikh Mohommed. His shocking photo graced the covers of newspapers and magazines across the world and defined the look of evil.

Well, I've uncovered some disturbing news about a possible domestic terrorist. When I became an officer, I took an oath to protect America from all enemies, foreign and domestic. But, what would you do if you suspected someone in your own family had ties to Al Qeada?

After coming out of my bedroom one morning, I found my daughter out on the living room couch. She claimed to be ill and wanted to stay home from school. I took one look at her and instantly recognized the hairstyle of terrorism. Could I be mistaken or is my little enemy combatant planning the kind of home grown insurgency we all dread?

Empty Nest

2008-09-14T20:52:00.002-07:00

My second trainee has finished his first phase of training and is on to his secondary Field Training Officer. I can't believe how quickly the past 6 weeks flew by. It seems like I just met him yesterday. He is an interesting guy with a very unusual past.

He grew up in Bosnia during the war and lost several family members along with most of his childhood possessions. He told me there are only two pictures of himself as a baby that survived the war. He moved to America 7 years ago and quickly set off to become a citizen. After learning English (with remarkable spelling, I might add), he became an official U.S. citizen and instantly applied for the police department.

His rugged upbringing gives him a great appreciation of how things are in America. He constantly told me about the corruption, shortages, lack of opportunity, and sense of hopelessness he experienced in Bosnia. He is grateful for the American troops that helped liberate his town from enemy forces.

He is respectable, kind, smart, and honorable. I know he'll make a great officer.

Picking up the kids

2008-08-17T18:27:00.005-07:00

Some parents refuse to let their kids ride the school bus because they don't think it is safe. This mother, picked up her 10 year old daughter from school and started driving home. The daughter sat in the back seat and fastened her seatbelt as she always does.

Mom, on the other hand considers herself a good driver and, therefor, doesn't need to wear a seatbelt.

Unfortunately for her, the tree she plowed into did not agree with her. After trying to make a right turn much too fast, mom veered off the road and rammed into a tree. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention -mom had spent the day drinking and was by all accounts "hammered."

The young girl watched as mom's unrestrained body flew forward into the dashboard. Her head smashed into the rear-view mirror sending it through the windshield and out onto the ground in front of the car. Mom's head got stuck in the jagged window glass. She was able to pull her face and head back into the car leaving long strands of hair in the cracks of the glass.

*******************************************************
Yesterday, my trainee and I answered up for an emergency call for a fight in the cafeteria at an elementary school. At first I pictured a bunch of little kids having a food fight but then I read the details of the call.

A 40 year old man arrived at school totally drunk demanding to pick up his 2 sons from after-school care. The school aides had never met this Dad so they asked for his ID as is standard practice. The drunk father began swearing and screaming in front of all the children. He then punched a teacher in the face, pushed another backwards into a door, and shoved a third one. The enraged drunk was screaming vulgarities and lunging at any adults that came near.

Dozens of terrified kids were running away and hiding from the lunatic.

Another unit arrived before us and had the dad in custody when we arrived. He was book on 3 counts of aggravated assault.

What a way to set a good example for your children.

Party

2008-08-17T18:15:00.003-07:00

I love convenience stores. They are a convenient place to get snacks and use the restroom.

What's worse than a splash of vomit on the bathroom floor?

How about a used condom in the same bathroom's trash can.
Looks I was a bit late for the bathroom party.

The Academy Revisited

2008-08-03T22:23:00.002-07:00

A few weeks ago I returned to the academy to help facilitate the Field Problems segment. As a training officer, one of my new duties is to help out the staff at the police academy. Specifically, they needed actors to conduct a variety of scenarios handled by the recruits to gauge their progress. I can distinctly remember the stress of going through these Field Problems when I was a recruit. They are done near the end of the academy and everyone knows a few failures means termination from the class.

This was my first time as an actor so I was given the easy assignment of posing as a stop-sign runner. The recruits took turns driving a patrol car and conducting a 'simple' traffic stop on me for my violation. The entire scenario was graded by another officer riding alongside the recruit.

Being on the flip side of these scenarios gave me a real taste of what I must have been like a few years back. I was nervous back then but I can't imagine I showed it as obviously as the new recruits did. Many of them seemed terrified to approach my driver's window and begin the traffic stop. One guy's hands were shaking so much as he asked me for my license and insurance I thought he was going to faint.

Others approached me like I was wanted for homicide. I female recruit commanded me to hold my arms out the driver's window. She unsnapped her holster and gripped her plastic handgun as she asked for my license. "DON'T MOVE!!" she shouted as she returned to her patrol car to write me a ticket. I know she was trying maintain her own safety but I told her I felt like I was about to be shot for running a stop sign.

I finished my traffic scenarios and moved to a different one involving a shoplifter. The recruit failed this one miserably. While talking to the store owner (me), the recruit had his back turned to the shoplifter sitting unrestrained in a chair. The recruit conducted an interrogation of the suspect (without reading Miranda rights) and then issued him a citation without bothering to handcuff and search the suspect. He missed the handgun concealed on the shoplifter (and the opportunity to add a misconduct involving weapons charge). I felt bad for the recruit as we provided feedback on his failure but reminded him how fortunate he was to make this kind of mistake in a safe training environment instead of out on the street.

**********************
ROOKIE II

I just got back from week long vacation and will return to my squad tomorrow with a brand new Officer in Training. I don't know anything about him/her yet but am anxious to get started.

BREAKing and entering

2008-07-11T21:58:00.002-07:00

A fellow squadmate stopped at an abandoned building to show his trainee how thieves had stripped it of copper piping and wiring. It used to be an upscale restaurant in a very pricey part of the city. The owner up and left one day and it has been sitting vacant ever since. For the past few years, the place has been vandalized, burglarized and used by transients as a high rise apartment.

As the officer and his trainee drove up to a rear door they saw the padlock had been cut. The y walked up, opened the door and looked insided. They could hear a few people talking and then heard footsteps coming down the staircase towards them. They drew their guns and waited for the burglars to come around the bend in the stairway. Soon, a man and two women appeared on the steps carrying buckets of wiring and pipes. The officers commanded them to drop the items and come down the stairs. Two of them complied but one woman ran back up the stairs to hide in the building.

The two compliant burglars were arrested and several other officers arrived to set up a perimeter around the building. We had the place surrounded and were awaiting the K-9 officer to arrive. We knew it would only be a matter of time before the police dog found her inside.

As we waited for the K-9 to arrive I heard a woman's scream from inside the building followed by a loud crash. Then we heard her yell "Help!" a few times. Believing this to be a possible ploy, we all held our positions outside the building to await for an entry team to arrive with the dog to go in and get her out. A few minutes later, however, she came crawling out covered in blood. She said she was hiding in the ceiling when the tiles gave way sending her crashing to the floor. She cut herself on debris and was complaining of neck pain. She was taken to the hospital and found to have a broken neck. I wonder how she felt lying in a hospital bed with a police officer posted next to her knowing as soon as she was discharged she would be heading for jail for felony burglary.

Mentally Disabled

2008-07-06T23:58:00.002-07:00

I'm one of the few officers on my squad that takes time to issue parking tickets. A lot of cops consider these a waste of time and not "real" police work. I admit there's more serious crimes requiring attention but when there are no calls holding and plenty of officers available for service, I find myself checking the disabled parking spaces in a few prime locations.

A former motor officer joined my training squad recently and showed me how to verify the owner of a disabled parking permit. In the past, I checked these permits (usually hung from the rear view mirror) for expiration dates. I cited several drivers using expired disabled parking permits but now I had the tools to verify if the person using the permit was the person it was actually issued to.

Last week I drove to a gourmet grocery store in an upscale neighborhood and saw a car parked in the handicapped space. I parked behind this car and walked to the front of it to check the bright blue disabled parking permit hanging behind the windshield. As I stood there, a man driving alone arrived in a brand new Lexus and parked in the disabled space right next to the one I was checking. He looked at me as he got out of his car and walked down the breezeway between the grocery store and some other retail shops.

I walked over to the Lexus and verified a current permit was hanging from the rear view mirror. I returned to my patrol car and checked on this permit. The registered owner of this permit was a woman. I ran the license plate of the Lexus and find it registered to a man with the same address as the disabled woman with the permit. I believed the driver was using his wife's disabled parking permit so I decided to wait a few minutes for him to come out.

A few minutes later he returns to his car with a small amount of dry-cleaned clothes. I approached and asked:
"Hello. Do you have a disabled parking permit?"
"There's one hanging in my window."
"Yes, I see that but it's not issued to you."
"How do you know that?!"
"I checked it in my computer and it is registered to a woman. I wanted to verify if you have a permit of your own."
"Well, no but my wife does."
"Yes, I understand that. Is your wife here now?"
"I just dropped her off."
"Here -at this property?"
"No, at home."
"OK. Can I see your ID? I'm going to issue you a citation."
"What for?!!"

He sensed what was happening and became visibly angry with me. The address listed on his vehicle registration told me he was probably a very wealthy person. The payment amount for this citation is $235.

"For parking in a designated disabled parking space without a permit."
"Oh C'MON. I didn't do anything wrong."
"You don't think it's wrong to park in a disabled parking space when you're not disabled?"
"Well I was disabled."
"Do you have a disabled parking permit in your name?"
"No, but I don't see what writing me a ticket's going to do."
"Hopefully, these citations will deter people from parking in spaces without a permit."
"I come here all the time and I parked in a regular space about 20 times over the last month."
"You probably should have continued that practice."
"I still don't think you should write me a ticket."
"Sir, if you believe you have received this citation in error you have the right to request a hearing in court."
"Yeah, I think I'll do that!! It'll be your word against mine!!"
"I would be happy to testify in court over this matter. Here's your citation. Payment instructions are on the envelope."
"I HOPE THAT MADE YOUR DAY!!"
"What was that?"
"I SAID -I HOPE THAT MADE YOUR DAY."

I did not reply but stood and watched him get in his luxury car and drive away. A man walking into the store came over and thanked me for taking the time to cite handicap parking violators.

I am surprised at the number of people with blatant disregard for common courtesy. Is it laziness, apathy, arrogance, or some kind of feeling of entitlement that drives people to use expired, counterfeit, or borrowed handicap permits to park in these spaces? I've seen violators do this when there are regular parking spaces a few feet away. I'm even more surprised how upset drivers get when issued a parking ticket. I've written countless moving violations to drivers for thousands of dollars and was told, "Thanks, Officer" after handing them the tickets. But try writing a $16.00 ticket for parking in the wrong spot and you'd be amazed at the level of anger that comes pouring out.

Whatever the reason, parking violators beware: Big Brother is watching and will not hesitate to make you answer up for your wrongdoings.

Thanks, Mom

2008-06-27T13:41:00.002-07:00

I was dispatched to Mervyn's store for a teenager in custody for shoplifting. I arrived to find a seventeen year old girl sitting in the security office with about $200 worth of clothing on the floor next to her. The store security officers caught her leaving the store without paying for the items and were busy typing up a report of the details.

Her younger sister was also at the store but did not participate in the theft. She told me her mom was at work but an uncle was on his way to take custody of the shoplifter. Since she was a juvenile, I was unable to just set her free with a ticket. Instead, a guardian or other family member had to come and get her.

Her jerk uncle arrived and barged into the security office demanding she be let go. I politely asked him to step outside and talk with me. He was a real Adam Henry and demanded to be in the room with her while I asked her questions. I explained to him I was going to read her juvenile Miranda rights to her and give her the choice to have a parent present while answering questions. His response was the typical, "I know a lawyer... I've got a friend who's an officer... I know some important people... You can't question a minor.. etc... etc.." I told him to wait outside and I went back into the office.

He burst in again and yelled to the girl, "Don't say anything!! Don't answer any questions!!" I read the Miranda rights to her and she told me she did not want to answer any questions. This was okay with me since I had eye witness accounts from the security officers and video surveillance. It would have been nice to have a confession, however, as this is an important part of securing a conviction.

The office phone rang and an irate mother screamed at me for not letting the girls' uncle in the room during questioning. I explained there was no questioning so there was no reason for him to be present. She told me she would arrive in five minutes and demanded her brother (uncle) be in the room. She told me not to ask her daughters any questions. I let him in the room and waited for mom to arrive. He looked at her again and said, "Remember, don't admit anything. Don't talk to the cops." The girl nodded.

Mom soon arrived and came into the office with me, my partner, uncle, shoplifter-daughter, and three security officers from the store. She looked at the store guard and asked, "What happened?" He told her he watched her daughter fill her purse with clothing and then leave the store without paying.

Mom turned to daughter and said, "Is that true?"
Daughter answered, "Yes."
Mom: "Did you actually leave the store with the stuff in your purse?"
Daughter: "Yes"
Mom: "You took those clothes on purpose?"
Daughter: "Yes"

I looked at the uncle, grinned, and then pulled out my notepad and wrote down the verbal exchange between mom and daughter. Uncle realized I was recording the 'free confession' and grit his teeth in anger (or maybe disgust; it's hard to tell the difference sometimes).

I wanted to personally thank Mom for getting her daughter to answer all the questions I planned on asking but was not allowed to after the teenager told me she would not talk to me.

FYI: Miranda rights allow a person in police custody not to answer questions. It offers no protection, however, if a non-police person asks the questions when an officer is standing within earshot.

Thanks, MOM.

Occupied Stolen

2008-06-21T00:08:00.003-07:00

I was driving my patrol car last week randomly running license plates on my computer when I heard the distinctive beeping of a stolen vehicle hit. I double checked the plate I entered of the car in front of me and confirmed it was stolen.

I broadcast my location, direction of travel, and description of the car. The rest of my squad responded and I knew they were coming code 3 (lights and sirens) to back me up.

Our standard procedure is to wait for a few other patrol cars to arrive before attempting to pull over the stolen vehicle but the driver quickly turned into a mall parking lot when he saw me behind him. I didn't have time to wait for my backup to arrive but I knew they were close. I didn't want to give the driver a chance to run into the mall so I activated my lights as we entered the parking lot.

My heart started beating double time as I anticipated the possibility of him taking off, bailing out on foot, or even pulling a gun.

I positioned my car tactically behind his, opened my door and sat half-in, half-out of my patrol car with my gun trained on the driver. I kept my sights aligned on him and began shouting my commands:

DRIVER! PUT YOUR HANDS UP! (he complied)
TURN OFF THE IGNITION AND THROW THE KEY OUT YOUR WINDOW (again, he complied).

Just then my Sergeant and another squadmate arrived and took up positions on both sides of me. With three guns pointing at the driver, I continued to give commands. The driver followed my every instruction and was taken into custody without any problems. I then noticed the crowd of shoppers, pedestrians, and other rubber-neckers who were standing downrange watching the felony stop. None of them had the sense to realize they were in the line of fire even though about 8 of us now had guns drawn and pointed toward the suspect (and also at them).

We cleared the car and confirmed it was only occupied by the driver. In a shaky and trembling voice the driver informed me it was his car. He told me he reported it stolen 2 months ago after leaving it parked in a bar parking lot and getting a ride home from a stranger. He then found his car a few days later but never bothered to call police. He had been driving it ever since and never considered telling the police the vehicle was no longer stolen. I guess he assumed we would somehow just know he found his own 'reportedly' stolen car.

***************************************
I recently learned one of my friends has been accepted into the department. He actually graduated from the police academy two classes ahead of me and went to another agency. At the time, his wife wrote a blog of his academy experiences which I read every day in anticipation of my own pending academy enrollment. His blog inspired me to create this one so I owe him and his wife a big thanks for the idea. It didn't work out for him at his first agency so he returned to the civilian world for awhile. It looks like he still had cop in his blood and reapplied with my agency. Unfortunately, his extended time off meant another trip through the academy. Good luck, my friend!! I hope to see you out on the streets soon.

Drive Time

2008-06-08T21:26:00.002-07:00

A fellow officer spotted a car driving at night with slowly creeping down the street with its high beams on. The car was a few inches from the curb and the officer expected it to run up onto the sidewalk at any moment. He ran the license plate and found it did not belong on the car he was following. Anticipating a drunk driver with a possible stolen license plate he called for backup and pulled the driver over in grocery store parking lot.

I arrived a minute later and saw a man in his 50's wearing thick glasses standing next to the driver's door of his car. I asked him what was going on and he told me he was on the way to the bar to meet some friends. He did not have a driver's license so he never bothered registering his car. Instead, he 'borrowed' his girlfriend's license plate and affixed it to his unregistered car. I asked him if he realized what he did was illegal and he was immediately offended at the suggestion:

"All I did was borrow my girlfriend's license plate. What's the big deal?"
"Well, each car is assigned its own plate and these cannot just be placed on any car you want."
"But I needed to use her plate 'cause my car doesn't have one."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't have a driver's license or insurance so there's no reason for me to get a plate."
"There's also no reason you should be driving."
"But I only live a few blocks away and I told my friends I'd meet them at the bar."
"How were you going to get home after you had a few drinks?"
"Uh......in my car."
"Why don't you get a driver's license so you can drive legally?"
"Because I'm legally blind. The MVD won't issue me a license. That's why I was driving slowly next to the curb. To make sure I didn't run into anything."
"Do you realize your headlights were on high-beam?"
"That's because I can't see, I told you!!:
"Instead of borrowing your girlfriend's license plate, why didn't you just drive her car?"
"Because she knows I can't see and her car is a lot nicer than mine and she needs it for work."
"So she thought there was a good chance you'd crash her car and it would be better if you collided into somebody in your less expensive car?"
"I guess so. I should have just taken a ride from my friends when they offered it."

I told him I found it hard to believe a grown man didn't understand driving a car without registration, insurance, or a driver's license, with a fictitious plate, at night while legally blind was illegal and dangerous. His reply:

"C'mon man, can't you just give me a warning and follow me home to make sure I get there safely?"

My reply:
"Negative. . . . . . . . . . . You're being issued citations for no current registration, no insurance, no valid driver license, and intentionally using a fictitious license plate."

*********************************************

It's hard to believe 6 weeks have come and gone since I took on my first trainee. He now moves on to a different Field Training Officer for another six weeks. If all goes well, he'll return to me for his final 2 weeks. I've tried to prepare him the best I could but he's very young and still has an issued with command presence. It's impossible to teach someone confidence, assertiveness, poise or self-assurance. I am hoping these things will come to him as he progresses through the next phase of his training.

You threatening me?

2008-05-12T11:41:00.003-07:00

My second week of training has come and gone. This time, my Officer in Training was evaluated every day on his performance. He is learning quickly but will need to spend some time improving his 'officer presence.' It's not easy to issue commands to strangers (especially when you're 21 and the big, mean 45 year old responds with "What for!!??") I'll be working on boosting his confidence and assertiveness this week.

One of the calls we received was from a frantic woman. She came home to find a threatening message and was fearful for her safety. She directed us to a piece of palm tree bark lying on the ground of her front yard. How would you react if you found this terrifying omen in your yard:

She then explained a tree in her backyard fell down taking a power line with it. There was no damage to anyone else's property but she was convinced the neighbors were upset about the utility company fixing the power lines in her yard. She was certain the coming and going of utility vans were threatening her very existence.

I did my best to assure her people are not typically killed for having electrical workers in their own backyard. I pointed out most assassins are decent spellers and prefer to use more conventional media types than palm trees.

Rookie Week

2008-05-04T00:10:00.002-07:00

One down and five to go.

I just finished "free week" with my trainee. The first week designed to let the OIT get accustomed to the job without having the pressure of being graded or evaluated. I tried to cram as much information into his head as I could without overwhelming him. The next five weeks I will be completing a daily evaluation of his performance. If successful, he'll move on to the next phase of training with a different Field Training Officer. My first priority was making sure he stopped calling me, "Sir."

I tried to explain we were both officers and to please call me by my first name. He did his best but the the police academy regiment kicked in a few times as he addressed me as 'Sir' or 'Officer.'

He's a young, athletic kid with a wholesome look and bit of naivete. He has a solid knowledge of radio codes and street locations but lacks the presence, confidence, and control of a seasoned officer. Hopefully, this will improve over time. I can't remember how I felt during my first week as an Officer in Training but I wouldn't be surprised to hear I too, was a nervous timid little spaz. His biggest obstacle so far is spelling.

I know, spelling is not exactly the top priority when bullets are whizzing past you but it is important to be able to document things accurately. I have a feeling 'spell check' software will be my OIT's most trusted companion.

Our first week together was pretty active. We made several arrests for warrants, shoplifting, and aggravated DUI. It was a productive week that seemed to fly by in no time. In short I'd sum up my first week as an FTO as, "so far, so good."

Training Day

2008-04-27T00:07:00.003-07:00

It's been over 2 years since I graduated from the police academy. On Monday, I will perform my first official duty as an FTO (Field Training Officer) when my OIT (Officer in Training) reports for duty. He'll be assigned to me for the first several weeks and will be graded daily on his performace. New officers are on probation for the first year and are especially vulnerable during the FTO process since they'll be terminated if unable to meet the standard evaluation guidelines.

I drove to the academy to meet him a few days ago. I and several other FTO's from various precincts arrived to introduce ourselves to the newly graduated class of recruits.

As I walked into the room I had a flashback of waiting to meet my FTO. I was nervous and anxious at the same time. I felt confident back then (finishing at the top of my class) but was still concerned about slipping up, looking stupid, or not meeting the expectations of my trainer. I knew there was a big difference between the academic success I had and the 'street smarts' I lacked. I was glad to be assigned to a great FTO who taught me more in 4 weeks than I had learned in 16 at the academy.

I had reviewed my OIT's file before I came to meet him so I knew what he looked like. I read his bio and several essays he had written during the academy. He seemed sharp, enthusiastic, fit, and respectable. When I entered the room I spotted him right away. He and many others were finishing up some paperwork so I stood at the back of the room and waited with the other FTO's. He nervously glanced at the group of us and was surely wondering which one was assigned to him.

I approached, introduced myself and gave him some brief instructions for his first day at the precinct. I felt his apprehension the same way my FTO probably felt mine. We talked for a few minutes and then I was on my way.

When Monday arrives, we'll both be out of our comfort zones. I want to be successful as a trainer and he will be my measuring stick. His ascension to solo-capable officer and performance thereafter will be a direct reflection on my training. It's a strange feeling to be responsible for another officer's safety, learning, and future career. Especially when I still feel like a rookie myself sometimes.

I hope in two more years from now I can boast about the success of my first Officer In Training(and hopefully many others to follow).

A Bit Slow

2008-04-18T16:47:00.001-07:00

A woman wakes up from an afternoon nap and glances at the clock. Her world turns to panic as she realizes her 6 year old son was let out of school half an hour ago. She leaps to her feet, runs to her car and races to the grade school.

She arrives to find the parking lot empty. She knows that any kids not picked up by their parents are escorted to the school office. She runs to the office and finds the door locked. She peers into the window and sees all of the lights off.

Now she realizes her son has been kidnapped or maybe he wandered off into the surrounding neighborhood. She frantically dials 911 and reports her son's kidnapping.

Police race to the school to find her hysterically crying and yelling about her missing son. I tell her to sit down and try to relax. I need to get some information from her to begin a search. She tells me she's been feeling sick lately and overslept. She is convinced he is kidnapped since the office never called her to ask why she didn't pick up her son.

She then tells me, "Maybe I already picked him up. I can't remember. No, I definitely didn't pick him up I would have remembered it."

I ask if she checked her house for him before leaving. She tells me, "No, I saw the time and just ran out of the house."

I take her house key off the key ring and send another officer back to her house to check it.

Mom keeps mumbling, "Did I already pick him up? No, I couldn't have. I'm sure he's missing"

A few minutes later my fellow officer reports over the radio that she has found the kid sitting in his room.

Mom can't believe it but somehow forgot she had picked him up. We drive her home and reunite her with her "missing" son. The boy's father shows up and to our relief, agrees to take him home with him for the weekend.

Business Opportunity

2008-04-14T18:25:00.002-07:00

With the current real estate market woes, sluggish stock market, and whispers of 'recession' in the wind many of us are looking for a legitimate way to make a little extra money. Now this might sound too good to be true but I came across a young lady with what seems to be a pretty good business opportunity.

Here are some of her 'tools of the trade' needed to run her "home-based business."

I was called to a bank located inside a supermarket because a young lady (I'll call her Lisa) was trying to cash a credit card balance transfer check for over $1,000. She provided a state ID card and two paycheck stubs as identification.

The check looked legitimate but the bank teller was suspicious since these kinds of balance transfer checks are rarely given to others and made out to 'cash'. As an added precaution he asked Lisa to provide her fingerprint on the front of the check. She pressed her finger into teh ink pad and then pressed the very tip (or point) of her finger onto the check. This did not leave the necessary fingerprint so the teller told her to do it again using the pad of her finger. Again, she only used the tip of her finger.

Becoming more suspicious, he called the credit card company to verify the check and was told it was authentic. Next he called the account holder to confirm he'd given this check to the nice young lady. "What check?" the man asked. "I just got this credit card and I never received any balance transfer checks. I certainly did not write any checks to anyone."

The teller turned around to see Lisa had already left the building leaving her ID behind. He returned to his work and then called police about an hour later to file a report. While taking the report, Lisa returned and walked right up to the bank counter. She was quickly detained for questioning.

Lisa looked like a typical college student with fair skin and long brown hair. She sat crying in the break room pleading "What's going on? What's happening to me?"

After reading her Miranda rights, I asked her about the check she was attempting to cash. She prefaced her story by telling me how she had a 5 year old daughter, an ex-husband with HIV who was secretly gay during their marriage, and countless other pleas for pity. She then told me she did not know the person listed on the check. In fact, she filled out the check, signed his name on it, and then endorsed the back. She had a perfectly good reason, though: "This is all part of a home based business." She then explained:

She was put on a mailing list (can't remember how or who put her on this list). Soon she (and presumably many other entrepreneurs) received packages in the mail containing blank checks with instructions to cash the checks in any amount desired in any way possible. For her services she was to keep 25% of the proceeds and mail back the remaining 75%. She could not remember who sent the packages or who she mailed the 75% to. She insisted it was a legitimate business sponsored by the credit card companies to "test out their ability to detect fraud". She said she's already cashed a bunch of these checks over the past few months.

The interview was going well. Even though she claimed to be part of a legitimate operation, she used the word "fraud". I told her she was under arrest for forgery and was going to be booked into jail. I conducted a records check on Lisa and found out a Detective was already working several other forgery cases against her.

Inside her car were duffel bags filled with notebooks, credit card statements, passports, driver licenses, blank check paper, tax records, and other personal documents for dozens of people. Between the front seats was a fully loaded shotgun with an extra box of shells.

One of her notebooks had a hand written entry titled, "Alibi"
It went something like this: "If I'm caught by the police, tell them it's a home-based business where credit card companies send blank checks in the mail with instructions to cash them any way possible."
The entry was a few pages long and outlined the whole story Lisa just finished telling me.
This was the first time I've ever heard of a suspect pre-writing an alibi on paper before committing the crime. I would consider this type of evidence "damning" to say the least.

There were other interesting entries including several "To Do" lists with items such as:
-find an apartment
-pick up groceries
-get a handgun and concealed weapons permit
-eliminate paper trail
-plan my next weekly hustle
-obtain passport photos, clear adhesive glue, red blue and blank ink stamps
-buy custom rims

She also had brochures from several legal and criminal seminars offering topics as, 'How not to get caught', and 'Avoiding prosecution', etc. She even had a paper printed from a court website showing the various classes of felonies and the minimum-maximum prison sentence that applied to each (the class of felony for forgery was highlighted in yellow). She obviously put a lot of consideration into her crimes since she knew the possible prison term. I wonder if she realized each separate incident would be its own charge.

The prison sentence for a non-violent class 4 felony (forgery) is 2.5 years. If convicted of (10) counts, however, you're looking at 25 years. She could also be charged with a class 3 felony (aggravated ID theft) which carries a 3.5 year sentence. With the stacks of evidence in her possession, I'm sure the detectives will have plenty to work with.

Alienated

2008-04-02T16:34:00.004-07:00

There's no touchier subject in my city right now than law enforcement's handling of illegal immigrants. The mayor, county sheriff, chief of police, officers, and citizens have widely opinionated and territorial views. A panel of "experts" was recently created to come up with a new policy on how city police officers are to handle the immigration status of those we interact with.

I went to pick up my kids from school today saw a little boy I knew walking out of the school. His name is Ednick and was in my daughter's kindergarten class last year. When I met him he only spoke a few words of English and sat terrified among his classmates. Luckily, a few other students were bilingual and helped translate the teacher's instructions. Ednick was incredibly friendly and had a desire to learn like no other kid in the class. When I came to school in my police uniform a few times, he was mesmerized. When I talked to him, I could see genuine respect and admiration in his eyes. From that day on he always greeted me and would even tell other kids around him proudly, "He's a police!" By the end of that year Ednick was one of the top readers in the class and was well on his way to living the American dream.

As I approached him today, he smiled and opened his arms for the customary hug and knuckle-up greeting. "Hi, Ednick. How are you today?", I asked. "I'm good", he answered. I knew he usually met his grandmother at the school entrance and walked home with her.

"Waiting for your grandma?", I ask.

"No.", he replied sadly. "The police come to my house and take her away to Mexico."

He looked at me sadly and I wondered if he held me accountable in some way. I don't know the circumstances of his gramma's deportation or which law enforcement agency was involved. To a 7 year old, however, all 'police' are the same. I didn't know what to say except, "I'm sorry." How do you explain federal immigration laws to a kid who just saw his gramma hauled away?

It's obviously against the law to enter our country unlawfully (hence the term "Illegal Immigrant") but I have an unsettling feeling when I think about the tougher new deportation standards. I'm not saying it's okay to ignore the laws of this country. In fact, I took an oath to uphold them and have every intention of doing so. But have you ever tried to look at it from their perspective?

What would you do if you were born in an impoverished town with no means of obtaining reliable work, education, or a respectable standard of living? What if you had children, parents, a spouse, siblings, or other family that relied on you for support? Would you risk your life, crossing a desert or paying a human smuggler to transport you to a better place? Although unlawful, I can picture myself doing whatever was necessary to support my family.

One of my fellow officers and personal friend Nick was killed by an illegal immigrant last September. Articles and commentary about his death were sure to relate illegal aliens with soaring crime rates. In my city, illegal alien bashing is a popular bandwagon to jump on. But why didn't the media speak this way about the Officer Cortez murderer. I didn't hear anything in the news about his citizenship (he was a Hispanic U.S. citizen). Why weren't American born Hispanics lambasted for being felons? Why is it certain groups are targeted and vilified when a member of the group commits crime when other times, the perpetrator's background is ignored?

It reminds me of Michael Moore's film 'Bowling for Columbine' about the teenagers that killed fellow high school students in Colorado. The media was quick to blame the rock group Marilyn Manson since this was the music the killers were listening to. Moore points out the killers were also involved in a bowling class in high school. He asked why the media wasn't targeting bowlers for their inclination to become murderers.

The solution to illegal immigration is not an easy one. They're not all bad people. Many times these 'illegals' have rushed to help me push a disabled car out of the roadway in the blazing heat (no 'regular' citizen has ever helped me do this). I've seen generosity, compassion, honesty, and plain old goodness from them.

I don't know what everyone else thinks about when they encounter an illegal immigrant but hre's what I think about:
(7 year-old Ednick) "Mister, tell the other police not to take my gramma away."

Respect for Your Elders

2008-04-01T21:40:00.003-07:00

I received a call of woman trespassing at an apartment complex notorious for crime and drugs. We've been trying to clean the place up lately by arresting everyone on the property without a good reason to be there.

As I pulled up I saw the 50 year old woman sitting in the rocks in front of the main entrance. She was white, skinny, blonde, and filthy. Trash and plastic bags surrounded her and she was holding a crack pipe. Her arms featured scar upon scar of needle tracks and her partially-toothed crystal-meth smile was priceless.

"This isn't my pipe, officer.", she states. "I'm just holding it for a friend."
I tried explaining ownership of drug paraphernalia is determined by the person in possession of it. Her puzzled expression told me she either didn't have a clue what I just said or didn't care.
"But it's not mine. I'm just holding it. I don't even smoke crack anymore. I just use heroin and meth", she advised.

I got her ID and ran her name in my patrol car computer. In a few seconds I heard the familiar and welcomed beeping of a warrant hit. It was for misdemeanor theft but good enough for an arrest (and a surefire way to ensure I wouldn't receive any more calls about her trespassing for the night.)

I placed her in handcuffs and drove toward the police station for booking. She told me she was prostitute up until about 5 years ago and is a heroin addict. A few days prior she bought a cup of coffee and stole a $1 package of doughnuts from a convenience store. She was arrested but didn't show up for her court date (hence the warrant).

She pleaded for me to let her go and offered to give me the locations of several drug houses in the area. I politely declined her offer. She went into a rage about what a terrible cop I was and how I would be fired for arresting a woman on such a simple charge. She then told me if I tried to bring her to jail she would go berserk and it would take a whole fleet of officers to drag her out of the car.

She wasn't kidding.

When I pulled up to the station, she started screaming, kicking, spitting, and flailing around. Two of us carried her inside a placed her in a holding cell. She screamed every profanity I've ever heard (plus a few new ones). She repeatedly insisted she could not breath, was having a heart attack, and was vomiting. At one point she moaned, "I'm dying......I'm dying......" and then quietly, "I just died."

I could see she was not in any need of medical help and told her to stop faking it. She went batty and started slamming her head into the wall (but used her hand to cushion the blow). I then put her in my patrol car and headed for the county jail. I rolled down the rear windows so she could plead for help from passing motorists on the freeway.

"LADY! Help, He's hitting me, He's hurting me, police brutality!"
Since I was driving and she was in the rear seat separated from me by a Plexiglas shield, nobody seemed to believe her claims of being actively assaulted.
"MISTER! Help"
"LADY" "MISTER"

She screamed at everyone she could all the way to the jail. Some people laughed but most were too freaked out to even look at her. She repeatedly told me she was not going into the jail and that she knew all the head honchos of the jail system, city council, and news media. I would lose my job and be made a fool.

Once inside her antics continued. She berated the jail staff (even calling a female lieutenant 'Miss Piggy'). The jail intake nurse asked her if she was taking any prescribed medications. "Yeah, Oxycontin, Methadone, Cocaine, Heroin, Crystal-Meth". In the final search room before being placed in a cell she went for the grand finale.

"LET'S DO THIS!!" she screamed and yanked her pants and underwear to the ground. If you want to know how unsavory the image was, just picture your grandmother as a dirty, homeless, drugged out hooker. Then picture her naked from the waist down.

FTO school

2008-03-29T22:06:00.003-07:00

I completed the 2 day Field Training Officer school and am now certified. In a few weeks I'll be moving to a new training squad and will soon have my first OIT (Officer In Training). During the school I had the pleasure of sitting next to a mouth breather. You know, the kind of person that keeps a wide open mouth all the time when simple nostril air breathing would suffice.

I found it hard to concentrate on the instructor's lecture as this guy's breathing became louder and smellier. The air surrounding us became damp and and stale. At the end of each yawn, he was sure to bellow out a long and forceful blast of breath (like when you were a kid and tried to 'see' your breath on a cold morning).

Just when I became used to the smell we had our first break. Imagine my delight when my partner returned to his chair with a fresh wad of chewing tobacco in his lip. Now, the smell of rancid chew filled the air. The sounds of loud breathing were replaced by the constant spitting of tobacco juice into a paper cup.

He eventually fell asleep which allowed me to concentrate on the lesson.

Dogs and Dragons

2008-03-17T10:33:00.003-07:00

This guy bailed out of a stolen car and started jumping backyard fences in a residential neighborhood. The K-9 sniffed him out in a tool shed. Instead of coming out as ordered, he decided to take a fighting stance and challenge the dog.

As the police dog charged, this tough guy swung a wild punch trying to hit the dog. As the punch missed the dog, the arm was now perfectly positioned in front of his body for a vicious bite. The dog clamped down and violently shook the suspect to the ground. He cried all the way to the hospital.

If you decide to fight a police dog while shirtless, be advised the 'scary' dragon tattoo will offer no protection.

FTO
In other news, I recently interviewed for the position of Field Training Officer (FTO) and was selected with 4 others. I'll be attending FTO school in a week and will the be transferred to a new squad. I'll be training rookie officers fresh out of the academy.

Now that took balls

2008-03-10T11:04:00.003-07:00

After a night of heavy drinking, a 31 year old man returned to his gated apartment complex and looked forward to sleeping off his inebriation. As he approached the mechanical gate he realized he did not have his access key.

'No problem', he thought. 'I'll just climb over the six foot metal fence and head for my apartment.' It doesn't take an engineering degree to figure out the spear-head tips are meant to discourage people from climbing upon them. As he prepared to scale the fence, he forgot to consider (3) very important factors:

1. Alcohol consumption impairs balance and agility.
2. Baggy shorts are not ideal for fence climbing.
3. Testicles are fragile and defenseless in the 'straddle' position.

As most you have already guessed, this stunt ended very badly. He made it to the top of the fence but as he attempted to swing one leg over to the other side, he lost his balance and fell. His baggy shorts were snagged and ripped by the pointed fence tip. To his despair, the shorts were not the only thing ripped during the fall. He staggered home, changed into a pair of less bloody underwear, and went to bed.

Twelve hours later, his mother came to check on him after several phone calls to him went unanswered. She found son on the couch unable to move due to the incredible pain. The fire department was summoned and inspected the wound. Fearing post traumatic stress syndrome, I chose not to look at the injury. The firefighter described it as "His nutsack is ripped open, like a filet, and his testicles are falling out."

The guy's mother believed he was the victim of some kind of knife attack from a sexual partner. He insisted the only attacker was the iron fence. His shorts appeared to confirm his version:

My new ride

2008-03-04T14:12:00.003-07:00

"When's the soccer game?", one of my squadmates asks. I have just parked my white minivan in the parking lot of the police station and am heading in for briefing. My fellow officer catches up with me and continues the light-hearted insults. "How many kids do you have -10?" "How many soccer balls can you load in that thing?"

He's a muscular and handsome guy who stands about 5 foot 6 inches tall so I answer his jabs with my own comments: "How many clowns come streaming out of your car with you during the show?", and, "How many phone books do you need to sit on to see out the windshield?"

After my shift I began to think about getting a new vehicle. The minivan has served me well but it's getting up there in miles and it's about time to upgrade. As I ponder my choices I think of all the masculine trucks and SUV's my fellow officers drive. This could be my chance to change my image of "soccer-mom cop" to "regular cop".

On my night off, I load the kids into the minivan for their final drive and head to the car dealership. I'm feeling nostalgic and take a final picture of my trusty steed:

Now I peruse the endless parking lot sea of trucks and SUV's and compare prices, options, and safety features. Finally, I have made a decision on a new vehicle. After careful consideration about my image as a police officer I have selected:
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Another minivan.

I am not ashamed. I love the comfort, practicality, passenger and cargo loads, and safety of the good ol' minivan.

The next day as I parked my minivan at the police station, the same fellow officer approached with astonishment, "Another minivan?"
"You know it", I answer.
"Well, at least this one isn't white. I guess you're not a soccer mom anymore."

Returning to Work

2008-03-02T11:10:00.003-07:00

Well, I've had the last 13 days off which is the longest stretch of time I've been off work. My wife and new baby are doing fine so it's time to dust off the uniform and hit the streets. Tonight will be a trial run for my wife handling the little one alone. If all goes well, she'll let me return to work.

I'm anxious to see how big the criminal element swelled in my beat while I was away. If it's too rough, I have a plan to rid the area of malcontents by using a few 'leftovers' from home. Equipped with an arsenal of dirty diapers, sour breast milk, and projectile vomit, the bad guys don't stand a chance.

Outgunned

2008-02-20T14:32:00.003-07:00

I know I said I'd update my blog more regularily but I have a good excuse for not posting in awhile. My wife and two daughters didn't feel it was enough to have a family made up of 75% females so another daughter was introduced on Saturday. Now that the girls outnumber me 4 to 1, I'm hopelessly outgunned.

Baby Lily says, "Hi"

Mom and baby are doing fine and I've taken a few weeks off of work to help with the little one. I haven't been this sleep deprived since the academy but all will be well.

Birthday Surprise

2008-02-11T10:43:00.000-07:00

Emergency call: "Vehicle on fire, people possibly trapped inside."
I activate my lights and sirens and dash to the scene of a potentially life threatening situation.

From several blocks away I can see a column of black smoking rising. I hope the occupants are out of the car but brace myself for the worst.

I arrive to find a crowd of people gathered around the burning vehicle. The fire department is dousing the flames and everyone inside has gotten out safely.

Through the smoke and steam I see the prancing horse logo on a yellow background indicating what type of car this is: A Ferrari.

As the crowd swells, I see people cheering, laughing, dancing and taking pictures with camera phones. Not since O.J. was found not-guilty have I seen such an elated outpouring of sheer joy and excitement from the common man. The low income citizens in the crowd were in a near frenzied riot of happiness. They slapped high fives, raised double fists in victory, and jumped around as if they'd won the lottery. It was a clear example of how some people revel in the defeat of others (especially the wealthy).

I was told by the driver it was his birthday and a wealthy former NFL player loaned him the $150,000 Ferrari convertible to celebrate his special day. The celebration, however, was a bit different than he expected.

**********************************************************************************

Here's a computer message sent to officers to BOLO "Be On Look Out" for an armed robbery suspect. I put up with a lot for my job but I'm not going to touch a gun after it's been in some guy's butthole or is covered in human excrement:

Lost and Found

2008-02-06T22:50:00.000-07:00

Most honest people know if an item of value is found, it is their duty to turn it in to police. I've seen countless good samaritans bring in purses, wallets, jewelry, and even cash. We are happy to accept these items and make every attempt to locate the rightful owners. Although we encourage people to turn in found property and unwanted itmes such as firearms or ammunition, there are some things we are less than pleased to accept.

A few weeks ago an elderly man was cleaning out his storage shed and found a box of old electrical looking things. He didn't know what to do with them so he walked into our precinct and handed over the box to the desk aid. She placed it on the counter in the main area of our building and waited for an officer to properly impound the items. I was in the middle of briefing with my squad when a Lieutenant burst in and commanded, "Everyone out! We're evacuating the building immediately." As officers and support personnel emptied out of the building we were told of the contents of the box brought in by the old man: Blasting Caps.

These devices are small explosives used to detonate larger explosives like TNT. The blasting caps themselves are dangerous because they can explode when in contact with fire, electricty, or impact. We had to wait outside until the bomb squad arrived to safely remove the small explosives.

Another helpful citizen was hiking in a nearby mountain preserve. After summiting on a very popular trail, he decided to do a little exploring off the beaten path. He strolled through the desert scrub looking for different plants and wildlife when he stumbled upon a more rare item; A human jawbone.

Instead of marking the location and notifying police of a potential homicide crime scene he picked up the jawbone, wrapped it in his fleece jacket and drove to the police precinct to deliver his find. We took possession of the bone but prompted the man to lead us to the spot on the mountain where he found it.

Tips for Burglar Alarm Owners

2008-02-04T13:41:00.000-07:00

If you have valuables in your home like jewelry, computers, or electronics, it may be a good idea to install a burglar alarm. That way, if you're away and someone breaks into your home, the alarm company will dispatch police to investigate.

When we arrive at a house with a tripped alarm and see a broken window or open door, it is our duty to enter the home and try to catch any burglars in the act.

TIP#1: If the 'valuables' you are trying to protect are drugs, cash, and guns, a monitored burglar alarm may not be such a great idea.

Why? Well, after officers enter the home to ensure nobody's inside, what do you think happens when we see drugs, pipes, marijuana plants, sawed-off shotguns, and bundles of cash lying around in plain view?

Just ask the 36 year old woman that drove up to her house to find it full of cops looking for a burglar.

"What's going on?", she asks.
"Do you live here?"
"Yes, this is my house" (wrong answer)
"Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

TIP #2: If you are going to rush home after the alarm company calls your cell phone and tells you police are on the way to investigate a break-in, you might want to rid yourself of the baggies of Meth, the handgun, and the large wad of cash in your pockets before you ask the police, "What's going on?"

TIP #3: What if you are a drug dealer and want to protect your contraband, illegal weapons, and bundles of cash from your drug-using customers or rival drug dealers? I recommend a secure fence, dead bolt locks, metal security doors and maybe a vicious dog or two. I've also heard it may be helpful to quit smoking crack and pursue a high school education in order to find a legitimate way to make a living.

New York Frankie

2008-01-30T10:02:00.000-07:00

There's a pizza parlor in my beat owned by a guy named Frankie. Frankie is an authentic "New Yorker": A great guy and one of the biggest supporters of police I've met. The walls of his restaurant are decorated with police patches from all different agencies and he had a small memorial for one of his officer-regulars that died last year.

Too bad his decision making isn't as great as his pizza making. Here's a few stories I like to tell about my friend Frankie.

THE PLATE
A long time back he was telling another officer and me about a suspicious car that parked at the far end of his parking lot several nights a week. The driver sat in his car for hours at a time. Frankie didn't know why the driver did this and asked us what he should do. The other officer told him, "Next time the car is parked there and it seems suspicious, get the license plate and we can investigate it."

A few weeks later we stopped in for a visit and a slice of pizza. Frankie became excited and started fidgeting behind the counter. Then he holds up a metal license plate and proudly exclaims, "Here's the license plate you told me to get. I had to sneak up and take it off while the guy left his car for a few minutes."

The other officer's jaw dropped. "I meant get the NUMBER of the license plate, not the actual thing." he nervously replied (thinking about being an accomplice to theft.) "C'mon Frankie, now I've got to return this to the owner and do report."

"Oh, sorry." replied a disappointed Frankie. "I thought you wanted the plate."

THE ALARM
Another time my partner and I were at Frankie's and he was proudly showing off his new alarm system. The windows and doors were now equipped with the typical burglary sensors but he was most proud of his new armed robbery panic button. He explained how this expensive feature would allow one of his workers to trip the panic button ensuring a rapid response from the police.

We told him we well aware of these and how we respond to them all the time from banks and check cashing stores.

"Watch this!", Frankie announced, and slammed the button on the wall.

My partner and I looked at each other anticipating the emergency armed robbery call that would be broadcast over the radio in the next minute or so. We readied our radios to answer the broadcast quickly so no other units would speed to the scene.

We waited a few minutes. Then a few more. Then a few more. No emergency call. Frankie could hear our radio and could tell his alarm was not working. After fifteen minutes we finally got the radio call..... "Armed robbery alarm -coming from keypad panic" My partner responded that we were on scene and everything was okay.

Well, not for Frankie, that is. He launched into a tirade of curses about the alarm company and how much money it cost him. He was on the phone immediately with the alarm service cussing out some poor phone representative. We waved goodbye and heard Frankie screaming, "Fifteen f**cking minutes! I'd be dead by then! I paid good money for this....! What's the point of a panic button if it takes you guys fifteen minutes to notify the police!

The next time we were in I asked if the alarm company refunded his money. "No, they fixed the panic button instead." He walked towards the wall where the button was mounted.
"Watch this", he said.
"NO!!!!" my partner and I yelled in unison.

THE TOW
One night Frankie told me about a car that had been left in the parking lot for months. He wanted it towed and asked what to do. I asked him if the property had a contract with a towing company to remove abandoned vehicles. "No", he replied.

I explained that police only towed vehicles that were left in the roadway, blocking a driveway, in an alley, etc. that posed a hazard to other vehicles or blocked public access.

Frankie nodded in understanding and we moved on to a different topic of conversation.

On my way out the door Frankie asks me, "After I push that car out into the street, do I call 911 or the non-emergency number?"

With a sigh I re-enter the store to have another chat with Frankie.

Drenched

2008-01-28T00:37:00.000-07:00

I don't know how you Seattlites do it -living in all that rain. It hardly ever rains in my city but when it does it's usually quick bursts of summer Monsoon downpours.

Today was one of those rare winter rain storms in the desert city. I was soaked just responding to a few calls early in my shift. Then, the power went out at a few major intersections rendering them black voids of vehicular madness. After parking 4 patrol cars strategically around one intersection with lights flashing, you'd think drivers would have the notion to slow down and cautiously await direction from us officers. Well, it wouldn't be that exciting of a job if there weren't any idiots driving. It was a miracle no cars collided considering the number of times they encroached upon each other from all 4 directions while we screamed in vain for them to stop.

I now know why the phrase "seeing the light" has Godly connotations 'cause once the traffic signals and street lights came back on I found myself rejoicing the Savior.

I listened to an officer shooting unfold over the radio from another part of the city. I switched to the appropriate channel the second I heard the dreaded emergency tone and the dispatcher announcing "9-9-8".
The officer was breathing heavily and announced, "I don't think I'm hit. I fired back."
I could tell he was running and then he started screaming the direction the shooter was running:

"Northbound on 55 avenue!! Has a silver revolver!! He just got into a red 4-door newer model car!! A Ford Taurus, I think!! Get the air unit and a K-9!! Responding units: Car turned west on Campbell!! He's on the passenger side!!"

He was trying to keep up on foot and was starting to lose his breath while running and screaming.

I could hear each of the responding units give their call sign over the sound of their sirens. I knew they were only seconds away.

Then I heard from one of the responding units, "I've got a maroon Taurus stopped at the red light." Another unit arrived to back him up. "He's not stopping."

I listened intensely and pictured the whole scene unfolding in my mind. Then I heard the distinctive beep of an emergency button engaged on a police radio. This allows the officer to speak for 30 seconds without interruption and without the need to manually keep the talk key depressed on the radio.

I could hear him and other officers screaming at the suspect and other occupants of the car to get on the ground and not move. My heart raced at the thought of a shootout but I soon calmed when I heard officers take the suspects into custody. The original officer came to the scene of the vehicle stop and identified the passenger as the one who shot at him.

It was a huge relief to hear nobody was hurt. The officer couldn't have reacted any more perfectly. He had the nerve to chase down his would-be killer, broadcast the direction of travel and accurate vehicle description all within seconds of being shot at. He coordinated the position and direction of responding units which ensured his capture. Most of all he did everything possible to ensure he returned home to his family that night and ensured the wanna-be cop killer didn't return to the community.

That's professor-officer gary to you, pal

2008-01-24T20:04:00.000-07:00

I know I haven't been posting very frequently on my blog lately but I've vowed to make a better effort. I was sent to a hospital last week to check up on some painters who fell off a high scaffolding unit. One of the workers was okay but the other was in critical condition and not expected to live. After the detective arrived to take over, I swung by my old employer to check in on my fellow ex-coworkers.

I had not been back to the corporate cubicle world for over two years but it seemed just like yesterday when I walked in. I think they were shocked to see me drop in unexpectantly in my uniform. I received a very warm welcome and felt a bit nostalgic. Many of them mentioned their appreciation for my blog and asked why I hadn't updated it lately. I guess I'm getting used to the job cause most of my nights seem unworthy of a blog entry. My wife and friends, however, still seem anxious to hear my stories (even the ones I think are boring).

With this boost of encouragement from my former coworkers, I'll make a better effort to update the blog more regularly.

GENERAL INSTRUCTOR
My two year anniversary from academy graduation arrived and I was finally able to take the state certified 'General Instructor' course. This 40 hour course is required in order to teach the multitude of specialized courses to others (like firearms, driving, defensive tactics, etc.)

The class was made up mostly of officers from different agencies with a few civilians. We were required to get up in front of the class and give a 2 minute impromptu speech about ourselves. Most of us did okay but a few speakers were terrified. It's ironic we've entered a career steeped with moments of terror, panic, and fear and willingly run TOWARDS gunfire but have trouble talking in front of 15 peers.

The class gradually built up our speaking abilities and climaxed with a 20 minute presentation on the final day. I used my prior knowledge of finance to talk about participating in our employer retirement plan. I think I successfully scared enough of them into signing up for the plan later that day.

I felt sorry for the instructor as he had to listen to presentation after presentation of motorcycles, ATV's, guns, ammunition, and fishing. He's been doing this for about 15 years and must have heard these topics a million times.

Now that I've completed the class, I'm certified to teach at the academy. It's hard to believe I'm eligible to be an instructor at the same academy I feel like I just left.

Live and Let Live

2008-01-10T00:34:00.000-07:00

I was on my way to take photographs of a minor crime scene when a shooting call was broadcast in my area. I was about 3 minutes away and raced to the scene. Witnesses called 911 to report a man shooting at a woman in an apartment complex parking lot.

I pulled onto the street behind my Sergeant and saw a body lying on the ground next to a parked vehicle. A car pulled up with a security guard who witnessed the incident. A Hispanic male just shot a woman 5 times; he left north into the apartment complex; he's wearing black shorts, a black t-shirt over a white t-shirt and has white shoes.

The helicopter is soon overhead as my squad mates take up perimeter positions all around the complex. A K9 officer arrives with his dog to begin a search. The security guard stays with me as I move to a corner perimeter position. He tells me how he saw a couple fighting in an SUV as it drove down the road. At a stoplight, the female passenger tried to get out of the SUV but the male driver pulled her back in by the hair. She screamed for help but the driver took off before anyone could do anything. The security guard followed them to the apartment complex. The driver got out of the vehicle, went around to the passenger side and opened her door. He leaned in, hugged her, and caressed her face. "Everything will be all right." he assured her.

He then took two steps back, pulled a handgun and shot her 4 or 5 times. The security guard feared for his life and drove off when the shooting started.

As I try to calm him down and get more details, the K9 officer comes over and asks the witness again for a description of the shooter. The security guard gives the description and the K9 officer seems somewhat relieved.

"What's up?" I ask the officer.
"Looks like the shooter did himself in."

The body I saw on the ground turned out to be the shooter himself. After killing the girl, he put a bullet in his own head. I took the guard over to the scene where he positively identified the dead male as the shooter.

When the detectives arrived I was able to get a close up look at the victim and the killer. She was slumped over in the passenger seat of the SUV with multiple fatal gunshot wounds. The young man had a large exit wound near his right temple. A handgun rested on the ground between his knees. They appeared to be in their early twenties.

The news media arrived soon after and set up multiple live broadcasts from the scene. News vans, lights, reporters, and cameramen massed outside the crime scene tape I strung from my patrol car.

I couldn't imagine how a relationship could end like this. The New Year is a time for change, resolution, and renewal. I found myself wondering if her New Year resolution was to improve her life by breaking up with this guy. If so, it's a shame they way he responded. Why can't people just live their own life and let others do the same?

Worst Christmas Ever

2007-12-31T11:50:00.000-07:00

The day after Christmas, a 45 year old man decided to plan a surprise visit to his mother. The man loaded up his wife and four kids and drove into town from California. His 77 year old mother had no idea he was coming and would surely be surprised to see her son and grand kids.

After the long drive, he walked up the driveway to mom's house and knocked on the front door. The anticipation of the surprise was building and he couldn't wait to see the look on her face. After his unanswered knocks the family walked around to the backyard of the house to try the rear door. His wife looked in the large window and saw the sitting in a chair bent forward with her head on her knees. She wasn't moving.

"Kids -get back in the car: Now!"

The man and his wife went inside to find her dead in her sitting chair. She was wearing only a pair of underwear. Lividity (settling of blood near the skin) had set in making her face, hands, and feet a dark bluish color.

Nobody likes to see a dead body close up but imagine the shock of finding your mother this way.
Obviously, the family was terribly upset and distraught over their holiday 'surprise'.

Officer Scrooge

2007-12-17T11:06:00.000-07:00

Awhile back I drove into the parking lot of a Sprout's grocery store for my usual restroom break and snack purchase. As I walked up to the front doors I saw a small SUV parked in the handicap space.

I looked for a disabled parking placard on the dashboard and on the rear view mirror but did not see one. The vehicle was running and I could see an adult sitting in the rear seat. I opened the rear door to ask the woman if she had a disabled parking placard. The woman stared at me blankly and did not answer due to her inability to comprehend or speak English. A 6 year old girl was in a car seat next to the woman so I asked her if she understand me. The girl did not answer and looked away.

I wrote a citation for parking in the handicap parking space and was about to place it on the driver's door when a woman walked out of the store carrying a few bags of groceries.
"What are you doing?", she asked me.
"Writing a citation for parking in a disabled parking space without a permit."
"But my daughter is autistic."
"Do you have a disabled parking permit?"
"No, but I only went in for a few minutes to get some thing for my daughter."
"I'm sorry, but you need to have a permit to park in this space. Here's your citation."

Fast forward a few months to a downtown courtroom where the driver has requested a trial to challenge the citation.

We are sworn in and I sit at the plaintiff table while the woman and another woman she has brought as a witness sit at the defense table. The judge asks to present my case first:

"Your honor, on the date and location listed in the complaint I saw a Honda CRV parked in a clearly marked disabled parking space without the required disability permit placard. I contacted an adult passenger in the car and asked her about the permit but she did not speak English. A child seated in the backseat also did not respond to my question. As I completed the citation, the vehicle owner came out of the store and told me her daughter was autistic. The child remained in the car the entire time the driver was shopping. I issued her a parking violation citation."

The judge then turned to the woman and asked, "Do you have any questions for the officer?" She nodded and began her brutal cross-examination:

"Officer, did you see the 'I love an autistic child bumper' sticker on my car?"
-"No."
"Was my child screaming or acting erratic in any way?"
-"No."
"Did you see an open handicap parking spot next to where I parked?"
-"Not that I remember."
"If I brought my daughter into the store, wouldn't you agree it would be difficult and strenuous?"
-"I'm not familiar with your daughter's behavior and could not predict how she would have acted."
"No more questions."

She then told her side of the story:
"My daughter is autistic and needs a special diet of goat's milk, goat yogurt, and goat cheese. She's a flight risk so I always need to have a adult with her. I parked in the handicap space because if she got out of control I need to be able to see her from inside the store. There weren't any other close places to park and I was only shopping for few minutes."
She showed the judge a temporary disable parking permit she obtained after being cited. She then told the judge through an outburst of tears she didn't apply for the permit earlier because she hoped the girl would get better on her own.

Her witness was the child's behavior specialist and testified the girl was difficult to handle so her mother needed to park close to the door in order to get her into and out of the car safely.

The judge was moved by the emotional plea but knew he had no choice but to find her responsible. Trying to make me the bad guy he stated, "Well, you did commit the violation and I'm required to impose a minimum fine of $250. I have to find you responsible, UNLESS, the officer wishes not to proceed."

And there it was. He called me out. The judge, defendant, and courtroom filled with citizens and officers all looking at me with anticipation of my response.

A woman crying about her poor sick daughter being victimized by the mean old police officer. I don't think she is a bad person and I feel for her situation but I didn't agree with the way she handled this. She never took responsibility or apologized for her action. She used her daughter as an excuse and pleaded for sympathy and pity. I thought of the people with actual physical disabilities that need to park in the designated spaces and how many times they've thanked me when they saw me issuing these tickets.

"Officer, do you wish to proceed with this matter?", the judge asked in a way that suggested I drop the case.

"Your honor, the defendant intentionally parked in a disabled parking space without a permit. I feel for her situation but her daughter never left the car while it was parked there. The defendant's own witness testified the reason for parking close is to control the girl while getting in or out of the car. Since the child remained in the car, there was no reason to park in that space. I don't believe the defendant has a reasonable excuse to park there and believe the citation is justified."

The judge found her responsible and ordered her to pay the fine. This was the first time a guilty verdict did not inspire a feeling of elation in me. This close to Christmas, I wondered if I should have just let her off the hook and dropped the case but something inside me wanted her to be accountable.

A word of advice to those of you caught in a minor offense: Take responsibility for your action, show regret, and don't make up excuses. You'll almost always get off with a warning.

When I'm 63

2007-12-12T18:19:00.000-07:00

A common call I handle is from Taxi cab drivers with passengers that refuse to pay for the ride. Usually, these minor disputes are handled quickly when police arrive. Many times, drunk passengers don't have enough (or any) money to pay for the ride but can usually find a friend or relative to cover the shortfall.

The other night I took one such call. 'Mohammed' the cab driver picked up an senior citizen from a bustling restaurant and drove her about 8 miles to her home. The woman wanted cigarettes and cash so asked him to stop at a convenience store. The first store didn't have an ATM so they made 2 more stops before arriving home.

The driver quoted a fee of $20 and the woman was outraged. She stormed off into her house and shut the door without paying.

When I arrived, the cab driver told me the story. I then walked up to her door and knocked. The woman answered the door with a phone to her ear. She was on the line with the Taxi company complaining about being overcharged. She hung up the phone and launched into rambling complaint about cab fares. I say 'rambling' because her story was excessively long, contained numerous irrelevant observations, and repeated the phrase, "I'm a 63 year old woman" at least 80 times.

I felt great relief when she stopped talking: For a perceived end to the lecture and for the lack of a nearby open flame that surely would have ignited an inferno from the alcoholic content of her breath.

I tried to explain to her that refusing to pay for the ride she received was theft. She would hear none of it. Trying to reason with the heavily intoxicated is never pleasant. They don't hear a word you say and are incapable of accepting criticism or responsibility.

I was able to get these facts from her:
She was at a company party and had $15 in her purse when she called the taxi.
She is a 63 year old woman.
She asked him to stop at a few places to get cash but none of the ATM's were working.
She takes a taxi to work every day and is used to being charged about $13 to $15.
She is a 63 year old woman.
She claimed the driver wanted $25 but she only paid him what she felt was fair: $15.
She was kidnapped by the driver, feared for her life, and was traumatized.
She does not drink alcohol and I could even call her friends and ask them if I don't believe it.
She is a 63 year old woman.

She then offered the following solution: "You get the taxi driver's supervisor here and if he can justify the fare of $25; I'll pay it."

I asked the driver to call his supervisor who advised he'd be there in 20 minutes.

While waiting for the supervisor, I asked to woman to look in her purse to verify how much money she had. She pulled out $15. Since she told me earlier she only had $15 to start with and didn't get any cash at the 3 stops, it seemed apparent she didn't pay the driver anything. My attempt of explaining grade school math (you can't have $15, use that $15 as payment, and still have $15 left over) were in vain. She angrily refuted, "All I know is that I paid him $15."

Then she complained I didn't take her kidnapping accusation seriously. After confirming she was "traumatized" and "in fear of her life", I asked why she didn't call 911 to report the violent felony. "Because I needed the phone to call the cab company and didn't have time to call police!"

The driver's supervisor arrived but all hope of a mutual agreement was lost when I listened to the following exchange:
"Ma'am, did you look at the fare meter when the ride was over?", he asked.
"He didn't even use a meter."
"Yes he did. The meter is installed in plain view and is still running."
"Well, I'm a 63 year old woman!"
"O.K., but the driver charges the fare displayed in the meter. Since you asked him to make three stops, the meter continued to run."
"I know my rights and as a legal citizen will not pay."

I could see this going nowhere so I gave her a final ultimatum: Pay the driver for the service he provided, or be cited for theft.

"Listen to me, young man! I could be your grandmother.", She announced.
"No, my grandmother would never act this way.", I replied.
After a brief pause, I asked, "Are you going to pay for the ride or not."

"NO!" She shook her fist a few inches in front of my face while holding a pen. Fearing an accidental or intentional eye puncture, I gently grasped her wrist and moved her arm away from me. She demanded my name, badge number and police report number. "I'd be happy to provide that info, I just need to get it out of my car and will be with you in a minute."

I returned a few minutes later with a citation written out for theft of services.
"My name and badge number are on the bottom of the ticket", I explained.
"The police report number is on the top, and your scheduled court date is listed below. You are being charged with one count of theft of services, a class 3 misdemeanor", I continued.
"Now will you please sign the bottom of the ticket? It's not an admission of guilt but a promise to appear for your court date?", I finished.
"But I'm a 63 year old woman: I won't sign it."
"All right." I wrote 'served' on the citation and gave her the appropriate copies. "Don't forget to attend your court hearing or a warrant will be issued for your arrest."

I sensed an impending tongue-lashing and made my exit just as a new volley of nonsense erupted from her mouth. "You can provide all that information to the judge. Good night.", I said and quickly escaped to my patrol car.

The woman called my police station for the next several hours and tried to complain to every Sergeant available. Each one of them was stuck on the phone for an eternity listening to the same babbling nonsense I experienced.

As I left the station at 2:30 a.m., I could hear a Sergeant on the phone saying, "I know you're a 63 year old woman, you've told me that several times -now what is your complaint about the officer?"

I've seen better taze

2007-12-04T17:15:00.000-07:00

When a cook at a country club was fired, he decided he wasn't leaving. The head chef explained his employment was terminated but the stubborn cook kept saying, "I'm not leaving -I'm going to work today." The chef called police and I arrived a few minutes later along with a female officer on my squad.

We walked into the kitchen and saw a young man wearing a chef's coat standing in a narrow aisle of stainless steel tables and a wall of industrial sized ovens. In his had was a large butcher knife and a few other long knives. I told him it was time to leave but asked him to first set his knives down on the table (we officers don't make it a habit of walking next to disgruntled ex-employees with deadly weapons in their hand.) The cook signalled his refusal by shaking his head.

I commanded in a louder and more stern voice to set the knives down on the table. Again, he refused. My third attempt to get him to comply was done with two tasers pointed at his chest. The cook looked down at the two red laser dots on his chest beaming from my partner and my tasers.

"OK", he snapped angrily and tossed his knives on the table.

We holstered our Tasers and I told him, "Now step away from the table and we'll all walk out of her together.

"NO!"

"Yes, it's time for you to leave."

Since the knives were within his reach my partner stepped forward and positioned herself between him and the knives.

I stepped forward to make sure he was going to leave peacefully.

He responded by slapping and pushing my hands away from him. His active aggression and non-compliance dictated a swift response. My partner and I attempted to grab onto him and he started flailing his arms and trying to shove us aside. I could feel the heat emanating from the large ovens next to me and didn't want anyone to get burned so we took him down to the rubber mat covering the floor.

He tried to break free from us and kept yelling, "NO! Get away!". We repeated told him to stop resisting and to put his hands behind his back. He refused to put his hands behind his back and kicked me and my partner in the legs. I took out my Taser, removed the cartridge containing the metal barbs and applied the contacts to his hip. "Stop fighting or I'm going to Tase you!", I commanded. "NO!", he refused.

Usually, a "full ride" of 5 seconds is applied from the Taser but I tried my best to get him to stop resisting and only gave him a 2-second charge. "OKAY!" he shouted and started to put his hands behind his back. He then got up attempting to shake me and my partner off of him. She fell backwards and he started to charge down the aisle but I was able to coax him back to the ground with a longer charge of the Taser applied to the Trapezoid muscle on top of his shoulder. This was enough to convince him it was time to stop fighting.

We lead him out of the kitchen and into the back of a patrol car. He escalated his misdemeanor trespassing charge into 1 count of resisting arrest and 2 counts of aggravated assault on a peace officer.

Later, an employee mentioned to us he was ex-military and said after being fired, "I have M-16 training and you'll be sorry." I think he'll be the sorry one after learning the consequences of fighting the police.

Lady in the White Mercedes

2007-11-30T10:51:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I was sent to the parking garage of an exclusive resort where a woman was sitting in her white Mercedes with the engine running. A garden hose was protruding from the exhaust pipe leading into the rear window. A citizen approached the woman and asked what she was doing. The woman replied she was fine and asked to be left alone. The citizen yanked the hose out of the tailpipe and the woman drove off. The person memorized the license plate and called police.

By the time I arrived with another officer, the woman was gone but we looke up her address using the license plate number. We drove to her house and found her inside relaxing on a couch. Her husband answered the door and we told him what had just happened with his wife. He nodded his head and told us she had been suffering from severe depression and was under a doctor's care. He called her psychiatrist and assured us he would get her the help she needed. The whole time we were there the woman kept repeating, "It's just a misunderstanding. I'm fine." They did not want any assistance from us or from the fire department so we left them to work out their problems.

Last night I heard an attempted suicide call come over the radio but I was en route to a car theft in progress so I didn't hear all the details. After I was finished with my auto theft call I was asked to come take photographs of the suicide scene.

As I pulled up to the dead end street in an upscale desert community, I immediately recognized the older white Mercedes. I could see two garden hoses coming out of the rear window connected to the car's exhaust pipe. There was crime scene tape strung around the car and nearby desert area. As I approached I saw a white towel on the ground outside the driver's door and a large pool of blood. A pair of women's shoes and glasses were placed neatly on the ground next to the towel.

Two homicide detectives were on the scene conducting an unknown death investigation. They told me a resident found the woman sitting in her car with the engine running. She saw the hoses and went back inside her house and called police. When officers arrived they found her lying on the ground with a gunshot wound to the head. A search of her car revealed a two page suicide note, a handgun case, a box of ammunition, and a receipt for the gun purchase. A separate receipt showed she paid for a one hour shooting lesson at an indoor range. The gun and lesson were purchased earlier in the day.

As I took photographs of the scene, the woman's cell phone rang again and again. The detective verified the missed calls were from her husband and children. Officers and a Sergeant drove to the victim's house to notify her husband of her death. He answered the door and asked stoically, "Is this about my wife?". The officers replied, "Yes." He then asked, "Is she dead?" and the he was told, "Yes." He was not surprised since she had apparently attempted this many times in the past. Their teenage children were very upset by the news even though they were aware of their mom's depression and history with suicide attempts.

I'll never understand what makes a person want to take their own life. From outward appearances, this woman seemed to have a good life. It's a shame she wasn't able to conquer whatever demons she had inside her. It's another her husband and kids will probably associate the holiday season with her unexplainable death.

7 Things to Be Thankful For

2007-11-20T16:13:00.001-07:00

This is the time of year when we all give thanks. In case you're having trouble coming up with some blessings of your own, here are 7 things I've come across recently:

1. Be thankful you don't have to stand in front of wall in a vacant lot everyday at sunset to soak up the sun's setting rays for "longer life":

2. Be thankful if you don't end up in the county jail's rubber-walled safe room with amenities such as the hole in the floor toilet system:

3. Be thankful you're not compelled to decorate the trunk of your car with a cryptic message about dating and a bitter divorce:

4. Be thankful your drunk girlfriend doesn't always throw a 24 ounce drinking glass at your face requiring 20 stitches to close the gaping hole in your cheek. (Also be thankful if same boyfriend doesn't retaliate by fracturing your nose with a punch to the face). Both went to the hospital together and then to the county jail for domestic violence assault but promised to mend their differences with a nice trip to Las Vegas.

5. Be thankful you're not the franchise owner of this Long John Silvers restaurant that was stripped of every ounce of copper wiring, pipe, and fixtures. And to keep with their destructive talents, the theives smashed all the toilets, sinks, and equipment for kicks:

6. Be thankful you're permitted to express your artistic talents by painting your house in even the most hideous of colors:

7. And one we can all relate to -Be thankful you don't drive a 1976 Cadillac as your life may soon be in jeopardy:

He Got Gun

2007-11-14T14:46:00.000-07:00

I completed the certified rifle course and am now the designated rifle operator for my squad. We fired thousands of rounds in various positions and situations. The hardest drill was to lie prone on the ground looking through the sight on a target without moving. After 40 minutes of laying motionless, my neck and shoulder muscles were aching. At any moment, the instructor would call out 2 targets that we had to shoot in under 2 seconds so there was no time to stretch or shift positions.

Most of the target shooting was done from 50 yards away but we also shot from 100, 200, and 300 yards.

Here's the view of a life-sized human silhouette target from 100 yards:

And here it is from 300 yards:
I could barely see the target from this distance but was able to hit the silhouette with 9 out of 10 shots (the guy next to me didn't hit the paper once from 200 or 300 yards).

Blood

2007-11-05T19:06:00.000-07:00

When I was a teenager I was expected to clean up after myself. Tell me what you would do if you were twirling a loaded gun and accidentally shot yourself in the hand. I'd be afraid of making a mess and would run to the sink or grab a towel to control the spurting. This kid, however, ran around the entire house decorating the floors, walls, and furniture in a trendy new blood spatter pattern.

I'm sure you've heard of disgruntled employees returning to work after being fired to terrorize the boss and fellow employees with a gun. When this guy was fired, he made a point to cuss out his co-workers on the way out. One of them apparently didn't like this too much and decided to pay the out of work man a visit later that night. He knocked on the styrofoam core door and waited for jobless joe to answer. When he opened the door, this guy raised a .45 and cranked off five rounds. After being hit once in the chest, the homeowner slammed the door and took two more rounds to the chest through the door.

With three gunshot wounds to the upper chest, the man was upset the police were bothering him and wanted us to leave. He was uncooperative and tried to refuse medical treatment. I'll never understand how some people can die from the slightest injury while others walk away unharmed by major trauma.

Still Here

2007-10-23T18:41:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry to my loyal readers for not posting more but I've been a bit busy at work. This week I'm in rifle school and will soon be the 'long gun' operator for my squad. I'll post pictures of this once I've passed the qualification.

In the mean time, I've provided some visual snapshots for your viewing pleasure. I'll be back soon with regular posts:

Trashed Santa: Human heart?

-no, just a blood soaked sock:

Guns and money are common among people I 'meet':

Big bag o'weed:

One 'key' of coke?

What a savings (look at "was" price):

Another Proud Moment

2007-09-29T12:13:00.000-07:00

I had one of those days that solidified my decision to become a police officer. You know, the kind if prideful moments that define our character.

It all started when I chose keys for my daily patrol car only to find it dead in the parking lot with a drained battery. I charged it up from a portable terminal and headed towards a shoplifting call. When I was done with the call I returned to my car and found it dead again. A fellow officer came by to give me a jump start and I continued my shift.

We always carry two sets of keys so I decided to leave my car running at the next call. I got out, locked the door and handled a civil matter between a daughter and step father arguing.

I walked back to my running patrol car, inserted the key into the locked door, and was unable to move the key in either direction. I tried twisted, rotated, jiggled, and cranked the key in all directions using both soft and hard pressure. The door lock did not give. I tried the passenger door with equal disappointment. I realized my second key did not belong to this vehicle and the good key was in the ignition. I radiod my dispatcher to send a motorist-unit with a slim-jim but none was available.

I called my best friend who happened to live a few blocks away and asked him to bring wire coat hangers, pry bars, and screwdrivers. My friend arrived and started working on opening the passenger side door while I did my best on the driver's door. After a few minutes I was able to pull the door lever with my hanger and open the door. My friend and I then stood at back of my car and started chatting.

Out of nowhere, an undercover unit drove up. I thought he was stopping by to visit so I told him hello. He looked at me funny and said, "Are you all right?"
"Yeah, why?", I asked.
"Didn't you just hear the hot call on the radio for this location?"
"No" (getting alarmed) "What was it for?"
"Someone just called 911 about a guy in a red shirt breaking into a police car."
(My friend had a red shirt and was obviously the reason for the call)

Just then, another patrol car flew around the corner and raced over to where we were standing.
"What the hell's going on!?" he yelled.
"Just trying to get into my locked car", I replied.
"Don't you have you're radio on?"
"Yes, I just didn't hear the emergency call."
"Well, pay attention." he said and expressed his disgust by muttering a few obscenities as he drove off.

I then got on the radio and told my dispatcher everything was okay and it was only me breaking into my own car so no more units needed to come over.

For the rest of the night I had the pleasure of enduring the endless comments, jokes, and put-downs that flow so easily from the mouths of my fellow officers.

P.S. Tammy says, Hi:

Memorial

2007-09-21T12:39:00.000-07:00

I visited Officer Erfle's growing memorial today while on duty for the first time since his death. A stream of officers from other agencies around the state and country have been stopping by to leave patches, notes, flowers, and cards.

One resident, a Vietnam Vet even left his purple heart medal and a letter thanking Nick for his service and sacrifice. Another citizen came with a brush and water to scrub away Nick's blood from the sidewalk where he died.

The outpouring of condolences, affection, gratitude, and respect is a welcomed sight. The most heart-wrenching are the letters from school kids:

The most touching is this one written by Nick's son:

Not Again

2007-09-18T23:10:00.000-07:00

Another one of my colleagues has lost his life. Officer Nick Erfle was shot and killed this morning while trying to arrest a man with an outstanding misdemeanor warrant.

Nick worked out of my police station and I've met up with him on several occasions at various scenes. He and his partner stopped three people for jaywalking and discovered one of them had an outstanding warrant. He attempted to take the man into custody when a struggle ensued and Nick was shot in the head. The suspect fled on foot and then hijacked a car -forcing the driver to speed away from the scene as he sat in the passenger seat. Nick's partner was unable to return fire due to numerous innocent citizens downrange.

Thankfully, a witness was able to get the fleeing car's license plate and the hunt was on. An hour later, the car was spotted by an undercover officer. With the helicopter overhead, several SWAT members in unmarked vehicles converged on the suspect and his hostage driver. They boxed the car in and shot and killed the shooter when he raised his gun. This coward will never have the chance to 'brag' about his cop-killing to his gangster friends. The driver was unharmed.

I listened to the whole thing unfold on my radio while at home on my day off. I've been numb all day and can't believe another young life has been taken by a pathetic criminal. It has only been a few weeks since Shaggy died and now we're preparing for another funeral. Tragically, like Officer George Cortez , he is leaving behind a wife and two young kids.

I'm sickened over the increasing frequency and seriousness of violent crimes. Gangs, drugs, and apathy seem to have taken a foothold on a growing segment of today's population. I don't know what the answer to this is but something has got to be done. Thank God I live in a city where citizens cooperate with police by willingly providing information and giving support. Without their help, we'd have a hell of a time solving crimes and catching those responsible.

Thank you, Nick, for your service and sacrifice. I know you'll be looking down on us along with George and Jonathan. Please let this be the last time I have to write this kind of entry.

What Happened?

2007-09-17T22:34:00.000-07:00

Back in the late 80's, the worst drug offenders in my high school were the pot smokers who dabbled with Cocaine once in awhile. Heroin was a drug only shown in movies and used by unknown street junkies and criminals. I don't know what happened since then but I can't believe the number of teenagers and young adults I've come across who are Heroin addicts.

Some of them have told me it's cheaper and easier to get than ever and the terrible stigma it used to have has gone away.

This 21 kid started using it shortly after the attacks of 911. He and a bunch of his high school friends thought they would just "experiment" with it in a recreational way.

Six years later, he lies dead on the floor of an apartment. The apartment owner was the kid's friend and former drug counselor and had let him spend the night there.

As I completed my investigation of the scene, the boy's family began to arrive. His father came in and pulled back the towel covering his face. He put his hand on his son's bare chest and just held it there. He then sat in the recliner, let out a long sigh, and just stared at his dead son. Mom was still outside trembling and crying -unsure if she had the strength to see her eldest son like this. After a few minutes, she came in and knelt down on the floor near his head. She immediately turned to me and asked if there was any way he could be revived. I shook my head (no) and explained the paramedics had already responded and confirmed he was gone.

She caressed his color-faded cheeks and ran her fingers through his hair. Dad shook his head in and muttered words like, "damn shame", "only 21", "what could I have done", and "my son".

A few more family members came and said their final goodbyes. I could tell this kid was loved and cherished. His father told me about his son's depression, stints in rehab, counseling sessions, and the inevitable relapses. He was not surprised by the death but felt defeated and helpless. He told me of a neighbor kid who shot up with his son and how his arm is nearly useless and will require amputation. He told me about his son's best friend who died of a heroin overdose a few months ago. He had talked to his boy that morning over the phone and everything sounded normal.

He then got up, walked over to his son's body and stood over him. He wants others to know what could happen, how lives are ruined, how families are broken. He talks of years of anguish, fear, helplessness, anger, despair, and dashed hopes. He then turns to me, points to his son's lifeless and expressionless face and says,

"I wish you could show this to others so they could see what heroin does-and maybe stop somebody else from even trying it."

Well, Dad, I'll show what I can and join you in your wish:

Pack Rat

2007-09-08T11:38:00.000-07:00

I know people who keep all kinds of weird things for no reason. My brother amassed an impressive collection of Big Gulp cups once that he kept in stacked towers in his bedroom. In my teens I had a few hundred 'New Times' newspapers tucked away in my closet. My brother and I were no match for this guy, however.

His small hatchback was so full of newspapers, coffee cups, plastic cup lids and straws there were barely room for him in the driver seat. The stick shift was hidden inside a small cove of stacked paper and the entire view through the windshield was blocked except for a small area above the steering wheel. If the passenger door was ever opened an avalanche of paper goods would pour out onto the ground.

He was stopped for the obvious hazard his internal load posed. If his little car was packed this full of items I wondered what the inside of his house looked like. I asked him if he collected things for his home too, and he told me his house was much fuller.

ANOTHER TYPICAL SHOOTING

"911 -what is your emergency?"

"I've been shot!!"

"What happened?"

"I don't know -I just got out of my car and someone shot me!!"

Several officers raced to the scene and found a man lying on the ground next to the driver's side door of his car. Blood poured from his right leg as he rolled around in pain. We quickly set up a perimeter and called for the helicopter. The victim told us he was alone in his car when he parked and got out. Then, he heard a gunshot and was hit in the leg.

His car was under a covered parking spot with vehicles parked on both sides of him. A wall of apartments surrounded the front and both sides of the parking lot. He did not see a shooter, nor did any of the several people who were outsided and heard the gunshot. We looked in his car and saw a single shell casing on the floor in front of the front passenger seat. Since all the windows were up the only way the bullet casing could get there would be if the gun was fired from inside the car. The victim insisted there was nobody with him in the car. There was blood on the driver's seat and inside the driver's door. It didn't take a detective to figure out he was shot from inside the car while he was sitting in the driver's seat. We then found a gun under the passenger seat.

Later, at the hospital, he admitted the obvious: He reached for the unholstered gun under the passenger seat and accidentally pulled the trigger when he grasped the handle. He was a prior convicted felon and was prohibited from having a firearm.

Fight For Your Right........to PARTY

2007-09-04T20:29:00.000-07:00

This guy must have been a fan of the 80's song from the Beastie Boys. He and a male friend spent the day drinking in his small Social Security funded apartment. His large shirtless friend ran out of the apartment with the 12 pack of beer under his arm. This guy was outraged and ran after him holding a gallon jug of cheap wine and wearing only a pair of whitey-tightie underwear.

A fist fight in the middle of the street ensued with both males slugging it out for possession of the alcohol. We broke up the fight and had both guys sit down and cool off while we checked their records for outstanding warrants. The two sweaty sloppy-drunk males sat on the ground gasping for breath.

I learned a few things that night from this guy:
1. Getting your teeth knocked out is worth a 12 pack of Natural Light Ice beer (in cans).
2. Don't try to steal beer from a guy who looks like a character from Lord of The Rings
3. It's possible for underwear to have 'skid marks' in the front.

The guys agreed to go their separate ways and I made the following deal with the guy above: Go home and change into some clean underwear to avoid jail. He gathered up his beer and quickly marched back to his apartment across the street. His friend agreed to clean up the broken glass wine jug and he, too, was sent walking.

ESP
I came across a new level of extra-sensory perception the other day. A call was sent to my patrol car computer of a car accident that read:

Caller believes cars have crashed outside his house -he only heard the collision. It's a red SUV and a white Volvo.

I had no idea some humans had developed a sense of hearing so acute, they can distinguish the number, type and color of vehicles based on the sound of their crashing.

My Friend Shaggy

2007-08-28T23:31:00.000-07:00

My friend and fellow officer Jonathan Stuart was a great police officer and an even greater person. To me he was known as "Shaggy"; A nickname he aquired in the police academy for his likeness to the Scooby Doo's character (for his looks and carefree disposition). He was also the first officer I personally knew as a friend to die.

On August 11, 2007 at about 7:00 in the morning, he was making his usual long drive home after completing an overnight shift. On a freeway south of town, he lost control of his vehicle and was killed when his car collided with another in the oncoming lane. The other driver was also killed. I don't know what caused the accident but it appears he may have fallen asleep.

The night before, my shift ended at midnight and I joked with him on my way out the door. I had no idea that as I slept comfortably in my bed at home, my friend Shaggy was being air lifted to a hospital in critical condition. The surgeons were unable to overcome his fatal injuries. He died just before I started my shift later in the day at 2:00.

Officer Stuart was a three year veteran and the most liked person at my police station. The mood among us has been subdued since his death and I find myself thinking about him many times a day. He was the hardest working cop I knew who answered up for the calls nobody else wanted. He loved being a patrol officer and wanted to work the streets for his entire career. Policework was his life and his passion for it was obvious. He treated citizens with respect and made many friends with the people he served in his patrol area. He was honorable, loyal, kind, wise, and funny. He was the kind of guy you enjoyed being around and who enjoyed being around you. He was everbody's friend and put everyone else before himself.

I'm not fully able to express what a great person he was. I miss his grin, sarcasm, friendliness, and the distinctive twang in his voice he used when announcing his call sign over the radio. I keep catching glimpses of him -rounding a corner inside my police station or driving by in a patrol car -only to realize it's some other officer.

I'm sorry another person lost his life along with Jonathan that day. I know he would be devastated by this. He lived for the protection of others and, given the chance, would have sacrificed his own life to save that of another.

I don't why such a promising and important life had to end this way. I do know one thing, however: If there really is a heaven, Shaggy is up there doing what he always did down here on Earth -working tirelessly to make it a better place for others.

Never get Busted Again

2007-08-27T21:28:00.000-07:00

Awhile ago I read an article about a former police officer who produced a series of DVD's educating criminals on how NOT to get caught. The videos offer a sure-fire way to avoid being pulled over by cops. I didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to actually buy these but I was proven wrong.

I found this DVD inside a car I recently pulled over. This issue (volume 1) deals with traffic stops. The uninsured and unlicensed driver watched with dismay as his car was towed away and impounded. If this video-maker has any kind of money back guarantee, I don't expect he'll be in business for very long.

CRUEL
One person who will surely be busted is the pathetic piece of crap I've dealt with a few times over the past few months for domestic disputes. A far too common call came from his house from his girlfriend over a fight. This guy and girl were constantly fighting and breaking up/getting restraining orders/cancelling the restraining orders/getting back together/repeat.

Each time I came to his rented house I saw a bunch of Pit Bulls chained to various pieces of junk in the backyard. They had little water or food so I made him come outside and take care of his dogs. The dogs were aggressive and wouldn't let me anywhere near them. The Humane Society was contacted but the dogs were not in bad enough shape to confiscate so he was allowed to keep them.

Then, we got a call from a concerned neighbor about the welfare of the dogs. Apparently, the guy was evicted so he gathered his stuff and left the dogs to fend for themselves in the backyard. He even took the water hose from the backyard on his way out. The summer heat was around 110 degrees all week and there was little shade back there. The dry dirt yard had no water and many of the dogs' chains were tangled so badly they couldn't move more than a few inches.

It was too much for one unlucky dog as it succumbed to the heat or was choked to death by a the cable around its neck. The neighbor brought over his hose and I sprayed down the remaining dogs with water while waiting for the Humane Society to arrive. I filled the water bowls and moved closer to try to untangle the twisted chains. A litter puppies I had seen before was now gone.

These dogs that wanted to attack me weeks before now whimpered and whined for help as I approached. My anger simmered as I pictured these poor guys suffering for an unknown number of days. Fortunately, I remembered the owner's name and was able to pull up his information on my car computer. A felony animal cruelty report was created and it's only a matter of time before he is arrested and charged.

Kids and Cars

2007-08-07T12:41:00.000-07:00

"Dad, can I borrow the car?"

"Sure son, take the Corolla."

"C'mon, that thing's stupid. Let me take Mustang."

"Son, you know that '67 Mustang is my pride and joy. I spent years perfectly restoring it and it's finally in car show condition."

"I know, that's why I want to show it to my friends at Starbucks. "

"Uh....I don't know, you've only been driving for a few months and I know how teenagers drive."

"Dad, relax; I'll take the side streets; What could possibly happen?"

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Somehow, this kid ended up smashing into a stone and morter column after "losing control" while making a right turn in a residential street with a 35 MPH speed limit. Instead of writing him a ticket, I decided to let him call Dad and tell him to come and get him. The picture doesn't do justice to the mint conditing this fully restored classic car was in.

Night of Tragedy

2007-07-31T16:08:00.001-07:00

On a night I'm out of town on vacation, an officer is shot and killed and two news helicopters crash in midair.

48 hours after the collision, the crash scene is still taped off as investigators drain a small lagoon to retrieve wreckage from one of the fallen helicopters.

This is the view from my patrol car as I sit perched on a small hill overlooking the site. My job is to ensure nobody enters the area.

I decide to walk over and get a better look at the impact site. The wreckage has already been collected and all that remains is a blackened spot on the grass and a shallow pool of aircraft oil. A small tree has been charred and stripped of its foliage. A similar scene lies a few dozens yards away.

Pieces from one of the helicopters landed in a nearby pond. As I stood by, divers were preparing to search the partially drained pond. I could see several pieces of metal exposed on the muddy floor of the lagoon as the water levels receded.

The same night, a police officer is sensely killed over a $400 forged check. Officer Cortez responded to a forged check call like I do every other week or so. When the officer tried to arrest the man, his girlfriend caused a distraction allowing the man to pull out a gun and shoot Officer Cortez in the face. He was 23, married, and had 2 young sons. He loved his job and sacrificed is life to try and keep the streets of the city a bit safer. The man and his girlfried will both be charged with 1st degree murder and will likely face the death penalty if convicted. That's a small consolation to the family and friends of Officer George Cortez.

Murder in the First

2007-07-25T23:39:00.000-07:00

I just finished eating dinner and was in the parking lot when an emergency call for shooting at an apartment complex was broadcast.

An officer I was talking to a few minutes ago was heading in that direction and took the call. I was a few miles behind and answered up as his backup.

As I was driving to the scene, I thought about the dozens of "shooting" calls I've responded to that ended up being nothing at all. Most of these shooting calls turn out to be someone with a gun (not shooting), or someone shooting a gun in the air (not trying to hit anyone), or sometimes fireworks. I was very familiar with the apartment complex and have driven through its parking lot almost every day. Two of my squadmates even spent a recent shift parked in front of it gathering info on suspicious characters coming in and out. It's notorious for drug and prostitution activity.

Then I heard the original officer on the radio as he arrived on scene:
"Get me some more units; There's a subject down on the East side of the complex. Roll Fire (our term for requesting the Fire Dept./paramedics) and get me a supervisor; The victim appears to be dead."

I knew we had a shooter on the loose so I activated my lights and sirens and arrived quickly. I parked out front and ran to the main entrance of the apartments. I hispanic male was lying on his side, face down in a pool of blood. I drew my gun and posted myself at the apartment entrance. The helicopter was circling overhead with its spotlight scanning the scene. Paramedics arrived and confirmed the victim was dead. Other officers were arriving to contact witnesses, set up a perimeter and look for the shooter.

The vitim's mother charged out of the doorway towards the crumpled body, screaming "That's my son!! Oh my God, my son!!" She was intercepted and lead away.

I kept my post at the doorway about fifteen feet away from the downed victim. I repeatedly scanned the apartment windows for any signs of a shooter. I could see a silver colored shell casing on the ground nearby. Blood from the victim was slowly spreading in an ever widening pool. A sheet was placed over him so only a bloody hand protruded from underneath.

After an hour of searching, the perimeter was broken down and we concentrated on getting detailed witness testimony. I later heard the victim was about 28 and got into an argument with a tall black male. The argument turned into a brief fistfight. The men separated and the shooter pulled a gun from his waistband and fired three shots from point blank range into the other man's chest area.

My first murder scene ended when the detectives arrived and took control of the investigation.

I Wonder

2007-07-18T18:16:00.001-07:00

It's nearly midnight and the house is dark except for the flickering light from the television.
The soundtrack of a cartoon mixes with the gentle hum of a oscillating fan.
He's lying on the couch wearing a pair of shorts; A light blanket is weaved through his legs.
He's a tan and dark haired.
He's an average sized guy relaxing in the living room.
He's dead.

I'm standing behind a team of paramedics as they confirm the absence of vital signs on their medical machine. His eyes are slightly open and gaze blankly towards the television. One might think he was asleep except for the foamy, blood-tinted liquid drying around his nose and mouth. As uncirculating blood begins to settle in the body, it becomes darkened and visible in the fingertips and toes.

His younger brother is on his knees in the front yard, pounding the ground and sobbing. His girlfriend tries in vain to console him. It was he that found his brother on the couch and called 911 just a few minutes ago. A crisis response team is on the way to help younger brother deal with his grief.

As the medics leave the house, I am alone with the man. It is not creepy, scary, or even sad to me. It's simply a part of my job that I've come to handle the same way others might handle a conference call or a pizza delivery. I scan the room for any obvious signs of foul play. The doors and windows are all locked and there is no visible trauma on him. My duty is to stand by and prevent anyone from coming into the house until the detectives arrive.

Then I begin to wonder:
Why would someone so apparently normal and young just die? Who was he and what did he do? How will his parents react when they find out? I already saw how affected his younger brother was but what about coworkers, ex-lovers, friends, and neighbors? Will a lot of people come to his funeral? Was he liked? Did he have any kids? I saw junk mail and bills in his name on the counter and wondered how long mail will still arrive for him. What was the last thing he ate? Who was the last person he talked to and what was said? Did he want to die? Did he kill himself or did he have some kind of medical ailment?

Why don't I feel sad for him? I have a family and friends and can't begin to think how I'd react if something happened to one of them.

Whoever you are/were, I hope you rest in peace.

I'm Back

2007-07-16T23:37:00.000-07:00

Since it's been almost a month since my last post, I'll try to catch up with a collection of miscellaneous items.

Here's an anti-theft device (the Club) placed on the steering wheel of a 75 year old woman's Suburban SUV to prevent her 45 year 0ld live-in son from driving drunk. You see, son likes to drink a lot and his sales position at Sears doesn't pay quite enough for him to move out of mom's house and buy booze. Somehow, son was able to drive the Suburban to the nearest Circle K to try to buy more booze. The clerks refused to sell the intoxicated driver any more alcohol so he got back into the vehicle to drive home. Unfortunately for him, the club device prevented him from backing out of the parking space so he inched forward and backward for about 20 minutes until an astute citizen decided it might be a good idea for the police to check this guy out. With a breathalyzer reading of almost 4 times the legal limit, we found a new place for him to spend the night.

LAZY NEIGHBOR

A man came home after work and noticed his elderly neighbor's front door slightly ajar. He walked up to the entry way and yelled her name. After receiving no reply, he feared for her welfare and called police to check on her. He was afraid to go in himself and when I pushed open the front door I understood why. Perhaps the dozens of boxes stacked in the front courtyard from QVC and Home Shopping Network should have been my warning. Most of the boxes appeared unopened and were stacked to the ceiling. A glance inside the house revealed an even more puzzling sight. Hundreds of clothing items lined the hallway still in plastic and with price tags still on. Other rooms were piled with various cases, boxes, crates, and other packages of all kinds of merchandise. The living room, dining room, and one bedroom were unusable due to the stacks of mostly unopened boxes. I announced myself loudly several times and was starting to believe the woman was under a deep sleep or worse. In the master bedroom I peered over a wall of items and saw a large, elderly, topless woman lying on her side watching a baseball game on T.V.

"Whatta you want?", she calmly asked.

"I'm here to check on you. Your neighbor saw your door open and tried calling you on the phone. When you didn't answer he called for help.", I replied.

"He's an asshole."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"
"Why didn't you answer when I shouted police and came into your house?"

"I's watchin TV."

She was too preoccupied or too lazy to bother putting on a shirt and made no attempt to conceal herself. I was curious about the thousands of dollars worth of merchandise all over her house but concluded it was no use asking her about it.

As I finished the trite conversation I silently wondered why all the topless women I come into contact with are overweight, overconfident, and over 60. Where are all the attractive exhibitionists and why aren't they ever in need of police assistance?

CRAZY NEIGHBOR

A man called police after his 45 year old daughter threatened to kill him. Apparently she's had some mental issues and has been arrested many times for weapons violations in the past. A mental health evaluation team wanted to interview her and asked for police assistance. As we neared her house, her father advised us she had numerous firearms, body armor, and was going to kill anyone that tried to get into her house. I met with other officers and a Seargant down the street to formulate a plan. A supervisor with the SWAT team was nearby and decided it would be a good opportunity for his teams to get some experience. My role was downgraded to traffic control while two fully geared tactical SWAT teams surrounded her house. The power, water and gas was shut off and her vehicle disabled. As the teams took their positions and prepared to make contact (and/or force entry into the house). The woman ranted and raved and came to her door several times before being coaxed out by the negotiator without incident. No guns or body armor was recovered but it was better to play it safe.

You Can Run...

2007-06-19T16:22:00.000-07:00

I've been randomly checking license plates for over a year and have never had a 'hit' on a stolen vehicle. A new guy joined our squad and found a stolen vehicle in his second week. As he followed, another unit and me (with a partner) converged on the convertible Ford Mustang.

The Mustang stopped and we positioned our three patrol cars behind him. With four guns drawn on the driver, I commanded him to turn off the engine.

"What'd I do?!", he yelled back.
"Turn off the engine NOW!", I repeated.
(He kept the car in 'drive' and was slowly lurching forward.)
"What's wrong? I didn't do anything?", he repeated.
(We all knew he was going to take off as he refused to turn off the engine.)
"Turn off the motor! NOW!", I tried again.

His reply was sqealing tires on asphalt as he gunned the accelerator and sped away Eastbound. Our Sargeant advised us not to pursue the vehicle so my partner and I got into our car and drove South hoping he would double back into our path. Even though he refused to obey my commands, our little "conversation" bought us just enough time to get the helicopter overhead before he took off.

The helicopter followed him as he eventually turned south and then west (crossing our path as we had hoped). He was going much too fast for us to follow directly so we stayed on parallel streets trying to anticipate his direction. As he headed for a notorious gang neighborhood, a few undercover officers joined the fun and closed in. He parked in an alley and ran on foot through the neighborhoods. With the helicopter directly overhead, it took only a few seconds for us to locate and apprehend him.

It was quite satisfying to have him look up from the ground and see me standing over him. I could tell he recoginzed me from the traffic stop and had no idea how we caught him since we were never visibly behind him as he fled. I asked him why he didn't obey my command to shut off the car engine.
In typical dirtbag fashion, he responded, "I seen all them guns and didn't know what to do. I didn't steal that car, man."
"I never said anything about a stolen car. I just told you to shut off the engine", I replied.

Knowing he just admitted to being in a stolen vehicle, he cursed at himself under his breath.

Happy Sesquicentennial to Me

2007-06-11T00:52:00.000-07:00

This is my 150th (or sesquicentennial) post. I would celebrate by attempting to 'pop a wheelie' on my motorcycle while not wearing a helmet but somebody already beat me to that stunt. Here's what remains of his motorcycle after he lost control and slammed into an unuasually sturdy metal railing. I'm not sure why the railing was installed along the side of the street (except maybe to keep reckless motorcyclists from ruining the perfectly manicured river-rock landscape look).

The driver usually wears a helmet but told his friends minutes before the crash, "I don't need a helmet; It's the weekend." I'm not sure what his reasoning was but he's now in the hospital with a ruptured spleen and some nasty road rash.

Miscommunication:
Remember the telegraph game you played as a kid where someone whispers something to the person next to them and he then whispers to the next person with the message being delivered subsequently to each person in the circle? By the time the last person receives the message, it's totally distorted or even unintelligible.

Even in the high-tech modern world of advanced communications, police officers are sometimes met with challenging messages from witnesses. Awhile ago, I received an urgent call from a witness who saw a man hitting a woman as she held a baby. He then fled the scene in a red crew cab truck. The police helicopter was overhead and soon spotted a red truck getting onto a nearby freeway. Two officers gave chase while I sped to the scene to check the victim's injuries and get her account of what happened. As I neared the parking lot where the assault occured, I listened to my squadmates conducting a traffic stop of the red truck on the freeway.

I drove into the parking lot and was met by an off-duty federal agent on his cell phone still talking to the 911 operator. "I'm the one who called." he announced and produced his badge. "I told the dispatcher I'd be waiting in this red truck so you could find me easily."

Standing next to the agent was a calm man holding a baby car seat. An infant was strapped in the seat and gurgling happily.

"What happened?", I asked.

The man told me he was holding his son when his girlfriend got angry and slapped him in the parking lot. The federal agent saw this and called 911. The man was not injured and did not want any charges pressed against his girlfriend for the slap. This personal account was quite different than the information given to me and I realized there was no emergency.

Meanwhile, a completely innocent man was being patted down for weapons at the side of the busy freeway for happening to own a red truck. I can only imagine the confusion and anxiety he felt when told he was being stopped for fleeing the scene of an assault on a woman and child.

This is What I'm Talkin' 'bout..

2007-05-29T23:55:00.000-07:00

Want to know why I really became a police officer? Was it for pride, glory, honor, duty, sense of self-worth or accomplishment?...

No, it was so I could stand outside in 100+ degree weather for six hours in my solar oven uniform (black nylon pants, black shirt and ballistic vest, and boots) watching the city water department fix a manhole cover:

I know what your thinking: "Well, he didn't have to volunteer for this kind of off-duty work. It's his own fault he picked this job." To which I would reply, "Never mind what I did, I can complain if I want to."

In reality this wasn't a bad job. Since it was sponsored by the city, I got paid timeandahalf and was able to store it in my 'comp' bank instead of being immediately paid out. This is like added vacation time for me to take at my discretion. Besides, I was able to replace most of the 3 quarts of sweat I lost with the 2 quarts of water I brought.

Nightmare

2007-05-21T11:42:00.002-07:00

Imagine being a single woman sleeping in bed with two dogs when at 2:00 a.m. you're jolted awake by their barking. You get out of bed to see what the commotion is all about and walk sleepily to your bedroom door. You slowly pull open the door and are met by the darkened silhouette of a man standing directly outside your door in the hallway. You are about to dial 911 on the cell phone your holding when a gunshot explodes in front of you and a bullet shatters the phone and your hand. You scream and run frantically back into your bedroom towards the closet. A volley of bullets follows your retreat striking you in the knee, arm, and side. As you slam the closet door closed, more bullets tear through the wood and into your flesh.

You are alive but badly wounded and don't know if the intruder has left. You don't have a regular telephone but risk bleeding to death if you wait too long in the closet. Imagine the courage needed to open the closet door, walk through the house and then go outside into the unknown darkness to your neighbor's house for help.

Police and detectives arrive but do not locate the murderer/rapist-to be. Several of the neighbors' back yard gates are open and burglary tools are found in a different backyard. You appear the be the victim of a random attack but cannot be certain.

This nightmarish scene seems like something out of a horror movie but played out in real life last week to a woman living in a "nice" neighborhood. It turns out this woman's grandfather and my wife's grandfather are brothers but I've never met her.

After investigating the scene, it was determined the suspect entered through a doggie door on the back side of the house. I can't tell you how many burglaries I've investigated where the point of entry was a doggie door. And, if you think that thin piece of plastic that slides into the inside of the doggie door will keep a person out, think again. A simple kick or a screwdriver is all it takes to remove the plastic cover. If you have a large or medium sized doggie door that leads into your house, please do something to deter criminal from using it.

Fire

2007-05-15T11:10:00.000-07:00

As I was driving around last week, I saw a thick column of black smoke billowing from a couple miles away. I could see a fire engine ladder truck ahead of me so I activated my lights, caught up to it, and followed it into a neighborhood. A house was fully engulfed in flames as neighbors ran around frantically and news vans arrived.

Here's a picture I took from outside by patrol car as I blocked traffic from coming down the street.

After the blaze was put out, I walked up to see the damage. I took this photo from the backyard. I was standing next to some firefighters applying water to small flare ups.

The house was full of junk which made it harder for the firefighters to put out the fire. Luckily, nobody was inside and nobody was injured. I left after the arson investigators arrived to seach the scene for evidence.

Remember Laci?

2007-05-10T21:23:00.000-07:00

In case you were absent from planet Earth in December, 2002 there was a mother to be named Laci Peterson who was murdered by her husband Scott in Modesto, California.

Today I attended a training session organized by the FBI on the investigation of the Peterson homicide. The session was presented by the homicide detectives assigned to the case. I was somewhat familiar with the case back then but gained a whole lot more insight into the details of the murder.

What a tragic story this was and for no good reason. The homicide detectives' opinion was Scott killed his pregnant wife because she was hindering his aspirations of living a 'player' lifestyle. He had several affairs during their marriage and even attended a Christmas party with his mistress Amber Frey while Laci attended a separate party alone. It was apalling to see his utter lack of compassion, brazen arrogance and extreme narcicism. After reviewing the details of the entire investigation, there was no doubt Scott premeditated and carefully planned the murder of his wife. I've never learned of a more manipulative and pitiful monster.

At the end of the session, presenters played a video originally intended to be shown to the jury after the guilty verdict to help them choose the appropriate sentencing (i.e. death). The video was a series of photos of Laci progessing through life from infant to college grad, to bride. I was haunted by her beautiful shining brown eyes, adorable dimples, and delightful smile. The judge did not allow the video to be shown but in the end, it was not needed as Scott was convicted of 1st degree murder for his wife and 2nd degree murder for his unborn son Connor.

R.I.P. Laci and Connor Peterson

White Trash

2007-05-08T09:16:00.001-07:00

An adult daughter called police after arriving at her elderly father's house and noticing a strange truck parked in the driveway. Her father had been placed in a medical facility a few months prior and she was checking on his 'empty' house.

I and two other officers entered the home to search for burglars. There was nobody inside but we were shocked when we opened the door to a back bedroom and saw this:

The room was so full of junk I couldn't back up enough to get a good photo. You can see the opening to a closet in the background. The pile of trash was about six feet tall and stretched from one wall to the other. There appeared to be some furniture behind the great wall of garbage but we couldn't see behind it clearly.

The woman was convinced people had been burglarizing the house for months. She told us she had not been inside the house for three years but wanted to come inside and see what was missing. We held our breath as she approached the back bedroom. We anticipated her reaction of shame/disgust/embarassment and she walked into the refuse room.

"Oh my God!" she muttered.
(Feeling her shame, I remainded quiet.)
"There's a bunch of stuff missing from in here.", she added.
"From this room?", my squadmate asked, "What stuff is missing?"
"I'm not sure but there was a lot more stuff in here three years ago and now it's gone.", she insisted.

In my mind I pictured a band of ruthless burglars masterminding the repeated break-in of this home to steal countless bags of trash. What a score! This goldmine of cardboard, aluminum, glass, and plastic #2 would be any recycler's paradise. These clever thiefs were wise enough to pass up the electronics, jewelry, and guns in the house and focused on the highly lucrative rubbish.

Detective School

2007-05-03T11:30:00.000-07:00

One of the main reasons I joined the police force was to someday become a detective. After watching countless hours of 'Forensic Files', 'The Investigators', and other detective shows, I was motivated to leave a corporate career in financial services to law enforcement.

After 17 weeks of Investigator School, I am now one step closer to my goal. I am still a rookie officer, however, and am required to serve three years in patrol before I can apply for a detective position. The class was taught by one of the city's most well known and respected homicide detectives. I haven't decided exactly what field of detective work would be the best fit but I've got another year or so to think about it.

Other notables:
Officers were called the hospital to respond to a man brought into the emergency room due to an apparant drug overdose. He was unconscious when the hospital staff discovered a plastic baggie containing a white powdery substance in his rectum. One of my squadmates was lucky enough to take possession of the contraband.

I arrived at house where a girlfriend claimed her ex-boyfriend was trying to break in. I met the loser out front living in a broken down car parked on the side of the house. He hadn't committed any crime but I was apalled when I learned of his freeloading ways. He wasn't mooching off his ex-girlfriend, but rather, the good taxpayers of the nation. This 32 year old house painter receives $650 in Social Security benefits because of his self-proclaimed 'ADHD'.

"What are you talking about?", I asked.
"ADHD: I have trouble concentrating on stuff.", he replied.
"But you're 32 years old. Why do you need to get paid for not being able to pay attention?"
"I also hurt my hip, so I'm disabled."
"Don't you paint houses for a living?"
"Yes."
"So you can put up and climb ladders, carry 5-gallon buckets of paint, and spend hours at a time doing physical labor?"
"Yeah, but I need that money and I deserve it."
"We all need money but some of us have pride and wouldn't take undeserved handouts."
"Well, I do."

This is what's wrong with Social Security. I'm all for helping out those who need it but sending out checks to losers like this is shameful. Judging by this guy's behavior and past criminal history, there's no doubt in my mind a good portion of his monthly payment is being used to buy Meth. That's capitalism for you.

Watch Out

2007-04-25T21:41:00.000-07:00

Last week my squad spent our shift down at the academy for our annual shooting qualification. I am happy to report I scored a 240 out of 250 points which was enough to earn the designation 'expert shooter'.

When I was a police recruit in the academy, I became a certified user of the expandable baton. This small telescoping metal rod is carried in a pouch on the belt and extends into 21 inches of terrifying automobile radio antenna. Once in the open position, you're lucky if it's not bent by the soft tissue of the target being struck. These things are notoriously ineffective and but are heralded for their portability and low cost.

Time to bring out the big boy equipment. After qualifying on the shooting range, my squad attended a side-handle baton certification class. The main difference between this and the fencing foil above is that it actually works. Not only is it physically powerful but psychologically intimidating. After a few hours learning the proper protocal (try not to smash skulls, puncture groins, sever spines, or pulverize kidneys), we put these things to work on the padded punching bags. After seeing the damage these things inflicted on the dummy bags, I could only think of one thing to say to would-be actively aggressive criminals:

Watch out....

Optional equipment

2007-04-12T10:33:00.000-07:00

I think General Motors' marketing materials for the Yukon should point out the versatility of sun roofs as alternate escape hatches during rollover collisions.
The driver of this car popped open the sun roof, climbed out and walked around as if nothing happened.

PRISONER PHONE ETIQUETTE
When calling your girlfriend from a police holding cell to report you've been arrested, it's usually not a good idea to say the following while in earshot of police officers:

"Thank God they didn't find it."
"Please get rid of it, okay?"
"Thank you so much, just make sure you get rid of the stuff."

Before the prisoner hung up, I contacted the arresting officer and reported his statements. An undercover team returned to the vehicle where the arrest took place with a K-9 and a search warrant for the apartment.

Won't he be surprised when he sees his girlfriend in jail with him when she's caught in possession of whatever it was "they didn't find."

He had a small amount of drugs on him and was on probation but will be facing a lot more time with the additional drugs found in the car and in his apartment.

Dog Day Afternoon

2007-04-09T11:51:00.000-07:00

On a recent call about an open door, a K-9 officer arrived to help with the search. As the dog and its handler began the search, one of my squadmates remarked how nice it would be to have some kind of training about K-9 searches. A few weeks later our Sergeant arranged for a training session with the K-9 squad.

A few nights ago, my squad met at a wharehouse after hours. As I parked my patrol car I was assailed by the vicious barking of all the dogs in the backs of the K-9 officer's cars. We sat through a short briefing then went to work with the dogs.

We learned how to position ourselves around the dog handler along with other responsibilities. We were asked to search a few rooms without the dog so they could critique our tactics. After we advised the rooms were "clear", the handler sent in the dog who promplty found one of the other K-9 officers hiding in a small cabinet we had all overlooked.

Next, we watched the dog search a large wharehouse with 30 foot ceilings and very tall metal racks containing construction supplies. After a few minutes, the dog located another actor hiding 15 feet off the ground behind some boxes. Regular officers would never have found him.

We then went outside to practice some tracking scenarios. Two officers walked/ran a few blocks through the neighborhood, crossing streets, walking through bushes, and scaling walls. The dog found their scent immediately and began a faced pace search. We had to run to keep up with the dog and his handler. After a few blocks, the dog suddenly lost the scent and backtracked to where the 'bad guys' had jumped over a fence. The dog could sense them behind the fence and started barking to indicate their location.

For the final tracking session I volunteered to flee from a parked car and hide in a commercial building a few blocks away. I was with a K-9 officer who was wearing a protective padded sleeve on his right arm. Soon, we could hear the dog coming as he bore down on our hiding spot. My heart started racing as the sound of the dog's heavy breathing neared. The dog spotted us and immediately turned into the devil. The handler let him off the lead and he darted toward us full steam ahead. I wedged myself behind a column of the building and let the K-9 officer bear the frontal assault. The dog charged, leapt into the air and clamped his jaws on the padded arm of the officer. He violently shook the officer's arm without realesing his grip. The dog handler approached and coaxed the dog to let go.

At the end of the training session, the handlers asked if any of us would like to be attacked by the dog. We all declined except for the smallest female officer on the squad. She put on the padded arm protector and bravely accepted the dog's onslaught . Reassured that she actually lived, I decided to give it a try.

I put on the thick leather arm sleeve and stood about ten feet away from the shimmering shepard of doom. The dog's fiery eyes were fixed on me and I could sense the surge of killer instinct coursing through his body. The handler let him loose, I swallowed a gulp of anxiety, and braced myself for the oncoming attack. The dog bounded off the ground in one giant leap and slammed into me jaws first. The initial force of the impact was surprisingly strong (especially considering he started from only ten feet away and wasn't able to build up much speed.) When the furry demon started thrashing its head side to side, I expected flames to billow from his snout.

He wanted to make me his bitch and if not for the hardened leather, steel bar reinforced arm protector, I would now be Mrs. Officer Gary. I let go of the sleeve and watched him attempt to shred the the lifeless leather arm on the ground. A moment later, the monster morphed back into dog form when the handler rewarded him with a cloth chew toy.

These dogs' combination of speed, power, agility, and ferocity make them terrifying. I am thankful these trained attack machines are on our side.

Scared Straight

2007-04-03T23:23:00.000-07:00

In the phrase, "to protect and to serve", it's the 'protection' part that most people think of when they see a police officer. But sometimes, we have the opportunity to serve the community in meaningful, inspiring, and honorable ways.

Last week was not one of those times.

What started as a minor noise disturbance in an upscale neighborhood ended with much more.

I backed up another officer responding to an incessantly barking dog. When I arrived, a neighbor with keys to the dog owner's house came over and put the dog inside. This neighbor, however, had locked herself out of her own house and was trying for the past few hours to get in. She had two little boys with her about 5 and 3 years old. The 5 year old was still wearing his Superman pajamas and stared at me with wide admiring eyes while I worked on prying open a screen from a backyard window.

His mother explained how he was fascinated by police officers and so I did my best to include him in the 'rescue' operation. I could tell he was excited to have a police officer in his own backyard as he stayed right next to me the whole time.

After removing the screen, he was hoisted through the open window. He walked over to the door and unlocked it to the cheers of mom, me and my fellow officer. He felt the hero that day and I was happy to play my part.

The family went into the house so I let myself out of the backyard through a side gate. I got in my patrol and cleared the call from my computer. As I started to pull away from the curb, I saw little Superman standing in his driveway by himself preparing to send me off with a wave and a proud smile.

I know how much kids love the sweeping red and blue overhead lights so I reached for the switch to make my exit a memorable one. In true retard fashion, I accidentally pressed a second switch that controls the siren. As the ear-piercing whail of a full siren blasted the neighborhood, the boy nearly jumped out of his pajamas and, terrified, bolted for the front door in an all out panic. I turned off the control to the lights but the siren was still blaring as I fumbled for the secondary switch while trying to make my getaway.

I can only imagine the emotional trauma inflicted on the little man of steel.

Bank Night

2007-04-02T10:30:00.000-07:00

I received a call from a bank teller of a man trying to pass fake money. By the time I arrived, the man was already gone. The teller handed me (2) incredibly obvious fake $50 bills. The paper was bad, the color was wrong, and the printing was ridiculous. The fraudster thought he could fool the teller by handing her the 2 bad fifties along with $70 in genuine money. He then asked if he could get change for the $170 in five dollar bills. I guess he figured she would look at the good bills on top and ignore the counterfeit bills on the bottom of the stack. She took the whole stack to the back and called police. He became nervous and quickly left. Realizing he just gave away $70 in genuine money, he came back into the bank to get it back. The teller tried to stall him but he left again. I was disappointed we didn't catch him but was glad to see he lost $70 of his own money in the scam.

Later that night, a call came out from a different bank. An alarm was triggered in the drive-through ATM machine. I pulled up to see an armored truck parked next to the ATM. A uniformed armored guard was kneeling in front of the ATM removing the cash. I announced "Police", and approached him. Seeing a man in a dark uniform approaching at night, the guard reached for his holstered gun. "Police!" I announced again and prepared to take cover behind the armored truck if he drew his weapon. I don't blame him for being nervous. A few months ago, an armored truck was attacked by a team of armed robbers in tactical military gear. They pepper-sprayed a guard while he was transferring cash from an ATM and got away with quite a bundle.

I told him I was responding to the ATM alarm he triggered when he opened the machine. "Damn it!!", he said, "My dispatcher told me the alarm was disabled." I walked up to get his name and operator number to document my reponse. He was nervously transferring cash into a large box but didn't seem to be very aware of his surroundings. I could have walked right up to him if I hadn't announced myself from a distance. He was alone at the ATM with only the driver of the truck sitting in the cab watching. With the large amount of cash in the box I was surprised there wasn't any other guards outside with him. The only cover he had was the driver who is trained not to get out of the truck for any reason. As I walked back to my patrol car, I watched a grungy dressed man walk past the guard to another ATM machine behind him. The guard paid no attention as this guy used the machine and then walked by him again.

FREE PASS:
I was behind a driver who made a turn without signalling. I ran the license plate and found out the registered owner of the car was named Darren Duran. Anyone familiar with 80's pop bands will understand me when I say he's probably been punished enough for his name. He drove away without ever knowing the break he received.

Crash 2

2007-03-26T14:47:00.000-07:00

I've experienced my second patrol-car collision in a year.

This time, I was not the driver. I was riding as passenger in a two-man unit when an urgent call for help was put out on the radio by a squadmate. He was surrounded by a hostile group of people and needed help ASAP. He was in obvious distress and we were close by. These situations can turn deadly in a heartbeat and invoked a sense of urgency for my partner and me.

The only problem was we didn't know where he was. Every time he tried to announce his location over the radio, the background noise drowned out his voice. We knew we were within a block or so of him so we raced up and down the streets looking for his patrol car.

Finally, he was able to clearly provide his location inside the courtyard of a nearby apartment complex. We could hear the panic in his voice and imagined the worse. We drove down the street and turned into the parking lot of the complex. Our patrol car turned too wide and collided into a parked car. We immediately jumped out and ran through the complex looking for our squadmate. It was dark as we ran through the various twists and turns inside the complex. We found our squadmate kneeling on an arrested subject with dozens of angry family members shouting and threatening.

Nobody was injured and several other units arrived to control the scene. It was the longest two minutes of my life hearing our fellow officer in trouble while we tried frantically to find him.

POMC

2007-03-13T23:55:00.000-07:00

Parents of Murdered Children (POMC) is a peer support group that meets regularly to try to cope with the loss of loved ones.

I attended a Parents of Murdered Children meeting tonight with my investigator school classmates. It's a group I respect but don't envy. One I admire but never want to be a member of. The attendees each wore a name tag with two names: their own, and that of their murdered child.

My fellow officers and I sat quitely in the back while the parents took turns introducing themselves. One by one they told of violent assaults, shootings, robberies, and home invasions that claimed the lives of one or more of their children. Their stories were horrific, tragic, and painfully sad. I listened to them describe the brutal and senseless murders of toddlers, teenagers, and young adults as they trembled with anguish, anger, and grief.

A few of the stories were familiar to me as being higher profile cases. I had long forgotten these news stories and now saw the grieving moms and dads trying to piece together their lives. They described the years of court hearings, trials, plea bargains, and interviews. They spoke of unsolved murders, ridiculously short prison terms, and unscrupulous defense attorneys. It was obvious some of these parents will never 'get over it' and I don't blame them. Some were too grief-stricken to speak while others vocalized their fury.

I learned a lot about how important the initial contact between police officer and relative of victim is. Many felt victimized twice (by the murderer and by an insensitive, accusatory police officer). I will think about this night and these parents for a long time.

Listen up, kids

2007-03-07T16:12:00.000-07:00

In case you've been inspired to imitate these teenage girls who decided to rob a bank, you better think it over.

Like the three 17 year old girls I arrested. These geniouses planned their "mission" from a nearby apartment and then walked to a drugstore on the corner of an intersection 1 mile away from my police station to carry it out.

They decided to snatch a purse from "an easy target" so they could go out to eat. So, they waited outside the drugstore for half an hour watching customers come and go. Then, the spotted a 50 year old woman get out of her car carrying an open purse. As the woman approached the entrance, two of the girls snuck up behind her. One girl reached into the purse trying to grab her wallet. The woman felt a pull on the purse and turned around to see the two teenagers trying to take it from her. She screamed and called 911. They let go of her purse and ran away. Their timing was impeccable as the police helicopter was directly overhead.

A radio broadcast was sent out describing three teenage girls (2 white and 1 black) running westbound from the drugstore. They were impossible to miss; Especially with the helicopter's spotlight beaming directly on them as the pilot relayed their exact position.

Me and another officer caught them a few blocks away and arrested them. They thought a simple 'purse snatch' was no big deal especially since they didn't even get any money. They admitted to trying to take the wallet from the purse and didn't seem to care much about being arrested.

I contacted the victim who happened to be shopping for supplies she was going to donate to female teenage victims of domestic violence and sexual abuse (irony??). She wanted to press charges and was brought to the arrest location to positively identify the suspects.

In my state, theft of an item under $250 is a midemeanor and usually results in a fine or possible time in juvenile detention if you're under 18. This, however, was not simple theft. Because force was used to take the purse, the crime was elevated to robbery. Because there was more than one person involved, the crime was elevated to aggravated robbery. The girls were each charged with a class 2 felony.

They still didn't care much since they figured the worse that could happen was a short stint in juvenile detention until they turned eighteen in a few months. WRONG: Since aggravated robbery is defined as a violent felony (injury to the victim is not required), they could be tried in an adult court. In addition, the prosecuting attorney can hold the charges until they turn 18 and then try them in court. It doesn't matter how old you are when the crime occurs, but your age at the time charges are officially filed by the attorney. If convicted in adult court, the girls are looking at a possible sentence of 4.5 to 10 years in adult prison.

When I explained all of this to them, there was a noticeable shift in their attitudes. Can you imagine serving 10 years in prison because you want to go out to eat but you're too lazy to get a job or borrow from a friend?

Here's an even bigger thing to think about when committing a crime: The felony murder rule. During the commission of a felony, if a person dies for any reason, all suspects are charged with murder. In the example above, if the woman had a heart attack and died, the girls could be charged with murder.

Even if one of the suspect dies, the rule applies. If a getaway driver speeds off with his bank robber friends and is killed in a car crash, the friends can be charged with murder. If a shootout occurs in the bank and one of the robbers is killed by police, the driver and other robber get charged with murder.

It doesn't take much for a misdemeanor to become a felony when things get out of hand. And, you never know when someone might die so don't do it.

Driving

2007-03-05T15:35:00.000-07:00

I see these all the time but I know how your civilians love to see car accidents. Here's a few interesting ones from the past few weeks:

This woman was driving to an adult care facility for her first day of work. She pulled into the parking lot and instead of applying the brake, she stomped on the gas pedal. Her car jumped the curbed and slammed into her new employer's building. One look at her large orthpedic brick shoe with four inch sole was explanation enough for me.

This woman lost control of her car duing rush hour and ended up perched atop a pile of dirt. Her car was not damaged but the tires were in the air so she could not move off the dirt pile.

A male driver was doing about 60 mph down the street when he suddenly swerved off the road, across the sidewalk and into a block wall. He hit a large light pole so hard that it snapped at the base and was launched up into a tree. The base of the pole is up in the tree while the top (where the light is) was touching the street. The driver was fine but his female passenger had a nasty compound fracture at the ankle and will probably lose her foot. Just another reminder to not get into a vehicle with a person who just finished off 5 boubons. The airbag and seatbelt surely saved her life but not her foot.

Speaking of driving: my city has an ordinance that requires vehicles being driven by unlicensed drivers be impounded for 30 days. It doesn't matter who owns the car -if you borrow a friend's or relative's car and drive it without a license, it will be impounded. After fees for towing, storage, and administration, a person with a valid driver license, insurance, and registration can retrieve the vehicle between the 30th and 45th day (after that, the tow company applies for salvage title and will auction the car).

The other night I pulled over a car with three people in it for making an incorrect turn. The driver had no license or insurance so I issued him a citation and called for a tow truck to come impound the vehicle. The occupants walked home. As soon as the vehicle was towed away, I went back into service and quickly pulled over another car for poor driving. Imagine my surprise when I realized it was the same three people I had just finished with. Apparently, they walked home and enticed a fourth person (also without a license) to drive them to their original destination (McDonald's). I issued another set of citations and called the tow truck to impound their second vehicle. I'm not sure a Big Mac and fries is worth the thousands of dollars in tickets and towing expenses they'll be facing.

If you feel sorry for them, just wait until you're involved in a car accident with a person with no license or insurance. If you don't have full insurance coverage (un-insured and under-insured coverage), chances are you'll be the one paying for everything -even when it's not your fault.

In memory

2007-02-28T10:17:00.000-07:00

In memory of Police Officer Anthony Holly (killed February 19, 2007)

A police officer in a neighboring city was killed last week while making backup for another officer on a routine traffic stop. The other officer pulled over a car for a minor traffic offense and was talking to the driver. As Officer Holly approached the car, a passenger in the front seat got out and shot him before he had a chance to react. As the killer fled, the original officer shot and wounded him. He's now in custody charged with first degree murder.

Officer Holly graduated a few classes ahead of me in the academy and was only 24 years old. My wife hates hearing about this kind of thing but it's a reality in this line of work and helps remind me to be extra cautious.

At his funeral service, his mother related a conversation she had with her fallen son a few months earlier. She asked him why he wanted to be a police officer when it was such a dangerous job. He replied, "Mom, I do this job so that you won't have to."

I never met Tony but when I saw the motorcade of police officers leading the funeral procession, I felt like I was watching an old friend pass by. He was known for his kindness, humor, dedication, and honor. I can't imagine the grief and anguish felt by his family and friends.

A school principal and former police officer posted a great comment in a local newspaper addressed to citizens being pulled over by police.

Crazy

2007-02-21T10:46:00.000-07:00

Here's a small gun I found on a routine pat-down of a guy stopped for having a suspended license plate. It's shown next to my papermate pen to give you an idea of the scale. It was loaded with five .22 caliber German subsonic bullets. The guy was cooperative and told me the gun was in his pocket but this is always a reminder of how small and easily concealable some weapons are.

A neighboring precinct was backed up with calls so I volunterred to go over and help out. The area has a reputation for being very 'active' and didn't disappoint. There were shootings, foot pursuits, robberies, assaults, and stolen vehicles all night long. The hours flew by as I raced from one hot call to another. Like I've said before: Time flies when you're having gun.

I met up for dinner with two academy classmates who work the area. They tried talking me into transferring to their precinct but I'm happy where I'm at. There's a large hispanic population in that area and I don't know how they can do their job without speaking Spanish. They raved about the non stop action but later admitted to getting burned out.

Last week a crazy guy believing himself to be God decided he needed to cleanse the Earth of Mother Theresa. He forced his way into his 65 year old neighbor's house (named Theresa) and attacked her. She tried to defend herself with a kitchen knife and cut up his hands pretty severly. Is wasn't enough for the psycho, though, as he beat her to the ground and then stomped her to death with his bare feet. He was a bloody mess when police arrived but was calm and content he had acted with holy grace. I've never understood the seemingly frequent connection between crazy people and religion (especially when the outcome is violent).

The Lowdown on Lojack

2007-02-14T11:13:00.000-07:00

I was driving my patrol car when a loud beeping sound filled the interior of the car. At first I thought my computer terminal was malfunctioning but the beeping was too loud for that. Then my attention was directed to the small plastic display box mounted from the ceiling of my car.

Each car is equipped with different tracking devices. Some have Lojack (for tracking stolen cars), some have Pronet (for locating stolen bank money implanted with a tracking device), and some have nothing. The cars I get usually fit into the third category.

I'm still a rookie on my squad and the daily assignment of patrol cars is based on seniority. By the time the box of car keys reaches me, there's usually a choice between older, roomier Ford Crown Victorias with way too many miles, or newer, cramped Chevy Impala's with barely enough room for my eight year old daughter to fit in. We have a few luxurious Chevy Tahoes but my chances at getting one of these is astronomically remote.

On this day, however, I had a car equipped with a Lojack detector. I've never had one before which explains why I didn't recognize the beeping when it was triggered. The device beeps and displays an arrow pointing in the direction of the signal. As you get closer, the beeping increases in volume and frequency. My signal was strong and I drove through the nearby neighborhoods until I located the stolen bright yellow H3 Hummer parked in an apartment complex. You'd have difficulty choosing a more conspicous vehicle to steal than this one.

There was nobody in the vehicle so I called for a tow truck to impound it until the owner could be notified to pick it up. An officer from another squad arrived to help me process the vehicle. Just then, a woman came out of the apartment directly in front of where the Hummer was parked. "Is this your Hummer?", I asked. "No, the guy in my apartment just drove up in it.", she replied. "What guy?" "I only know him as 'Ace'. He just got out of prison and is inside visiting my husband." She then opened her door and yelled to Ace to come outside to talk to the police.

As soon as I saw who she was talking to, me and the other officer dashed into the apartment with guns drawn. Any time we confront a person believed to have committed a felony, we assume he is armed and therefor display deadly force to ensure compliance.
"Stand up! Turn around and put your hands in the air!", I commanded.
The 6 foot tall, 200 pound man stood up from the couch, raised his arms but kept turning around to look at me and my partner.
"Face away from me and keep your hands up!", I shouted.

He kept looking back at us and was probably deciding if he could escape out the door behind us. Realizing it would be difficult to run past two officers with guns drawn, he started moving slowly forward to the back door of the apartment.

This is the moment my 5 foot 5 inch, 125 pound female partner holstered her gun, charged him, and slammed him into the wall. I put my gun away and forced him to the ground before handcuffing him.

He tried denying any knowledge of the Hummer but later admitted to 'borrowing' it from a woman he was dating. He asked to use her car one night while at a bar together and just never gave it back. He didn't know her last name, phone number, or address and only met her a few times. He also didn't know the vehicle was equipped with a Lojack device.

I wondered what kind of woman would give a brand new $40,000 car to a man she just met in a bar. A quick search of her car gave me the answer: The rear cargo area was filled with crates of bras, panties, and other intimate apparel items. The glovebox contained an invoice from a medical lab with venerial disease test results -Happy Valentine's Day, Loverboy! I hope the temporary 'free' car was worth it.

Love Thy Neighbor, and, Thank you, 'Sir'.

2007-02-12T22:07:00.000-07:00

A man called 911 and reported, "I just hit someone over the head with a bottle and he's bleeding real bad-send someone quick."

I arrived at the house to find a very drunk 40 year old male standing in the front yard of his house. I asked him what happened but he was unwilling to tell me anything. He kept saying, "I don't know." I asked him why he called 911 and he just looked at me and shrugged.

Then a large bald man came staggering from around the back side of his house. His head was smeared with blood and I could see a large gash on the back of his head. Chunks of coagulated blood were clinging to his shirt sleeves like spilled red pudding. I couldn't tell if his confused stupor was the result of too many beers or the head injury. "What happened?", I asked. "Nothing, why are you here?", he replied. I told him to look at his blood smeared hands, bloody shirt and oozing head wound. He kept wiping his head with his hands and acted surprised to see his fingers dripping with blood. The fire department arrived and began treating him at the scene.

Then the story came out: Bloody man came over to his neighbor's house for a night of companionship. There's nothing like a few cases of beer and a backyard shack to bring neighbors together. After both men were good and hammered, one decided he could no longer keep his true feelings for his friend a secret and declared his love for him. The recipient of this adoration was not pleased and told him he was not interested. When loverboy touched him on the leg and whispered, "I care for you, man." he could take no more and smashed a large wine bottle over the back of his head. The romantic mood was ruined as the pool of blood gushing from his head pooled on the floor and became an instant snack for the litter of underfed puppies cohabitating in the shack. Luckily, this was not a homicide, for the evidence was quickly disposed of by a half dozen puppy tongues.

The bottle wielding party pooper was placed in custody but soon released after the victim refused to press charges. They say love is blind and I guess that's true (especially when one's eyes are saturated with the stinging of salty blood). The guy thought it was perfectly acceptable to smash someone's skull in for making an unwanted romantic gesture. I tried to explain that physical force is only legally justified when defending against a harmful attack (not a loving one).
I returned to the victim to check on his progress with the paramedics. As he sat in a lawn chair with a mile of gauze wrapped around his bloody head, he gazed wantingly at a firefighter and and said, "Hey, Baby. How are you tonight?"

I guess it will take more than a smashed skull to teach this guy not to come onto other men without first checking on their sexual orientation.

THANK YOU, 'SIR'
While eating with my squadmates at a local cajun restaurant, I spotted former NBA All-Star Charles "Sir Charles" Barkly dining with his beautiful wife and another couple. One of the guys on my squad walked by their table and said hello on his way to the restroom. Our appetites were well sated by the delicious gumbo, jumbalya, red beans and rice, pulled-pork po' boy sandwiches, and chicken wings. We got our cash and credit cards ready as the waitress approached. "No need, officers. Charles Barkley already paid for your tab." Sir Charles had already left so we were unable to give him a proper thanks. I always liked this guy and believe his title of 'Sir' is well deserved.

Richy Rich's Day in Court

2007-02-07T17:43:00.000-07:00

Awhile back I wrote about a wealthy car owner who complained about the citation I wrote for parking his vehicle on a dirt lot. He called my Sergeant to complain and promised to fight the ticket in court (see the original post).

Well, our day in court finally arrived. As he and I were sworn in and seated before the judge, I was asked to present my case. I told the judge about the man's SUV parked on a vacant dirt lot. The city code violation states vehicles cannot be parked on a 'non dust-free lot'. The definition of which is: anything not paved with cement or asphalt (or, if in a residential yard with a single family home, three inches of crused rock enclosed in a border is considered okay).

He countered by announcing he was the owner of the lot (irrelevant) and that it was not a dirt lot. He claimed the entire lot was covered with crushed granite over three inches deep and, therefore, did not meet the definition of a non dust-free lot. He went on to ask if I've ever written anyone else a ticket for this violation (yes) and bragged about his numerous properties that have never been cited for poor landscape maintenance (again, irrelevant). He asked me about the names of the registered owner of the vehicle and when I gave his name, he wanted to know why I wrote the ticket out to his wife. I explained the car was registered to both him and his wife and that either name would suffice.

In closing, I explained to the judge how this guy complained to my Sergeant so I returned to the lot to double check my citation was valid. I even took pictures (but forgot to bring to court) to document the violation. I told the judge there were some scattered rocks on the property but it was almost entirely loose dirt and was certain the ticket was valid.

The man again denied the lot was dirt and stated in his best lawyer-wanna be voice, "If you are certain the lot was made of dirt, then why didn't you bring the photographs?"

The judge intervened and advised an officer's verbal testimony is valid evidence and pictures are not necessary. He then clarified the law and advised the crushed rock only applies to residential lots with a house on them.
"Well, my lot is zoned for residential and/or commercial use.", he stated.
"Is there a house built on the lot?" the judge asked.
"No, but it's zoned for it."
"There needs to be an existing house for the crushed rock to be an excuse. Therefore, I find you responsible as cited and order you to pay $140. Please see the bailiff for payment."
"Your honor! What am I supposed to do to ensure I don't get cited for parking on my lot?"
"I cannot give legal advice but you are welcome to look up the city ordinances at any library and make your own decision."

The guy was furious over being found responsible and couldn't believe a rookie cop beat him in court. It was a satisfying feeling to watch the angry rich guy come in with complete arrogance and leave in a much different attitude.

I'm proud to say I haven't lost a court case yet. I've had a dozen or so people challenge my citations and/or arrest in court and have yet to lose. We're told not to take court cases personally but I know it's a good feeling to have a judge uphold a ticket I've written.

But...

2007-01-28T12:22:00.000-07:00

"But, officer, I only drank four beers."
"Yes, but you told me they were 20 ounce beers, and you're 4 feet 11 inches tall.

"But, I'm moving to Europe in a few months and am having my car shipped there. Why do I have to renew my registration now?"
"Because your registration expired over 3 years ago and you are required to keep it current as long as you drive."

"But, she was speeding. I could tell she was driving way too fast. She ran into me when I turned left in front of her. It's her fault."
"If you could see her car was speeding towards you, why did you turn in front of it?"

"But, I'm on my way to church." (holds up Bible for me to see)
"You are required to have a valid driver license and proof of insurance while operating a motor vehicle regardless of where you are driving to."

"But, I had to drive. I'm the least drunk of all of us."
"Have you ever heard of taxi cabs?"

"But, I only parked in this handicapped space for a few minutes while I ran in to get coffee. Plus, my dad is disabled."
"Do you have a disabled parking permit?"
"My dad has it."
"Is your dad with you now?"
"No, he's at home."

"But, I didn't know the bike was stolen."
"How much did you pay for it?"
"$40"
"How much do you think it's actually worth?"
"About $1,500."
"Do you think the stranger you bought it from was being really generous?"
"Well, I thought it was probably stolen, but I didn't know it was stolen."

"But, I'm not a legal U.S. citizen so the Motor Vehicle Department will not issue me a driver's license. What am I supposed to do?"
"Not drive."

"But, I didn't know these DVD's were pirated. I am just reselling a bunch of movies I bought at the swap meet."
"Let's see, 'Eragon', 'Night at the Museum', 'Blood Diamond' -these are all still in theaters, right?"
"I think so."

"But, I want you to arrest him?"
"For what?"
"For slander; He called me an asshole and told me to get off his property."
"It's not a crime to call someone names. And, you should get off his property."

"But, you can't seize all that money; It's mine."
"Where did you get it?"
"From selling drugs, I told you."

"But, why are you arresting me?"
"For driving under the influence and for possession of cocaine."
"But, the cocaine isn't all for me. I was just bringing it to a party where a bunch of us were going to use it."

The Kids These Days

2007-01-24T21:26:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up kids listened to what adults told them. Back then, the kids I knew showed respect for parents, teachers, and especially police. I remember when "bad" kids smoked cigarettes in the alley behind school or shoplifted clothing from cool stores like Millers Outpost or United Colors of Benneton. I'm not sure what happened over the past few decades but the juveniles I run into these days are a whole lot different. In a way they're more mature but at the same time uncaring and clueless. It seems stealing cars, robbing people at gunpoint, and doing drugs are becoming commonplace.

What happens when these teenagers are confronted by police? Forget about respect for authority, shame, guilt, or remorse. Most of the juveniles I've arrested don't give a damn about the monetary, emotional, or physical damage suffered by their victims. And then come the excuses: "That bitch deserved it." or, "You police are always fuc*ing with me.", or most commonly, "What are you talking about -I didn't do nothing." One car thief crashed the stolen vehicle he was driving, ran from the scene and hid in some bushes. When the police dog tracked him down and witnesses identified him as the jacket-wearing driver, he concocted a brilliant defense: "Man, I was just walking down the alley and some dude put a gun in my face and told me to wear this jacket. What would you do? I put it on and hid in the bushes." When asked how his wallet and state issued ID card ended up in the stolen car, he blamed police for setting him up. The lies, excuses and accusations of being set up by police are endless.

Most of you wouldn't believe the way kids talk to cops these days. I've heard the most offensive, vulgar, hateful things from both boys and girls. There are so many uneducated know-it-all teenagers out there with heads full of misguided ideas of entitlement. The worst part isn't what they do, it's the deep seated belief of entitlement that worries me. The "I'm gonna get mine" attitude is spreading and is making it acceptable in certain circles to steal, cheat, and do drugs. My eight year old daughter immediately recognized this the other week while at dinner at a kid's pizza restaurant. A group of teens surrounded the game token machine while one of them repeatedly kicked it to dispense free tokens. Each slam of the machine produced a free token or two followed by giddy laughter from the group. "Daddy, those kids are stealing.", she told me. "Yes they are.", I replied. "And if they keep acting that way, they'll grow up and get into real trouble."

I'd like to think most kids are honest and good and realize my perceptions are influenced by my frequent exposure to the law breakers. Let's hope this trend is nearing its crest and that after the wave of ignorance has crashed down, a calm and settled sea of undertanding prevails.

On the lighter side:
A call came from a frantic woman trapped inside a pharmacy. Apparently, she walked into the drug store and was shopping when the employees locked up, set the alarm, and left. The woman was locked inside and set off the motion-detector alarm. I was on my way to try out my new lock-picking skills when an employee returned and freed the frightened woman. I'm glad she was released but wished I could have seen the look on her face through the tempered glass security door with the alarm siren squealing.

Fired Up

2007-01-20T12:45:00.000-07:00

A man called police after his 31 year old son went on a rampage in the house and started breaking things. The man told his son, "let's take it outside." The son thought dad wanted to fight and happily went out the door to the carport to meet dad's challenge. Sly dad closed and locked the door behind him and called police.

Son became enraged at dad's ruse and decided it would be appropriate to douse the family car in gasoline and set it on fire. The car was parked under an open-air carport a few feet from the house and directly under the roof.

Dad noticed black smoke coming into the house from under the carport door. He quickly grabbed his sleeping grandson and escaped to the backyard.

I followed the fire engine into the neighborhood and pulled up to see a vehicle fully engulfed in flames parked in the carport. The flames where quickly spreading up to the ceiling of the carport and were moments away from entering the attic (certain doom).

Two more fire engines arrived and the small army of firefighters doused the fire just in time. They pulled down the charred and soggy ceiling to the carport to make sure the attic was safe. Dozens of neighbors poured into the streets to watch the spectacle and to check on dad's welfare.

Meanwhile, the 31 year old son ran from the scene, shirtless and shoeless in sub-40 degree weather. He was spotted by a motorist a few blocks away running down the street but police were unable to find him. He doesn't have a car or anywhere else to live so it probably won't be long before we catch up to him.

The following day, son showed up at home and rang the doorbell. His mom answered the door, let him in and called police 45 minutes later. Now, I love my kids but if I had a 31 year old son that destroyed the family vehicle and almost burned his father and six year old son alive, I might have called police a bit sooner. Even worse, mom coached son to ask for a lawyer and deny any knowledge of setting the fire (fortunately, I conducted a taped interview with dad right after the fire was put out which will be strong evidence).

It's Official

2007-01-16T01:21:00.000-07:00

Today marks the end of my year-long probationary period. I am now an official full-time, genuine, certified, approved, police officer. I'll still be considered a rookie for another year or so but am happy to no longer be a probationary employee. I can hardly believe a whole year has passed since I graduated from the police academy. Like they say, "Time flies when you're having gun."

You know you live in a nice apartment complex when you see this courteous notice affixed to the window of the manager's apartment.

God forbid you're a tennant with a legitimate need to communicate with management. Aside from the grammatical and spelling errors, I was touched by the sincerity, availability and professionalism of this manager.

I was almost enticed to slip a police card under the door stating something like: "The city police were here to inform you of the tragic accident involving one of your family members. We intended on providing you with critical information about the condition of your loved one. Additionally, medical personnel are unable to proceed with emergency treatment until certain pertinant information is received from you. When it is convenient, would you please consider contacting police so the proper medical care can be initiated? We apologize for the imposition and hope we did not disturb you."

Here's something most of you will never see in person:
If you instantly recognized the contents at the bottom of this plastic container as bullet fragments removed from the body of an armed robbery suspect, you've been spending too much time watching 'Forensic Files.'

The bullets are being impounded as evidence in case the 'alleged' robber goes to trial (yes, he survived the gunshots.)

To Be or Not To Be (Crazy)

2007-01-14T01:11:00.000-07:00

My partner and I responded to an apartment complex to find a woman on the ground floor yelling at some neighbors on the floor above her. She was angrily shouting at them for ruining her stuff. We asked her what the problem was and she walked into her apartment to show us the damage.

"Those people break all my stuff. They came in here and broke my can opener. See, it won't work -they ruined it."

As she complains, I watch her repeatedly try to press the manual can opener onto the can. Only, the can is upside-down and the rounded edge on the bottom is causing the can opener to slip off.

"The can is upside down.", I tell her. "Turn it over."

She turns the can over and is immediately able to close the can opener, puncture the lid and begin opening it.

"Well, they broke my other can opener too.", she insisted. She holds up a different manual can opener which appears to be fine. "Let me see you try it.", I ask.

She places the other can opener on the can and, again, is immediately able to open it.

"They came in and fixed it 'cause they don't want to get arrested. They call me crazy but I ain't crazy. They snuck in and changed my ice cube tray. I had to throw it away."

True Love:
The other day, I arrived at a seedy apartment complex to take a theft report. I was met by a woman who told me her boyfriend stole $300 out of her purse while she took a shower.

"Okay, what's your boyfriend's name.", I ask.
"They call him 'Bone'."
"I need his first and last name."
"I don't know, he told me he wasf Muslim but I can't say it or spell it."
"He's your boyfriend but you don't know his name?"
"He's called 'Bone', I told you."
"How did he come to be your boyfriend?"
"I met him in Santa Fe (New Mexico) a week ago. He just got out of prison and he told me he didn't have anywhere to stay so I asjed him to come to Arizona with me."
"Do you think it was a good idea to live with a guy who just got out of prison whose name you don't know?"
"Well, he said we's gonna kick it."
(I have to admit: This girl had a pretty good reason to allow this man into her life. I mean, what better foundation for a genuine relationship than the promise of 'kickin' it? I also compliment her mastery of the English language. I was unaware there existed a contraction for 'we is'.)
"All right, I'll enter this report in the system and see if we can locate him. There's a possibility we may not be able to find him, though, since he never lived in this state and we don't have his name, address, or birth date."

How About a Movie?

2007-01-10T10:38:00.000-07:00

Why pay $10 to see a movie in the theater when you can buy the DVD on the street for $5?

Because it's illegal, of course.

A couple of guys were busted with a few crates full of pirated CD's and DVD's. They were caught by private investigators hired by the entertainment industry to find bootleggers. I was looking through the confiscated booty when this movie caught my eye:

'Rocky Balboa' opened in theaters a couple weeks ago and is already being peddled illegaly on DVD. We watched a bit of it to check the quality and were surprised to see it was pretty good. This was not one of those deals where a person sneaks a video camera into the theater and records the movie from the big screen. Someone must have gotten an advance copy of this film and started copying it.

This week I startedInvestigator school which is necessary to obtain Detective certification. It's several months long and is being taught by the city's premiere homicide detective. I'm getting back into 'student' mode and am glad it's not like the 'cadet' setting of the academy. After completion of the class, and another year of tenure, I'll be able to seek any number of detective positions.

Generation Gap

2007-01-08T00:50:00.000-07:00

I responded to a theft call from an eldery couple. I arrived to meet an 89 year old retired reverend and his 85 year old wife. They told me how some servicemen were in the house and emptied out a hallway closet to repair a leak. A few weeks later, the couple started to return the items to the closet and realized many things were missing. They had a different perspective of cost as the following conversation will show:

"What items are missing?"
"Well, a gun, ring, silverware, some sweaters, and a men's jacket."
(after getting a description of each item, I asked for the current value to determine the class of theft.)
"How much was the gun worth?"
"Oh let's see. It was an 1800's cavalry rifle so it's a collector's item. I'd say it be worth $25."
"Okay, how about the ring?"
"Oh dear, it was one of kind. I couldn't possibly place a value on it. It was so beautiful and meant so much to us. It was very expensive when I bought it and I'm embarassed to say how much it would be worth now. I paid $300 for it when I bought it. It's got to probably be about double that now."
"All right, tell me what the men's jacket would be worth."
"Well, it was a really nice jacket and we paid a lot for it. We bought that in 1975 and it cost about $35. It's probably worth about $40 today."

They told me the value of the other items and I was finished getting information for my report. The wife then added, "My husband won't be able to testify in court against anybody; He's got irritable bowel syndrome. He can't go anywhere without having a bathroom nearby. He just can't control his bowels anymore."
I expected him to be embarassed over his wife's indescretion but instead he confirmed her description. "Yep, I've got irritable bowels alright. I had to get an excuse to get out of jury duty last week because I knew I couldn't sit on those hard wooden benches for long without needing a bathroom."

Just when I thought I had my fill of unwanted information, the reverend dished out another serving:
"Dear, I bet this officer would love to see your spoon collection.", he offered.
"Oh I couldn't.", she replied. "I haven't cleaned them lately and I'm afraid they're not polished."
"Come on darling, I'm sure he's excited to learn about your spoons.", he insisted.
"Would you?", she asked me.
(No! Please! No!, my inner voice pleaded. It'll be certain death! Don't do it!)
"Of course.", I replied, conquored by her sweetness and obvious desire for attention.

An overload of information poured from her as she described each of the 300 spoons in detail. "This one's from Holland. From my aunt's friend. Emma. She was a school teacher in 1947. Related on my half-sister's side. These were etched in blah-blah-blah fashion -revolutionary for the time period. And these were originally crafted for blah-blah-blah. I almost forgot the blah-blah-blah's. Special and rare due to blah-blah and I know you've seen these, right?"

I made it through her dissertation and was thanked kindly for my time.

Tagged

2007-01-02T23:12:00.000-07:00

From the creep files:
I took a call from a grocery store manager when a customer found a pornographic photograph on the windshield of her car. She had kids with her and was apalled at the act.

I arrived at the store and was met by the loss prevention agent (a guy in plain clothes that catches shoplifters). The agent gave me the Poloroid photo below (I placed a plastic bag over the 'sensitive' part to reduce the disgust level.)

He told me this was the 3rd time in the past few weeks this type of photo has been left on a female shopper's car. He added he worked at a grocery store of the same chain a few miles away that was the victim of this same thing a few months ago. The pervert left several graphic photos inside that store hidden among food products and magazines. They were never able to catch the guy.

Nobody saw this guy place the picture on the woman's car so I took down the information I needed for my report and headed back to my patrol car outside. As I was leaving the store a teenage boy walked up and said, "Officer, I'm not sure what you're here for but there's an old guy in the store taking pictures of women with his cell phone camera." I asked the boy to show me where this was happening and he lead me to an aisle and pointed to a 60 year old man.

I walked quietly up to the man from behind and peered over his shoulder as he slowly shuffled forward while leaning over his shopping cart and held a cell phone in camera mode. I followed him halfway down the aisle and then asked him to stop. He turned around with a surpised look and a nervous smile. He told me he didn't know how to take pictures and was just trying to pull up the shopping list he programmed into it. He was unable to show me this list, however, and seemed uncomfortable to be talking to me.

I took down his information and returned to my patrol car to run a records check on him. His name and birthdate information checked out and he had no criminal record. I was about to leave and decided to take one more look at the photograph in my pocket. All I could see was a white male, a white male's junk, and a pair of grey sweatpants with a red and blue tag. Ding!!: The guy I just talked to was wearing grey sweatpants so I reentered the store to talk to him again. I found him exiting the main door and asked to see the tag inside his pants. He showed me the red and blue tag that matched perfectly to the photgraph. I also learned he moved to the area a few months ago and used to live near the other victimized store.

I showed him the photo and pointed out the matching pants and tag. He denied it was him and started acting even more nervous. Because the photo didn't show his face (and I wasn't about to ask him to drop his drawers for comparison check), I didn't have enough evidence to arrest him. I made it very clear, however, I knew it was him and told him I'd be at his door the next time any kind of photo showed up at any store. The store manager had him trespassed from the property so he's never allowed to return. They were also going to pull video surveillance from the other store to see if they could match him to those incidents. I knew the creep was getting off easy and wished I could have done something more to get him off the steets.

And They're Off!!

2007-01-01T23:32:00.000-07:00

After nearly a year on the street I had my first foot pursuit last week. I heard a squadmate announce over the radio he found a stolen truck parked in front of a small strip of business buildings. There was nobody in or near the truck so he called for a tow truck. I drove over to stand by and wait for the tow truck to arrive.

He told me the engine was still warm and he guessed the driver was probably in one of the apartments. "Apartments?", I asked. I was familiar with the row of business buildings but didn't know there were any apartments in them. He told me there were about 10 small apartments in a courtyard between businesses. "Just look for the white gates and and archway.", he told me.

Both of our patrol cars were parked on the side of the building and the stolen truck was in the front. I walked around the corner of the building to the front to look for the white gates. Just then, a man and woman came out through the gates and walked toward the truck. They split apart with the man approaching the driver's door and the woman to the passenger side. Just as the man was reaching for the driver's door handle, he looked up and saw me coming towards him. He quickly turned around and started walking briskly back to the apartment courtyard.

"STOP! POLICE!", I commanded with my gun drawn. My partner was right behind me and also yelled at him to stop. The man bolted into a run and threw something to the ground as he rounded the corner through the gates and into the courtyard. We were right behind him and caught him quickly in the dead-end courtyard. My first pursuit was over before I had any time to even think about it.

"I didn't do anything! You got the wrong guy!", he pleaded.
"Then why did you run when we told you to stop?"
"Well, I was going to jaywalk across the street and figured you guys knew what I was planning to do."

We put both of them in our patrol cars and returned to the courtyard to see what he threw. A black handgun and remote-key to the truck were lying on the ground. We then found some suspcious items in the stolen truck including: cell phones, bolt cutters, pry bars, a blow torch, laptops, fake checks, mail, tools, hundreds of keys, and many other items. The man had 3 drivers licenses with the same picture but with 3 different names.

As we begain to reveal the scale of the crime, the man then treated me to my first fake seizure/suffocation routine. He gasped for breath, rolled his eyes back, and was unresponsive to any of my questions. The fire department arrived to check him out and took his vital signs as he convulsed and panted on the ground. They all laughed at his act after confirming all his vital signs were normal. He continued his performance well after the medics left but instantly recovered and then pleaded with me to 'give him a break' as I drove him to the station. He insisted he was the victim of an elaborate set up but couldn't explain how someone created fake id's with his actual MVD picture on them and then placed them in his pocket without his knowledge. We'll await the results of the numerous fingerprints we took from the interior of the truck and the property inside.

It took us over four hours to inventory all of the property. A records check revealed an extensive criminal history for the guy.

Some of the recovered property:

The unpleasantries of policing

2006-12-30T00:51:00.000-07:00

I love my job and have talked about the great sense of pride and honor I feel being a cop. It's a fulfilling and intersting career and I'm glad to be doing it. Policework is not always the clean, orderly, and glorified duty as portrayed on TV or the movies. To provide an inside view of the job, here are some things you probably didn't want to know about policework:

Patrol Cars: Most police cars are disgusting. The seats are coated with a protective layer of waxy-grease-grime built up over years of use. I'm pretty sure the fabric wasn't designed to be water proof but has become so over time. The "passenger" compartment in the back is even worse. Biological material of every type has been artfully displayed on the seat, doors, and plexiglass shield. Discarded food, wrappers, loose change and everything else has wedged itself into every nook and cranny of the interior. Many times I've reached down behind a seat to retrieve the radio micraphone and have ended up with a handful of unspeakable mess.

Ballistic Vests: Don't get me wrong; these things will save your life and are an engineering miracle. But the downside is the creation of a body odor never before possible by pre-modern humans. There's something about a compressed layer of thick padded material pressed closely to the body that inspires the glands to put out an extra effort to announce their presence. It's as if the armpits felt shut out and launched an all-out odor assault.
Also, the common fatty area around a man's mid-section is perfectly situated between the bottom of the bullet-proof vest and the top of the stiff leather gun belt. While sitting, this is the ideal recipe for a constant pinching of the small 'spare tire' of fat as it gets caught in the middle (like those inflatable rubber buoys placed on the side of large boats to prevent it from slamming into the dock it is moored to).

Restrooms: Most people have the convenience of using the bathroom at home or at a typical corporate office complex. Out on the streets, however, choices are a bit more limited. I've seen some of the foulest, dirtiest, back-room toilets in convenience stores and in other 'employee-only' areas. Forget about sitting down. The time it would take to disassemble and reassemble a gun belt with its various buckles, pouches, etc. would never be worth it. I don't know how the female officers deal with this (to whoever invented the fly-front pant -God bless you.) Finding the time to use a bathroom can be another challenge. You never know when you'll be stuck directing traffic in the middle of an intersection or posted on the perimeter of a crime scene.

Paperwork: For anyone who enjoyed the movie 'Office Space' you'll know what I mean by, "All TPS reports require a cover sheet." I the chain of command style of police work, we have a 5 inch thick binder of policies called operation orders. The orders are written in such an incomprehensible style that it would take a team of genious cryptographers days to figure out the proper way to issue a traffic citation. Sometime I think the Bible must be easier to interpret.

Odors: Aside from the bullet-proof vest comments above, police officers are subjected to the most awful odors imaginable. I've been around homeless people before but have never been in the same car with a person whose limbs and appendages are rotted with disease, filth, and parasites. Try conducting a thorough search of a drunk transient and you'll know what I mean. The combination of bacteria, alcohol, vomit, urine, feces, rotten teeth, open sores, grease, grime, and mold creates a body odor too overwhelming to describe in words. Once, a man arrested for trespassing took off his shoes in my police precinct and people down the hall and several rooms away were choking on the smell. We double-bagged the wretched sneakers and still couldn't kill the stench.

Good Calls

2006-12-29T00:31:00.000-07:00

Some interesting calls dispatched tonight:

Incorrigible juveniles- mother in an argument with 16 year old son and 14 year old daughter. Kids have locked mom out of her house and won't let her in.

Fight - 72 year old man arguing with 45 year old girlfriend. Girlfriend locked him out of house and called medical personnel to treat old man boyfriend. Man transported to hospital and is now outside of emergency room requesting police. There was nothing wrong with him medically and he wants to report his girlfriend for convincing paramedics to take him away.

Incorrigible juveniles- Same kids as before have locked mom out of her house for second time tonight.

Armed Robbery - Woman walking on sidewalk robbed at gunpoint by two men. Woman does not want any police contact and will not give description of suspects or their direction of travel. She just wanted to give us a 'heads up' on armed assailants.

Criminal = Not very smart
One of my squadmates just left for a different squad within my same precinct to get different days off. He responded to an aggravated assault where a man driving a blue truck pointed a handgun at a woman in the parking lot of her apartment. She told police she saw the truck in the parking lot three times in one day "peeling out". Another officer a few miles away was randomly checking records on license plates and received a hit on a stolen truck (the same one driven by the aggravated assault suspect). By the the time the hit registered, however, the truck was long gone. Since the truck was in the apartment three times, the officer decided to park in a back corner and wait to see if it returned a fourth time.

No armed car thief would be stupid enough to return to the same spot four times in one day, right? Well, guess what? After a short while waiting, the officer decided to leave. As he was exiting the parking lot, the blue truck approached the entrance but quickly drove off when he saw the police car. The officer followed him to a different parking lot and pulled in behind him as he parked in a spot. The driver got out of the truck with a beer in one hand and a gun in the other. He did the only smart thing of the night by quickly throwing his gun to the ground. He was arrested and found to have a long, long, criminal history record.

My night was not as exciting which is all right with me. It was raining all day and night (a very rare occurance in my city) and I was okay with staying dry. I did help take a mental patient into custody for a court-ordered trip to the hospital for evaluation. He threatened me with lawsuits for: police harassment, invasion of privacy, looking at his apartment furnishings without permission, and embarrasing him in front of his neighbors (other psychiatric patients).

Help Needed

2006-12-18T13:25:00.000-07:00

I was dispatched to an apartment where a woman claimed she was hallucinating and hearing voices. A crisis team from a mental care facility was being sent and they wanted an officer to stand by in case the person became agitated. I knocked on the door and was let in by a size 30 woman wearing a size 8 nightgown. It was too short to cover her thighs and had a plunging neckline leaving little to the imagination. Her skin was pale white and her short blonde hair unwashed. She asked me to come in and started walking toward the bathroom. My prayer was soon answered when she put on a large silk robe covering most of her body.

She told me she was hearing voices and to back her claim, began talking with several other people I couldn't see. "You can't see him because he's talking to me from California -the L.A. area. I don't know how he does it; I'm computer illiterate and am not connected to the internet." We had several moments of uncomfortable silence interspersed with nonsensical conversation.

I was advised over the radio the crisis team would arrive in about 15 minutes. What seemed like days later, the team showed up along with my sergeant who was in the area and stopped in to monitor the situation. After conducting a short interview, the team determined it was best to take the woman to the hospital. They had worked with her before and told me she had a history of getting agressive so they requested I stay with them and drive her to the hospital.

They asked her to get dressed. "I'm not changing with that man in my house!!", she started yelling. "Tell him to get out!!" My sergeant calmly informed her I wasn't going anywhere and that she could change in the bathroom. To give her even more privacy, I moved to the kitchen where I had no view into the rest of the apartment. She kept demanding I leave, calling me "Saddam Hussein, the Clan, Aryan Brother, Hugh Heffner and George Bush." Then, her verbal outburst escalated, "FINE!! Let him see me then!!" A large pair of purple underwear sailed across the room and hit the wall of the kitchen. I knew what was coming next.

"You want some of this!!!??? C'mon, baby!!! GET SOME!! YEAH!! Here you go COP!! Look at me, look at this, come and get it!" Fully naked and shaking the second story apartment with a thunderous hopping, the woman ran to the kitchen dancing, gyrating, and juggling her breasts with her hands. As much as I wanted to witness the freak show, I directed my gaze to the floor and could only see her in my peripheral vision. My sergeant (also a woman) stopped her from coming into the kitchen (prayer #2 answered) and talked her into getting dressed.

I escorted her to my patrol car and placed her in the backseat. She politely and calmly talked to me, herself, and several other people on the way to the hospital.

Cable Guy:
A man called police claiming he was stranded on the roof of his house. Earlier, the cable guy had placed a ladder against the house and was on the roof installing cable. The homeowner climbed up the ladder and began pestering the cable technician about the job he was doing. Needing some peace and quiet to finish the job, the technician climbed down to the ground and then removed the ladder (leaving the homeowner on the roof). He then went inside the house and finished the installation job. The homeowner was furious about being left high and dry for an hour while the cable guy worked inside his house.

Training Day

2006-12-14T17:06:00.000-07:00

No, not the film where Ethan Hawke spends his first day as a rookie cop under the misguided supervision of Denzel Washington. If you haven't seen this film, I highly recommend it.

I'm talking about a day back at the police academy with my squad learning new firearm techniques and trying to qualify for the department's new physical fitness level. The fitness test consists of 5 consecutive exercises and can earn an officer points towards a pay raise depending on how well one performs. Here are the tests and minimums needed to qualify for the higher level of fitness award:

300 Meter Sprint (55 seconds or less)
Sit-ups (39 in one minute)
Pushups (33 w/out stopping, no time limit)
Vertical Jump (18 inches)
Agility Course* (16.4 seconds)
1.5 Mile Run (13:46)

*the agility course is a short course where you start on your stomach on the ground, leap up and sprint about 15 yards forward and back, weave up and back through cones, and another sprint 15 yards back and forth.

While in the academy, meeting these minimums was simple. Almost a year later I had a bit of difficulty. My squad made a bad decision to consume a large lunch of Mexican food immediately before the fitness exam. The pushups, situps, vertical jump and sprint were fairly easy for me. I didn't make the cutoff on the agility course on my first try but was able to squeeze out a time of 16.35 seconds on my last attempt.

Last up was the 1.5 mile run. Normally this would be an easy event for me. I've completed two marathons and several half-marathons over the past few years and used to use 1.5 miles as a warm-up. Today was a different story. With 3 pounds of chips, beans, tostada, rice and tacos in my gut it took all I had not to vomit during the first lap. I was exhausted from the agility course and never fully recovered before the 1.5 miler. With leg muscles burning, lungs wheezing, and stomach contents moving in reverse, I managed to drag myself across the finish line with a time of 12:54, an 8:36/mile pace (my best time while in the academy was 9:45, a 6:30/mile pace).

Overall I qualified for the highest fitness level award but wasn't entirely thrilled about my performance. I think this was just the kind of wake up call I needed to get back into top shape.
I was overexherted but found some consolation in watching a class of police recruits go through the pepper-spray in the face day. Nothing I've ever done compares to the misery of that day.

By the way, one of my squadmates struggled mightely on the long run but was able to sprint to the finish just under the cutoff time. He celebrated by puking volumes of half-processed Mexican food in the grass next to the running track.

Shakedown

2006-12-13T09:51:00.000-07:00

I arrived at a house surrounded on three sides by apartment complexes. The house is for sale and the owner has finished pouring in tons of dough in upgrades. He happens to be an architect and has done a great job remodeling. Unfortunately, the landscaped backyard is hemmed in on all sides by the towering multi-story walls of the apartment complexes. I'm at the house because the owner's father is taking care of the place and noticed the back door pried open and a few items missing. The house is completely vacant but some vandal took a fire extinguisher and a wall mounted speaker and threw them in the swimming pool. I completed the short report and wished the old man good luck. He thanked me for my time and extended his the universal gesture of friendship: the handshake.

I'm sure you've all experienced a bad handshake. Steve from 'the sneeze' wrote about one awhile back that I found particulary funny. Let me tell you about mine:

In perfect sync, our hands met at the proper elevation and speed (check), the positioning of the palms, thumbs and fingers was spot-on (nice), and the firmness of the grip equalized to the appropriate pressure (so far, so good). We'd gotten through the hard part and only the 'shake' itself remained. Once the hands are interlocked, the movement part is a cinch (or so I thought). I began the vertical up and down movement I've been using since I was a kid. My partner, however, began a side-to-side sweeping motion. The counteracting forces of my up and down vs. his side to side contorted the shake into a clockwise circular swing. It now looked like we were swinging a jumprope only without the third person in the middle doing the jumping. 'You've gotta be kidding', I thought to myself as I tried to guide the shake into the proper upright position. He would have none of that, however, and continued his sideways oscillation.

After what felt like an hour we managed to release grip and go our separate ways.

Technology

2006-12-11T01:25:00.000-07:00

Technology is making law enforcement more effective than ever. I can't imagine the days of policework without a computer or decent radio. You might think police departments are privileged to have the finest technology available. You would be mistaken. My precinct has recently been outfitted with new computer systems but here are some actual gems of technology still in use today:

Ah yes, the streamlined beige box monitor. Notice the desk is too narrow for both the monitor and keyboard to fit. This requires one to hold the wrists in mid-air for as long as it takes to complete the nightly reports.

What high-speed, memory-monster of a harddrive could power such a monitor? Why, this beauty, of course. The sharp edged block of computing power has proven itself a survivor of countless kicks from police boots over the past decade or so. What better place for a 'desktop computer' than on the floor between roller chairs? Front USB ports? Who needs 'em? We like bending down, crawling under a table, swiveling a 40lb PC around and searching for a tiny port in the dark.

If you were impressed with the computing power, wait till you see some of the telecommunication systems in place. We pride ourselves on the finest communication equipment available. It's obvious someone had a penchant for style, versatility and practicality when selecting this particular model. One of the department's cost cutting secrets is to order phones with only the most commonly used buttons on it. I can only wonder how much money was saved by eliminating access to the four different lines, volume, hold, and transfer buttons.

Here are some calls I saw holding on my computer that I was unable to get to:

MISSING JUVENILE -complainant's teenage son left home hours ago in unknown direction after little sister saw him doing something embarassing

AGGRAVATED ASSAULT - complainant says his neighbor threw a potted plant at him.

CHECK WELFARE - female complainant home alone afraid to answer door. Her next door neighbor is spraying hose water on her front door and yelling anrily at her to come look and his new boxer shorts.

Workin' on my Fitness

2006-12-09T00:43:00.000-07:00

Everybody should try to stay fit and improve their health but today I learned an even greater motivation: Not being the cop who was left in the dust by a fleeing prisoner. Did I mention the prisoner was handcuffed behind the back?

I had just walked out of the precinct when I heard the winded plea for assistance come over the radio. Any hint of distress in an officer's voice over the radio causes and instinctual state of hyper-vigilance to kick in. "He's running north....out of the parking lot.....across the street.....behind the bank.......into the apartments....." I raced to the scene with several other officers to set up a perimeter. A shoplifter was being escorted out of the store to the officer's patrol car when he just sprinted away. He was later caught hiding in an apartment complex trash dumpster (hands still cuffed behind his back). Now, the officer will endure endless ridicule from his peers about 'the one that got away.'

The department just rolled out a new incentive plan to earn points towards a higher pay scale based on physical fitness. I will be testing for this new level next week with my new found motivation.

Later, I was sent to the home of a mother reporting her missing daughter. The girl had run away a dozen times before and was now pregnant by the mom's ex-boyfriend. The girl has a diminished mental capacity and is expecting to deliver her child somewhere near her 14th birthday. Her boyfriend is in his mid-twenties and has been listed a suspect in several misconduct w/minor reports but has eluded detectives thus far. This is the second time I've taken a report of a child being impregnated by her mom's ex-boyfriend.

Name Calling

2006-12-08T00:29:00.000-07:00

I've been called many things as a cop and I don't mean to shock you but; not all of them are nice. Most every cuss word has been bestowed upon me, most commonly with a pattern of caucaisan references such as 'whitepolicebitch', 'whiteassmotherfuc***', etc.

The other week, however, I was knighted with a new title, curteousy of young gangbanger type. He called me, "Hellaplayeriffic." I'm not certain of its exact meaning but his tone and smile implied it was pretty good. You will not hear this term in my vocabulary as I plan to keep it in reserve for very special moments. Until then, I walk the streets a more confident man knowing I'm more than a player, and more than terrific. In fact, I'm a hell of a terrific player.

Be Careful:
I've talked about wearing seatbelts in previous posts but thought I'd take a minute to send out an extra reminder this holiday season. If only the two people sitting in the open bed of the pickup truck that was t-boned last week were listening. One was ejected into the busy intersection and luckily was not seriously injured. The other somehow remained in the back of the truck without a bruise. I've seen many collisions and can only imagine how badly the collision could have turned out. Please don't rely on luck to keep you safe/alive -wear a seatbelt all the time.

Testify:
I attended court recently for a DUI case I handled as a trainee several months ago. A guy swerved across several lanes of traffic, jumped the sidewalk, and wedged his truck between a palm tree and a block wall. He said he was cut off by another driver. His blood alcohol concentration made me believe differently. When I entered the courtroom with my Field Training Officer and the witness who called 911, the defendent decided to waive the trial and plead guilty. There was another person in court for an unrelated DUI that morning that occured in 1999. Imagine our surprise when the officer handling the original DUI was not present for court. Even if he/she had attended, how much detail can one be expected to remember from seven years ago? There's something wrong with our justice system when extensive delays almost guarantee a dismissal.

My father-in-law came participated in the police ride-along program last week. It was a relatively slow night but he was able to see some of the things I do on the job. A few years ago he and I would watch 'Cops' on T.V. together and remark on what a crazy job that would be. At the time I wondered if I could be an actual police officer. Did I have what it takes to be a cop? I'm still just cracking the surface of this job but I love it and am glad I took the chance.

Dirty Rat

2006-12-04T12:12:00.000-07:00

I responded to a house to take a theft report. I arrived and was told by the homeowner he was missing some money. He had returned from a weeklong vacation and discovered $18,000 in cash missing from it's hiding place in the attic. The stack of $100 bills was wrapped in layers of cellophane and aluminum foil buried under insulation. His wife was home during the week and did not notice any signs of a break-in. I climbed up the ladder in the bedroom closet and peered into the attic where the cash was hidden. There was loose insulation everywhere (the kind you spray in, not the pink rolled kind.)

Nothing else in the house was missing and only the homeowners had keys or knew about the hiding spot. I had trouble believing a stranger broke into the house, found a ladder, entered the attic from a ceiling panel in the bedroom closet, dug through an ocean of shredded insulation and found a stack of money. Even more troublesome was a second stash of bills ($10,000) in plain view next to where the missing bundle was taken from. Why would a thief take one bundle of cash and leave another bundle alone?

I asked to see the $10,000 bundle the 'thief' left behind. The plastic and foil wrapping was already discarded but the homeowner mentioned it was partially torn open when he found it. The 15 or so bills on top of the stack had rat-sized chew marks. I informed the homeowner the likely culprit was a roof rat found in attics and sheds throughout the city.

The 'missing' cash bundle was probably dragged to another spot in the attic by the crafty rodent. I recommended he search the rest of the attic before the bills were shredded into an $18,000 rat nest.

Almost Famous: I was at the county jail dropping off a prisoner when a guard walked up and questioned, "Officer Gary, right?" My first name does not appear on my uniform so I asked him how he knew it. "You write officergary.blogspot.com, don't you?" I admitted I was the author and asked him how he came about it. He told me he was thinking of becoming a police officer and was researching the police academy and happened to find my blog. He complimented my blog while I tried to encourage him to consider becoming a police officer.