Creepy Crawlies: A war story

I read a recent entry on the blog of Beat and Release that was an all too familiar and rather disgusting aspect of the job. That entry inspired me to relate my own war story. A story that actually gave me the chills on a hot summer day.

It was a scorching, humid, August day in the southeast. I was working afternoon patrol shift as a solo unit. It was 1600 and I'm checking on duty. A day shift car calls me and asks me to come to his location.  It doesn't sound like it's a major issue, I just figure he's going to brief me on some happenings in the hood.
Yes, it was the hood alright.  The ghetto.  Hookers, trannies, drug dealers, drunks, and some of the nastiness looking buildings and homes you've ever laid eyes on. Now mind you, some of these older folks had been there 20-30 years, back in it's prime, and before it deteriorated all to hell.

For the sake of identity, I'll refer to the day shift officer as "E."
E gives me the address and I am all too familiar with the street. This street in question abuts behind a diner that is a busy place for drug deals and addicts to shoot, snort, smoke or whatever. Sometimes even a sleazy sex deal would go down in this busy little alleyway. This diner is open 24/7 and I hated going in there. Not because of the scum that patronized the establishment, but because it was filthy and smelled bad. If a police car pulled up, they'd scatter like roaches. The manager only called us when he needed to because he liked to remind us we were bad for business.

E just wanted to pass on something. When I get there, he says he was dispatched to this DOA just before end of shift and was asking nicely if I would take it, since he had some appointment or other and well, we didn't get paid over-time.  He would owe me one. Sure, I agreed and he began to brief me on it.

He says these concerned next door neighbors called police because they had been feeding the old guy's German Shepard the last few days and they hadn't seen old man "Smith" for some time. They were quite naturally distressed over his well being.  E knocks on the doors and peers in windows.  He can't see. It's extremely dark and all the windows are covered over to probably keep the heat out and both doors are locked. It's a very old building and undoubtedly, no AC. Old man Smith's car is still there too.

Well, it seemed like exigent circumstances to him, considering the info he obtained from the neighbors, so he kicked in the front door. Cheesy lock, rotted wooden door.  It didn't take much to force it open.  He said he knew when the door opened, what it was. He didn't have to explain it any further.  (I don't care what anyone said during the Casey Anthony trial, decomp of a human body smells.  It's a smell you never forget.) E said he backed away and followed procedure by calling a supervisor and notifying the ME. Until we could prove otherwise, it was a crime scene and no one could enter. Me, young bravado that I was, wanted to go check it out.  E told me I didn't want to. He had a look in his eye, and with a cigar always tucked to one side of his mouth, insisted I should wait outside for the ME.  Besides, you couldn't see anything and there was no electricity.  He had checked the meter.  It wasn't running.  I asked him if he had used a flashlight to look around.  Nope, didn't have one. Damn day shift people!  Don't they think that they might ever go some place where it might be dark?  Well, mine was in the car and I grabbed it.

I walk up on the porch and open the door.  I can only open it so far. There was something blocking it. I hadn't yet turned on my flashlight, but I heard a distinct noise.  I heard a crunching noise and what little daylight was let in with the door open, it looked like the floor was moving. I lit up my flashlight to scan the room. I swear, I blinked hard, 2 times, thinking I was seeing things.  My mouth dropped open and I started holding my breath from the smell. My light caught the old man's body, dead in his chair, the usual hoarding items, including car tires and big bags of dog food. It was hot, it stunk, and the place was wall-to-wall roaches, rats and what other vermin that came out to munch on the dog food and the old man's body. There were millions and you just knew, this place will eventually be condemned and torn down. It will never be habitable again.

I closed the door and shuddered at the thought of helping the ME get the body out and doing something to this "crime scene."  E, with his cigar firmly clasped between his teeth said, "Told ya so." As I was walking off the porch, I was dancing, stomping, brushing myself off, hoping none of the creepy crawlies had jumped on me. I made E look in my head and check behind me.  He wished me luck and left the scene.  I stayed in my air-conditioned car. Parked far away... in the street.

When the ME showed up, I gave them the heads up and handed them my flashlight.  One peer inside, and 2 faces with raised eyebrows, went back to their van and suited up in their haz mat gear.  Head to toe they covered themselves and then had to borrow my flashlight.  They asked me if I wanted to go in with them, smirks on their faces. I politely refused and said that I would wait outside.

By this time, with a police car and ME wagon outside, the usual 2 legged street vermin were waking up and starting to gather outside to check out the action. When they see the ME folks in full Haz mat gear and struggling with a gurney that had a body on it, the street scum's brains are lucid enough to realize somebody died. I found it amusing to notice a few people actually walking away in disgust when the ME people stopped in the street to check the gurney and themselves for bugs and the like before they put the old man in the van.
Even though the old man was covered with a sheet, the smell and the body fluids seeping through the sheets told you he was starting the liquefy. I thought to myself that this is a guaranteed way to disperse a crowd.
Cause you know in da ghetto, they's always a crowd when the po-leece show up.

In case you wanted to know, he died of natural causes.  The house was condemned and it took some time for it to be torn down. Once it was clear the house had been abandoned, it became a magnet for drugs and sex.

To this day, I see one "Palmetto Bug" (a flying cockroach that can be as big as 2 inches), I get the chills and go on a killing spree or just give them the right of way. I'm here to tell you, they are fast and don't die easily.  And well, shooting the creepy little bastards can be kind of problematic.

California Dreaming: A War Story

I was dispatched to an ATM kiosk to assist a state trooper with an unruly subject.  An unusual location, but I haul ass over there cause, you know, another cop needs assistance.

When I get there, a trooper is trying to explain something to an individual about posting money for a traffic citation he had just received.  The gentlemen wasn't even trying to understand what was being explained to him, and probably didn't want to.

As the trooper explains it, the traffic offender has a California driver's license and he was charged with speeding, 20 mph over the posted speed.  Since California is not a member of the Non Resident Violator's compact [NRVC], he must post bond immediately or go directly to jail.  Since this guy was active duty Air Force, the trooper was doing him a favor by following him over to an ATM to withdraw the funds.
This traffic offender wasn't buying the story.  In fact, he was doing all he could to push the trooper's buttons.  He was trying my patience too.

Since we weren't too far from the local Air Base grounds and we had a good working relationship with their military police personnel, I have dispatch see if they'll send a patrol unit over to try and reason with the guy.
They actually respond and 2 Air base police officers make a half assed attempt to explain the situation to him.  He just won't buy this story no way, no how.  His reasoning is that all stupid, redneck cops in the south are on the take and there's no such thing as the "compact."

This bone head member of the Air force has orders to ship out in the morning.  He's still convinced we're just out to get his money.  The Air base police explain once again that if he doesn't pay, he will go to jail, miss his MAC flight in the morning and then be UA for reporting to his new duty station.  This stupid SOB just doesn't give up.  The Air Base police get his info, hand his military ID over to me, and tell me he's all mine.  Oh wow, put a bow on it, baby!  I give the guy one last chance to do the right thing or face the consequences.
[Neither of us really wanted to lock up an active duty member of the military, but he was starting to get on our nerves and becoming annoyingly stupid.]

Well, since he's loud and boisterous within the city limits, I have to arrest him for disorderly conduct.  The stupid son of bitch is now trying to resist.  The trooper and I go at with this guy, with me showing his cheek the sidewalk.  The trooper just has him on the traffic offense but now I have him on dis con and resisting.  We're going to court in the morning folks and this little piece of shit just put me past my shift.
Ain't it always the way?  We don't get OT either.

We get him in the back seat of my car and I have to transport him over to county lock up.  His mouth is just going all the way.  He says his Dad is a CHiP and knows all the things they do to people.  Slamming on the brakes for those invisible dogs or cats so that he'll fall forward and get a screen test.  He knows the trick about slamming his head on the top of the car and then making him trip.  Oh yea, he knows them all....his Dad's a cop.  Well, I tell him that pretty soon that cat will run out in front of me if he doesn't shut the fuck up!
He also needs to consider his actions when his Father does find out about this.  He will not be pleased.
He keeps running his mouth and I get so pissed that I turn up the car AM/FM radio full blast.  He gets the hint and closes his mouth the rest of the way.

He's sullen now and calmed down a bit.  I turn down the radio and we're about half mile from the jail, when a damn cat does run out in front of me!  Ah, the irony.  He falls forward just a bit, but he didn't get a screen test.  I could have hit the brakes a lot harder than I did.

In central booking he starts running his mouth once again and I hand over his ID's to the intake officers.  First thing out of their mouth is, "California DL.  I can only imagine what happened."  I tell him the worst part is he's active duty military with orders to be at another air base by a specific time tomorrow afternoon.  Well, looks like you're not gonna make it, Mr. California.  Now, just hand over all your personal belongings and we'll get on with this.  He gets an attitude with them and well....they usually strip you and show you the Presidential suite but they signed him in and I wanted out of there before they changed their minds.

Next morning, the Trooper and myself are in city court with this guy, who I might add, isn't looking so hot.  I don't think he got much sleep the night before.  His eyes are all puffy and red, he's got a little scrape on his cheek, probably from where I showed him the sidewalk.  He just looks like a nightmare.  Poor baby.

Well, the Trooper and I regale the judge with our tale of 3 different law enforcement jurisdictions trying to explain NRVC to him and that we all were doing everything in our power to work with a member of our active duty armed forces, but he didn't see it that way.  He was loud, belligerent, uncooperative, he resisted arrest and refused to post bond on his citation.  The judge shakes his head and tells the guy that he brought all this on himself.  His attitude and actions just bought him a hefty fine and 10 days. You're AWOL, son!

You done fucked up!

Late that afternoon, I report in for my regular shift and the watch commander calls me over to his office.  He wants to know if I arrested one guy in the Air Force.  Seems his Dad really is a CHiP and he and the Lt. go back.  The Lt. says that he would ask me about what happened and talk about the charges.  But he already told his Father that if I had arrested him, he had to seriously fuck up.  I give him the brief run down, and before I even finish, he says, "That's enough.  Fuck the asshole.  His old man said he probably deserved it anyhow!"

Well I'm relatively sure that pretty boy enjoyed his 10 days of R & R -- courtesy of my city and county.

The Flashlight: A War Story

I had a rookie.  A 6'2" female whose stature alone was intimidating.  Those Crown Vics had bench seats and she was the first trainee I ever had who sat with the seat all the way back. Ahhhh....no knees in the glove box when she's driving.  She learned the city quickly so I wasn't hesitant about letting her drive early on in her training.  No GPS in those days and I swear this woman had a road map in her head.  She was analytical, asking out loud if this street or that was the easiest.  She was also former Navy SP.  Got a bar room brawl?  She could swing that PR-24 and cuff faster than you can say the words "cuff and stuff."

There had been a number of incidents involving metal flashlights.  Our department didn't provide flashlights so officers bought their own.  More than likely, it was a mag light and those things were handy for other things besides just seeing in the dark.  There were too many incidents of using the flashlight to make a point, and it was usually up side some idiot's head.  Unpaid suspensions were handed out as punishment to those who used unnecessary force, but the department went a step further.

ANY AND ALL metal and personal flashlights were banned.  The department now issued a black plastic flashlight with the words, NORTH PODUNCK POLICE DEPT. written on the side of it.  What a freakin' joke. You had to bang on the thing to make them work.  If you dropped it, it may or may not be working when you picked it up.  If it got wet, forget it.  2 C cell batteries and no adjustable beam.  Even the road supervisors agreed they were worthless pieces of shit.

I was on the evening shift with my rookie, but I was driving.  We had an hour or so left in our shift and had just returned back to our sector via the interstate.  This exit had a high curb and sharp turn.  A moron in a Mercedes jumped the curb and just kept going along the grass and on to the adjoining street.  Kind of like he was taking a short cut to avoid the traffic light.  I hit the blues and pull him over about 2 blocks up.

Before we exit the patrol car, I put the spotlight on the driver's rear view to blind him.  Then this black male gets out of the car without being told.  Both the rookie and I have our doors open but we are in the cover area and she tells him in an authoritative voice to stop and stand between our cars.

We both approach him and then she breaks off a little to the right watching me, and then looking inside the car.  She tells me with body language that there's no one else in the car.  My first observation is that he's more nervous and I don't smell alcohol.  That sorry ass excuse for a flashlight is in my left hand and I ask the guy for all his paperwork.  He says the car isn't his, but starts reaching for his wallet so I slow him down.  I get his DL in my hand and I'm noticing my partner has gone off on a little investigation of her own, but she's still being observant of what's transpiring with me and the driver.  The driver's side window is open so she subtly reaches in and removes the keys.  She just puts them on the dashboard.  {To this day, she can't explain why she did that.}

So I'm trying to have a civilized conversation with this dude and he doesn't want any part of it. He's in a hurry.  So you know what happens with the citizen with attitude that tells you that they're in a hurry.....time slows to a crawl.  I'm asking why he saw fit to jump the curb and drive on the grass.
"I'm in kind of a hurry."
 Does he know that's illegal?
"Well no."
Who owns the car?
"My friend."
What's your friend's name?
 Silence.
Does the person who owns this car know you have it?
"Of course she does!"  [rather indignantly]
What is her name and address?

My stance during this questioning of Mr. Idiot Driver is body bladed, flashlight in left hand and his DL is in my right.  He wants to go.
"It was a mistake and I'm not drunk, so if you're through with me, I'll be moving along now."  He tries reaching for his DL out of my hand.
You will leave when I decide this is over.  Now I need the paperwork from the car, where is it, the glove box?
"I don't know, I guess.  I'll get it."
He bolts and runs in to the car.  He's looking for the keys and then goes to the glove box, trying to find something.  He grabs something and gets out of the car.
The rookie and I have our guns drawn and are both telling him to get on the ground.  He refuses and runs like hell.  Without hesitation, I throw that piece of shit flashlight at the maggot with my left hand.  It hits him square in the back, falling to the ground in pieces.  It doesn't slow him down much.  I have his DL and put it in my pocket and chase after him.  The rookie stays behind with the cars and gets on the radio that I'm in a foot pursuit.

This guy could run, but had no idea where he was going.  I get him cornered 2 times with weapon drawn and he is not the least bit deterred by a gun  pointed in his face.  I'm asked by radio if he's armed, but I can't say because he reached in the glove box and got something out of his car.  I just don't know what it is that was in his hand when he ran away.

He's making me work for this, jumping across a ditch that had standing water.  I wasn't deterred by it, but didn't quite have the jump factor working in my favor so I got wet.  Now I'm even more pissed.
We're now some 3 blocks away and back up has found me and Mr. Idiot.  Mr. Idiot doesn't surrender until there are 3 guns pointed at him.  We get him cuffed and in another officer's car while the other officer gives me a lift back to the scene.

The Sarge is there with my rookie and I see him walking along the road picking up pieces of my flashlight and putting it together.  He tests it a couple of times and damn if it doesn't work.  He asks who's flashlight and I tell him mine.  How did it get on the ground?  I told the truth.  I threw it at the maggot when he ran.  He asked me if I hit him.  Yea, left handed too!  He slaps me on the back and give me the old atta boy.  Cool.

During the chase, Mr. Idiot dropped a couple of things that turned out to be photographs.  Very explicit sexual photographs of him along with a pretty white female in various positions.  We find about 6 of them and this woman later turned out the be the owner of the car and she couldn't deny she didn't know him, but she was going to have to go bail out her pretty little Benz.

Amazingly, Mr. Idiot didn't have a criminal record and no traffic offenses on his record.  We arrest him for reckless driving and resisting arrest.

When we go to court, Idiot doesn't want a jury trial, he wants the judge to hear it now.  I give the Judge the rundown and Idiot doesn't deny it, but reiterates he was in a hurry and offers up an apology.  The Judge said that wasn't good enough and that he brought it all upon himself.  Had he cooperated, he wouldn't be facing 30 days for resisting and 6 points on his DL.  Guilty-guilty.

Fun in the big city.

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.

Swampy Surrender: A War Story

We had a big problem with vehicle thefts.  Oddly enough, most were juvenile joy rides.  Some actually stripped and shipped to local chop shops.  Finding the chop shops was the biggest obstacle. 

I go in to work one night knowing full well I should have stayed home.  I know I was battling bronchitis and having coughing fits. I was doing my best to stay out of trouble.  Until some fool always ruins it....

I initiate a traffic stop because this fool is driving down the road with no lights and changes lanes with no signal.  Once I hit my blue lights, the chase was on.  [In those days, the supervisor called the shots on the pursuit policy.  If they determined it wasn't worth the risk, we were ordered to break it off.]  I've already called in the plate to dispatch and a few minutes later, they report it is stolen.  Now the supervisor is closely monitoring my radio communications.  I note that there's at least 3 people total in the car, most likely all juvies.

The timing of this car chase couldn't have been any better.  The night shift was just signing on duty, and now that they've heard a pursuit, adrenaline is pumping and everybody wants in.

This pursuit doesn't last long and the occupants find a large parking lot to make a break for it.  On one side of the parking lot is an all night restaurant that is the only decent place to eat in this sector after midnight.  On the other side is a small little building that at that time, was a family operated music store.  What's behind the parking lot is a heavily wooded area.  I've never had the desire to go exploring in these woods, so I had no idea what was in there.  Turns out, I wasn't the only one.

Once the vehicle slows down enough, these 3 juvies bail out, running in 3 different directions.  2 of them head for the woods.  Meanwhile, the stolen car is still rolling and is headed back out in to the street.  I have to try and stop it before someone gets hurt.  Now there's already 3 marked units near me and I give a description of the suspects and where they headed.  2 patrol cars move over to the woods and after I got the car stopped and in park, I noticed that there was someone crouching down in the bushes by the music store.  I pull my weapon, point it at the bushes and tell the kid to get his ass out of there, with his hands up!  He complied and it was an altogether easy arrest.  He was only 13 and scared to death.  Naturally, he's not going to snitch on his friends.

All his excitement is starting to aggravate my bronchitis and I have a coughing fit.

The Sgt. and Lt. show up at the scene and we're all trying to determine where the woods lead.  A few officers ventured forth only to find it swampy.  Snakes are very prevalent and then there's always alligators to contend with.  Who wants to wake a sleeping gator?  Everybody backs out and we do an assessment.  We've made contact with the local Rescue Squad because they have a boat and their house is about 5 miles away.
In a short period of time, 2 Rescue people arrive with their boat in tow.  They also have a terrain map.

While the 2 bosses consult with the rescue people, 4 of us conspire and we now have a plan.  We've done enough warnings, threats, and pleas for the little brats to surrender and we don't even know if they're still in there.
As we planned, we all go as silent as we can for a few minutes and then one officer gets on his PA system and shouts in a very panicked voice, "GATOR!  BACK AWAY EVERYBODY!"
Suddenly, there are a couple of terror filled, girly screams heard and 2 young males come running out of the woods begging to get in a police car.

They're immediately taken in to custody and I'm laughing so hard, I have another coughing fit.
Both the supervisors are also having a hard time keeping a straight face with the Lt. asking why no one thought of it sooner.

Rescue pulls out and the Lt. leaves the rest to the Sgt.  We have separated the juvies and I was going to transport one, when I realized I had a flat tire.  [Yep, no garage available so we have to change them ourselves]  Another officer agrees to transport the juvie and the Sgt., myself and another officer are left.  The other officer, "Rich" grabs the jack and I grab the spare tire out of the trunk of my Crown Vic.

Another coughing fit.

Officer "Rich" has loosened the lug nuts for me and has started jacking it up.  Rich is busting my ass and is only assisting cause I'm sick....but it will cost me. ....blah, blah.  The Sarge warns me that if I'm still sick tomorrow and show for work, he'll kick my ass out the door.

I notice something.  I start to say it, but instead, I'm coughing uncontrollably.  I'm standing behind Rich who is squatting down by the tire.  The car wobbles on the jack.  I pull on Rich's shoulders, while I'm hacking horribly, and pull him back until he falls on his ass.  The look on the Sarge's face is priceless as he must think that things are about to get a little physical between us.  Within seconds, the Ford falls off the jack and plops down hard.
I say, "Sorry man -cough-cough but I couldn't get the words out."   The Sarge says to Rich, "I told you - you didn't do it right."

How to Piss off the Police: A War Story

After normal business hours, our city garage was closed and if we had a minor issue, we could go to this local service station that had a contract with the city.  My headlight wasn't working so I went there, hoping it was just a light bulb.  I'm standing around waiting for the service tech to deliver his prognosis and watching this 20 something white female go to the pay phone and make a call.  [Yea, I know - pay phone -]  She was on the other side of the parking lot, but I could tell from her actions that she was quite upset and fidgety.  While she's on the pay phone, she turns, sees me, turns back and hangs up the phone.  Just as she's walking, dispatch is calling me advising that there's a 911 hang up on the pay phone of my location, could I handle it?  By that time, we're standing in front of each other.  I advise dispatch I've got it.

It was a story no cop wants to hear....

She was upset, angry, shocked...you name it.  She started crying about her baby.  I calm her down and ask her where the baby is.  She says she's at home with her Mom, she's safe and her house is just around the corner.   My complainant says that she's been dating this guy for a couple of months or so and well....she couldn't explain it.  She handed me half dozen Polaroid photos.  [Oh yea, this is a really old story, isn't it?]
In all of these photos were pictures of her beautiful blond 4 year old daughter  posed in various stages of undress and in provocative positions.  She said she found the photos accidentally when she picked up her boyfriend's duffel bag.  I am more than sickened by these photos.

Situations like this require immediate supervisor notification.  I advise him briefly via radio that I had a sexual assault reported and that I am presently at the service station with the complainant.  He responds to my location and I ask the service tech to step it up.  He can't find what's wrong.  Screw it!  Just give me the keys.

We go to her house and Grandma is there with this little sweet faced cherub.  The child appears to be a normal and inquisitive 4 year old.  She's very shy around everyone and doesn't feel like talking now.  We're required to get statements from both the Mom and then....the poor girl will need be examined to determine if there's any further physical injuries.

Grandma is staying at the house as the boyfriend is expected to come by shortly.  Granny's pretty pissed and looks like she could kick some serious ass.  I  have to ask her if she's got any weapons in the house or plans on getting ugly.  She won't.  She agrees to do as instructed and will notify us once he arrives.  We plant an unmarked unit nearby and the supervisor will also wait in the area.

Word is traveling fast....

I transport Mom and daughter to HQ and take them upstairs to the Detective Division.  4 Detectives and the Watch Commander are all waiting for me.  Right away, men are all cooing over our little sweetheart and soda and candy are appearing.  The Lt. has to shoo some away because it is over-whelming her a bit.  Sweetheart bonds right away with one of our toughest and meanest dinosaur detectives.  He has 2 daughters of his own.

We're getting statements and making arrangements for the child to be examined.  Since it involves a juvenile, a Detective from that division is now handling it.  I make the initial report only.  Before I leave, I am about to hand over the photos to the Juvenile Detective, when others are breathing down my neck and they want to see them.  I hear some uncouth words, I see anger and I see disgust boiling up inside 4 other men.  They all want to go to the house and wait for the scum to come home.

About an hour or so later, we get the call that boyfriend has arrived.  I race down there because I know what's going to happen.  I get there just as the Detectives are cuffing him.  The uniform Sgt. is making sure that we're cool.  They put him in my marked unit and we proceed to HQ.
Mom and daughter have been transported to a medical facility for follow up so it's safe to bring him up.  Well, safe for the girl and Mom.

I take the scumbag upstairs and basically do the perp walk through the bull pen.  Jesus, if looks could kill.  I hear one Detective say,  "is that the Son of a Bitch?"  "That M.F. perv so much as looks at me funny, he's gonna know pain...."  And on it went.

The Detectives Mirandize and then question him.  No one coerced a confession out of him, but the SOB knew that his best bet was to move the process along and cooperate.  5 people were now glaring at him.  We get all the paperwork processed. including his confession, and I then set out to transport him to the county lock up to await his bond hearing.

Ordinarily, 1 uniform would be sufficient to escort a prisoner downstairs.  Unless he was a real bad ass, then maybe 2.  This guy....had 4 detectives and myself.  He was sweating.  He said that everyone was treating him like he was a mass murderer or something.  The "or something" was it.  A child molester is a higher form of scum. I sensed everyone was hoping that his asshole would break bad.  Any excuse.  As it was, a door might have accidentally knocked him on his ass and perhaps someone may have forgotten to tell him to watch his head when he got in to the police car.
I have to convince them to back off.  I don't want to have to go to the hospital with this pedophile bastard.  Any signs of injury, and the jail will refuse intake.

It was fortunate -  the medical exam and through some questioning of our little angel, it appears the sick bastard had done only what the pictures proved and that disgusting shit was more than enough.

Now that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is how you piss off the police!

White Guy in the Projects: A war story

I moved down to the southeast after several years at a mid size police dept. in the northeast.  I spent 2 years at a Public Safety Dept. and loathed it.  I was never so bored.  I yearned for real police work again.  I took a position with an urban city police dept. that was, at the time, a struggling city trying to find its own identity.  It was quite a culture shock from my northern home state.  This was a whole different animal and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't apprehensive, but it was what I had yearned for and I thrived on the excitement.  If you wanted or needed a definition of "urban jungle," this city was it.  These streets were full of prostitution, drug deals, juveniles who can steal a car faster than you can snap your fingers, shootings, stabbings, robberies, burglaries, and our homicide rate averaged 50-60 per year.  This city also had its 'projects' that were spread out over 400 square acres.

I was assigned to one of our "hot" zones where sometimes you just went from call to call, clearing them as quickly as you can because they're backing up faster than dispatchers can get them on the air.  Tonight I had a ride along.  In those days, it was common practice for a dispatcher to ride a long a couple of times in various sectors, to get to know the territory and see what it's like in this big bad city.

My dispatcher ride along tonight, "Linda" was a small woman with a sweet, calming voice, and a quick, dry wit.  [She'll need it]  She was young [hey, so was I once] and was initially cautious, but I tried to put her at ease and we were cracking jokes after about 15 minutes.  The great thing about a dispatch ride along, is that it frees you up from one of the other 9 things you're trying to do while driving.

We had been on a couple of minor calls and it was getting dark.  We were near the projects and I was headed that way to give her the tour, when some idiot in a Buick blows the stop sign right in front of me.  DAM!
I hit the lights and siren and this guy stomps on it!  The driver is short, so it's safe to say he's not old enough to have a driver's license and it looks like there's another juvie in the car with him.  They head straight for the projects.  Dispatcher Linda is calling the shots on the radio for me; initiating a vehicle stop call to what then becomes a pursuit.  This little punk doesn't want to stop for the po-leece!

The rug rat heads right straight into the main street of the projects.  Section 8 and low income housing.  Our tax dollars.  Now we all know what happens when there's pretty little police lights and sirens in the projects....yep, houses empty.  There's always people and kids hanging at or near the street anyway, but something like this brings mob action.
This moron takes a last minute right turn and the driver and passenger doors fly open simultaneously.  Oh yea, they're bailing.  They get out of the car, running in 2 different directions and the poor Buick rolls in to a light pole.
Meanwhile, Linda is talking care of radio business while I focus on trying to catch the bad guys.  I can hear radio traffic and back up is en route.  When you had a call in the projects, you never went alone, no matter what the call.  Not having been on the department long, I hadn't met everyone yet but heard a Detective say he was in the area and headed in that way.

Once they bailed, I parked the car, I told Linda to lock herself in, and I went in foot pursuit of the driver.  There were 5 buildings in a row, all with about 5 town house type apartments.  They had a front and back door and clothes lines in every yard.  I chased after the driver who was zigging and zagging through the apartment buildings.  I had my weapon in my hand and came to the end of a building to do a quick peek before proceeding.  As I rounded the corner -  there was a face and I yelled, "POLICE! FREEZE!"
I was pointing my gun in to the face of a white male, who was wearing a shirt and tie and had a gun of his own.  He said,  "I'm Detective T-t-t-iii-t-t-t us.  Don't shoot the white guy in a tie!"
That's it....we both lost it....and started giggling like little school girls.  Oh hell, we already lost the bad guy.  Other officers were in the area and now that there were so many people every where, the odds of apprehending the little bastards were slim to none.  Another officer had picked up Linda and taken her out of there for her safety and someone had already ordered a tow truck.  We were going to process this scene quickly and then get out.

For many years after, Det. T. and I would always great each other with him throwing his hands in the air saying, "Don't shoot" and my responding with my finger pointed at him, saying "White guy in a tie."

The Things You See

A reassignment put me on the midnight shift and I was working in an area that generally has a high call volume.  Not on this night.  It was a very frigid January in the southeast.  Unusually cold temps were hovering around freezing.  After about 2 a.m., there was literally no radio traffic to speak of.  A city of roughly 80,000 had about 7 cops and 2 supervisors working that night.  It was eerily quiet.

I was patrolling up the main street area of our fair city, literally looking for something to do.  I happened to be sitting at a traffic light.  This is a 7 point intersection so there's quite a wait for a green light, no matter your direction.  I was facing northwest.

I glanced up and at my 1 o'clock position I saw a very odd thing in the sky.  It literally darted from left to right and then hovered in the same position for seconds.  Its lights were twinkling and the object was oblong shaped, but was wider on the front and then narrowed to the rear.  It was a brilliant blue color in a cloudy, starless night sky.  After hovering, it then darted in a vertical path, flying up first.  I was so mesmerized by this object that I sat through my green light.  In fact, I grabbed for the car mic, but thought to myself, "What the hell do I say? I think I've got a UFO near Broadway and Main?"  Yeah, sure.  That's a guaranteed trip to the shrink.

For just a split second, I took my eye off it and it darted from my right to the left, disappearing in to the sky.
I peered out through my windshield and even opened the drivers window to try and get a better look.  It had disappeared.
I see in my side view mirror that there is a car moving around me to go through the green light.  That means I've sat at this intersection over 5 minutes.
I look at my watch.  It's 3:40 a.m. and there's no one else around me that saw what I saw.  It's best I just dismiss this as 'abnormal weather conditions.'

2 days later, a small mention in the local newspaper about some calls to the airport tower.  Some people reported seeing an unusual object in the sky around 3:35 a.m.  Their statement to the press read in part;  "that there were no commercial flights after midnight and the Air Force denies they had anything flying in the sky that night."

The things you see....

The Sly Little Fox: A War Story

I was dispatched to an alarm call.  This is not the first time on this building.  In fact, it's starting to get annoying and the city will soon start writing nasty letters and levying some nuisance fines if it doesn't stop.  It's surrounded by a fence so I know I have to get inside.  Now I know many an officer would just drive around the perimeter for as far as they can take the patrol car and if there were no signs of entry, they would clear the call as building is secure; false alarm.
I am not one of those officers.  If the burglar can get in, then I must too.

The front gate is chained so I pull the car as close as I can up against the gate, taking out the slack in the chain.  I'm not too sure my ass is skinny enough to fit through this opening so I jump up on the car hood and wiggle my way through the top of the fence.  Bingo.  I'm inside the perimeter.
I start my building check.  I have my weapon in my hand and am approaching as quietly as I possibly can.  There doesn't seem to be any signs of entry, and I even remembered to look up.
I hear a rustling noise and freeze, holding my breath at the same time.  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch some movement and turn to point my gun at it.
OH SHIT!  Did I just pull the trigger?  Yes I did, and I shot at a stupid fox near the dumpster!  OH CHRIST!  I am by no means a rookie and I can imagine all the inquisitions, statements and other bullshit that will arise out of my sudden act of stupidity.  NO.  THIS JUST DIDN'T HAPPEN.
I quickly think this out... Since I missed and the fox got away, and probably won't be talking any time soon, I am going to keep this one to myself.  I hear another unit is responding and is not too far away.  I tell dispatch that the building is secure and ask if there is a key holder responding.  There isn't.  I cancel the back up and clear from the call.

I later sneak out of my assigned sector and go to another officer's home.  I know he won't ask questions if I ask for some gun cleaning equipment.  He's old school.
If there's a statute of limitations on being freakin' stupid, I would hope that it has long ago expired.

So the moral of this story is.....if it's furry and has 4 legs, it's probably not a burglar.

Just one sly fox who scared the shit out of me.

A War Story of Respectful Stupidity

It was a typical hot, humid night in the southeast.  The kind of heat that makes your glasses fog up when you get out of the patrol car.  I was working the evening shift on the west side and it was getting close to the end of my watch.  The night shift had already signed on about 2 hours ago and our over lap time was coming to an end.  My paperwork was done and I was just trying to stay out of trouble for the next hour.  It was not to be.
It was getting busy and calls were coming in faster than we could answer them...in every sector but mine.  It was well after midnight, 85 degrees and a full moon.  I don't care what anyone says.  I believe in that theory.

There was an alarm call at a school in my adjoining sector.  I was the only available unit so per the supervisor, they dispatched me.  I was an FTO at the time, but no rookie this night.  None anticipated for about 2 weeks.  A little bit of a vacation.  I was thinking this is just another false alarm and it would tie me up for at least 20 minutes.


On a brief side note:  At this time, I worked for a large police department with never enough man power.  A high turnover rate with low salaries and even lower budgets.  We often had issues with our equipment, including our walkies.  It was close to new budget time and on this particular night, my walkie was pretty damn close to dead.  

I respond to the school, parking my unit in a dark area near the front entrance.  I commence a foot patrol and start checking doors and windows.  I'm halfway through my check when I suddenly hear rapid foot steps and then  BAM!  Followed by "Oh shit!"  I have my weapon out of my holster and I'm crouched behind some cover, trying to ascertain where the suspect is.  2 times I try a persistent whispery call for assistance on the radio that I have a B & E in progress.  The dispatch center isn't picking up my transmissions but someone else was  paying attention and caught some of  it.  A K-9 officer asked dispatch my location and he advised he was en route.  We all know how we can multi task in situations like this.  You hear that assistance is on the way and you're still concentrating on what's transpiring in front of you.

After I heard some idiot run in to something and swear, I have my weapon out and I've taken cover.  I'm shouting at the top of my lungs at this bone head...."This is the North Podunck police dept., come out with your hands in the air." I yell this a few times and finally get a response.  The male voice is coming from the area of a small out building with some aluminium garbage cans next to it.  He doesn't want to come out because as he says, "not if you're going to shoot me."  [Gotta love the humor of some freakin' idiot who has now already pissed me off because I took cover behind something and had to squat down on one knee, in what I hope is just mud.] 


This little discussion just seems to be dragging out.  He'll surrender if I promise not to shoot him.  I promise.  He does come out with his hands up and I talk him down on the ground at gun point.  He's laying on his stomach, legs crossed and fingers interlocked behind his head.  I approach, grab some fingers, holster my weapon and proceed to handcuff this young punk.

My adrenaline has been pumping so hard, I was practically out of breath.  The K-9 officer is on scene and is asking my location.  He's near my car but can't find me.  I manage to get a word in to dispatch that I've got one in custody and that I'm in the back of the school. The K-9 officer does what we all do, drives as far as his car will let him, damn any of those pesky little obstacles like grass and sidewalks.  He pulls up just as I'm picking this knucklehead up off the ground.
K-9 Officer "Wolfie" gets out of his car while his partner is loudly yapping and snarling away in the back seat.
He asks if I'm ok and if there's anyone else in the building.  Our knucklehead friend says, "Oh no, I broke in all by myself."  TIME OUT!  [Let me catch my breath]  I start reciting Miranda to our little burglar.  After being asked if he understands his rights, he says, "Sure I do.  I'll give you a full confession now.   It was just me that broke in that classroom."  [WOW.  My lucky night.]

Meanwhile, we have to find a way over to the actual entry point and secure Mr. Knucklehead while we do so.  K-9 Wolfie comes up with this plan...Take out his partner from the back seat and then put the perp in there temporarily.  My car is very far away.  The suspect pipes up with, "You can't arrest me, I'm not your bust!"  Smart ass K-9 officer Wolfie says, "Don't worry man, I won't take the credit for this!"  Now Knucklehead is getting a little antsy because he thinks we're going to put the K-9 back in the car with him.  Our little Knucklehead reminded me that I promised I wouldn't hurt him.  [Aw, shucks!]

Well, his spontaneous confession tells us he broke in through one window and got out the same way, because he heard me outside.  [That's not a good sign.]  The classroom door was locked and required a key to open from the inside.  He had no choice but to leave the same way he came in. Since I am the smaller of the 2 legged officers, I get a boost and get in the class room.  What an unholy mess.  This guy just totally trashed the classroom with spray paint, penning every dirty word imaginable on every surface imaginable.  No place was untouched.  There's no doubt, this guy was just too stupid.

Oh crap....this is going to take hours.

We finally get everything sorted out at the scene and I have knucklehead safely belted in my dog free patrol car.  On the way in to HQ, our young man is just one chatty Cathy who informs me he is one of the military's problem children.  He's had a DUI, been busted down a pay grade or 2, and tonight has been drinking, taken some 'ludes, and was looking for some excitement.  Well, looks like he found it.
After we get to HQ and I put him in a temporary holding cell, I contact the Navy SP 's to brief them.  They know him!!  [Another bad sign.]  So they wish me luck, and state that his command will be notified.  [To this day, I can still hear that SP's wicked chuckling through the phone line.]

I have to ask our friend some standard questions for the booking report including his place of birth.  He says that it's some place in upstate [a nameless northern state] in a city that I've probably never heard of.  I told him to try me.  He gives me the city and I ask if that's county A or county B.  The kid's eyes, already humongous from the drugs and alcohol, are about ready to fall out of his head because I knew where his birthplace actually was.  Sadly enough, I grew up in that state some 30 miles south of where he was born.  Small world.

And such a considerate and respectful burglar, confessing like that.  He wanted to make sure I got all the credit for his arrest.