Month: January 2019

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More Street Stories

War Stories

By Thonie Hevron

As you know, I host this blog every Sunday morning related to law enforcement. Currently I have several retired LAPD veterans who write posts, like war stories at briefing. While their readership is growing, I’ve been thinking of mixing it up a bit—with prompts. I ask and you answer. “Tell me about the time you…”

A retired deputy friend of mine, Will Wallman, gave me an excellent idea: When did you first know you were no longer a rookie cop?

Some future prompts might be like this:

  • When did you realize you couldn’t tell civilians what you did for a living in a social situation? What did you say was your occupation?
  • Do/did you experience burn-out? If so, what do/did you do about it?
  • What do you do to stay sharp on the job? To decompress or blow off steam?
  • Talk about the proudest moment of your career.
  • What was your idea of the best job ever?

To answer, click on “reply,” then “accept” cookies and type your comment in the “reply” box. You may have to create an identity in Wordpress but you will be prompted if you need to. If you have an idea for a prompt, feel free to PM me or send me your ideas at badgec65@gmail.com.

Situational answers are great, one-liners work, too. My audience is mostly mystery writers and other cop-like folk. Caveat: please, no politics or religion unless it relates to the story.

Here are a few examples of real answers to “When did you know you were no longer a rookie cop?” from a private LE Facebook page I belong to:

TB (Northern California rural deputy): The first time I thought I might get shot on duty. Or, when I drove around the corner after making a death notification for a 5-year-old girl, who was spending the night at her cousins, and started crying. Time on the job sometimes doesn’t mean a lot, but experience does.

WM (suburban municipal police Northern California): It was when I graduated from SRJC (Santa Rosa Junior College) Police Academy! With no prior police experience just 8 years in the military, as a supply clerk. I was on my own about 2 weeks after I was hired. No FTO. I had been on the street pretty much in solo units for 18 months before starting Academy. California police work was a lot different back in the 1960’s.

KG (small northern California municipality): My father died from suicide with a self-inflicted gunshot to the head, I knew one day that call would come. I remember it being all business on scene but later it hit me. I didn’t have a meltdown or anything and I’m pretty sure I didn’t cry. As time went on, I actually felt pretty good about being able to do the job and checking my personal stuff at the door. I had maybe two years’ experience then, and the rule was rookie for 5 years, but I knew then I was capable so in my head I was no longer a rook.

CL (rural California sheriff’s deputy): Hired by HPD after being a reserve for a few months. First day on the job it was me and the chief. My first call was from the chief and it was “10-50x at Silviera Pontiac. We were using the old nine code back then and I had no clue what I was going to and wasn’t going to ask! Drove there kinda fast and it was a VIN verification. Not a veteran yet.
That took six months and a big bar fight at Norm’s and a head injury requiring a trip to ER, stitches and time off to let the swelling go down.

Please feel free to share (anonymously if you wish). We’d love to see your answers.

–Thonie

Next week, Ed Meckle will be back with a few stories about Wilshire Detectives.

By Force or Fear, Intent to Hold, and With Malice Aforethought
all available on Amazon
Categories
Roll Call

Roll Call: Short Dogs

By Mikey, Retired LAPD

MANNY AND THE COLLAPSIBLE BATON

Friday and Saturday nights in Hollywood rock, so I made every effort to be outside as the Watch Commander or assistant W/C. At the time, the clubs on Vine north of Hollywood Boulevard were some of our problem bars/clubs. Usually, if we anticipated trouble, we’d stop a cruiser or two in the center turn lanes of Vine Street just north of Hollywood Boulevard. The area was known for attracting opposing “groups,” so this location was a good place to be.

One summer night two officers and I had our units stationed in the middle of the street when a fight between four men broke out in a club parking lot. Officer Manny and I took off for the fight as his partner got on the radio requesting back-up. While running I pulled my collapsible baton from its holder, snapping it back to let gravity do its work. I got to where two of the combatants were on the ground and yelled, “police, break it up!”

The men kept fighting so I struck the guy who was on top and he fell to the ground holding his right shoulder. The guy on the bottom took off, so I concentrated on the guy on the ground. Knowing Manny was behind me I holstered the baton and began handcuffing the guy.

Just then I heard Manny say, “Sarge, we need to talk after you finish.”

After I got my arrestee handcuffed, I looked up at Manny and saw that he was bleeding from the top of his forehead. “What the hell happened Manny!?”

“I was running behind you when you struck me with your baton, Sarge. I fell to the ground and damn near passed out.” 

Oh crap, this was not good!

Arriving back-up located all four guys thanks to witnesses and I transported Manny to the hospital. I cracked his head pretty good and he required some stitches. Manny was put off work for a few days. I was working the Watch Commander’s position when I got a call from Manny telling me that he was at the hospital obtaining a back to work release. I sent a field sergeant to meet Manny and complete the paper work. The sergeant phoned me and said that Manny was with his mother and added that they were enroute to the station.  

When Manny and his mother walked into the office, I immediately apologized to the man. I said, “Manny, let me buy you a bottle of your favorite Tequila.” 

Manny said, “Don’t drink, Sarge.’”  

But before I could respond his mother said, “Tequila es bueno.”  Well, at least she wasn’t angry with me.

TRAFFIC COURT

It was New Years day, 2004 and I was on patrol west bound on Hollywood Boulevard when I observed a rather portly man at Cherokee Avenue standing outside the crosswalk half way into the street. He was leaning on a cane, totally ignoring the cars that had to go around him to avoid hitting him.

I stopped, exited my cruiser and approached the man. “Sir, are you okay?”

“What do you want,” was his reply. 

“Can I help you back onto the side walk?”

“I’m fine right where I’m at!”

This back and forth went on until I felt that the gentleman was not about to move. I asked for a unit to meet me. When they arrived the three of us escorted the “protesting” and angry man to the side walk. The guy had not been drinking but his attitude was terrible. Now, I have never been a ticket writer, but this guy needed to start the New Year off with an attitude adjustment. I borrowed one of the officer’s citation book and I issued the man a citation for “pedestrian in the roadway.”

Several months later I received a subpoena for traffic court. Yup, my Hollywood and Cherokee guy, Mr. Smith. So here we are, in traffic court. Mr. Smith is helped up to his podium by two men, maybe his sons. I’m standing at my podium as the judge tells Mr. Smith he can tell his side of the story. Smith jumps into a story of bad cop nothing better to do, harassment, didn’t happen, crippled, on and on. After Smith completed his tirate speech the judge looked at me. 

“Sergeant Diaz, do sergeants usually issue traffic citations?”

 “No, your honor” 

“How long have you been with the department, Sergeant?”

“Over 30 years, your honor”

The judge looked at Mr. Smith and stated the following, (he did because I was there……..) “Mr. Smith, we are about ready to put this man out to pasture. Something happened out there that made the Sergeant get out of his police car. Something you caused.”

Busted!!!

Categories
Writer's Notes

An Exciting Book Event For Southern California Readers

From Thonie: Dave Freedland is a colleague and friend who’s written two police procedural thrillers. This is a great opportunity to meet a law enforcement leader and author.

Retired Irvine Deputy Chief of Police, Dave Freedland, will be discussing his new book next week, Thursday, January 17th, at the Huntington
Beach library. “The Pepper Tree” will be out soon when the cover art is
finished, and the book launch date and location will be announced in the coming weeks.
Categories
Street Stories When Pigs Fly

When Pigs Fly: Snow Happens

By Ron Corbin, Retired LAPD

Like cops, firefighters apparently get bored, too. Sometimes, boredom turns into pranks. There once was an LA City fire station in South LA manned by firefighters who liked to “bomb” police officers who were making traffic stops nearby.

LAPD Air ship

It all started one day when some officers reported that they were being pelted by water balloons from an unknown source. Hearing this on the police radio, and it being an unusual call, Air-3, a police helicopter crew, flew to the scene hoping to assist in spotting the origin of the “aerial attack.” The air crew knew that there had been prior reports of this strange occurrence from previous roll call briefings.

Arriving overhead, the only uncommon activity the ‘copter crew observed was some firefighters standing on top of their fire house and waving with big, sheepish grins on their faces. Thinking that it was unusual for the firefighters to be up on their roof, it could only be imagined that these were the culprits. Other than that, the source of the water balloons could not be found. The air crew decided to fly away but radioed to another ground unit to park nearby and watch for any suspicious activity that might be coming from the fire station roof.

It wasn’t but a few minutes later that water balloons were observed being catapulted over the parapet of the fire house roof. Again Air-3 flew back over the scene and once again saw that the firefighters were standing and waving innocently. They didn’t know that they had been caught in the act.

Apparently, the firefighters had rigged-up some surgical tubing and made a huge sling-shot. For self-amusement, they would assemble water balloons and take them to the roof. There they would watch for police cars to stop within a block or two of the station. At that time, and hidden from view, they would commence their airborne assault. Now discovered by Air-3, the “air war” was on. It would be time for “payback,” LAPD vs. LAFD.

A few weeks later, it snowed on some of the higher mountains surrounding Los Angeles. The Air-3 crew decided it was time for payback. Sneaking a small, Styrofoam picnic cooler onboard, the crew of Air-3 flew up to the hills in the northwest part of Devonshire Division; landing on the helipad of an abandoned Nike missile site where it had snowed. The observer exited the ‘copter and quickly packed several snowballs, placing them in the cooler. Then Air-3 flew down to the fire station hoping that the “fire perps” would be outside. And, as luck would have it, they were; washing and polishing their beloved fire truck.

As Air-3 circled overhead, the pilot and observer waved, only this time, they were the ones with sheepish grins. When the firefighters went back to their task of cleaning, several snowballs came out of the sky, sending the firefighters scurrying for cover. As some snowballs pummeled the fire truck, a few of the firefighters waved back, only this time with one finger. The pilot came on the PA and yelled down, “For the Water Balloons…SNOW HAPPENS!”

A few days later, a photograph was received in the mail at Air Support’s heliport marked with “Attention to Air-3.” In it was a single picture without words. It depicted an LA City fire helicopter dropping its load of water … all 360 gallons. Thus, an undeclared truce was immediately put into effect.

“This is what I call a target rich environment.”

Categories
Writer's Notes

Writer’s Notes: Emergencies Magnified

By Janet Greger

Public safety workers — police, fire fighters, EMTs — face emergencies daily. They must go home with headaches lots of days. However, one problem that few have faced (except in practice drills) is solving problems after the Model State Emergency Health Powers Act has been invoked.

This law allows states to invoke legally enforceable quarantines to control epidemics and to respond to acts of bioterrorism. This legal quarantine would only be invoked in the U.S. when there are no effective treatments or preventative measures, e.g. vaccines, for a contagious disease or organism released by a bioterror attack.

Basically, the rights of a few individuals are lost (They’re isolated.) to protect the larger population. Pretty scary and a real headache for public safety workers. They can’t enter the isolated area (except with extensive gear) unless they’re willing to be isolated, too. Thus, I thought a quarantine was the perfect situation for my new novel — The Flu Is Coming.

In The Flu Is Coming, a new type of flu — the Philippine flu — kills nearly half of the residents in an upscale, gated community in less than a week. A quarantine is invoked. It makes those who survive virtual prisoners in their homes. The Centers for Disease Control (CDC) recruits Sara Almquist, a resident of the community, to apply her skills as an epidemiologist to find ways to limit the spread of the epidemic. As she pries into her neighbors’ lives, she finds promising scientific clues but unfortunately, she also identifies the criminal past of several of her neighbors. Violence erupts when they try to escape the quarantine.

The Flu Is Coming has an exciting plot and sympathetic and villainous characters. It will also make you think about the limits of modern medicine and what can occur when those limits are reached. Why not read it now during flu season?

The paperback version of The Flu Is Coming is available at: https://www.amazon.com/Flu-Coming-Science-Traveler/dp/0578423251. The Kindle version at:

Bio: J.L. Greger is a scientist and research administrator turned novelist. She likes to include tidbits of science in her award-winning thriller/mystery novels: Murder: A Way to Lose, Riddled with Clues, and others. To learn more, visit http://www.jlgreger.com

JL Greger
Categories
Street Stories The Call Box

The Call Box: NYE at the Manhole Cover

By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD

New Year’s Eve: I was one of eight uniformed Metro officers who along with a sergeant was assigned to Hollywood and Vine. I have never been good at estimating crowd size. I just know we are packed solid on all four corners.

The crowd was in various stages of drunkenness but generally well behaved.  It consisted mostly of people who by now were probably tired of standing, wondering why they are here, asking themselves when they are going to start having fun but most of all, where’s then nearest rest room? Needed soon.

In the center of the intersection was a man hole cover. Custom and tradition said, to stand upon said manhole cover exactly at midnight would mean what?

It was sort of a “king of the hill” thing.

Vehicular traffic had been moving at a snail’s pace but was now shut down and diverted off the boulevard.

On his bull horn, the sergeant tells the crowd that it is 11:55 and they can have the intersection for 10 minutes.

The crowd who had been standing numbly on the sidewalk is now in the street thinking the same thoughts as before. But for a few this may very well be the most exciting or daring thing they have ever done in their lives.

Some can probably see their obituary: “The deceased Mr. Beanie Watros, in addition to his 40 year service as assistant manager at the Widget Factory, was somewhat of a local legend having on one occasion actually stood in the center of Hollywood and Vine at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve until rudely pushed to the curb by a large police officer with a stick.”

The sergeant begins the countdown……one minute………30 seconds……..10-9-8…….

Hollywood and Vine in the daytime.

Now the attempt to “take” the manhole begins.

There are always 8 or 10 ready to do battle.

Now, we have two types of fighters—those who fight like 12-year-old girls (sorry ladies) and those who learned from watching silent movies where everyone “swung   roundhouse punches arms fully extended.” If they connected, everyone went down.

Miss and they went down.

At 12:05 the sergeant’s whistle tells us to take the street back. We commandeer the “standing” drunks to move the “down” drunks to the sidewalk.

“But officer, I don’t even know this guy.”

“Neither do I friend. Now put him over there.”

The crowd is now back where they started wondering, “what just happened?”

“Did I have fun or what?” 

They mill about for a bit until someone comes up with the best suggestion of the night. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” 

Not to long after we are released so we can drive to Pasadena and work the Rose Parade for the princely sum of $25.00.

Categories
Writer's Notes

Writer’s Notes: Just Do It

January 2019

Thonie reading at Redwood Writers Club

By Thonie Hevron

As it’s already January 4th, I’ll bet you’re getting pretty tired of “the year in review,” “turn a new leaf” style posts. I can only hope this one will be different. I’m not going to impart any organizational wisdom, teach you a new mystical path to follow or suggest that, in any way, I know something that you don’t.

The thing is: you already know what you need to do be a better you-financially, professionally, spiritually, and physically. You just need to do it. No excuses. If now really isn’t the time, schedule it for later. But schedule it.

2018 was the worst year of my life. I’ve heard that from many others, too. 2019 is more promising but some lingering issues are already casting shadows over my bright shiny new year. To add a note of optimism, the mister and I have several exciting trips planned this year–a wonderous prospect in itself. This time last year, the only trip we could plan was to the Emergency Department. Things are SO much better today. And, I keep plugging along. One thing I learned from 2018’s trials is wallowing in misery gets me nowhere—fast. Sure, my workload has grown, external pressures push at my patience but isn’t that the way of life? It’s always something—the body doesn’t discern between good and bad stress. Here, I have to thank God for my faith. He is what propels me onward, striving to be better at this human thing.

My Boomer generation bought into an idealism that is, in my opinion, unattainable, an illusion. It’s caused many of us to become embittered, maybe even helped foster the divisiveness that separates our great nation. Is it possible I missed the boat on idealism? I like the beauty of sunset, cute puppies, and warm, fuzzy moments. In fact, I LOVE all those things. But after the sunset, comes dark; puppies grow up; and moments are gone in a heartbeat. Utopia does not exist. Life is not a Magnolia magazine spread. It’s fine and gritty, sweet and sour, sometimes both at the same time.

Recovering from my self-indulgent moment, I’ve come to realize that moving forward, keeping after my goal (dream? prize? it is whatever you want to call it) is the only thing I can do. I can finish that fourth book, I can get back in the saddle, I can stretch my marketing wings. They may be baby steps, but I’ll be moving forward. Standing still isn’t for me.   

In conclusion, I want to say my purpose is to pat you on the back for showing up and let you know you’re not in this alone.

Keep it up.