We’re toxic together

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The other night I responded to a restraining order violation call involving a man and a woman, who have a child together. When I got there I saw them speaking to officers. The man, who was Caucasian and his 30s, was sitting on the bumper of a patrol car. His shirt was dirty and his hair was unkempt.

I stood there in awe as I listened to him ramble about all kinds of things. It was both funny and sad to know he was reproducing. I didn’t want to stand too close to him in case some of his dumbness tried to rub off onto me.

One of the first things he said was, “My record is a mile long.”

I had not doubt about that as I listened to him.

The subject of domestic violence came up and he had plenty to talk about since he’d been arrested before. He was talking to a cop when he said, “OJ fucked it up for everyone.”

I couldn’t help but laugh when I heard that. I wasn’t laughing at what happened with OJ Simpson. I was laughing because this guy said it in the middle of a domestic violence restraining order investigation.

The subject turned to his relationship with his ex and what she used to do for a living when he said, “She was a prostitute. It runs in her family.”

Who says that to a bunch of strangers? Just hilarious.

I then made small talk with the victim. “How long were you together?” I asked.

“For 17 years. We’re toxic together.”

She went on to tell me all kinds of stories about their drug use, their prison time and an 18 year daughter she gave up along time ago.

After he was arrested, the woman said she was going to call a friend for a ride. She walked to a fast food restaurant to wait. As she walked away, I wondered how much damage had been caused to their child by the “toxic” relationship they share.

Unfortunately, the poor kid doesn’t have a chance.

 

Don’t mess with the Bluecheck

image“Eddie Murphy Raw” came out in 1987. It was a stand up comedy video that is still hilarious almost 30 years later. The other night, I was on a call when I was reminded about a joke Eddie Murphy told on that video.

The joke was about a woman, who caught her man leaving another woman’s house. She confronted him and he replied, “Wasn’t me.” She accused him a few more times and his only response was, “Wasn’t me.”

Even though he was caught red handed he never admitted it. Now, jump in a black and white police car and you’ll meet plenty of people like that.

When I arrived on the call, an officer asked, “Do you have a Bluecheck?” A Bluecheck is a handy bit of technology that checks fingerprints though my work laptop. If the person’s fingerprints are in the system the computer will give you a hit in less than a minute.

“Yes,” I replied as I went to my car to get it.

I walked up to the suspect and asked, “What’s your name?”

“John Smith.” (I changed his name)

“Have you ever used a different name before?”

“No,” he replied.

I pulled out my Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire (L.L.P.O.F.) detector and put his right and left index fingers on it. The prints were sent to my computer via Bluetooth and a minute later John Smith’s picture popped up on my screen with a different name and date of birth.

I love it when that happens.

The picture and info meant he was booked at the department before. There was also a Department of Justice hit on his name. I asked the suspect again if he ever used a different name before. “No,” he answered.

I asked, “Who is Jim Thompson?”

“I don’t know.”

I took my computer over to him and showed him the picture. John/Jim looked at his picture on my computer and said he didn’t know who that was. As I walked away he said, “I have no idea who that guy is.”

At that point, I pictured Eddie Murphy saying, “Wasn’t me.”

Yeah, it was you. Your fingerprints said so. You can’t make this stuff up.

A Christmas Eve stabbing

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It was about 2:40AM when I pulled up to a stabbing call on Christmas Eve. I parked my car and walked toward the house where the stabbing was. I entered the house and saw a couple of people sitting on the couch. They obviously were sleeping when all the commotion started. I walked through the house toward the backyard where the other officers were. That’s when I saw the victim lying on his side with cops kneeling beside him. 

I stood there wondering what kind of person stabs another on Christmas Eve.

When the paramedics arrived, they surrounded the victim and went to work. One of the paramedics took out a pair of scissors and started cutting his shirt off. When the shirt was removed I was able to see numerous stab wounds on the victim’s side and back.

After a few minutes I looked at my watch and decided it was time to leave because it was the end of my shift. As I  headed back to my car the paramedics were right behind me as they wheeled the victim to the ambulance. They loaded him up and took off with their lights and siren on. 

The call was a perfect example of how some people don’t care what the calendar says. It wasn’t Christmas Eve to the suspect. It was just Thursday morning and he stabbed someone. It’s amazing how human life means so little to some people out here on the street.

It’s the dark side of society most people don’t know about. For most people this would be shocking to see. For me, it was just another “normal” day at work.

Now it’s time to enjoy the next two days off. Merry Christmas.

Two different types of drunks

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The other night we were in the 7-Eleven parking lot on a DUI crash. When I first got there, I saw a male standing in front and didn’t pay much attention to him. Where I work, it’s not uncommon to see people hanging around 7-Eleven with nothing to do. I figured he was just one of those guys.

I did my interviews and the DUI driver was arrested. He was a happy drunk and was very cooperative. He was a carefree guy and was handcuffed with no problems. After he was arrested the driver smiled and said, “Come on. Let me go.” The patrol officer then took him to the car and had him sit in the backseat.

That’s when the guy from in front of 7-Eleven started walking toward us with his hands out like a drunk zombie as he said, “Arrest me instead.”

What a guy, right? It was out of the ordinary for a stranger to act like this on a collision call, but then again, nothing is too weird at work.

We told the guy to step back and go away, but he wouldn’t listen. He kept coming closer and closer. He eventually got arrested and became a bigger idiot after he was handcuffed. The officers took him to the car so he could get a ride with the DUI driver.

Well, he didn’t want to get into the car. The officers took the DUI out and asked me to standby with him. During this time, the other drunk was yelling, screaming and telling everyone what he really thought of cops in his best Rated R language.

That’s when the DUI guy said, “Look at this guy. He’s full of shit. I’m not like that. Let me go.”

I told him, “We appreciate it, but we just can’t let you go. We have to do our jobs.”

“Come on. Let me go.”

“You were DUI and you crashed into that woman. Plus, you don’t even have a license.”

“I know, but look at him. I’m not like that.”

It was funny to listen to nice suspect while the other guy was being such an ass. It almost made me want to give the guy a freebie. Not really. I was kidding. It was amazing to see how a regular call could go downhill in a matter of seconds because of a drunk knucklehead who wasn’t even involved.

That’s police work for you though.

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

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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.

 

The night the firefighter was hit by a car

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Firefighter Down

“2S2, a firefighter was just hit by a car!”

It was a summer night in August when I heard those chilling words over the radio.

The sergeant then broadcasted that this was a hit and run and he needed Code 3 units.

As I rolled toward the location I wondered how could this happen. Firefighters aren’t supposed to get hit by cars. It’s not in the rule book.

I just happened to be down the street when I heard the call. I floored the gas pedal and pushed the car as hard as it could go. I was there in less than thirty seconds.

When I arrived I saw the fire truck parked facing in a southeasterly direction with its red lights flashing in the night. A fire hose was pulled across the street toward the burned vehicle.

There was a burned out vehicle smoldering on the side of the road in front of this run down looking motel.

The air was filled with foul smelling smoke. It was the kind of smell that invades the lungs and makes you want to turn your head.

Everything looked normal up to that point.

That’s when I saw the firefighter lying motionless on his back in the street. He was wearing his fire turnouts, helmet and breathing apparatus.

His three partners were kneeling beside him and they were yelling his name. There was fear and panic in their voices. They kept calling his name and told him to hold on.

This weird feeling came over me. It was as if all sound ceased to exist at that moment except for their voices. The volume and emotion in their voices made me nervous. I didn’t want to see him die in front of me.

I stood over them and I was shocked to see blood on the inside of his mask. I could barely see his face as he grimaced in pain.

Then the sound of the night came rushing back to my ears. It was as if every police siren could be heard echoing in the night as they raced to our location.

Then there were tons of cops getting out of their cars, all wanting to help. A command post was set up to coordinate a search for the suspect.
Another fire truck arrived and the firefighter was loaded into an ambulance. The siren of the ambulance screamed into the night as it drove toward U.C.I. Medical Center.

His three partners remained at the scene. They all had a look of disbelief and anguish.

I have a vivid memory of the engineer slowly walking to the fire truck and sitting on the front bumper. I watched as he put his hands on his knees and lowered his head. He just sat there and didn’t move for a long time.

I then spoke to the captain. He told me about responding to the car fire and where their truck was parked. The firefighter pulled a hose and started putting water on the burning car. The captain stood a little farther south and stopped traffic in both northbound lanes.

That is when the suspect vehicle drove around the stopped cars and headed straight at the captain.

The firefighter was facing the burning car at this point and he had no idea what was about to happen. The captain waved his flashlight at the speeding car, but it didn’t stop. He yelled a warning toward his firefighter, but he didn’t hear it.

The car sped directly at the helpless firefighter and hit him.

The impact sent his body into the air as he was propelled backward. The firefighter then skidded across the asphalt on his back until he finally came to a stop.

His battered body made at least thirty feet of gouge marks in the asphalt as he scraped across the street. It was amazing he wasn’t killed. There’s no doubt his equipment saved him from more serious injuries.

The vehicle never stopped……

The fire truck wasn’t parked in the best spot to protect them, but that didn’t give the suspect the right to drive around the stopped traffic.

Fast forward over ten years later.

I drove by this location last night and the motel sign triggered the memory of this call. It was the same sign where the burned out car was parked next to. The sights, sounds and smell of that night came back.

I pictured the fire truck and where the firefighter was lying in the road. I could picture the burned out car and other things from that night. There was also the sound of the firefighters yelling out his name.

Then it all faded away back into a distant memory by the time I got to the next traffic signal. The night went back to being quiet and peaceful.

As for the firefighter, he recovered and was medically retired.

The suspect and car were never found. It’s hard to believe that no one ever came forward with information about this. Who fixed that car? Who helped hide the car and the suspect? Who could keep that secret?

Who could hit a firefighter or anyone else like that and not be disgusted every time they looked in the mirror?

Who knows, maybe the driver or someone who knows them will read this one day. If that ever happens I have a message for the driver.

“$#!%$@!. You suck.”

Calling 911 can ruin your drug business

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Don’t be a drug dealer and call 911

Back in late 1995 or early 1996, I was dispatched to another 911 call at a small apartment complex I had never been to before. It seemed like it was going to be the typical hang up call where someone was either playing with the phone or dialed 911 by accident. Whenever a 911 call is received, dispatch will call the number back to see what the problem was. If there’s no answer then officers will have to be sent out. On this particular day there was no answer on recall. I figured I would be done with this call in one minute tops.

A Caucasian male in his twenties opened the door just a crack. Not like most people do when they open the door wide open. This was just enough to see his face and nothing else inside the apartment from where I was standing. I told him the reason we were there and that we needed to go in and make sure there was no one injured inside. The man seemed a little hesitant at first, but he backed away from the door as he opened it for us.

I noticed he was wearing boxer shorts and he was holding a pair of jeans in his hand. Maybe he was just being shy when he had opened the door. Since we still didn’t know what we had on this call yet, I told the man to give me his pants because I wanted to check them for weapons. I then found a large knife in a sheath that was attached to the belt. I didn’t give him his pants back and had him sit down.

From where I was standing, I scanned the apartment interior. It was the typical small apartment I was used to going into. A small kitchen was to my left with very old and stained counter tiles and dirty grout. A couch, chair and coffee table were in the front room where we were standing. This room was a little messy, but I had seen worse. There was a hallway between the front room and the kitchen, which lead to the bedroom. The room was dark and the window blinds were closed.

I looked down at the coffee table and saw two scales in plain view. They were three beam scales, which is not something you see every day unless you’re watching Miami Vice or in the police evidence room. I then saw small plastic zip lock bags on the table next to the scales. These particular bags were smaller than sandwich bags and are used to package methamphetamine to sell. I looked even closer and there were small bits of marijuana crumbs all over the table next to the scales. Of course, the one gallon zip lock bag full of marijuana sitting there on the table didn’t look out of place.

I looked over at the male and asked him why he had the scales. The male hesitated as he was trying to figure out damage control. He then said, “I collect them.” That was the best he could do? Now, I was starting to think this wasn’t the smartest drug dealer in the world. He could’ve at least tried to say, “Those aren’t my scales.”

This call was a done deal for me and it was time to handcuff him to go to jail. I told him to stand up and turn around, which he did. I noticed that one hand was open, but the other was balled into a fist. I told him to put his hands together, but he wouldn’t. After a few seconds he revealed a large rock of meth that he had been holding. Who opens the door for the police while holding a rock of meth in their hand?

There was no one else in the apartment and I learned that he had just had an argument with his girlfriend today and she had left right before we arrived. I’m pretty sure she had the last laugh on that one!

Never upset your girlfriend when you’re a drug dealer.