No one likes to see them in the rear view mirror, but when we call for somebody to stand between us and the bad guys, we’re glad to see blue lights racing toward us. An officer I know tells great stories, his humor masking the danger these courageous men and women face- all in a day’s (or night’s) work. Enjoy a few of his stories- and then do something nice for a police officer. They’ve got your back.
“Midnight- we were dispatched to an elementary school parking lot on the east side of town- rival Mexican gangs were fighting. Gang members heard our sirens, and as we pulled in, they were running for their cars. Some were already escaping, but some got left behind. I drove down the street, where I spotted one who had missed his ride. He saw me and took off. I pursued on foot.
He cut into the dark between two houses, and we ran through back yards until we came to a fence. He jumped over. I jumped the fence after him. About the time I hit the ground, I noticed a large Doberman coming from the house to find out what was going on. The Doberman took off after the runner, and I had no choice but to continue the pursuit, although now there was a big dog between us.
The runner sprang over the fence without being caught by the Doberman, but when I reached the fence, the dog was blocking the way. The Doberman had been oblivious to the fact that I was in the yard, so he was naturally upset when I used him as a step to get over the fence. As I was clearing the fence, the dog leaped up and grabbed me by the seat of the pants. I escaped unscathed. My pants were not so lucky.
The chase continued to the next street, where the runner, looking back to see if I was still behind him, ran straight into a moving patrol car.
He got a ride, after all.
Then there was the time…
One o’clock a.m., a 10-17 call came through- armed robbery in progress at the Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant just off the interstate. It was a slow night- all units responded.
As two units with blue lights and sirens approached KFC from the west, and three more units arrived from the east, a pickup truck left the Travelodge parking lot directly behind the KFC. As the truck pulled out, a large, expensive portable generator fell out of the truck into the middle of the street. The driver continued on toward the interstate. Since there were five units on the scene and three more on the way, one of the officers decided to overtake the pickup and tell the driver that he had dropped his generator.
At KFC we discovered that a remodeling crew had accidentally tripped the alarm, so the armed robbery call was unfounded. Meanwhile, the officer on the interstate had stopped the truck and told the driver that he had dropped his generator. The guy responded, “What generator?”
The officer said, “Five officers saw a generator fall out of this truck. Are you telling me it isn’t yours?”
The man insisted he knew nothing about a generator. At this point the officer knew something was not right.
Some of the other officers and I checked vehicles at the motel. We came upon a large dually pickup with the tailgate down. It was full of tools and other items with a large empty space about the size of a generator. We located the owner of the dually, who described the generator perfectly, impressed by the efficiency of the local police department.
Needless to say, the man in the pickup was arrested. If he had said, ‘Yes, Officer, that is my generator,’ eight officers would have loaded it up for him and sent him on his way. As it turned out, he was a guy who was definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Sometimes it feels like a scene from “The Twilight Zone“…
About nine p.m. someone reported a disturbance at a neighbor’s house and I went to check it out. A large family cookout had been in progress all afternoon and had shifted into high gear. I had a friendly talk with the host- advised him it was getting late and they needed to keep the noise down- if we continued to receive complaints, they would have to end the party.
At eleven, neighbors were still calling in. As I came around the house for the second time, the host of the cookout was not happy to see me. He and a few of his brothers- by now pretty liquored up- stood and suggested that I leave the property, among other things. When I told him the party was over, he became irate and kicked his barbecue grill, causing it to fall and spill hot coals across the deck. Several of his brothers were behind him, egging him on, and he was getting more worked up and belligerent. I warned him if he refused to calm down and cooperate, he would go to jail. He refused to cooperate. A struggle began. Meanwhile, the deck caught on fire.
A woman walked over while I wrestled her brother on the burning deck. “I know you!” she said with a delighted smile, introducing herself as if we had just met up in the grocery store. “I went to school with your sister.”
“Yes,” I answered, rolling on top of her brother, “that’s right.” It had been a dry summer and fire was quickly spreading across the yard.
“She was a sweet girl,” the woman continued pleasantly. “How’s she doing?”
“Great- married, got three kids,” I replied, working to subdue the host of the party. His brothers were no longer interested in backing him up- they were running around with a couple dozen other relatives, stamping on flames in the grass, shouting for buckets of water, trying to find the water hose.
“Is her family living here in town?” she asked.
“No, they moved a couple of years ago,” I answered, as I managed to get a knee into her brother’s back and hold him down. About this time another officer arrived and I could hear fire truck sirens on the way.
When the fire was finally out, the house and neighbors’ houses safe, the crowd dispersed, and I had loaded the host into my patrol car, his sister spoke to me again, like we were parting ways in the cereal aisle. “It surely was good to see you! Tell your sister I said hello, alright?”
“Okay. Sure will.”
“Don’t forget!”
“Not likely.”
