Pissing Off Drug Dealers is Fun: A War Story

There was a half mile section of our city, we'll call it "The Farm," that was definitely not a safe place to be after dark, unless you were looking for some drugs or prostitution.  More so the former.

The land itself first belonged to freed slaves and was then passed down through generations.  Many of the residential homes on the land now, were 60-100 years old and the tenants were mostly people who just wanted to live quiet, peaceful lives.  It was a scary place if you were elderly and that was the majority of the populace.

Then came new apartments built for section 8 housing and then many homes were now being abandoned and then these homes began to deteriorate.  The section 8 housing did nothing but attract the sorriest scum of our fair city.  I always wondered how they managed to get housing subsidies and drive a Caddy.  I was a working stiff who could barely afford a mid size car.

The drug dealers were brazen and bold and had no conscious.  They had no respect for anyone or anything.  They would clearly and flagrantly stand on street corners selling their wares and used threats and intimidation if you stood in their way.  The older tenants would often call the police, but didn't want the police at their door for fear of reprisals.  No matter how many undercover buys you made or 'warrant sweeps' you conducted, within hours, they were back in business.  We got tired of the citizen complaints and we did whatever we could to eliminate this problem and all within the legal limits of the law.

The old Stop and Frisk rule was becoming our basic tool.  We could stop, detain, frisk for weapons.  If we got lucky and found an illegal weapon, they were busted.  They quickly adapted and kept their guns and other toys carefully hidden but within reach.  Drugs were often stashed in trees and on the porches of abandoned houses.  They were very good runners and would strategically drop their goods while running from the police.  They often used children as their runners so that their goods could get around quicker and without police detection.

We saturated The Farm 12 hours a day for 4 days straight.  We would stop, frisk, detain for warrant checks, etc.  If we had no probable cause to arrest, but found drugs, we would seize the drugs, thereby putting a dent in their business.  We also learned where the drug stashes were and would randomly stop and check them.  Sometimes we got lucky.  Word was out and they were getting pissed because we were on their ass day and night.  Having cops around is not good for business.

We let up for a day or so and had received word from various informants that a police ambush was being set up.  Calls were occasionally received from pay phones or other untraceable means, and they seemed to be from people who were convincingly in distress and needed police.  One unit would show, only to be pelted with beer bottles and rocks.  Any kind of strange call now warranted 2 units.  [We were often single officer cars]
Days passed and things were quiet and tense.

One midnight shift watch and I was solo for the night.  It had been a relatively quiet week night.  I was cruising down the main street of The Farm at about 4 a.m. and during my drive through I noticed activity was non-existent.  Or so I thought.

I was driving about 30 mph and heard a loud POP!  I instinctively ducked down and gunned the engine.  As I was basically retreating, I calmly told dispatch that I had heard a shot fired in the Farm.  I was presently checking my unit at the corner of East and West Streets.  After I parked it about 3 blocks away, I got out and looked over my car.  Holy crap!  My blue light bar had a hole in it.  It was NOT there when I checked on duty.  It looked like a .22 cal had hit the bar and made a clear and distinctive hole in the plastic outer coating of it.

The Sarge calls and asks if I'm ok.  I'm fine of course, but I cannot give any description of a suspect.
Well, pissing off the police again usually ends badly for the sender.  We saturate the Farm until the sun comes up - leaving only to answer calls, which were almost none.  Starting the following afternoon and continuing in no discernible pattern, for weeks on end.....the stop and frisks continued.  Word was out that a bad shot was meant for a cop and that cops don't take too kindly to those types of things.

Just about everyone was stopped, detained, frisked, questioned and identified.  Sometimes there was just one slight bit of attitude and an arrest would be made.  I think it's safe to say that when in doubt, Disorderly Conduct will suffice and it was often used in those weeks.

Then somebody got a lawyer, the ACLU made some calls.....ah hell, the party was over.