Mutterings and musings

Never Too Old

2010-02-05T10:26:00.005-06:00

Any veteran copper knows to never take any situation for granted. Just because a suspect is handcuffed doesn't mean he is not still dangerous. A copper has to be ready to do battle at an moment's notice.

In the big city, normal conversation is used more often than the 10 series codes used by so many police departments. Telling an officer "a 10-33 in progress" will likely get a "say what?" response.

When an officer is in trouble and needs immediate help all he needs to say is "10-1" and his location. Every copper in the immediate area will fly to the aid of an officer in danger, no matter what agency it is that needs the help.

The other day one such call came over the air and when this big city copper got there there were eight or more officers already on the scene and the offender was on the floor being handcuffed. The situation was under control. Officers not involved drifted away and left the scene. It was in a third floor stairwell where the action had occurred so the arresting officer decided to use the elevator to take the prisoner down rather than walk him down the stairs. Another copper and I decided to stick around to make sure they got in the elevator okay.

The suspect had a friend waiting. The man saw his buddy being walked to the elevator and jumped at the leading officer punching and kicking at him. The handcuffed man head butted and kicked at the second officer. We trailed a few feet behind and saw it coming. I went at the handcuffed guy while the other copper chose the other guy. I was able to avoid his kicks and head butts and helped drag him back to the cement floor. After a brief but intense struggle he stopped fighting. The other coppers managed to control and subdue the second attacker.

We finally got the offenders down to the street and into separate cage cars. None of the officers suffered injuries. Unfortunately, I'll need a new pair of glasses. The frames broke and a lens cracked.

Well I was due a new pair anyway but I'm getting too old to be wrasslin' with bad guys! Hell I didn't even need to use glasses until I turned forty.

Until a copper stops working the street though, he 's never too old to step into crap when it's least expected.

And I'm not ready to give up the street yet.

More "good old days" action.

2010-01-28T11:37:00.004-06:00

The team had been watching the dope house for days. One of the young officers had made several controlled "buys" and they had enough evidence for a search warrant.

The house was kept under surveillance while the team Sgt prepared the plan for the "home invasion" style raid. All the team officers were given their assignments both primary and contingency. The coppers were all experienced tactical officers who had raided many dope houses in the past. They knew every raid had to be precise yet fluid enough that any unknown obstacle could be overcome when necessary. The entry teams had to take the front and rear doors simultaneously as the support team created diversions at any windows. The take down team had to enter and secure any occupants upon entering. It all had to be done rapidly with the maximum effort to avoid casualties.

The undercover officer approached the house for one more "buy". This established the availability of narcotics in the house and increased the probability of a successful raid. The teams were staged and waiting for the "go" from the Sgt. The undercover officer was given a few minutes to leave the area then the signal was given.

The street and alley was suddenly filled with police cars as the teams rushed to their positions. The entry teams "knocked" on the doors with their sledge hammers and "chicago bars" (a pry bar used by police and fire personnel). The support teams smashed windows and announced their presence to discourage any escape attempts.

The front door team was having trouble. The door was solid and had a steel reinforced frame. The team leader radioed the problem. The copper assigned to the front basement window had gained entry. He jumped into the room and landed in front of a man who had been watching "Gomer Pyle" on TV. The shocked man jumped up from the couch and ran towards the rear of the basement. The copper heard the radio and realized he was the only copper in the house. All of the doors and windows had bars except for the one he had smashed open. He quickly radioed he was in and ran towards the rear with gun drawn and ready. The fleeing suspect was at the back of the basement trying to shove bags of dope out of the house through an opening in the wall. The copper challenged him, using the old ".45 held to the back of the head" method. The rest of the team had begun to come through the window and was rushing up the stairs to secure the remaining occupants. A large amount of dope was recovered. Several guns were stuffed into the couch cushions where three men had been seated. The ability to improvise and adapt resulted in a successful raid.

Numerous search warrants were served in this manner by the local district tactical teams. That was the old days. The big city police has since changed the way warrants are executed. The S.W.A.T. teams are full time dedicated positions and execute warrants on a daily basis. It's now definitely a young man's job.

It sure was fun though.

The good old days

2010-01-19T12:26:00.005-06:00

We were waiting around before roll call the other day and, as coppers do, started to talk about the "old days." Coppers love to talk, especially, about the good times.

The stories were, properly embellished, funny as could be. Of course this led to the gory tales then the sad ones.

That's the trouble with opening up the memory vault, one never knows what will be stirred up. For me it was a pleasant mish mash of everything....

The early days of running and gunning before they thought of making the police account for their ammo.

The amazement of listening to white Irish guys speaking and understanding ghetto jive like it was their first language then reverting back without missing a breath.

Trying a pig ear sandwich one day, a jew town polish the next, then a bowl of menudo the day after that.

Giving good looking girls a ticket you can see them again in court.

Catching a wanted suspect then hearing him complain that I had violated the "code" by going after him on Sunday when he was walking his mother to church.

Seeing your first murder victim, then becoming jaded after ten or so.

Realizing what a bunch of liars police sometimes have to be to solve a problem.

Finding humor in the strangest places.

Finding out there are good honest people living full decent lives under the most trying circumstances.

Finding ways to help these good honest people whenever possible.

The real thrill of making an arrest that actually solves a crime and seeing the victim or the family happy.

Feeling the pain of loss when a fellow officer is hurt or killed.

Remembering how the number of officer's killed dropped dramatically after the city issued body armor.

Meeting girls.

Laughing about how, instead of bragging about women, we now discuss the last good meal we had and whether it was free or half price.

Meeting the president.

Realizing how much fun it is being the police.

Here are some leftover pictures from various episodes.

Against my own rules I posted my I D picture. I am second from the left in the first photo and in the background of the last one.

To Your Health

2010-01-12T10:05:00.003-06:00

It was a crappy winter day as most days in January always are. The snow had been falling for the past two days. The roads were slippery and moving slow as, well, molasses in January.

The call comes from the station. A fellow officer, a sergeant actually, had gone to the emergency room with severe chest pains. He drove himself to the hospital while on patrol so it must have been fearful enough that he didn't call anybody, not even the dispatcher.

It took twenty minutes to drive two miles. Crappy weather, crappy road conditions, crappy thoughts. Most of the officers in the unit are veterans. That means years of street food, stress, and less than healthy lifestyles. Perfect heart attack conditions.

There were three of the guys at the E.R. already. Big city coppers. All ready for bad news.

"No wallet" says one. "Did you check his socks?" replied another. "He usually carries a "choke" on him somewhere. Didja see a money belt?" The third is writing "colonoscopy" on the status board next to the bed.

The ailing sergeant, awake and alert, laughs. "You guys are EFFIN vultures" "I ain't going anywhere!"

In the hard, cynical, and macho police world coppers won't admit they truly care about each other so they break the tension with their own unique humor.

The fates were smiling that day too. It wasn't a heart attack but it provided a wake up call for some of the guys.

Life's short enough as it is. Get healthy and stay healthy. Spend a little money on healthier food choices. Get some exercise.

You don't want some copper looking through YOUR clothes for that "choke" do you?

Call off the hounds, I'm back.

2009-12-30T16:28:00.004-06:00

Returning from a nice long vacation, where I traveled to parts of the world that few ever think of visiting, I felt renewed, even happy to be back to work.

The natural cynicism of a big city copper meant when one got too much enjoyment out of something it had to break down, go bad, get ugly.

Tragedy struck the police family again and again, all around the country, Oakland, Seattle, Lakewood, Pittsburgh, heck everywhere, I suddenly felt my spirit go numb.

Going to work lost it's beauty.

This was a horrible experience.

The spirit, the beauty, of being a copper is what made it all worthwhile.

Every copper, deputy, officer, five oh, po po, detective, marshall, whatever you guys and girls call each other, knows what I mean.

The job can become a wicked ugly thing.

There has to be a sense of purpose, a love of the street, a craving for the adrenaline rush, for a good copper to survive the years and years of grief it takes to collect the pension.

Without a true love of the spirit and energy it takes to make the job the fulfilling vocation it should be, the evil can take over and ruin a copper's soul.

Fortunately, good friends, good coppers, and good sense revealed the demon to the light.

People noticed the Big City Copper blog was dormant. Questions where asked. "Where are you? Why are you so silent?"

You gotta love those friends that noticed these things and cared enough to say something.

I still love the job, just not so much any more.

The pension light is visible and not so far off in that tunnel.

I know now that I'm leaving the police world in 18 months or so. I'll be maxxed out in pension, wisdom, and spiritual effectiveness.

I'll miss it but health and sanity is a beautiful thing too.

For now though, I'm back.

A slow day

2009-12-10T12:55:00.004-06:00

Every copper knows every day police work can be slow and filled with mundane tasks. That is what the big city copper has experienced since returning from vacation. Oh, the usual stuff goes on, like watching an SUV roll over trying to avoid the crash that was already blocking two lanes of traffic. The idiot barely looked up in time to avoid killing the responders already there. Like I said, every day stuff.

While most coppers are having a good day, others found the hands of fate needed to amuse themselves. Good honest officers found their fate in the hands of murderers. Lakewood, Washington followed closely by Pittsburgh Pa. had officers slain. There might even be more since I read the news last.

Is it a form of survivors guilt to feel bad? Being unable to attend the memorials of these guys saddened me. I sent a small token and prayers for the families instead.

I hope to continue having boring slow days.

Winter and fire safety

2009-12-02T12:03:00.005-06:00

The onset of cold weather reminded the big city copper of some of the worst memories of a copper's experience. Fires.

True, the fire department does all the fire fighting and are the usual "heroes" but more times than not it is a copper or two that are the first to arrive and get involved.

One night two young coppers were responding to a disturbance in a large apartment building. They stepped off the elevator and into a smoked filled hallway. They turned the corner and saw a bucket of tar with a mop. Further on was an apartment door on fire with the flames spreading to the ceiling. Seeing flames spreading across a ceiling was a shock. There had to be ten apartments on this floor and the building was at least twenty stories high.

They put in the emergency call for help and began to pound on apartment doors. The tenants, realizing the danger , began to gather their families and head for the stairs. Several helped to warn their neighbors.

The sound of sirens announced the arrival of help. The coppers went to the top floor and pounded on doors. They assisted as many people as they could find. The fire spread rapidly so the coppers had to get out.

The street was filled with fire equipment, ambulances, and police cars. The coppers had saved a few lives by their quick reactions. They were exhausted and had breathed in smoke so were driven to the hospital to get checked out.

The fire and evacuation was intense but the real trauma was in the ER. The coppers were taken immediately. A nurse approached with the nastiest looking needle the copper had ever seen. "This might hurt a little" was an understatement. She inserted the needle into the coppers wrist to obtain arterial blood in order to check for carbon monoxide. She missed the artery and had to look for it by moving the needle around while in the wrist. The most intense pain the copper had ever felt almost made him vomit. The code prevented him from crying like a little girl especially since the screams from the next room were from the copper's female partner.

The nurse finally ended the torture and got her blood. The copper went and puked in private. The partner wept without embarrassment. They had done their job and saved some lives. The boss said nice job. No medals or accolades, just respect from the guys and girls on the watch.

The worst part of fire jobs was the casualties. The firemen find them and bring them out but coppers do the paper job and follow up.

Seeing fire victims on the clean white gurney at the morgue didn't make it any easier to do the job. In order to see a body burned beyond recognition or children burst open like plumper hot dogs, a copper needed to flip the switch that let him step out of his self and be the professional he needed to be. When a copper suppressed all emotion, the experience was fascinating. The smell wasn't any worse than burnt meat and burned beyond recognition really meant what it implied. Gender identification was visibly impossible but every muscle was clearly visible.

Thank goodness for the ability to suppress emotions.

Practice and preach fire safety.

Justice served.

2009-12-01T10:19:00.004-06:00

Big city and small town coppers everywhere who are mourning our fallen heroes can rest a little easier today.

A fellow copper found the bastard who killed our brothers and sister and sent him to hell.

Now everyone knows the big city copper is all about ethics, morals, and justice but God fearing values meant nothing to the man that attacked our law enforcement family.

The families of the fallen wept.

A civil society demanded this evil not go unpunished.

The code of the street copper screamed for fierce reprisal.

We have prevailed.

Donations to the families are being taken on line at the Lakewood Police Independent Guild.

Please give generously. Support your L.E. family in their time of grief.

Rest in Peace Brothers.

2009-11-29T16:40:00.003-06:00

All police officers mourn along with Lakewood, Washington P.D. Our hearts go out to our brothers, our heroes. Rest in Peace

Do your own work.

2009-11-24T18:06:00.003-06:00

There are lots of things a young copper has to learn that is not taught in the academy and has to be learned by experience. One very important thing to be learned is, to keep some pooch copper from stealing a good arrest you gotta do your own paper work. It happens to young officers all the time.

A young copper and his partner were checking a burglar alarm at a school late one night and noticed an open window. They climbed in and began to do a room by room search. They were alerted by noise coming from the main office. They sneaked into the room and surprised a burglar prying open a desk drawer. The offender wisely surrendered.

The young officers were FNG's and didn't have much experience in processing a felony pinch. They called in two of the older guys who worked a crime car in plain clothes and asked for help with the arrest. They figured they would share the credit and gain some knowledge at the same time.

Well you can guess what happened. By the time the paperwork was done the young coppers weren't even on the scene except for transporting the offender. The young coppers realized they had let a good pinch get taken from them. There was no recourse, the sergeant shrugged and said "ya gotta learn to do your own work guys". Good street coppers are very competitive and hustle to get the good arrest but only assholes steal them from other policemen. It was a valuable lesson the young guys learned that day.

Another incident was even worse. A man intent on suicide was sitting on the roof ledge of a five story building. A friend was trying to talk him down. Two big city coppers and a fireman went up in a FD snorkel bucket at the rear of the building. Quietly, they approached the man and grabbed him from the ledge. The man began fighting and trying to go over the ledge. He was wrestled from the roof and onto the bucket. He fought all the way down. The man was admitted to the psych ward of the hospital and the coppers were recommended for a life saving award for their heroism.

A month or so later at the monthly awards ceremony, (lots of heroic stuff going on in the big city) the presenter called out three names for the award. The two officers and the fireman right? Guess again! The Beat officer that had written up the incident had included himself as part of the save. He posed with the officers as if he had earned the medal. It was embarrassing. His wife was smiling so proudly at him though that it was better to leave it be.

These incidents are good examples of why coppers should do their own work especially if you want it done right.

2009-11-24T12:14:00.005-06:00

The grand finale to the big city copper's middle east vacation was a visit to Petra and the Dead Sea. This was actually considered part of the Holy Land just not the christian part of it.

Petra was a fascinating archeologic wonder. Several ancient buildings carved into the mountains were featured in one of the Indiana Jones movies. The tour guide played a recording of the IJ theme song as we approached the sight. (Cheesy dramatics, no matter where you go.)

The Dead Sea was a marvel to see. It is 200 meters below sea level and extremely salty. Nothing grows in the water. It felt caustic and any scratches or open skin suffered for it. The mud baths were smelly but supposedly have healing properties.

The pillar of salt of Lot's wife and her camel were fun to see. (Too bad the camel looked back too)

This is obviously a brief recap of an enormous adventure and I know I haven't done justice to a great trip but it was a whirlwind tour with not much time to really appreciate it all.

Returning to the USA was actually a relief. Some areas especially near the airport at Amman,Jordan were definitely highly secured. Armored vehicles with .50 caliber machineguns mounted sat at various intersections.

After a long 15 hour flight, it was good to get home.

Getting back to work will be a chore though, A copper can get used to a life of leisure and travel.

2009-11-06T12:57:00.006-06:00

We traveled along the coast of the arabian gulf stopping in Sharjah to pick up two more adventurers, a young female french socialist and an older german tourist. The ride to the border of Oman took us through several towns and villages. Several times we had to stop for the livestock in the roadway. Our driver says the goats and cows know where they live and eventually make their way home. Saves the need for a shepherd, I guess.

We arrived at the border between Oman and the UAE. It was easy to pass through and exit the UAE once we provided the officials with the fee and our passports. We repeated the procedure at the entry side into Oman. The scenery didn't change much, desert and mountains to one side and the blue waters of the gulf of Oman. After passing through more fishing villages we arrived at a small cove where a few Dhows were wharfed. We boarded ours and settled in for a casual cruise into the fiords that knifed into the mountains.

We sailed through the fiords stopping at islands and villages. We saw ruins of a British fort on Telegraph Island. Another ruin was of a portugese fort long abandoned. The boat stopped in a cove for lunch and snorkeling. Lunch was typical Omani food, fish, rice, a soup, sweet tea and flat bread. It was delicious.

The dhows were constantly followed by dolphins that swam and played around racing through the wake of the boat. It was late in the afternoon and nearing dusk when we finally docked and headed back to the city.

The adventure to the middle east continued to get better. Our next stop was to travel to Jordan and see the Holy Land from the West Bank of the Dead Sea.

On vacation...

2009-11-02T01:55:00.003-06:00

What an adventure!

The non stop flight from the big city to Abu Dhabi should have taken 15 hours at most. But NOOOOOOOO! Some poor sap got sick somewhere approaching Greece. Did the flight continue to Athens maybe? No the pilot turned the plane around and backtracked to Milan, Italy. Wow! Italy. They at least opened the doors so we could breath some fresh air as we sat on the tarmac for four hours. So when you hear a big city copper brag about when "I was in Milan...." you can call him on it. The flight finally made it to Abu Dhabi at one in the morning, five hours behind schedule.

Normally, the big city copper is all about adventuring. The ability to adapt and improvise is one of my prized assets but after eight hours or so the "quaintness" faded fast. The plane was filled to capacity. The seats in coach were cramped and uncomfortable. There were too many squalling babies. The whole thing began to look and feel like the chicken and goat buses I've ridden. You know the ones you see in the third world documentaries. Mercifully, passing through customs and immigration was a breeze and the hour's drive to Dubai was uneventful.

The next day was spent at the pool, enjoying my grandkids, and napping. (to fight off the jet lag) Tomorrow, the adventure continues. A boat ride through the straits of Hormuz and into the country of Oman is the planned tour.

I'll let you know how it went. I will hopefully impress you with some good photos too but that will have to wait till we return.

On vacation

2009-10-26T13:53:00.002-05:00

The big city copper is going out of town for a few weeks. This was last years visit to Dubai.

I am returning for another visit to see my grandkids. I'll try to post from there but I can't promise I will.

2009-10-26T13:52:00.002-05:00

A camel ride on the shore of the Persian Gulf. Hot Hot Hot at least 115 degrees.

The mind wanders....

2009-10-22T09:48:00.004-05:00

The life of a big city copper is full of excitement, adventure, and drama. It is also boring , full of mundane tasks that take up too much time.

Paperwork for instance, everything used to be a form set. Fill in the blanks, write up a narrative, you're done. The new, modern, police department is electronic and digital. The report any copper could fill out in ten minutes now takes over an hour. Sometimes it takes a half hour of waiting just to use the computer. Each officer has to log in, choose the proper report, and begin typing. Sounds easy right? Listen to this. Type, tab, type again, tab, oops, not the proper format for the date, do over. Type some more, tab, uh oh you better hit the save application every few minutes or the whole thing vanishes and you have to start over again. How many old time coppers type using more than two fingers on each hand? A simple "he jumped on me" arrest that used to take a half hour (twenty minutes if it was quitting time) now takes over an hour or longer. (Say OVERTIME, baby)

The whole thing was supposed to save paper right? The old arrest report was a five page form set with carbon paper and each page was distributed to the necessary unit. The electronic arrest report now spits out a ten or more page printout and each unit now gets a complete package rather than a one page copy. They still require copies of everything. The archives room at the station is overflowing with boxes of paperwork with no end in sight.

Even the goriest murder was still just a paper job to the Beat copper. Fill in the blanks, write up a half way intelligent narrative, note all the phone call notifications, then turn it over to the Dicks. (They teach them how to type at detective school.)

The very first homicide of copper's career can be very dramatic. A young man was executed in an alley with a bullet to the back of his head in broad daylight. The family of the victim was crying and screaming. A brother of the dead guy held him, crying. He kissed the victim full on the lips then lowered him to the pavement as the police took over. Unsure of how to proceed, the rookie copper stared around trying to sort out the chaos. Luckily, the field training officer said "relax, it's only a paper job. Call for the crime lab and the dicks."

A couple of years and many crime scenes later, a young officer was getting frantic. A woman had been met at the back door to her boyfriends house by a shotgun blast to the face. With most of her head splashed into the back yard (a cat was feasting on brain matter), she was in a sitting position against the railing of the porch. Her body was still gasping for air (the well storied death rattle). The young officer wanted to call an ambulance. "Relax, she's dead already. She just don't know it yet. Besides it's only a paper job" remarked, the now grizzled three year veteran.

Sorry about that, the mind wandered a bit there. Modern technology is slow to catch on in the big city. There are bosses who still want to see paper copies of reports they can review before they will okay them to be submitted electronically. Instead of easing the workload it actually doubled it. Go figure. Old dogs and new tricks comes to mind.

All this muttering is really the agitation a copper gets when a furlough is approaching. Those last few days before a vacation starts are very difficult to endure. A few days of relaxation, laying in the sun, sipping on umbrella drinks, and eyeing the thong bikinis will ease the tension. Unless, of course, you're going with your own spouse then don't forget to take the mirrored shades and suck in your gut!! Your spouse will never notice.

Of course the big city copper is all about morality and solid family values (watch for the lightning bolt) so a visit with the grandkids is this years epic adventure. Mirrored glasses and pretending to be cool is not necessary.

Next year? DA BEACH, DA BEACH, we're going to DA BEACH!!!

How will you go?

2009-10-19T15:13:00.005-05:00

One of the guys didn't show up for roll call. I figured he was caught in traffic or overslept so I called his cell phone. There was no answer. I left a message. I called his home number. No luck. Now I'm getting concerned. Is he still in bed with the phone turned off. Is he passed out on the floor drunk? Or is gasping his last breath from a stroke or heart attack and dying. (Coppers never think of sunshine and blue skies do they?)

The other sergeant and I decided to do a "check the well being" visit to his house. The boss sent the other guy on another caper so I went alone. His car was parked in front of his building. I sniffed the air for that telltale odor of death as I approached the door. So far so good, no stench of rotting flesh assailed my nostrils.

Peering into the window, I was startled by the door suddenly opening. The officer was grinning from ear to ear. "Hey Sarge, what's up?" I explained my concern for his health since he didn't show up for work. He laughed and asked, "didn't the el tee tell you? I RETIRED!"

A sudden burst of happiness quickly replaced my initial shock. I offered and received a strong handshake followed by a back slapping embrace. He happily displayed a "Retired" star and ID card.

"Nobody said anything." I remarked. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I wanted to quietly walk away" was his response.

I congratulated him, told him he would be missed, and wished him well. Back in the car, I went on the air and informed the dispatcher. She broadcast the news to everyone and the well wishes began. It was heartwarming. The sad thing is that in a few months, coppers will say "remember that guy? I can see his face but I can't remember his name."

I drove away thinking of that day when I will not show up to work.

"Aw hell no," I said aloud.

I want to walk around the station bragging about how many days I have left. "Only ten more," I'll boast. "Get your party hats ready." "Five and a wake-up!" YES!

FANFARE! That's what I want. I don't care whether it's pizza, balloons and clowns or cheap booze, strippers and mariachi music. I won't, I refuse to go quietly.

For sacrificing a normal life to countless night shifts, working holidays, and witnessing the miseries of the street; I want a happy ending. For burying more brother officers than I can remember; I would like to be appreciated. For shedding blood as well as dignity to protect the uncaring masses; I think I deserve it.

I think we all deserve it.

Cold weather brings...

2009-10-15T17:14:00.004-05:00

The weather has been dreary the last few days. Rain, mist, more rain, and cold winds makes most people feel lousy. Just getting out of bed is a chore. This is typical big city October weather. The worse of it is that it doesn't get any much better. Oh, there are a few decent sunny days around the Thanksgiving holiday but that's it. Once the bad weather starts there's no relief until next May.

The general rule for police officers has always been "A good officer never gets wet, cold, or hungry!" There are always exceptions to any rule.

A few years ago, before civilians took over intersection traffic control duties, junior officers were detailed to the stadium for sports events. Football and soccer games are played in any weather short of tornados or hurricanes. These fans are insane. They come out in the most horrible weather instead of watching the game in the comfort of their home or favorite tavern. Young coppers had to stand in the rain, sleet, and snow directing the flow of traffic out of the arena parking lots. It was impossible to stay dry and warm with sleet blowing in your face for an hour. The best masks, gloves, and scarves available in those days didn't last very long.

The big city is socked with huge blizzards almost every winter. The pattern is the same every storm. Piles of deep drifting snow then a plunge into deep freezing temperatures immediately after the sky clears. This cold can reach arctic like conditions, often as low as -25 degrees. A cold so bitter that car motors and people both freeze up solid. Morning sometimes finds cars stranded on the roads and homeless people frozen where they tried to find shelter. Not everyone seeks out the city's help.

The extremely cold weather does chase the criminals off the street. After a day or so, the cabin fever kicks in and the indoor disturbances start. Coppers often have to park the patrol car on the main street and walk to the location of the job through the snow. The problems are often resolved while standing around the lit stove. Everyone, including the officers, warm their hands over the lit burners. Not many people are put out on those frigid nights. The combatants, unless they go to jail, are usually willing to wait for a warmer day to resume the hate.

In between assignments, officers return to the station to run their personal cars for twenty minutes in order to be able to drive home after the tour is over.

Winter in the big city is when police work is the most challenging. It's not easy getting motivated when the sidewalk and driveway has to be cleared of a foot of snow just to get to the street. A running start is then necessary to make it off the side road to the main street. If the main street has been plowed, an officer might make it to work at a reasonable hour.

AHHHH life in the big city!

Winter in the big city? BLAHHHH.

The faded thin blue line

2009-10-11T20:06:00.005-05:00

Many years ago in the big city, there were police officers that lived on the edge of copper society. They did their duty and protected each other but there existed a fine line between the good guys and the bad.

Every one knew who took money from traffic stops. Some were blatant and bragged about it, others were more discreet. Some preyed on the immigrant population. They relied on the fear of the police in their own country to pay a bribe without complaining. An officer, rumored to carry large sums of traffic money in his socks, failed to come in at the end of his shift one morning. The entire day shift went looking for him, not concerned for his safety, but racing to find him first to clean out his "choke".

In those days drunks were tolerated, sometimes even protected. The legendary "blue line" actually existed. Police officers did not talk to outsiders about what went on within the job. The drinkers were just overlooked as long as they stayed out of trouble. Most often the new guys , the young recruits, had to take their turn riding with the drunks.

Young officers had no say in the matter. The problem officer was usually very senior to the young copper and would grab the car keys, telling the rookie, "I'll drive kid." The first stop was usually the liquor store or bar. The drunk would leave the rookie in the car, saying "I'll be right out." Several minutes later, the older officer returned with a bag. Afraid of getting in trouble with the job but also leery of being called a rat, the young kid said nothing.

These problem officers were professional drunks. They drove around all night, threw beer cans out the window, and usually managed to steer clear of danger. With an uncanny, although blurred eye, they were good at spotting trouble blocks away then going the other way. They even offered to share their booze with the partner (after the third or fourth can, of course). The young copper had no choice but to say a silent prayer and wait for the morning. Two shifts riding with the drunk was usually the limit. The guy making the duty roster was good about shifting him around.

Before the development of the random drug testing program, the dopers were also well known. These officers were more secretive and only gathered with other pot smokers. Police cars parked door to door in a vacant lot wasn't always officers discussing strategy. There were instances of drinkers and dopers riding together in an attempt to keep the problem officers out of trouble. They worked hard at avoiding assignments which meant other officers had to carry their weight.

Keeping track of ammunition was not always a high priority in those days. The gunfire heard at night wasn't always the bad guys shooting. The were rumors of officers carrying small caliber guns for hunting rats on slow nights. Officers responding to calls of "shots being fired" were sometimes met by other police who were "close by". Shots fired outside a bar sometimes were waved off as not bone fide when drunk off duty guys were suspected of putting out the street lights.

Police parties were famous for poker games at one table, dice games in the corner, and drunken bimbo's offering their services in the back. Of course wives and husbands were never invited.

Those days are long gone. The new breed of police officer won't tolerate the drunks. Random drug testing has gleaned out the dopers. Digital cameras and tighter weapons policies has cut down the gun play. The thought of losing the best job in the world because of a DUI arrest or the possibility of a nasty divorce has toned down the drinking, gambling, and womanizing. Cell phone cameras, squad car cameras, and the fear of going to prison has stopped most of the traffic bribes.

The large amounts of drug money that is out on the street has bred a new kind of police criminal. These crooks shake down drug dealers and terrorize honest citizens by planting drugs then threatening to arrest them. Federal authorities work along with internal affairs officers to put these criminals into prison.

The old way of protecting bad police officers no longer works. The thin blue line is faded, sometimes barely visible. Modern police officers are professionals and won't tolerate criminal behavior in their ranks. These are the men and women I am proud to serve with.

Close, but no......

2009-10-08T16:57:00.003-05:00

A police officer's career is exciting and dangerous. It's not however, all shootouts and frisky women. (A big city copper is polite and doesn't describe it as "bullets and blowjobs" like some officers would.)

There are areas where an officer can go his whole career without ever taking his gun out of his holster except for practice or qualification. There are also towns and cities where the high crime and violence forces officers into gun fights on a more regular basis. Not all gun play results in injury or death. Sometimes, it's a close call that could have gone bad but didn't.

A copper responded to a disturbance call one night. He approached the location and paused to put his flashlight into a baton ring. The door burst open. A woman screamed out "he's got a gun!" She ran out into the street followed seconds later by a man holding a very nasty looking revolver. The copper, in the middle of the street, realized he was still fidgeting with the flashlight. He succeeded in securing the light (they're expensive) then grabbed the .45 he had just purchased a few days earlier and had only just qualified with. (Strange, the things that run through a copper's head during a adrenaline surge.)

The armed man, apparently very intent on the woman, chased her into the street. The woman , screaming, ran behind a parked car. She kept the car between her and the gunman by running back and forth as he chased her.

The copper, gun drawn and leveled at the man, shouted "police, drop it". The man stopped. The copper shouted again. The man turned, looked at the copper for a long second ( the hands, watch the hands, crap, there's bullets in the cylinder, it's loaded, watch the gun, watch the gun,) then said "SHIT" and dropped the gun. The copper ran up, ordered the man against the wall, then stepped into the back of his leg and forced him to his knees. The copper backed away then called for an assist car to take the man into custody.

While off duty and returning to his car after traffic court one day, a copper watched a man approach a car that was pulled over at the mouth of an alley. The man pulled a gun and began to fire into the car. People began screaming. There was a school on the block and the kids were just getting out for the day.

The officer, pulled out his pistol and began to approach the gunman. A woman screamed behind him " AY DIOS MIO, OTRO!" (Oh my God, another one!) The copper couldn't fire. Too many kids and parents were behind the shooter. The gunman continued to shoot as the car screeched away from the curb. The copper yelled "police"! The shooter, a young male, turned and ran into the alley. The copper (remember, off duty so no radio) chased after him. The young man turned into a gangway and disappeared from sight. The copper, slowed down and began to carefully search for the gunman. After several minutes, there was no sign of the man or of any other police. The copper called it in and provided a description of the shooter and the vehicle but no injuries or damage was ever reported.

Cruising in the vicinity of a block party shooting, a big city copper spotted a man fitting the description of the man wanted for the earlier shooting. The man ran into a yard then continued out of the back gate. The copper gave chase and called out the direction of flight to other cars in the area. When the man turned into another yard, the copper immediately turned into a parallel yard and exited the front at the same time as the suspect. Unaware that the officer was approaching from behind him, the man ducked under a porch and pulled out a gun. He was hiding it under some stones when the copper came up and challenged him. The man looked back and saw the officer had a gun pointed at him. He put up his hands and surrendered.

After each of these incidents, the officer involved got the "coulda shoulda woulda's." He was second guessed by other coppers. "I'd have killed him" "You should have shot him" were some of the comments he heard. Like a true professional, the big city copper told them he never felt threatened or not in control of the situation so killing wasn't necessary.

Sometimes a close call is just part of another day in the big city.

Searching prisoners. A basic rule.

2009-10-04T17:18:00.005-05:00

"Search your prisoner". This simple instruction is taught at every police academy in the world. This simple sentence is printed on signs in police lockup facilities everywhere. It is repeated almost daily at roll calls and by field training officers to their recruits. You know coppers though, the most basic safety measure there is and they neglect to do it.

Turnkeys everywhere complain about finding contraband of all kinds on prisoners already inside the holding facility. Besides drugs, knives, razor blades, scissors, nail files, and even small guns are confiscated in lockups. The officers assigned to the holding facilities rightfully get angry at the street officers who endanger their safety. The officers, who allow the contraband to get past them, are sternly disciplined, as they should be.

There are stories.

Driving past a subway station, a copper is flagged down by a man bleeding from a gash in his face. The man asks to be taken to the hospital. "Somebody tried to rob me", was his story.

The copper opened his rear door. The man started to climb in. "Wait a second " the officer said and opened the mans coat. The butt of a pistol was sticking out of the inside pocket. The officer grabbed the butt as the man pulled away. The gun came out in the coppers hand. Thinking quickly, the copper flicked the safety off and confronted the man with his own gun. When assisting cars arrived, the investigation revealed the man had tried to stickup some one with a bigger gun and got cracked in the face for his efforts. A victim is not always the good guy. Big city coppers have a saying, "Today's victim. Tomorrow's offender." Never put someone behind you without knowing who it is.

In another instance officers assigned to the wagon were transporting prisoners from a drug raid. The wagon man began to pat down a man before putting him into the truck. A "Tac" officer, (tactical, plain clothes) said "he's been searched already." The wise wagon man said "right" as he pulled a snub nosed pistol from the mans front pants pocket. The tac man sheepishly reached out for the gun. The copper said "I'll meet you at the station." When the wagon door was opened at the station, all five prisoners had slipped the cuffs from the back to the front. The man would have easily pulled the gun from his front pocket. A deadly tragedy was averted.

Sadly, two plain clothes tactical officers in another district, didn't fare so well. The "snitch", they put in the back seat, hid a gun in his boot and shot both coppers in the back of the head. One was killed instantly. The other copper lingered for a few hours before he too died.

Is it laziness? Do officers feel so immortal they overlook danger? Coppers can't afford to assume the other guy searched already. Search your prisoners yourself if you're unsure. Search anyone you don't trust. Police can do a pat down for weapons of any one they have a reasonable suspicion about. Every officer wants to go home with the minimum of blood loss. It may save someone's life. Maybe yours.

Safety first.

2009-10-02T13:58:00.006-05:00

I picked up my new bicycle yesterday. While setting it up for riding (better seat, mirror, lights, and my favorite thumbbell), my mind revisited the vision of crashing and flipping over onto the street. My fall was not an accident and fell into the "assholiness" category but it reminded me of an important topic.

SAFETY! Whether you are a pedestrian, riding on a bicycle, crotch rocket, or a Harley, road safety should be foremost on everybody's mind.

A pedestrian, in a hurry to cross the street, stepped around a group of people waiting for the light to change. A transit system bus, pulling into the bus stop, struck her head just as she tried to get back on the sidewalk. First on the scene, I approached the woman as she lay on the street. She looked at me and smiled. I told her the ambulance was on the way. A few minutes later, I looked into the ambulance and asked how she was doing. The medic told me she had died shortly after she was struck. I was stunned. She used one of her last living moments to smile at me.

The injuries I suffered were minor but earlier this summer, a bicycle rider died after getting "doored". The rider was thrown into the street by a driver opening his door into traffic. He was struck and killed by a passing motorist.

All summer, motorcycles called "crotch rockets" traveled up and down the lakefront highway at high speeds. The riders recklessly hit speeds of over 90 MPH. They often roared past the radar police car in groups. The police, instead of trying to pursue at such dangerous speeds, had to radio ahead and try to catch them at their destination.

Occasionally, the laws of physics caught them first. One night a rider lost control, veered off the road , and struck a tree. His torso remained attached to the tree limb. His legs and hips were found a hundred feet or so further up the median.

On another night this big city copper was told by a motorist of a body in the street. Driving up to the location, I noticed a bundle of clothes laying in the road. The pile of rags contained a man laying on his back staring up at the sky. I checked for a pulse in the neck and felt only bones protruding. Checking further, I observed the back pockets of his jeans were also facing upward. After calling in and requesting "everybody", I looked around for the inevitable motorcycle. The cycle was down the street a few yards away. I noticed another dark pile on the parkway. It was a man curled up in the baby position. I felt for a pulse and then heard a groan. As he turned his head his brains began to spill from under his "do rag". He died there on the street.

Professional police motorcycle riding was also dangerous. Several officers suffered injuries in crashes or in training sessions. A news item told of two officers getting killed while doing motorcade duty for the president.

Safety first. We'll all hopefully live longer.

Police have normal days too.

2009-09-29T17:11:00.008-05:00

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.

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.

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."

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."

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

"No, how about you?"

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

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

Coppers can't keep secrets. Is nothing sacred?

Support your local police.

2009-09-27T16:40:00.004-05:00

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

2009-09-25T17:36:00.006-05:00

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...

2009-09-22T13:37:00.005-05:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

2009-09-20T11:33:00.005-05:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.)

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.

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

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.

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"

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.

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

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

Coping in the police world.

2009-09-18T13:39:00.005-05:00

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

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

Others, unfortunately never recover and eat a bullet.

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.

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

Medal of Honor Convention

2009-09-15T17:24:00.008-05:00

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

2009-09-14T16:37:00.005-05:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!"

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.

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.

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

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

2009-09-12T07:21:00.004-05:00

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).

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

Remember Patriots Day

2009-09-11T07:31:00.003-05:00

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.

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

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

To all of America, God Bless you!

Escorting the President

2009-09-10T21:04:00.001-05:00

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.

2009-09-09T14:13:00.010-05:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.)

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.

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.

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!

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

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

Life is Beautiful!

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

"Riding the train..."

2009-09-08T14:33:00.005-05:00

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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?"

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

2009-09-07T17:44:00.005-05:00

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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

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!

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.

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

2009-09-05T19:38:00.008-05:00

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.

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.

What! Again?

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.

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?

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.

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!

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

Interacting with the police sucks

2009-09-03T19:18:00.007-05:00

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

2009-09-02T15:46:00.008-05:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

Police work in the projects.

2009-09-01T11:34:00.006-05:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

A police officer is laid to rest.

2009-08-31T17:38:00.008-05:00

The line extended from the door to half a block down the street. The visitation hours had begun. Uniformed police officers directed traffic as police cars, marked and unmarked, lined the street and started to fill the parking lots of the bowling alley across the street.

Police officers from all over the city and surrounding departments got in line as they always do when one of their own has made the ultimate sacrifice and is being laid to rest.

A thumping sound is heard over and over again along with quiet voices as officers greeted each other. (thump thump) "how you doing, brother?" (thump thump) "good to see you again." It repeated all along the line, in the lot, in the vestibule, and in the hallway. This is unique to police funerals. It is the sound of officers embracing and slapping each other's back. The thump is the sound body armor makes when it is struck during the embrace.

Smartly uniformed Honor Guard members were placed along the path to the chapel. The voices grew quieter as the line neared the casket. Those that knew the officer exchanged brief words with the family members and the slain officers partner. Officers who came only to pay their respects uttered condolences and continued walking. Hundreds of officers payed homage to their fallen brother whether they knew him or not. A prayer session was held later that evening just before the wake ended. It was led by a police chaplain.

The funeral service was held the following day. The street leading to the church was lined with officers in full dress uniforms. The parking lot was filled with officers, civilians, news media, and curious onlookers. Every conversation was hushed.

The sound of bagpipes and muffled drums announced the arrival of the procession. They slowly marched to the front of the church and suddenly stood silent. A silence fell as the hearse approached the curb and stopped. The Honor Guard reverently lifted the flag draped casket as the order to "Present Arms" was heard. Local police officers as well as many from other states raised their white gloved right hand in salute. The salute was held as the honor guard entered the church. "Order Arms" The officers lowered the salute and stood proudly as the family then police brass and other dignitaries filed into the church. Loud speakers set up by the city allowed the crowd to hear the proceedings from outside.

The procession to the burial site was led by a ten motorcycle escort, slowly moving along the planned route, all emergency lights flashing. The lead car of the honors escort followed the motorcycles. He kept the pace slow. He choked back tears as every intersection along the route was lined with officers. The route to the cemetery passed through small towns. It looked as if their whole police force along with the fire department lined the street in a sign of respect.

Two fire trucks, with the tower ladders raised, formed an arch the procession would enter the cemetery gates through. The escort vehicles pulled aside and watched as brightly flashing lights marked the procession as far as the eye could see. Over 300 police vehicles passed into the entrance before the motorcycles leading the hearse approached. The escort detail saluted smartly as the slain officer passed on his way to his final place of rest.

Only the family, the police upper echelon staff, and dignitaries could get close enough to hear the graveside ceremony.

The honors escort detail formed a small motorcade and headed back to the station. Proud to have again done their solemn duty to take one of their own to rest with dignity and honor.

Becoming the real police.

2009-08-30T14:53:00.003-05:00

It's amazing what goes through a copper's mind in the middle of a knock down drag out tooth and nail attempt to put handcuffs on somebody who just doesn't want to go quietly.

Standing at a window entangled with a police fighter and his partner the thought comes "If I shove him through this window will he hold on to us so we all go down two floors? Why is our police car the only one on the street? Did the call for help go out?"

As if reading his mind the partner says, " I called ."

There is a lull in the fight. The bad guy, the officers, and even the victim (who decided she didn't want her man arrested after all) are exhausted. The officer's are able to grab a breath but so does the offender. The battle resumes. The woman jumps on an officer's back clawing at his eyes. The copper twists and throws her across the room. He turns back and sees the bad guy is about to bite his partner in the groin. He reaches in grabbing the mans face and feels a crunching pain as his fingers become the target of the bite. The two officers throw punches, knees, and elbows trying to get cuffs on the tremendously strong man they are trying to arrest. Hell, at this point they are just trying to survive.

Like music from heaven, sirens can be heard in the distance. The struggle continues. A short time later the door flies open, a mass of blue uniforms rush in. It's a most beautiful thing. Now the odds are in the police officers' favor, fifteen to two, the way it should be. Peace through superior firepower!

The bleeding exhausted men watch as the offender is buried under a flurry of punches and kicks as the situation is brought back under control. Now they only have to go home and explain to their families how they got the bleeding hickeys, the stitched up fingers, and the stripes across the face and eyes.

Often a situation rapidly escalated to where force became necessary. Pepper spray? Tasers? They didn't exist up until a few years ago. It was all manual combat. Coppers died in the double digits every year until the bullet proof vests began to be issued in the mid eighties. A tee shirt with an "S" emblazoned on it didn't do the trick.

An amazing thing happened when the partners returned to work after a brief recovery period. Prior to this incident, they were two FNG's (effen new guys). It was "hey kid, I'm driving you do the paper." and "hey kid I'll be right back wait in the car." Suddenly every one knew their first names. They got invited to coffee. They were accepted. Real coppers aren't afraid. They had stood and fought and had been bloodied. They were now the real police.

Working the wagon in the big city

2009-08-28T17:01:00.019-05:00

Working the wagon for a big city copper was sometimes the worst assignment to get. There were regular officers assigned to the squadrol or "meat wagon" as it was sometimes called. Days off, vacations, or medical time meant the new guys had to fill in. Sometimes the day went by with only a few prisoner transports to make and the occasional disturbance requiring a two man unit but some days the salary had to be earned.
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It was a "suspicious odor" that prompted the landlord to call when he went to pick up the rent. The sickly sweet smell hit as the officers entered the first floor entrance. If it wasn't January they would have smelled it from the street. (The apartments were never on the first floor.) The smell got thicker as the they climbed the stairs to the second floor front apartment. The landlord gagged and almost vomited as he opened the door. The young officers light up cigarettes, an old timer’s suggestion."If you keep the smoke in your face , it doesn't smell so bad," he said. Old newspapers, garbage, and junk was piled up everywhere. The smell led the officers to the bathroom. It was the neatest room in the place except for the dead guy. Seated, actually only kind of sitting, on the toilet was the victim. He hadn't been crapping. Between his bloated, stiffened, and stretched out legs was an over turned five gallon plastic bucket holding a beef pot pie and a jelly glass filled with coffee. The poor guy vapor locked at his dinner table.
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Now, normally the officer's didn't mind disturbing a man's dinner to take him to jail but this guy had the misfortune to die several days sooner without anybody who cared enough to look in on him so the officers were obliged to take him to the morgue. The smell was horrible. The lit cigarettes barely helped. Worst of all the victim had to be carried down two flights of stairs to the truck. The bathroom was small, only the bowl and a bathtub. The younger officer decided to take the inside. He stepped gingerly around the man's legs and stepped into the tub. They each grabbed an arm and shoulder and pulled upward. BIG new guy mistake. The body burst open and even more foul smelling fluids splashed over the corpse and spilled to the floor in a slick thick mess. The lit cigarette was dying out now as the officer gasped and frantically puffed to keep it lit. He noticed the window ( a veteran copper would have already had it opened) and forced it open. Down on the street, the more fortunate officer was laughing hysterically. Officer "okay, I can take the inside" sent a few choice expletives his way to get him back up there. The only wise decision made that day was to step into the tub before moving the body. Officer "I laughed till I cried" finally returned with a blanket from who knows which pile of rags. The blanket was laid down in the hallway and the body was unceremoniously shoved off the bowl onto the blanket. Officer "still laughing" blanket dragged the guy down the hall a ways so Officer "inside" could put the lid down, step out of the tub, and jump over the mess into the hallway. The blanket drag worked up till the doorway where the body twisted sideways and hit the door frame. The forehead split open like an over ripe melon. They still had to get the body onto the stretcher and down the stairs. Another blanket was pulled out of a pile and the man strapped onto the stretcher.
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The officers finally began to think like veteran coppers and went down the street where several men were hanging around a burning trash can. Two dollars each bought some helpers. The officers suggested the street people take the bottom. Heck for two bucks they should have, right? Several sloppy curse filled minutes later the wagon was loaded up and headed to the hospital for the guy to be officially pronounced DOA.
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The hospital staff just extended the hilarity. The attending physician refused to pronounce the body on the officer's say so and insisted they bring it into the E.R. The county hospital had an enclosed driveway for ambulances so the truck was driven into the passage way and the hatch opened. The funk that permeated the E.R. had staff and patients puking almost immediately. "Get it out" screamed the doctor. "Please sign here" replied the officer with a "I told you so" grin.
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Finally arriving at the morgue the officers found that the morgue attendant was an experienced ghoul who agreed to take the body out of the truck for only five bucks each.
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The department contracted out the body removal responsibilities some years later so many younger officers have never had this unique experience.

Officer Shot

2009-08-27T16:56:00.007-05:00

Every copper knows that a typical day is usually everything but. One minute it's scrounging around for traffic cones and barricades to block off that pothole that's blowing out tires on the drive and the next it's lights and siren because the dispatcher says a police officer is shot and you're only a few blocks away.

Traffic never moves fast enough when it's important to get somewhere. Is it a false alarm? Is it a crank call? No, this time the call has been made over the radio by other officers. Sirens can be heard from every direction as officers respond. A fellow policeman, a brother, has been attacked!

Is it bad? Will we be going to yet another funeral? We are good at funerals. Our full honors funerals are a sight to behold. Not a dry eye among the hundreds who show up from all parts of the country. Lots of practice I guess.

There are police cars every where. There is also a lane open for the ambulance. Police officers know to leave a lane for the ambulance. The scene looks chaotic in a controlled way. Again, too much practice.

A big sigh of relief, the only body on the ground is not wearing police blue or the body armor of a plainclothes officer.

Leaning on the hood of a police car with a look of terror and shock on his face is one of us. The man in blue, a brother officer who has survived to serve and protect another day. His shirt is torn where the bullet tried to pierce his always worn, but seldom really appreciated, bullet proof vest.

The good guys win.

This time.

First Day

2009-08-26T08:42:00.002-05:00

The door bursts open and three men in mask's carrying shotguns and pistols enter screaming "Get on the floor now motherfuckers or you're dead." They quickly run out the door as fast as they came in.

It is day one of the police training academy. The instructor say's "Okay describe what just happened in detail, sex, race, clothing, weapons, everything." The descriptions vary greatly as each recruit attempts to recall specifics. The lesson? Be observant to detail, stay calm when the shit hits the fan.

It has been a long day. The recruits are treated as if it is military boot camp. They march as a group. The instructors yell at any misstep or mistake. Those recruits that are former military take it in stride. It is actually not even close to a real boot camp but the civilians don't know that. The classes are really no more than instructors telling war stories of their experiences and exploits, physical training, and how to write a report.

By the end of the day we are told a female recruit resigned without even making it to the lunch break. I am surprised at how much fun it was. I am looking forward to this.

This was twenty seven years ago. I still am surprised at how much fun it was and still is.

Every day.