What is it like to have the helicopter looking for you?

Posted on November 9, 2015 by Badge415

The other night a call went out about suspicious subjects and a car behind a business at 2AM. When officers got there they went in foot pursuit and requested additional cops to assist.

Based on the radio traffic it sounded like the officers interrupted a burglary in progress. I was close by and raced to the area. I took a perimeter spot and parked in a neighborhood southeast of where one of the suspects was last seen. I pointed my spot lights in the direction where he might pop out and left my lightbar on so the red and blue lights would bounce off the houses.

Everything was quiet outside with the exception of the radio traffic and the idling engine of my patrol car.. That’s when the sound of our helicopter could be heard in the distance. I looked to the northwest and saw it coming our way. The sound got louder and louder as it approached the sea of police lights below.

A calm and familiar voice came on the radio as a friend of mine broadcasted from above. He told us our perimeter looked good and asked where the suspects were last seen. Officers on the ground gave a description and a direction of travel.

The helicopter then went to work circling overheard as I stood next to my car watching it fly by. The only sound in the night were the rotors making their familiar and comforting noise.

While the sound of the helicopter was comforting to me, it must’ve been horrifying to the person hiding. I never gave it much thought until that night. I wondered what was going through the guy’s head as his heart pounded inside his chest like an 9.0 earthquake. His mouth must’ve been as dry as the Mohave desert during the summer on the way to Vegas. What was it like to know it would only be a matter of minutes until the inevitable happened?

That’s when a homeowner flagged an officer down about someone being in their backyard. The officer gave the address and a moment later the observer came on the air saying, “”He just jumped over the fence into the next backyard going eastbound.”

The suspect was now in the backyard of a house on a cul-de-sac one street behind where I was. A few moments later three patrol cars drove by on their way to the cul-de-sac. One of the cars was a K-9.

The officers advised over the radio they were on scene of the house a moment later. The sound of the K-9 must have been deafening to the suspect as the dog got out of the car. The sound from the K-9 and the helicopter must’ve been too much because the guy just gave up.

The search continued for about an hour and eventually everyone was caught. It was great team work setting up the perimeter so fast. The dispatcher also did a good job on the radio keeping everything in order. It was a great example of good police work that people never hear about.

When a Big Mac hurts

Posted on November 8, 2015 by Badge415

One night I responded to the McDonald’s drive thru for an injury traffic collision. When I got there I saw a woman with an injured leg being treated by fire personnel. I thought she was a pedestrian that somehow got hit by a car. The drive thru was also blocked by a car with no driver.

I started asking around and found out the injured woman was the driver of the car at the window. Now I was confused. How the heck did this happen?

In turned out the woman, who was in her late 50s, was in the drive thru when she pulled up to the window. She gave the cashier money and waited for her change. The cashier handed money to the driver, but some coins dropped to the ground.

The driver opened her door, stuck her foot out and…….Wait. Can you see where this is going? Did you cringe yet?

She opened the driver door, stuck her foot out and reached for the change while her right foot was still on the brake. Of course, her foot came off the brake and the car rolled forward. The door hit the McDonald’s drive thru wall and closed on the woman’s leg. It didn’t close all the way, but just enough for her to never want McDonald’s again for the rest of her life.

Just the thought of her leg getting smashed by the door makes me say ouch still.

Not too long after that I was in a drive thru when a cashier dropped change as she handed me money. I opened the driver door and looked at the change. That’s when I repeated the famous line, “It’s Déjà vu all over again,” by legendary Yankee Yogi Berra.

I had already seen this before and it wasn’t pretty. I took my food and left the change on the floor. I didn’t need it that much. Just a little food for thought if you ever drop change in the drive thru. Leave it. If you’re not careful, it might be the most painful hamburger you have had with a super sized injury.

Do you have a license?

Posted on November 4, 2015 by Badge415

The excuses people tell me never get old. Sometimes it seems like the excuses are the same every time, but every once in a while you get to hear a new one.

The other night I was watching a stop sign when an SUV drove through it at approximately 15 miles per hour. I went after the car and stopped it. I walked up to the car and waited for the driver to lower the window. The window was broken so she opened the door. The fact that the driver side window was broken was probably a hint of things to come.

I asked, “Why didn’t you stop for the stop sign?”

The woman, who was in her mid-twenties said, “I made a fast stop,”

I pointed to her car and asked, “Is your car stopped right now?”

“Yes.”

“Did your car ever get like this at the stop sign?”

“No,” she said as she lowered her head.

“So, how fast were you going when you went through the stop sign?”

“Maybe 15 to 20 miles per hour.”

I asked, “How come you didn’t stop?”

“I stopped last time I went through.”

At least we can count on her stopping 50% of the time. Since she was being honest I decided to let her go with a warning, assuming she had all of the correct and current paperwork. But you know what they say when you “assume” something?

In the Badge415 world, you at least need a driver’s license to get a break from me. It’s not too much to ask for a person to have a driver’s license and current insurance. Call me crazy, but those are basic laws people are supposed to follow. A person should have those instead of excuses when I stop them.

The moment of truth came for the crucial question of the evening. I threw all caution to the wind and asked, “Do you have a license?”

“No. It’s expired.”

I just laughed inside. It always seems to happen like this. The person was so close to driving away with a warning, but instead they’re the subject of a blog story. Oh well, I tried to give her a break. It just didn’t work out.

I asked, “Why is your license expired?”

“I renewed my identification card by accident thinking it was my license.”

What?

Now, that was a new excuse I had never heard. The funny thing was her identification card was issued in 2014 and her license expired in May of 2015. Either way the math didn’t add up, but I applauded her creativity.

In the end she got a ticket for being unlicensed and I gave her a break on the stop sign. She also had to wait for her brother to show up and take the car. If she had only stopped, I would’ve never found out about her expired license.

Until the next time I stop someone. Maybe they’ll have a driver’s license…… I hope.

The night Uber needed a taxi

Posted on November 3, 2015 by Badge415

Last week I pulled up to a collision call and saw three disabled vehicles in the road and one parked at the gas station on the corner. It seemed like there were a ton of people standing around being treated by fire personnel or speaking with officers. It was as if the cars threw up people all over the place.

Everyone was calm except for one loud mouth drunk who just liked to hear himself talk. He pretty much yelled the entire call and was downright obnoxious. His dumbness wasn’t directed at us, but he certainly was the fart in the elevator.

After a few minutes I figured out who was who in the zoo and started interviewing the drivers. One driver was stopped for a red light when his truck was turned into an accordion with four wheels. He was the first to get rear ended and was pushed into the car in front of him. The truck’s rear end was smashed and its front wheel broke off like it was a small Lego piece. One look at that poor truck and you knew it was going straight to car heaven.

I next spoke to an Uber driver, who told me the soon to be accordion was stopped behind him when they were rear ended. The impact turned his poor Uber mobile into a metal paper weight. The damage on that vehicle was bad. It was also getting a trip to car heaven.

I went on to interview the fourth driver and asked him what happened. In a weird twist, he was also an Uber driver with a carload of passengers.

The two Uber drivers were unrelated and just happened to be Ubering in the wrong place at the wrong time. At least they didn’t crash into each other. That would’ve been too weird.

I learned that both sets of Uber passengers had been drinking and did the responsible thing by getting a ride. Unfortunately, there was an unlicensed DUI driver behind them who wasn’t responsible. What are the odds of drunk people getting rear ended by a DUI driver?

And in the final twist of irony, we had to call a taxi to pick up some of the Uber passengers because they needed a ride.

You can’t make this stuff up.

“Was he in the crosswalk?”

Posted on November 2, 2015 by Badge415

There’s a certain detachment that I have about my job as a traffic cop. It’s simple. A crash goes out and I go. Whether it’s a minor fender bender or a fatal traffic collision, you go and do what needs to be done.

Once at the call we handle it, clear and move on to the next. There’s no time to get emotionally invested because of the nature of the job. I’m like a band-aide. Just a temporarily fix on the wound.

Later on I finish the report and staple the pages together. I walk over to the inbox in the traffic office and I toss it in. My role in that particular collision is over.

I never see the physical or emotional scars that were inflicted by the collision after I clear the scene. I’m not there for the pain and suffering, nor am I there for the funerals or physical therapy the injured have to go through.

I don’t remember their names or their license plate numbers. My memory only gets jogged about a crash when I drive down the street and pass certain locations. It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just better to keep an emotionally safe distance away from the injuries and death that happens every night.

It’s how I can keep doing this job and still feel like a normal person when I’m at home, away from the madness. That’s what works for me.

A few weeks ago I took a major injury collision involving a pedestrian on the west end of the city. He had already been transported to the hospital before I arrived. The only thing left in the street were his shoes, clothes and a lot of blood.

Once I cleared the scene, I moved on and wrote the report just like I always do. There was no attachment because I never saw the victim and I didn’t know anything about him, other than what was on my paper work.

On Friday, I had to call the victim’s daughter because she was trying to track down her father’s identification card. Part of me didn’t want to call because that would put a human voice to the report I had already turned in.

I spoke to her and explained that her father did not have an identification card in his wallet at the scene. The family couldn’t find it and she had no idea where it could be. She then said, “I don’t even know what happened.”

I instantly felt bad for her because he was in the hospital with life threatening injuries and she had no idea what happened.

I then told her how the collision occurred and what the witness said that night. I felt bad telling her he ran out in front of the car because I’m sure it gave her a visual to go with what her father looked like in the hospital.

When I was done explaining what happened she asked, “Was he in the crosswalk?”

“No.”

The word hung in the air like a thick fog that swallowed up everything around it as she took in what I just said.

I broke the silence by asking how her father was doing. I knew the injuries were major that night, but I didn’t have any further information about him. She started crying and told me the doctors suggested they pull the plug because he was in a vegetative state.

She sobbed and took a deep breath as she said, “I can’t do that to my father. God is good and I’m praying for a miracle.”

Her words were hard to hear because of the emotion and deep pain behind them. Even though she was a stranger, I still felt for the family. He was someone’s father.

I wished her luck and we concluded our call. There wasn’t much to say after that.

Before the phone call, the collision was another in a long list of fatal and major injury traffic accidents that I’ve handled. It was report, a piece of paper that I prepared and turned in. It was nothing personal. I was business.

After the phone call, it was different. Now there was a voice of pain and sadness attached to it. That’s just part of the job.

An inside joke that lives on

Posted on October 31, 2015 by Badge415

In Orange County, 901T is the radio code for injury collision. 902T is the radio code for non-inury collision and 901 means traffic collision with unknown injuries. It’s just those three unless it’s a hit and run. Then there are a few more codes.

Last year on Halloween night of 2014, a new radio code was born that no one new about. It’s not an official radio code, but it’s the source of a great inside joke that will go on for years.

On that night a 901T involving a pedestrian went out in the southern part of the city and two patrol officers were dispatched to it. My partner and I were on a different call at the time in the east end of our city. It was raining cats and dogs so we had to seek shelter under the porch of someone’s house just to get away from the craziness. At that point I needed a towel more than an umbrella.

We were standing there feeling miserable when an officer got on the radio and said, “This is a 901 Frank.”

What the heck was a 901 Frank? None of us had ever heard that before. The dispatcher said something on the radio and then the officer spoke again.

“It’s a major and start a traffic.”

“Traffic is 10-6,” replied the dispatcher, advising him we were busy.

“Confirming you conveyed the message to traffic that this is a major.” The tone in his voice told us this was more than just a regular crash.

“10-4,” replied the dispatcher.

After hearing the word “major” it was time for us to drop what we were doing and head to that call. We had a long drive and I knew we were going to have some good natured fun with the officer who said 901 Frank when we got there. How could we pass it up?

When I pulled up to the call, I went up to the cop and we started having fun with him. “What’s a 901Frank?” I asked.

The officer said, “It was bad. There was blood coming out of his eyes.”

He was an experienced officer and a great guy, so if he said it was bad then it was really bad. He meant 901 Frank (901F) to be fatal or possible fatal collision. Either way, you’ll never find it in any radio code list ever.

In the end we finished the call and the pedestrian survived. From that point on the term 901 Frank achieved legendary status among some of us who worked that night. It’s one of the funniest inside jokes around and was the subject of numerous memes that I may or may not have created.

Thanks MW for the laugh. It’s still a great story and it’s hard to believe it happened a year ago.

But really? What the F#$%k is 901Frank?

The 12 year old who drives

Posted on October 30, 2015 by Badge415

The other day I gave two traffic presentations at a junior high school. The first class were eighth graders and the second were seventh graders. Before the first class started, the teacher told me the seventh graders were going to be a challenging audience compared to the eighth graders.

The first presentation went off without a problem. The kids had good questions and liked the crash pictures I showed them. When class ended, the kids clapped and most of them shook my hand as they walked out. Wow, what a group.

Then the next class came in. There were nice and attentive for a while, but the teacher was right. This group of kids were more challenging for sure.

During the second class there was this boy in the front row that was restless and talked a lot. I figured he was one of the people the teacher was talking about. At one point he held up his hand and said, “I’ve driven a car before.”

“Really? Where?” I asked.

“In the desert.”

I didn’t know what to say to him other than, “OK.”

He then said, “And on the street.”

“You mean the city street?”

“Yeah.”

As a joke I asked, “Where do you live?” but I didn’t expect anyone to get it.

The boy was about to answer when another boy in the front row started laughing. I looked at him and asked, “Did you get my joke?”

He nodded and said he had. I put my hand up in the air and said, “Give me a high five since you were the only one that got that.” The kid smiled and slapped my hand.

I looked back to the the unlicensed driver in the front row and asked, “How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

I stood there and shook my head because I knew the kid was telling the truth.

He then asked, “What would you do if you saw me driving?”

“I’d take your car away and give your dad a ticket.”

The kid give me a funny look at the same time some of the kids started laughing. I then told them a story about a 12 year from a long time ago that I caught driving. The kids were amazed and paid attention while I told it because they were all about the same age as the kid in my story.

At the end of the class I spoke to the teacher again. She told me the unlicensed driver in the front was one of her challenging kids, along with a few others in the class.

Something tells me I might be seeing that kid again. Let’s just hope it’s not on a car stop when he’s 12 years old. If i do, I’ll be writing an impound report that night…..

“Is your license really valid?”

Posted on October 28, 2015 by Badge415

The other night I decided to watch a stop sign in a neighborhood because of a complaint. I parked at an L shaped intersection in plain view for all to see. I was parked along the curb in the dark when this car passed me on the left as it approached the stop sign. The car rolled through the stop and made its turn like I wasn’t there. I threw my lights on and stopped the car, wondering what the heck the driver was thinking.

I walked up to the car and asked the driver why she didn’t stop for the stop sign and if she saw the police car. At first, the driver told me she stopped. After further questioning and a Jedi Mind Trick, she admitted to not stopping. I next asked her if she had a license.

“Not with me,” she replied.

“Where is it at?”

“It broke in half two days ago.”

That was one of the dumbest excuses I had ever heard. Now I was sure her license was either suspended or she was never issued one.

“Is your license valid?”

“Yes.”

I walked back to my car and entered her name into the computer. I knew it was a waste of time because there was no way her license was valid after the “broke in half” excuse. Call me skeptical, but it was a gut feeling.

Of course, it wasn’t valid. Her license expired in 2009 and she had two prior convictions for driving on a suspended license. Her license wasn’t just barely expired. It was really, really expired.

I couldn’t believe she tried telling me it was valid, but it was a nice try. I went back up to the driver and asked her about her license. She again told me it was valid. When do these people give up?

She next said it was set to be renewed in December of 2015. She was getting nervous at this point and started talking more and more. She then said something about failing the written test.

I asked her how many times she had failed the written test in the last year. She said, “Six times.”

“You know, they don’t make you take the test six times if you already have a valid driver’s license?”

“I have to take the test to renew it.”

That’s when she threw out one more excuse, hoping it would stick on the wall somewhere.

“I have a permit.”

“Ok. Show it to me.”

“It’s in storage,” she said.

“That doesn’t make sense. No one would put their permit in storage when they need it to drive,” I said.

Now she needed a diversion. She raised her voice and told me cops make her nervous because of all the things that happen on the news.

“Have I done anything wrong?” I asked.

“No.”

Good, I wanted that for my body worn camera in case she tried to complain about me. I went back to my car and started writing her the ticket. I also called for a tow truck.

When I went back up to the driver door she was upset. She signed the ticket and asked to keep the car. I told her it was getting impounded because her license expired 6 years ago.

She exited the car and said, “I bet you’d let me keep the car if I was white.”

I almost laughed when I heard that since the driver and I were both Hispanic. I wanted so bad to say, “Nope, I’d take the car if you were white too,” but I held my tongue.

Then with a mean and sarcastic tone she said, “Thank you for protecting and serving,”

“Your welcome,” I replied.

She turned toward me with all the evilness she could muster. She even threw some imaginary darts my way with her eyes. Who cares? She lied and I was just doing my job. She could’ve stopped for the stop sign and made things easier for both of us.

After she left I told the tow truck driver what she said. He laughed as he said, “You take everybody’s car. It doesn’t matter if they’re white, black, Asian or Hispanic. If they’re wrong you take the car.”

At least the tow truck driver knew I was fair!

A few days letter there was a note in my mailbox at work from the driver. She left it after getting a release for the impound. The note said she was sorry for being rude at the end of the stop. It also said she was lagging and she finally got her license back.

She wasn’t such a bad person after all. She was just really mad because her car was impounded and that remark was the best she could come up with. At least she has her license now. I bet she stops the next time she comes up to that stop sign.

It’s not every day you get an apology from someone. I actually appreciated the note because she didn’t have to write it. Just another happy ending in police work.

The story about “My” tree

Posted on October 27, 2015 by Badge415

On Saturday night I started my shift by responding to an injury collision after a child ran into the street and was struck by a car. The investigation was simple and we were finished pretty fast. After I was done, I stood in the street and thought how it looked exactly the same way it did over 20 years ago when I was a new cop.

The apartment buildings were still old and tired looking. Some apartment courtyards had overgrown grass and others were dirt. There were vending trucks parked in front of red curbs with children standing around with no one watching them. There were also males in baggy clothes and shaved heads walking around in the shadows on a reconnaissance mission to see when the cops were going to leave.

The street was lined with cars as far as the eye could see in both directions. The cars had scratched and scuffed bumpers from the parallel parking wars that were fought here every night. There was even trash in the gutters just like the “old days.”

It was as if time had stood still on this little street since 1995. Everything was the same except for one thing. That was the tree I helped plant at the end of my field officer training.

On the last week of training I had to ride with an officer from the community policing team. This particular neighborhood was part of his area. One Saturday morning I reported to work ready to plant trees that were bought by the city.

There were people of all ages out there that morning with shovels and picks as dirt as hard as rock was broken up for the new trees. For hours people worked as a team in the hot July sun until all of the trees were planted.

After we were done, I made it a point to memorize which address “my” tree went in front of. According to my wife, I don’t remember certain things, but I still remember that tree was in front of address 175.

I knew back then I would be able to look back at that tree and remember I was part of why it was there.

As I left the collision scene that night, I stopped in front of 175 and looked at it. My son was with me on a ride along and I told him the story from long ago. I remembered digging the hole and dragging the tree to it with the help of others. We put it the hole and filled it with dirt as we packed it down with our feet. A garden hose was then pulled out and we watered it afterward. When we were done, I stood there and admired the tree with the people I had worked with to plant it.

The tree, like me, is different now after all these years. The tree looks nothing like it did when it was planted. It is taller now and its trunk is strong looking with branches reaching up to the sky. That tree, along with the others that were planted that day, have witnessed car accidents, shootings and stabbings. They have withstood the test of time just like we, as officers have.

To the people around there, it’s just a tree that no one pays attention to. To me, the size of that tree is a symbol of the years I’ve been around. It has grown and gotten stronger, just like I have grown as a cop and as a person.

As we drove away my son said, “That would make a good blog story.” I laughed a little and thought he was right.

The funny things people say

Posted on October 24, 2015 by Badge415

Tonight, the same call provided me with two different opportunities to laugh and shake my head. The first one involved a man who was driving with his family when he collided with a DUI in a minor crash.

His girlfriend was in the right front passenger and their two children were in the backseat. They were 5 and 2 years old. His girlfriend had an appointment she was late for. Someone drove up and dropped off grandpa and gave her a ride.

That left dad, grandpa and the two kids. I asked dad what his 2 year old son’s name was. He answered it pretty fast like he should since it was his own flesh and blood. He then ran into some trouble.

“What’s his birthday?” I asked.

“Ah…..”

“You don’t know his birthday?”

He started to squirm as he looked around for help. He looked at me like I was going to save him from the embarrassment rocket that was plummeting back to earth to land on him. He then said the dumbest thing I heard all night. “Ah. June. I don’t know. My wife knows.”

It was like the loser music from the Price is Right started up in the background when he said that.

“You might want to work on that one.” I said.

I looked at grandpa and thought I’d give it and shot. “Do you know his birthday?”

“Ah,” he said as he shifted back and forth. “My wife knows it.”

I looked to the 5 year old brother to save the day. I thought how cool it would be if the kid could throw a strike down the middle and deliver the ultimate game winning performance to show up dad.

“Do you know your brother’s birthday?” I asked.

The child started talking about something else as he dashed my hopes to poke at dad for not knowing his youngest son’s birthday.

“What’s your other son’s name and birthday?”

He told me the child’s name and then said, “October. Ah.”

It was on the tip of his tongue and it was painful to watch since there were only 8 days left in the month. Then by some miracle he blurted out his son’s birthday like he beat the buzzer on a timed test. At least he got that one.

I walked away wondering if he was going to remember Christmas. My only regret was not asking for his girlfriend’s birthday. I’m sure he would’ve crashed and burned on that one too.

I then watched the end of the DUI investigation. The driver attempted to raise a foot in the air for the test, but he kept putting it down like a horse trying to do Morse code with his front hoof. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

He rose the other foot and it came down like the other, but more often and faster as he lost his balance. He was either doing Morse code again or he was bull getting ready to charge at a matador.

At one point the driver just turned around in defeat and put his hands behind his back as he said to arrest him. The officer told him to turn around. The driver did and attempted Morse code again.

There was another test, but the driver turned around and put his hands behind his back as he tried to get me to handcuff him. I gave him a coach pep talk and said, “Go back over there.”

When the investigation was over, the officer told him to put his hands behind his back. He turned around and did as he told. That’s when a big smile appeared on the driver’s face as he said, “See, I told you.” The tone in his voice was hilarious like he knew he was more drunk that we thought.

A patrol unit arrived to transport the DUI to jail. One of the officers in the car only had a year on the job and was young looking.

The DUI looked at him and said, “The fucking new guy is taking me?”

You just can’t make this stuff up.