Police have normal days too.

A copper working on the street day after day never knows what kind of situation he may encounter. Funny, absurd, bizarre, or even sexual, are just some of the ways to describe a "normal" day.

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An attractive brunette walked into the station during a rainstorm, soaked to the skin, wearing only a tight tee shirt and shorts and asked for help getting into her locked car. The lucky officer who offered to assist her returned later smiling from the "thank you" she gave him, twice, since her husband wasn't home.

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An officer related how he and his partner were met at the door by a woman wearing a see through robe. Cheerfully they, accepted the invitation to enter the apartment. The first copper was led into a room. The partner heard a voice from the other room. Smiling he went in and found an old woman at least 70 years old leaning up on an elbow from the bed. "Please come in officer, I ain't had me a man in over ten years."

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Another copper related that during an interview of a young woman victim of date rape, she was asked if the man had ejaculated. Not understanding , she asked "huh?" She was asked again, "Did he have an orgasm?" The girl replied "Oh no, he had a Monte Carlo."

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Responding to assist a one man car at a disturbance, a sergeant found the officer speaking to two men. One man was in tears and the other was highly agitated. The crying man related he and his friend were having an argument so he left to calm down. When he returned his friend was screaming and behaving strangely. The coppers got both men to go into the apartment. The agitated man was speaking rapidly and his eyes were wild.

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The coppers got them both to sit down. The wild one began to explain that after the argument, his lover walked out so he decided to take a shower then a nap. While sleeping , two black men broke into the apartment and dragged him into the bathroom where they broke the mirror and raped him. The sergeant, stated the man should go to the hospital to get checked out. The man agreed, then continued to say that they had raped him with a piece of broken mirror. "My ass is bleeding" he stated, "Look." He then stood up, yanked his pants down, and bent over.

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Both officer and sergeant started, "NO, DON'T" but it was too late... The officer shone his flashlight. The sergeant looked closer. Nothing. The man was not bleeding at all.

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"There's nothing wrong with your ass! Put your pants on." ordered the officer.

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The coppers decided the wild eyed look was possibly crystal meth intoxication. This was probably causing the delusions. They convinced the calm one to sign his friend into the hospital. The wild one was placed in the cage car and driven to the hospital. The friend and sergeant followed close behind.

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When they arrived at the hospital, the officer opened the door to the car. The man calmly stepped out and immediately took off running. His friend ran after him. No drugs had been found and neither men had committed a crime so the coppers didn't join in the chase.

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"Have you ever looked in a guys ass before, Sarge?"

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"No, how about you?"

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"I won't tell if you don't." They both agreed.

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Ten minutes later, the jokes started on the radio and from passing police cars.

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Coppers can't keep secrets. Is nothing sacred?

Support your local police.

The big city police department has been suffering through bad publicity because a small group of rogue officers chose to tarnish the honor of their profession. Maybe todays mutterings will help readers understand why they should support the many, many good honest coppers who do their best to overcome the daily battles that police endure.

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A former New York City, Anthony Bouza, police chief wrote "Cops work in a world shrouded with mystery and power..."

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For eight hours a day, six days a week coppers encounter everything one could imagine. Every pain, misery, despair and degradation that man can think of inflicting on each other has to be challenged and overcome. Officer's senses get heightened to a level where the adrenaline flows in copious amounts. They witness more traumatic events in one year than an average person will see in several lifetimes. This overloading of the sensory circuits gives the police an outlook of arrogance, superiority, and power that some outsiders recognize but can never understand.

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Police Officers go into the homes of people who have temporarily lost control of their lives. They evaluate the situation, consider the options, then make a decision for those who are unable or unwilling to do on their own. This is often accomplished in a matter of seconds or in some cases, split seconds. Applying these decisions to the situations at hand takes authority and power. Society gives police the power and authority to accomplish this task using whatever force is necessary including the right to subdue, strike, and even kill legally. This enormous power over the citizenry is wielded by even the lowest ranking rookie officer.

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Police are bonded together into a brotherhood brought on by shared danger and self preservation. There is a common feeling that an outsider has no idea of what really goes on in the bowels of the city so it is difficult to relate to anyone but another copper who lives and works in the same environment.

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Whenever a copper sees another officer struggling with an individual, he sees himself or a brother fighting for his life and the pleasure of going home to his family in one piece. To prevent any further injury to his comrade and the offender, he joins in the fight. A passing citizen sees this and cries brutality because there are more police than bad guys. Well, coppers do not fight fair. They don't have to. They have to win at all costs. Society demands it. What would the city be like if the police had to fight one on one with the criminals?

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Police officers are a unique, elite group of individuals. A thousand years ago these people would have been slaying dragons and rescuing princesses. They actively seek out danger and evil. They revel in the capture of violent criminals. Normal people hear shooting and run from it. Coppers feel a surge of adrenaline and go after the gunmen. Why is that? Do they get paid an enormous amount of money? No!! They do it for the honor and the glory of it. There is a certain satisfaction to solving a murder or a robbery, whether it's within minutes or a year later.

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An active aggressive copper can't help but get complaints filed against him. A true professional, he doesn't shy away from his duty for he knows that as long as his actions are within the law he has no fear of a complaint board. Officers will go out and provide service to the best of his ability for the same people who had filed the complaint against him. It's ironic that the same person who vehemently screams of abuse and brutality at the hands of the police is the first to cry "Help Police" when he or she becomes a victim of a crime.

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The intoxicating allure of the street does have a price that has to be paid. There is a tremendous amount of stress involved in police work. Any situation, any encounter can explode into a maddening tooth and nail struggle for life itself. Every darkened alley or hallway is a potential ambush. Every traffic stop is a possible gun battle waiting to erupt. Whenever a copper walks in an open area his eyes never stop moving, ever conscious of the huge target the blue suit makes. Coppers are the only people who never look at each other during a conversation as they must always be aware of their surroundings. They see what other people miss. Where an average person sees dress styles, laughter, and love; the copper sees pickpockets working, psychotics babbling, and couples fighting. They can't help it. They have to wallow in other peoples misery and observe them at their worst. In order to deal with dead children, pools of blood, spilled brain matter, and the pitiful wail of grief stricken families they unconsciously grow callouses over their emotions. The typical gallows humor coppers are famous for is a defense mechanism formed to cope with the sickening violence that man inflicts on his own kind.

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This stress related arrogance, cynicism, and callousness of the heart is not a button that can easily be switched on or off. Many officers take it home with them. Their odd working hours and long shifts wreaks havoc on their home life. Their lives are subject to public scrutiny and everyone knows who the officer is that lives on the block. Coppers dislike going to non police functions because of the attitudes people take when they know he is present. All of this often results in one of the highest divorce rates in the country.

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A higher price that is paid is the many injuries suffered from fights with doped up addicts, violent attacks, and traffic accidents. Yes, coppers bleed, in fact they bleed more than any other profession other than the brave soldiers fighting for our freedom (God bless them). Every officer's heart bleeds a little every time one of their own is murdered while doing his job.

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Being slain on the job should be the ultimate price but it doesn't end there. The suicide rate among police officers is abnormally high. Too many good coppers have taken that escape route while depressed and over stressed.

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Death by retirement is also a job hazard that is almost unique to the profession. The average life span for a police officer is two years less than normal and statistics show that a retired officer collects only 18 months of his pension before he dies. Many coppers have died the first week after "pulling the pin."

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Policing the big city is difficult and dangerous. The men and women who go out and risk their health and safety daily usually get only the gratitude of the victims that have been helped. The actions of a small element of bad cops who abuse the power and insult the honest and decent members of the profession should not result in further loss of support from the public.

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Without the support of the community, the only satisfaction coppers will get will be from peer recognition and their own professionalism. This will only serve to further alienate the police from the society it serves.

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Most Police Officers, whether they are big city coppers or small town's finest, are fiercely proud of their profession and of the men and women that "SERVE AND PROTECT."

No honors today.

A copper was buried today. Quietly. Only family, friends, and those police officers who knew him.

A sergeant who knew him from the early days, wondered why the order for a full honors burial never came out. He hastily arranged for two escort vehicles and a handful of officers to show up at the funeral home for an impromptu honor guard to show the family the respect that was due to their loved one.

The man was a hero. An apparently unsung one but a hero none the less.

A few years ago, the officer was working in a high crime district helping to train a young recruit. While patrolling late one night they came upon a car parked near an industrial area. The man in the car was alone. He had a newspaper in his lap. The officers sensed no danger.

Both officers came up on the same side, realizing the error, the veteran copper waved back the younger officer and approached the driver.

The man stepped from the car but kept the newspaper over his hand. Now aware of the danger, the copper lunged for the man as a nine shot .22 revolver came into view. He grabbed for the gun hand as the offender fired. Four bullets entered under the officers body armor into the officers torso. The officer fell away injured and bleeding.

The man then turned and fired three more shots at the young recruit a few feet away. Struck in the vest, belly, and belt buckle the young copper was able to draw his weapon and fire several times, killing the assailant.

Severely injured, the veteran copper was rushed to the trauma center. He survived the attack.
Coppers know how much damage a .22 slug can do at close range. Even after months of rehab it was determined that the officer would no longer be able to carry out his police duties. He was retired on disability.

Still a young man, he struggled to live his life to the fullest.

He died quietly, a hero.

He was buried quietly, without the honors due him for his sacrifice.

Riding the bus...

Some police officers in the big city are assigned to patrol the transit system. Besides the subway system, there are miles of bus routes that have to be protected. This is a huge responsibility.

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One of the tools available to the officers is the surveillance cameras that are installed on board most, if not all the buses, on the system. These cameras provide remarkably good quality video or digital photos of any incident occurring on the bus.

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Modern technology is a helpful law enforcement asset but it still takes the dogged determination of good coppers out on the street doing the leg work.

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When crimes are recorded on a city bus, these officers obtain copies of the video and hit the road. They look for landmarks visible on the video such as fences, ads, benches, or anything that will give them the location where the bad guys boarded or exited the bus.

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These officers, whose only mission for the day is to find the bad guys, will then go on foot, asking questions, showing the photos, and searching for signs of the crooks. They visit the schools, look through yearbooks, and talk to students and teachers.

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Using the technology available along with good old fashioned "boots on the ground" police work, many crimes have been solved.

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Serious crimes, such as a bus driver being set on fire, or the shooting of a teenager have been successfully prosecuted. Criminal vandalism cases have also been closed due to the dilligence of big city police officers.

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This is what police work is all about for these officers; One mission, one villain, go out and get em. Positive results is the only payoff. Pride in one's work is the only thanks. The look of surprise on the guy's face when he is shown his photo is worth the hours of pounding the pavement.

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Wiser words have never been spoken than what an old sergeant preached at roll call, "Being a big city copper is a vocation, a calling, not a job. Kind of like the priesthood without the young boys."

Avoiding tragedy for big city police

The two man wagon crew is rolling down the street that is the south boundary of the patrol sector. Not having an assigned beat, the officers cruise the area waiting for a transport job or any disturbance calls they can respond to.

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The driver is a grizzled veteran. Three years doesn't sound like much, but in a hard core, high crime district like this one, it makes coppers old in a hurry. Riding with him is a FNG, a kid just released from his field training officer. It is a good match up. Young officers can't learn what they need to know by riding with a field trainer. They learn by experience. By working with older coppers, a sharp rookie can observe how others handle problems. They can then glean the good tactics from poor ones and form their own style.

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Veteran coppers seem to ignore the normal radio chatter but are attuned to their own call numbers. They can also tell when a serious job is coming. The tone of the dispatchers voice changes when he's giving out a hot job.

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A plain clothes team is chasing an armed robbery offender on foot. The wagon crew is only one street away. The driver spots a male black, gun in hand, running from the side street just ahead. The man runs into a doorway a few houses from the corner. The officer pulls up close to the corner and radios in the street address before approaching the doorway.

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Drawing his .45, the copper opens the door . It is a hallway. There are sounds of footsteps pounding up the stairs. "Damn" he says as he quickly begins the climb. The footsteps are going higher. It is a three flat building. Approaching the third floor, the officer hears a door slam. There is a door at either end of the landing. "Which door is it?" Before he could decide, the doorknob begins to turn on the far door. "Crap" the copper is in the open, on a landing between two doors with no cover. Crouching down into the corner, the copper makes himself small and points his pistol at the door.

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The door opens. Standing in the doorway is a man holding a gun. The copper yells, "drop it, police" and aims for the chest. The armed man's eyes open wide as he slams the door shut. The copper jumps up and slams his foot at the door, kicking it open. A gunshot goes off inside the apartment. The officer stops in his tracks, "the fucker's shooting at me" he thinks. He shouts, "police police" and holds his aim, looking for a target.

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Suddenly, a man jumps into his field of vision from the right. It's a male black with a gun in his hand. Directing his aim toward this new threat, the copper notices a radio in the other hand. The copper realizes he knows him. It's one of the plain clothes team that was chasing the robbery offender. He says hi to him and enters the apartment. The other plain clothes officer ran in behind the first. Now it's a chase to grab the bad guy first. Who ever puts cuffs on the offender gets the pinch.( Competition is fierce amongst ghetto coppers for the good arrests.)

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The offender is in the living room of the apartment with his hands in the air. The plain clothes guy gets the cuffs on him so they win.

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There is shouting from the doorway. "Drop the gun" and "No, NO, Don't shoot".

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There is the FNG officer holding the black officer at gun point. The frightened officer holding his gun AND radio high in the air. The veteran coppers rush back and calm the new guy down. (He is shaking). The grizzled veteran copper introduces the new guy to the plain clothes officers.

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Back at the station, the officers sat down to discuss the sequence of events that almost led to tragedy had either officer fired without thinking. Luckily, one of the first things learned is to "always watch their hands"

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The pursuing officers had heard the address given by the wagon copper. They went up the rear stairs and encountered the offender trying to escape by the back door. The offender had fired a shot and fled back inside . He then tried the front door again. He was trapped. When saw there was no escape he had given up and threw the gun to the floor. Meanwhile in the kitchen sat the family, who lived in the apartment, terrified. The offender had chosen the building at random.

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To avoid this type of near tragedy, the plain clothes teams decided to introduce themselves to the uniform guys at roll calls.

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That's one of the ways how FNG's become veterans in a hurry.

Coping in the police world.

Police officers are exposed to more traumatic events in one year than most people experience in a lifetime.

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There are horrific mutilations of bodies caused by traffic crashes. Broken limbs, severed heads, and other bloody body parts are often strewn about the scene.

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Suicides are messy and can be gruesome. Some go quietly to sleep in a car, parked in the garage with the engine running. Others, take sleeping pills or other drugs and also go quietly. Many don't go so neatly. Those who leap from tall buildings leave a smashed, broken, and bloody mess. The brain is sometimes laying several feet away from the skull. Arms and legs are always twisted into awkward and unnatural positions. People who jump in front of trains , well you can imagine how many pieces they break into. Did you know that the neck of a hanging victim really does stretch, if left dangling long enough? Someone that shoots themselves sprays their brains over the whole room.

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Murder victims are left in positions indicative of how angry the killer was. Heads bashed in, throats slashed, hog-tied and strangled, gang symbols carved into torsos, shot, or the worst, babies scalded to death are all methods of death the big city coppers have seen.

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How do they do it? How can a copper deal with all the mayhem and destruction of a 25-30 year career without going insane?

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Most officers develop an internal switch that activates when the stress level rises ("when the shit gets deep"). Other coppers are gifted with the ability to turn it on and off naturally. The switch helps the copper function as a professional when all hell is breaking loose around him. The brain sets the mess aside to be dealt with later and allows the work to get done.

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It does have to be dealt with though. It starts during, if possible, and immediately after an incident. Some call it "gallows" humor. Others call it "whistling through the graveyard". Crude jokes and comments may seem inappropriate to some but it is a necessary tool coppers unconsciously use to help cope with horrifying incidents. Many officers take the difficult route and dull the memories with alcohol. Telling "war stories" around the bar helps some officers escape the demons inside them.

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Others, unfortunately never recover and eat a bullet.

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If you ever hear police officers speaking crudely about the dead, making harsh jokes at inappropriate times, or writing stories about the dreadful circumstances of a death, have some compassion. Coppers really do care about victims and the families of victims but they also care about the mental stability of themselves and their fellow officers.

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Talking, laughing, or writing about the ghastly has a way of soothing a frightful ghost.

Medal of Honor Convention

This week the big city has the honor of hosting the Medal of Honor Convention.

The Medal of Honor is the nation's highest military award. To receive this medal, an individual must perform an act of personal bravery or self sacrifice, involving the risk of life, above and beyond the call of duty while engaged in a combat action.

There are currently only 95 living recipients of this award that, as written by Peter Collier, is earned only through acts of incredible bravery "at the intersection of happenstance and hell."

Today the big city copper had the honor of leading the motorcade escorting these living legends to the ceremonies being held in their honor.

The lead car, motorcycles, flanking cars, and tail cars surrounded the buses. They lit up the street but, with silent decorum, escorted them with full honors precision.

The fire department formed an archway with snorkels and ladders at the entrance to the park that the motorcade passed through. The escort halted at the Police Gold Star Memorial Park.

The path to the site of the Police Memorial Wall was lined with police officers on foot and on horseback. The Medal of Honor heroes, honored the police heroes by holding a ceremony at the memorial that lists the city's fallen officers.

The procession of old warriors continued on foot (some in wheelchairs) to a luncheon and more ceremonies inside the facility.

Following the finale, the men graciously signed books and chatted with all who approached them.

What a day! The air was rippling with patriotism. There were dozens of flags, there were even more soldiers, sailors, marines, and airmen all proudly displaying rows of ribbons on their uniforms. Each ribbon depicting an act of their own personal valor.

Every soldier, currently serving, or aging veteran, stood in awe of these simple men. Humble men who, through extraordinary acts of courage and sacrifice, earned the right to wear that star spangled blue ribbon and star around their necks.

Escorting these men was an honor.

Air and Water Show

Every summer, one of the big events of the season is the Air and Water show. Thousands of people fill every empty space to be found any where near the lakefront where the show is held. They come out early in the morning and picnic all day. They look like they're really enjoying themselves too.

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For big city coppers though, it is a major pain. People, locals as well as tourists wander every where. They clutter the park, the streets, and the roads. Traffic is a nightmare.

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This year, the big city copper arrives at work and is handed a new assignment for the next two days event. Report to the boss early and dress comfortably. "What is up" the copper wonders aloud. "You are," says the el tee. "You aren't afraid of heights are you?" he continues, laughing.

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The assignment is a big one, er, tall one. Monitor and control the flow of traffic and provide an "eye in the sky" for the officers on the ground. "Cool, I get to ride in the police chopper." thinks the officer. WRONG.

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For the next two days the officer is standing on the roof of a fifty story building with a spotting scope, binoculars, and a radio. The wind up that high, approximately 500 feet up, gusts strongly. He notices, "holy crap, this is kinda scary!"

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There's no time to be chicken though, the boss on the ground wants to know where the problems are. It's getting busy in a hurry. Cabbies are dropping off passengers right on the roadway that hugs the lakefront. They are unwilling to wait for the exit ramp to clear and are walking along the shoulder. An ice cream truck has pulled over on that shoulder and is doing a brisk business. Pedestrians are trying to cross the eight lane road instead of using the overpass or tunnel. Calling out the problem areas, the "eye in the sky" begins to direct the ground officers to the exact locations where they are needed. Exit ramps are opened and closed as necessary. Controlling the flow at intersections as far as a half mile from the gridlocked ramps eases the congestion. It is amazing, This is working great. The copper is having fun.

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The show starts. Watching the air show from eye level is great. The USAF jets come roaring by just overhead. "WHOOOEEE" shouts the copper. He could see the sharks teeth painted on the nose of a deadly looking warplane as it soars past. The building is aligned with the brightly painted boat being used as a guide point for the jets, explains the official USAF photographer that has joined the copper on the roof. Every airplane in the show passes close by at one point or another.

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The normally dreaded annual event has turned into yet another fantastic adventure.

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Being a big city copper is the best job in the world. Except maybe, for those guys cruising around in their multi million dollar war jets.

Life on the street

Most coppers spend a third of their lives on the street. It's either in patrol cars, as detectives, or other specialized units but basically they spend a huge part of life as street people. That's the attraction that keeps coppers happy. The entertainment value alone is worth the hassle of having to fight crime. It's been described as being a teenager all your life, riding around in a car with your buddy, wearing leather jackets, and messing with people. It's addicting. If a copper doesn't develop a life outside of the job, it's painful to have to retire. Retirement is getting grounded and not being allowed to hang out with your pals on the street any more (teenager analogy).

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Being out on the street so much means either eating in restaurants or brown bagging it and not many officers are that concerned with healthy vittles. So what do coppers do? Some find a hospital or hotel employee cafeteria that treats officers like employees and charges little or nothing for a meal. Others discover which places provide a "police discount," sometimes up to half off the menu prices. The experienced, "savvy" coppers find and develop a good relationship with a nice restaurant and get fed for free. These are well kept secrets. If you tell one guy about it soon the whole city knows. Coppers tend to ruin a good thing. They either go there too often or are so cheap they don't tip the waitresses. Soon, the manager gets tired of the crowd of police coming in and stops the perk. The smart officer develops a couple of "freebies" and rotates the visits. Plus tipping the waitress a few dollars keeps up the good will so she doesn't "forget" about the perk.

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There are some drawbacks to avoiding the "full boat" restaurants. It gets embarrassing to enter a hospital cafeteria and finding enough coppers there to hold roll call. Other places, like the 24 hour joints, give the half off because of the other riffraff that frequent the place. A copper never know what he may have to do to earn that meal. It's been said there's no such thing as a free lunch. The manager of the freebie probably has the coppers card with a cell phone number on it. Guess who he calls when he has a problem. Last but not least, the big city has "inspectors" driving around looking for police misdeeds, such as congregating at any one location without performing a police function.

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Now there are real cheapskates who have been known to put on a uniform on a day off to get a free meal at the hospital or hotel cafeteria. Others have been seen bringing the family to avoid spending money. Worst of all is the one who eats then orders two dinners to go and still only leaves a dollar for the waitress.

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The reality of life on the street for the big city copper can get complicated. He has to remember to only order the "tall" size regular or decaf. The larger fancy lattes are full boat. He has to keep track of where he ate yesterday so he doesn't burn out the good locations. Most importantly, he has to keep a few dollars handy for the tip jar or waitress.

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So as you can see, it's not always easy being a big city copper.

Remember Patriots Day

On the anniversary of the 9-11 attacks on our great country, we should all take a few moments and reflect on all that we have to be grateful for.

To all the soldiers, sailors, marines , and airmen that are willingly risking their lives to preserve our safety, we thank you.

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To all the police, paramedics, firemen, and other public safety workers who risk their lives daily, we honor you.

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To all the family members and friends who love us, support us, and help us keep our sanity, we cherish you.

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To all of America, God Bless you!

Escorting the President

It is five thirty a.m. I stop at the Starbuck's for a cup of joe. The counter guy cheerfully gives me my plain coffee says "it's on me" then thanks me for the dollar I throw in his tip jar. There's already a line behind me. It's a popular place. I recognize a guy in line. He nods in acknowledgement, then orders his latte.
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We both are in a hurry. The cars we are driving have to be swept for explosives before we report to the compound.
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I'm assigned to the unit that has been escorting the presidential candidate and his secret service detail for weeks. The home town favorite has won the election. He is now the real deal! The President of the United States (elect) lives in the big city. His code name is "Renegade."
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The escort duty has taken on a level of real importance. The squad of agents guarding him and his family has grown. However, they are still escorted by the big city copper and his crew.
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The motorcade is assembled and waiting. Today, I have the honor of leading the parade. A knot forms in my stomach as the word comes over the radio. "Renegade's coming out" I ease into the street followed by a heavily armed armada of vehicles. "Light em up," says the agent riding shotgun in my car. I turn on the lights, all of them, wig wags, brights, flashers, and strobes. I glance in the mirror. every vehicle is lit up like a Christmas tree. It is an impressive sight.
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The officers assigned along the route are alerted. I see streets, intersections, and highway ramps being blocked as we approach. The agent calls out every move the motorcade must make.
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I call out potential problems as I spot them. The tail cars respond and move ahead to cover any trouble identified. The motorcade moves as one. No one gets inside the bubble of protection we have provided.
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I am barely aware of the people waving and cheering from the sidewalks as we approach our destination. I drive past the entrance so "POTUS" can exit right at the door, but close enough for the agents to deploy from my car to cover their assignments. When signaled, I pull away from curb to re stage the car for the return leg of the movement.
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It was an intense ride.
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We spent the next few weeks providing escorts for the President, the First Lady, and the kids. (we took them to school) In January, the first family moved to Washington D.C.
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Escorting the President of the United States was an honor. I hope to do it again.
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Being a big city copper is a beautiful thing. 

Coppers work, work , and work.

Remember when you were a young copper with kids in grade school , a mortgage, car note, (maybe a girl on the side)? Man, times were tough. What did you do? Like most of us, you started doing part time work, side jobs, we called them. Most guys have more than one. It's easy for police officers to find work. Security work mostly. It helped to pay the bills and a little extra for entertainment. Every department has a guy who knows where to go for side jobs.

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There were days when I didn't know whether I was coming or going. I'd wake up after my usual four hours sleep and wonder what job was I supposed to be at in half an hour.

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What happened to the glamorous job of a big city copper? All I got so far was rotating shifts every month, crappy ghetto district, and work, work, work.

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I went to work feeling like crap most of the time. Looking around the roll call room did nothing to lift my spirits either. The late cars on the midnight to eight shift often consisted of three one man cars and the two man wagon. This was in one of the busiest ghetto districts of the city. There was low morale, no manpower, and junk cars that were hot in the summer and cold in the winter. Once on the street though, we protected each other. We always knew where the other cars were and showed up on their jobs after finishing ours. Trying to stay awake during that last hour when the sun was beating in the windshield was the worst. Then it's go home sleep a few hours and go to the part timer. Every copper did some version of this.

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The years passed. I left the runnin and gunnin to the young guys long ago. The kids grew up. They went to college. (Remember the three jobs? Still got em.)

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One day, the house is empty. The kids have moved out. GREAT, now I can stop working myself ragged. I can take it easy now.

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Wait a minute. How did I pay for those two weeks in Cabo last month? How about those two weeks in Puerto Vallarta I got planned for next winter? Those are nice resorts we stay at. We never used to stay at such nice resorts.

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CRAPOLA! I like working at the pro stadiums. I like watching baseball games in the summer. Working at the hockey and basketball games in the winter is great. I enjoy working the homeland security gig at the airport. It's actually not so bad, after all. I ain't digging ditches!

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I'm in my peak earning years! I got seniority! I'm in a good unit.

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Guess what! I still got my three jobs. Six hours of sleep is a luxury.

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Life is Beautiful!

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As God knows, I love being a big city copper.

"Riding the train..."

Working the plainclothes mission team in the subway was a great job. Two or three man teams riding the train trying not to look like the police is not as easy as it sounds. Coppers tend to have a "look". Normal people who use the subway like to avoid eye contact. They are often oblivious to their surroundings. They trust people. Not Coppers. They watch people. They look for predators. They stare when more timid people look away. So do the bad guys. They can spot a police officer a mile off.

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How do the police protect the subway riders from the muggers, pickpockets, and pocket cutters? How do they catch the bad guys? There is a certain "flow" to the world when things are normal. In crowded areas like subways, it is more noticeable when there is a disturbance in the flow. People who are "tuned" to that flow (coppers, of course) can't help but sense it. Find the source of the disruption and you'll usually find a crime being committed.

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Wolf packs of police officers flooding a particular line sometimes does the job. Stake outs of a specific station can work too. Great planning, decoys, and alert aggressive coppers should be the best tools to fight these criminals, right?

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I was part of a three man team riding the train one afternoon. One man was set near each door and one about half way to be able to help either side. The train pulled into the station and the doors opened. As the riders began to board, a man spits towards the floor of the platform and stops suddenly. He bends over and starts to brush off the pants leg of the man behind him, apologizing loudly.

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I can't believe it! Right in front of me is a classic "stop and bump" stall. The "bump" distracts the victim so the wallet could be lifted by the "pick" behind him. I signal to the team and grab the picks arm as he is retrieving the mans wallet. He shouts "hey" and begins to pull away.

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Well, the crooks work in teams too. The first guy shoves me away causing me to lose my grip on the guys arm. They both push their way off the train. A woman carrying bags stand up in the aisle and blocks my assist officer long enough for the two men to start running down the platform. The officer at the other door was also delayed by boarding passengers.

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My partner and I begin to chase the offenders. The train conductor, unaware of the action, closes the doors and pulls away with our victim. The offenders are young and fleet footed. They have gained some thirty yards on the forty ish coppers who by now are huffing and puffing for oxygen. I know it's time to quit when a bystander says "dem boys sure is fast ain't dey officer?"

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The bad guys got away. The victim left, not even aware that his wallet was gone. Just another day for a big city copper.

Listening

I was assigned to a detail at the convention center for the weekend. You know, traffic control, pedestrians crossing, answering questions, the usual boring stuff that befall a young officer when he hasn't any seniority. Just another day in the big city.

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A woman approached asking for directions to the train station. I politely gave her the best route to get to her destination. She was very pleasant, an older lady, probably Japanese. We chatted briefly about the beautiful autumn day we were having. She thanked me then turned away and walked toward the crosswalk. Suddenly she stopped and said " Officer, you have a very powerful force protecting you. I can feel it from here." She then walked closer, touched my arm, and smiled. She walked away without another word.

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At first I was baffled, then intrigued. "What was that?" I thought. Police officers encounter many unique people during the course of the day but this was a new one. What did she mean?

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It made me start thinking about the night my partner and I were looking for a gunman in an alley. I was checking trash cans, garage doors, and deeply shadowed gangways. Out of the darkness behind me came a voice, "You got me, office." Every hair on my head stood on end as I turned. The armed offender had his hands in the air . The gun was on the ground between us. I called to my partner and we took him into custody. I had walked right past a man who had earlier fired into a crowd at a block party. He easily could have executed me and possibly my partner. He later said I had looked straight at him so he gave up.

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On another night, right after roll call, my partner said his wife had a bad dream about us and asked if we could lay low that tour. You know , just handle our assigned jobs and not look for trouble. I had gotten a sudden chill and agreed to heed his wife's warning. We stayed safe that night. Both of us heaving a huge sigh of relief at the end of the night. Actually, there seemed to be several very audible sighs coming from around the locker room. Every body went home to their families that night.

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Have YOU ever heard that voice saying "be careful tonight"? You listened, right?

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Here I am many years later, still in one piece. That powerful force felt by that woman so long ago has never left me. It has never left you!

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I have to believe that a good and strong force protects all of us who strive to stay in the light as we do battle against the darkness that is crime and evil.

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For this help, I thank the power above us that helps a copper or two make it to retirement and beyond. We appreciate it.

Too Many Heroes Dying

I took a couple of days off to go to a family function out of town. The drive wasn't long, only a couple of hours, just enough to stare off and ponder about life, about mortality. Nothing like a unexpected fright to give a guy a reality check. The scrapes and sore muscles are a painful reminder of how quickly life could end so I relish being alive.

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I arrive home. I go to my favorite sites to see how every one is doing and I find an excellent, heartfelt article posted by the Texas Ghostrider. It's about a comrade who has ended his own life.

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What! Again?

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What is it about coppers and eating bullets? Yes, that is a crude way of describing it but killing one's self is an ugly thing. There is no dignity in death. We, who see it all the time know this. It hurts everybody. Family, friends , comrades, all of us.

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Too many of us have chosen that route. Yes, I realize they are not thinking straight when they make that decision so I agree with Ghostrider. We as fellow officers have to catch the signs. We are so watchful of our backs and environment for "the bad guys" that we fail so see our close friends or loved ones suffering. Some one saw a signal. Something wasn't right about how he was acting. Were you embarrassed to say something?

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Statistically, police officers are way up there on the suicide list. Most of us have known one or more officers that have died this way. That's not right.

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Most, if not all, departments have some kind of employee assistance program. Reach out. Call someone . Be anonymous if you must, but do something. You might embarrass your self if you are wrong but you also may save a family from being torn apart. It's worth it!

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It is too painful to read about yet another police officer committing suicide. 

Interacting with the police sucks

Interaction between the police and the public is at times a tricky thing. Being on the other side of the desk today was eye opening.

On Thursday, the 3rd of September at about one thirty p.m., I was riding my bicycle north on Central Ave at about 59 th. Street. I was legally using the right lane. A Barr & Miles truck # 962 Blasted the horn at me and passed in the right lane that I had the right of way to. I yelled at him to watch it . The driver slammed on his brakes and caused me to strike the right rear tire of the truck. My bike flipped over I struck the truck then the ground rolling and hitting my helmet on the ground. I was stunned. I got up and walked toward the truck. The driver drove away leaving me scraped and scratched. I grabbed my bicycle and began to chase the truck. Luckily the driver had to stop at red lights so I was able to keep the truck in sight. I followed the truck to the company's garage. The driver was surprised to see me and began to shout profanities at me and said I couldn’t prove any thing.

I entered the office and spoke with a manager and told him of the situation. The manager came out with me to the lot. My bicycle was now on the ground damaged so severely I was unable to use it. I did not see who further damaged the bicycle but it was inside the fence and in the garage area.

I followed the truck from the scene of the incident. He clearly tried and succeeded in causing the crash. He fled the scene of a personal injury accident using a company vehicle. State law required him to stop and see if I was injured. Since he failed to do so I have to believe it was intentional

I called 911. The call taker stated , it occurred outside of our town limits ( I crossed the line in the chase.) He transferred me to the city. The city dispatcher wouldn't send a car because I was outside of the city. "Go to the nearest police station" she said. My bike is trashed, how am i going to get there? I had to call for a ride. The trucking company sent their driver in his car. I called the station and asked to delay him till I got there. I identified myself of course.

When I got there he was gone and the very young desk officer is telling me that since I struck the truck I must be at fault. "The striking vehicle isn't necessarily the at fault vehicle," I tried to explain. I spoke with a sergeant,( also very young). No help. Now I'm beginning to understand why the public dislikes the police. Just write the report. I'll deal with the hit and run unit. "But sir the other driver came in so it's not a hit and run." I chased this guy two miles at least. (biking eighteen miles four days a week paid off) That's your story she says. Can you believe it? He beats me to the station so he's now the good guy? Write the report but please say I chased him. I 'll wait to get a copy from records section and deal with it later. Meanwhile, my bike is trashed. I've got tire impressions on my shoulder and general road rash on my legs and hands.

I'm composing a nice letter to the listed company president. I hope he is more responsive. The police department sure left me angry and disappointed. Twenty years ago coppers would have been all over this type of incident. This time I have to agree with some people who say, "police are assholes."

policing is not always glamorous

Big city policing was not always glamorous. There were boring mundane tasks that needed to be completed daily. Coppers called them "pocket felonies." A mover, a parker, a bus check, and a curfew or school absentee per day kept the watch commander happy. If he was happy , the sergeant was happy. When the Sgt. was in a good mood the tour went much smoother.

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There were days that the boss would set up seat belt enforcement missions. A four way stop intersection would be monitored for seat belt use. Ten tickets would put a smile on his face. Cross walk missions was another source of entertainment. Plain clothes officers would cross the street at a clearly marked crosswalk and waiting uniformed coppers would cite the motorists who failed to yield to the pedestrians. It didn't seem fair but signs were always posted on each end of the block warning of the enforcement area.

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Week end nights were time for D.U.I. enforcement missions. Areas of high traffic crash incidents were marked for either a saturation of ten or twelve traffic enforcement cars or a road side safety inspection. Saturation missions involved zero tolerance enforcement of any traffic violations observed. Road side safety inspections involved funneling traffic into a lane and randomly checking vehicles as they approached the stop sign. Many safety violations were written as well as several arrests for driving under the influence of alcohol or drugs.

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Another job handled by the street copper sometimes it involved elderly persons who couldn't help themselves. Two officers were assigned a non specific "assist the citizen" call. They were met at the door by a small elderly man. His hands shook and he was almost in tears. The officers asked about the problem. The old man tearfully said "please help me lift my wife, I can't put her in the wheel chair." Compassion is a good copper's strongest asset so of course they agreed to help. They were led to into the apartment then to the bathroom. The man's wife was seated on the toilet, her bloomers around her ankles. She was gigantic. The officers assessed the problem and told the man to be ready with the wheel chair while they lifted. They wrapped the lady's huge arms around their shoulders and each grabbed a thigh. On three, lift! There was a momentary struggle as the coppers tried to get leverage. The woman cried "don't drop me please." The coppers managed to get her into the hallway and into the chair with out falling or dropping the crying woman. The old man cried as he thanked the officers. With out blinking the senior partner told him, "it was nothing sir, we were glad to help." The partners walked down to the car and were around the corner before they burst out laughing. Neither had ever had to lift a live person from the toilet before. They agreed that it took immense courage for the man to swallow his pride and ask complete strangers for help. Of course they then felt pleased that they were able to assist an elderly citizen out of an extremely awkward situation.

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To reiterate, the life of a big city copper was not always glamorous but it sure was interesting.

Police work in the projects.

A copper never knew what to expect when going into the projects. The "jets", as they were known, were the most dangerous environment police officers had to work in. The high rise buildings were set up so no one could approach unseen. The gangs had look outs posted on the upper floors as well as in the lobbies. Officer's had been shot down by snipers while walking across the field between buildings. Police cars and officers were targeted as furniture, small appliances, cinder blocks, bricks, or bottles were tossed down from the upper floors. Just approaching the building was like a combat patrol.

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Entering the building had to done cautiously. The job was almost never in a ground level apartment. Coppers learned from other's mistakes. The elevator was not a good option since a good sergeant took a bullet to the chest when the doors opened on an upper floor (luckily for newly issued body armor, he survived). Some guys used the inch worm method. One officer walked up a flight of stairs as the partner covered from below. The partner then walked up as the first officer covered from above. Both officers were never on the stairs between landings at the same time. This was slow and certainly not ambush proof but it was one of the best available tactics. Safety, safety, safety was always the primary concern.

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Most of the residents of the public housing developments were good law abiding citizens trapped by poverty or dire circumstances. These were the people they were there to help. Their apartments were sometimes spotlessly clean and the families embarrassed but grateful for the police service.

The dope dealing gangbangers never called the police. When the circumstances called for a visit to these apartments a state of high alert had to be maintained. The heat was always stifling and the roaches everywhere. The thugs would disappear but there were always signs that they were there. Beer bottles, still ice cold and sweating, reefer stubs in the ashtrays or empty cellophane wrappers were definite clues.

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The trio of coppers assigned strictly to public housing were known to be fearless. They were all over six foot tall and wore long duster coats like the old time lawmen and carried long barreled Colt .45's and .44 magnum revolvers. They were known to strike fear in the gang members. The legend was they "kicked ass and didn't take names". These coppers were a pleasure to have around when having to enter the jets for a disturbance.

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Arresting a victim turned offender was sometimes the outcome. When explaining to the officer how the man had "called her all kinds of bitches and hoes" then "jumped on me" the angry woman pulled a gun and pointed it at him. Quick reactions from both officers prevented a tragedy. They were able to grab and wrestle the gun from her before she could fire a shot.

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This incident earned the officers only an "Honorable Mention" for their personnel jackets since, as the sergeant put it, " What do you want? That's your job!" But as all coppers know , one "aw shit" trumps a whole file full of honorable mentions.