Category: Ramblings by Hal

After over 3 decades in LAPD patrol, Hal Collier has learned a thing or two. Take a look at some of his stories–you’ll be glad you did.

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Court 5

By Hal Collier LAPD, Retired

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.

I thought my last court Ramblings was the end. Then I was reminded that I didn’t cover Traffic and Juvenile court. The following stories are true and my own experiences. I didn’t write a lot of tickets that went to court but I did arrest a lot DUI’s. Juvenile arrests were the kiss of death as far as court was concerned.

A lot of my friends were motor cops, a rare breed and often under appreciated by the Department. I’ll talk about BCMC (Big City Motor Cops) in a later Ramblings.

Traffic Court: I’d rather visit the dentist for a root canal than go to traffic court. The reason I hated traffic court is because it just didn’t seem fair. I only wrote obvious violations and few people took me to court. Even so, when I did go to court I knew the ticket was good, the violator knew he committed the violation but the judge, or most times a commissioner, would let the violator go free.

Maybe if I wrote more tickets I’d have been used to losing, but I hated being in court on my own time and having some dirt bag smile at me as he walked out of the court room.
An example: I’m stopped at the red light northbound Las Palmas at Hollywood Boulevard. It’s about 3 A.M. My light turns green and I start into the intersection. I have to brake suddenly for a cream colored VW that sails through the intersection eastbound Hollywood Boulevard. I think he might be drunk being that late on a red light. I stop him, he’s sober and admits to running the red light. I write him a ticket. No sweat, right? A few weeks later I get a subpoena–he’s taking me to traffic court, contesting the ticket.

I’m sure all my motor officer friends are laughing. They see this all the time. Me, I write three tickets a month and when someone questions my judgment I take it personally. For the court date, I show up in my best suit. Ok, again it’s my only suit (but I do have two shirts and three ties, all father’s day gifts). Also it’s my day off. Anyway, I testify that I had a clear unobstructed view of the violation and that the violator admitted the violation.

The violator gets up and denies that he ran the red light and denies that he admitted running the red light. I want to jump out of my seat, but I’m wearing my good tie and shirt. I don’t want to be held in contempt of court and placed in the lock up. The Commissioner looks me in the eye and says we have conflicting stories and dismisses the ticket. I walk to the elevators and refuse to get into the same elevator with this lying piece of road kill vermin. See, I still carry a grudge.

Traffic Court was at 1945 S. Hill Street. A beautiful new building that handled most of the LA Metropolitan area. They had nice underground parking, elevators to the officers’ waiting room. No walking the streets answering all those questions, no walking to your car in the rain or 100 degree heat. Then why did I hate it so much? If you had a subpoena on a drunk driver you could count on spending at least half a day. For tickets, you checked in then waited an hour and walked into the court room where your case would be heard.

They had a nice officers’ waiting room, lots of comfortable seats and some cots for the A.M. watch officers who worked all night. One day I’m really tired from working all night. I get to the waiting room early, check in and grab a cot. I’m just drifting off to sleep when a gaggle of motor cops stroll into the waiting room. I’m not sure what a large group of motor cops are called. Gaggle, pod, heard, flock. Either way they are noisy. They yell greetings to each other because they haven’t talked in two or three days.

One cops says, “Did you hear about Joe? He went down the other day.” To a motor officer, going down means crashing. The cop says, “Joe went down under this semi-truck. The semi slammed on the brakes and Joe and the semi skidded to a stop at the same time. Joe was ok but he had tires marks on his leather jacket, it was that close.” The other motor cops are laughing. Me, I’m thinking Joe is lucky to be alive.

My best traffic court story I wrote about in one of my earlier Ramblings, but I going to repeat it since my reading audience has increased.

The best ticket I wrote was a lady who made a left turn without using the left turn lane. I stopped her and hadn’t decided if I was going to write her a ticket. I approached her window and she started in on me. “Don’t you have anything better to do than harass tax-paying citizens? Now you know why people like it when cops get shot”.

Ok, she’s getting a ticket. I write the ticket and when I ask her to sign, she says, “I hope you die in a gutter, and I hope your wife and children die a horrible death in a house fire.” I tell her to drive carefully and have a nice night. Ok, I said it sarcastically.

About a month later I get a Subpoena for traffic court. That’s right, this tax-paying citizen wants to fight the ticket. Ok, I’ve been working all night and now I have to go to court to explain why I wrote this upstanding citizen a ticket. I walk into traffic court and during my early days a City Attorney (CA) would represent the officers. The CA says to me that she’s thinking of dismissing the ticket and wants to know if I have an objection. The CA says the lady had an emergency at home. Of course I object and explain the ladies statements about my family. Court begins, I get sworn in and describe the violation.

Ok, here’s where it gets good. The lady, who is now as sweet as a newborn baby gets to ask me questions about the ticket. She starts out, “Good morning officer.”
I check to see if her blouse is buttoned up.
She asks me, “Do you remember what I said when you stopped me?”
I replied, “You mean when you wished death on me and my family?”
The back row of the traffic court was usually filled with motor cops waiting to testify on tickets. They all burst out in laughter, I glance over at the Judge. He had a grin that I remember to this day. The violator was found guilty. I was proud, pretty sharp for a cop who had been up for the last 18 hours.

My last Traffic court story involves a commissioner hearing other tickets. I’m in court early and sitting in the back row surrounded by motor cops. This lady walks into the court room. She is dressed in a nice business attire and might I say quite a looker. The motor cop next to me leans over and wants to bet that she’s found guilty. He says the commissioner is gay and finds all women guilty.

They start hearing cases and the commissioner is letting half of the violators go free. It’s the lady’s turn; she is well spoken and not confrontational. Even the officer admits that it was a minor violation. Commissioner, GUILTY. I think some of the motor cops were collecting money to pay her fine.

I suspect my next appearance in traffic court will be to fight a ticket I didn’t deserve and got just because some motor cop had to fill his quota.

Just kidding.

–Hal

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Ramblings: Court 4

By Hal Collier LAPD, Retired

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.

This is the last installment about criminal court—I think. Sometimes after a nap I remember some incident that I think might be amusing. I had over ten years’ experience in criminal court when this incident occurred. I’d thought I’d seen everything.

I was once working a movie premiere when an Australian film crew asked me, “I’ll bet you have seen everything.” I looked the camera straight in the lens and said “I’ve worked Hollywood long enough to know that I’ll never see everything.” This court case proves me right.

I’m working with Dave Balleweg. Dave was one of those partners that just made police work fun. You couldn’t spend a night working with Dave without having your ribs sore from laughing. I don’t ever remember getting into a fight while working with Dave—he always talked the suspects into jail. I remember one Thanksgiving Day, a speeder called the station after finding out that we were looking for her. She agreed to come to the station where we arrested her. Not bad when they come to you on a holiday to be arrested. Believe it or not she had a turkey in the oven. It was delicious. Ok, I’m just kidding. It was dry.

Dave and I are driving westbound on Selma Avenue approaching Ivar about 3 A.M. We see this guy get out of a Mustang in the parking lot. He crosses the street in front of us wearing a blue “Puma” t-Shirt. He says “Hi Officers.” We’re waiting for the light to change and watch him walk northbound on Ivar. We wonder why he parked in a parking lot a block from Hollywood Boulevard when there’s closer parking spots on the street. Ok, our police instincts have kicked in. He walks up to Hollywood Boulevard and walks west.

We drive into the parking lot. I jump out and look inside his car. The ignition is held together with scotch tape. Crap, the car’s probably stolen. Now we have to find that stranger in the blue Puma t-shirt. We race up to Hollywood Boulevard and can’t find him. Ok, it’s 3 A.M. and not many places are open. Ah, the all night news stand at Hollywood and Cahuenga—they never close.

Sure enough, our suspect is in the porno book section in the back of the news stand. We grab him and now the fun begins. The car isn’t reported stolen. The registered owner lives in the San Fernando Valley. We have a valley cop go to the registered owner’s house. I hope we didn’t disturb the cops nap. The Valley was quiet then. It’s always fun when you knock on some guy’s door and ask, “Do you know where your car is?” He says, “Yea, it’s in my driveway.” Then he looks and screams, “Where’s my car?”

We arrest this Puma shirt guy and wait for our court subpoena. Because the car was stolen in the San Fernando Valley we get a subpoena to Valley court. I haven’t spent much time in court in the valley. Valley Court is where this story gets bizarre.

Dave and I show up in our best suits. Ok, they were our only suits, off the rack from C&R Clothier’s. We check in with the DA. He informs us that the defendant has some additional charges against him. He was on probation for stealing cars and he was not allowed to be south of Mulholland Drive after midnight. Huh. That’s right—every time he stole a car he would drive it to Hollywood. We caught him in a stolen car south of Mulholland. We had never heard of an adult being restricted to the Valley after midnight. Maybe Lindsey Lohan should be restricted to west of the 405 Freeway.

Dave and I are waiting for the judge to take the stand when we see another strange sight. The court reporter, a man in his late 50’s, is spreading paper towels all over his chair. He approaches us and asks if we are the officers testifying. He tells us that he is the last court reporter to take testimony in long hand. He told us that after the attorney asks a question, to wait until he nods to answer. This can’t be happening. He didn’t tell us, but the paper towels were for sweat. During the trial he sweated more than Clinton did denying he had sex with “that” women.

The judge takes the stand and informs the court that the defendant accidentally ruined his blue Puma t-shirt and has nothing to wear in court. Dave jumps up and offers to go to the Army/Navy supply store on the corner and buy the defendant a shirt. The judge agrees and said he’ll pay for the shirt. The judge takes out his wallet and gives us $20.00 cash. We consider going to lunch on the judge but reason prevails. We hustle over to the store and look for a blue Puma t-shirt. No luck, so we buy a shirt and race back to court.

The defendant decides to have his parents bring a suit–I’m guessing it’s his court suit. Can this case get any more bizarre? Just wait. We come back after lunch and I think were ready to go. Dave takes the stand and waits for the court clerk to swear him in. Only problem is that the clerk is not in the court room.

Dave tells the judge, “I can do this,” he raises his right hand and says, “I do solemnly swear, in the case now pending before this court to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”
The judge says, “It works for me. Any objections?”
No objections. How many cops who read my stories have seen this or sworn themselves in?

I’m guessing that a perpetual car thief who apparently gets caught a lot would have a good lawyer. The defendant’s lawyer must have been a family friend, or a DUI lawyer because I think I knew more about criminal law then he did. The judge was always admonishing him about proper questioning and court protocol.

I was testifying for the prosecution and told how we found a pair of channel lock pliers in the defendant’s back pocket. The defendant’s lawyer is now on cross examination.
He asks, “Officer, did you notice anything about the teeth on the pliers?”
Ok, I jump on the question, but only after a nod from the court reporter. “Yes, the teeth had a grey metal on them similar to the grey metal on a vehicle ignition.”
Defendant’s lawyer jumps up and yells, “Objection.”

The Judge looks at the defense lawyer and says, and I loved this, “You asked the question. You can’t object to your own question.”
I almost peed my court suit.

Defendant was found guilty. The court reporter sweated through a roll of paper towels, the judge got a t-shirt, defendant probably got more probation and Dave and I got three hours compensation and the memory of the most bizarre court case.
Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings Court, part 3

By Hal Collier

LAPD, Retired

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.

Court is the down side to doing good police work. By now you are aware that I made a few arrests in my career. An arrest didn’t necessarily mean court. The District Attorney (DA) had to file the case. The DA only filed cases he thought they would win. If there was the slightest doubt, he would reject the case.

I’m going to describe a few of the more bizarre court cases I was involved in. The first was a little complicated so bear with me if I get a little verbose.
I’m in the station with an arrest and writing reports. As most officers, we are monitoring the radio for emergency calls. We hear a broadcast of a robbery at the Norm’s restaurant, Sunset and Vermont, in NorthEast Division—suspects are four male Hispanics with a handgun. Ten minutes later, a robbery at the Jon’s market, Santa Monica and Hobart, same suspect description. Ten minutes later, another robbery at the Mayfair Market, Franklin and Bronson. You guessed it—four male Hispanics with a handgun.

The suspects are working their way west. It’s after midnight and there are only a few places open at this hour. Ok, even a blind pig can find the slop once in a while. Pig-Cop get the segue? Oh, never mind. The next place open is the Hughes Market at Highland and Franklin. The Watch Commander sends the only available car to the Hughes Market.

Suddenly, an officer broadcasts that the suspect vehicle is at the Hughes Market and the pursuit is on. There are only two suspects in the vehicle. We, like most officers, drop what we’re doing and run to our cars. The pursuit heads north on Highland to the south bound Hollywood Freeway. The suspects are throwing money out the window and a handgun. I’m heading North on Highland when I see this very nervous male Hispanic walking south bound—he’s one of the robbers. Two went inside the Hughes market and robbed the store. The two in the car left them afoot. No honor among thieves.
Hollywood Officers end up catching all four desperados, retrieve the handgun and collect all the money the lucky motorists didn’t beat us too. Happy ending right?
Now comes court. We have four defendants, three are adults and one is a juvenile.
I show up for court early and walk into Div. 38. I ID myself to the DA and tell him what case I’m on. He says that’s being handled by a special District Attorney. Huh? I’ve never had special DA. This attorney, Ronald Cohen, steps up and says you must be Officer Collier, and you arrested so and so and recovered this evidence. I’m shocked.

A little background. Most days you go to court, the DA has been assigned 12 cases. He hasn’t read the arrest report and is not familiar with the case. Sometimes the arresting officer could assist the DA as the investigating officer. There were times when an officer was testifying and the DA had to be told what question to ask or when to object.

My DA sets down a big three ring binder with aerial photos of the markets and all of Hollywood. He has a list of all involved officers, who took what reports, who found what evidence and who arrested what suspect.

I’m now standing before a DA who’s prepared for a court hearing. I ask, “Who are you?” Cohen, now a superior court judge, was a Career Criminal DA. They only get complicated cases or high profile cases. Cohen prosecuted the Wonderland Avenue Murder case, involving John Holmes, the porno star. He was very good, Cohen not Holmes. I wish all my cases were handled by the Career Criminal DA’s.

I get on the stand and testify against two of the three adults. One didn’t show up, bench warrant issued. The fourth was a juvenile and might be tried in juvenile court. The third adult shows up as I’m leaving the court room. He’s taken into custody and I’m ordered back the following week.
I testify against the third adult. The juvenile is later determined fit to be tried as an adult. I testify a third time and they are all held over for trial. This could have been a disaster if it was not handled by a career criminal DA. The four robbers were all sent to prison and might still be there unless the court system decided they had paid their price.

Next the most bizarre court case I was ever involved in.
–Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Court 2

By Hal Collier

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.

The following story is true. In my first chapter I described how inconvenient it was going to court. I don’t ever remember enjoying a case I had in court. I guess that 95% of the time I spent in court was on my own time. You don’t just show up, you have to prepare. Nothing more embarrassing than making a fool of yourself on the witness stand.

In fact, I’ve heard of judges writing a letter to a captain describing how an officer was not prepared. It didn’t happen to me, but I was close once. Before arriving at court, you had better make a copy of the arrest report and review it.

I used to play good lawyer, bad lawyer. What’s the prosecuting attorney (good lawyer) going to ask me and what’s the defense attorney (bad lawyer) going to ask? What are the weak spots and what might be their defense? In felony prelims, Department policy said the investigating detective brings the evidence and attended the court hearing. In reality, some detectives never went to court. In narcotics cases, the arresting officer brought the evidence.

In some of my past Ramblings, I described Hollywood Characters. The court house is full of them. Some of the more colorful ones are judges. Yep, that’s right—the pillars of the judicial system. Two of the most infamous judges I’ll talk about were removed from the bench by the Commission of Judicial Performance. You have to be a real old timer to know these judges. Then later I’ll tell a few stories about trials I testified in that were amusing. One was even bizarre.

Judge Leland Geiler was rumored to be a former LAPD motor cop. I only testified in his court once but it was interesting. Sometimes when you had a case in another court room and were told to wait, you would wander into Geiler’s court to watch the circus. He was gruff, rude and his speech was laced with profanity. He ran his court room with an iron hand, but then most judges think of themselves as a notch below a god.

Lawyers who angered a judge could be found sharing a cell with their client. No kidding. I was in court more than once when a judge held a lawyer in contempt of court and ordered the bailiff to take custody of the offender. A few times I saw a judge order a lawyer to get out his check book and pay a fine for contempt. I shudder to think what might happen if the check bounced.

I was testifying in a felony prelim and glanced over at Judge Geiler, he was reading a Playboy Magazine. Ok, he was really looking at the pictures. As I describe a location in Hollywood, the defense attorney objected. Geiler told the attorney to sit down because he knew Hollywood like the back of his hand. Judge Geiler actually lived in Hollywood, on Los Feliz Boulevard. It was rumored that Geiler arrested a public defender in his court room for possession of a controlled drug and being under the influence. I would have loved to see that. Judge Geiler was removed from the bench in 1973 for judicial misconduct.

Noel Cannon, there’s a name that struck fear in the hearts of everyone and I mean everyone, cops, lawyers, defendants. If an officer had court in Cannon’s courtroom, you had better not be late or unprepared.

Officers had to be in court at 8:30 A.M. The officers would talk to the DA (District Attorney) and review their case. Most judges took the bench at about 9:30/10:00 to see what cases were ready for a hearing. I once saw an officer get on the witness stand and admit that he hadn’t read his arrest report before court. Judge Cannon ordered him to read his report on the witness stand, while the whole court room waited.

Noel Cannon would take the bench at a little after 8:00 A.M. She would sit on the bench in a pink judge’s robe, sometimes with her small dog on her lap and she was rumored to carry a handgun. She would order the attorneys to get cases ready, “forthwith.” (That means “right now”) I had a case that was heard fourth in her court one morning. I got out before 8:40 A.M. Cool, I got my three hours in ten minutes.

I walked into her court room one morning at 8:15. The court room was silent, I got two steps inside and she demanded to know what case I was on. I replied and she ordered the DA to get my case ready, “forthwith.” I slid into a seat next to my partner, who advised that Judge Cannon was on a rampage.

Judge Cannon, the day before, had ordered a deputy sheriff back in her courtroom at 8:15. A.M. When he hadn’t arrived at 8:25 she issued a bench warrant for his arrest, bail set at $50,000 dollars. I didn’t need to check my wallet, I knew I didn’t have that much lunch money. I testified and almost ran out of her court to the smell of freedom.

I had another case where I testified, the DA finished questioning me and now it’s the PD (Public Defenders) turn to cross examine. Judge Cannon tells the PD to sit down, “There’s no defense for this case. Defendant is held to answer. Next case.” Actually Judge Cannon held just about every defendant over for trial. The U.S. Constitution didn’t exist in Noel Cannon’s court.

Last Noel Cannon court story. I have court on December 24, 1972or 73. That’s right, Christmas Eve. My partner, Jim Tomer and I have worked all night. When were done with this court case, we can go home and share Christmas Eve with our family. It’s a simple case, one officer testifying, ten minutes maximum and we’re out of there. We arrested a drag queen on Hollywood Boulevard for possession of drugs. The defendant is in custody. He needs his case heard today [this is mandated by case law relating to speedy trial] or bail out and he’s not likely to have bail money.

We’re not assigned to Noel’s court, but we’re next door. The courts break for lunch at noon. Damn, we come back at 1:30 and the DA tells us that the judges have all gone home for Christmas. All but one, Noel Cannon. She’s going to take everyone’s held over cases. Last year she held court until 10 P.M. Does anyone else see the irony—Noel—Christmas!!!

I look at Jim and he smiles. I’m thinking he’s suffering from sleep deprivation. He asks our DA, “If I get the defendant to promise to show up for his next court appearance will you release him?” The DA agrees. He wants to go home too. Jim walks back into the lock up and returns ten minutes later. Jim tells the DA, he’ll show up for court. The DA’s happy, Jim and I are happy and the drag queen is happy. The DA, Jim and I are going home for Christmas, the drag queen is going where ever they go for the holidays. If we had ended up in Cannon’s court, no one would have gone home before dark.

A month later we go to court on the same defendant. I’m hoping he shows up. Guess what—he appears and pleads guilty to the drug charge. He thanks us for letting him out for Christmas. Yea, we had his interests in mind.

Noel Cannon was removed from the bench in 1975 for judicial misconduct. Another Character.

One day I have court after working all night. It’s my third day in court and I’m guessing that I have had a total of eight hours sleep in three days. I’m sitting in the officers’ waiting room when they break for lunch. I seldom tried to sleep at the court house because when I was suddenly awakened, I was a poster model for dementia patients.

So on this day I’m so tired I lie down just for an hour. I am suddenly jolted awake by a ringing telephone. I sit upright and I’m in this strange room with some other man. He looks over at me and asks, “What case are you on?” I reply ah, ah, ok that’s right I’m at court. My mind is racing what case am I on? After a few seconds the man says, “Well then what’s your name?” I reply, “ah, ah,” crap I can’t even remember my name. I hope I’m wearing the underwear with my name in them. The fog clears just enough for me to blurt out “Collier.” He tells me my case has been disposed of, I can go home.

I walk out of the court building and discover that it’s past four o’clock. I walk four blocks up the hill to the Music Center where my truck is parked. I enter the parking structure and stop dead in my tracks. Oh double crap. What level did I park on this morning? Lucky I drove my truck. I only had to walk down a ramp and look left and right. If I didn’t see the roof of “Old Blue” I walked down another ramp. I find my truck. Now I only have to remember where I live. I never went to sleep at court again.

My next segment, I’ll talk about the more bizarre court cases and characters.

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Court 1

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.

I’m going to shift gears from my Characters Ramblings. I received a lot of positive comments and I still have a few more Characters stories. I noticed that some officers were afraid that they might be remembered for an incident that they thought was long ago forgotten. Ha ha, no one is safe. I’m very careful about civil rights issues, statute of limitations, but revenge by another officer is forever.

The following stories are true. In the past I’ve talked about the fun and disappointments of working the streets. For every good arrest you make, there is a downside—court. The bad arrests never see a court room. Court is a part of the job that they don’t tell you about in those join the LAPD flyers. When you receive a subpoena to be in court, it’s never at your convince. You must appear.

It doesn’t matter what your work schedule is, or if you’re on a day off. Plan a four day trip out of town, have pre-paid tickets, non-refundable of course, and you’ll get a subpoena for one of the middle days of your trip. You work six days straight, you get one day off and then work another five days. You plan your day off, you’re going to sleep late and then sit around in your underwear all day. Wrong, you have court on your only day off in two weeks. Guaranteed, Murphy’s Law. Court was hit and miss. Some weeks you were in court four out of five days and other times no court for two weeks.

Court for four of the five watches is a nightmare. These are before the compressed work schedules. I spent thirty years under the old eight hour work day. If you work PM’s, you get off at midnight and have to be in court at 8:30 A.M. If you live sixty miles from the court house, do you drive home, grab a few hours’ sleep in your own bed, or do you try to sleep on a cot at the station for six hours and hope the desk officer wakes you?

If you work mid PM’s, you get off at 3:00 A.M. Do you try to sleep for four hours and then go to court or hope for three hours overtime? If you’re on AM’s you get off around 7 A.M., drink a couple cups of coffee, and then go to court. If you’re on day watch or mid days, you go to court on duty with a city car, have breakfast at the courthouse–it’s no sweat. You’re also not in as much of a hurry to get out early. If you’re held over after the noon break you can have a second meal on the city—that is, if you can afford two meals.

Speaking of money, they had a waiting room on the third floor for officers. Some officers would sleep if they just got off work. Some would read and a few would play cards. Not poker, just a friendly game of hearts. I watched one officer lose over a hundred dollars in a friendly game of hearts.

In the early days, if you’re off duty, you were compensated for three hours, no matter how long you were there. Some days you got out in thirty minutes and other days you help close the court room at 5:30 P.M. You only got three hours either way.

Court can be a one hour appearance or a nine hour marathon. Sometimes you can figure if you’re going to need to testify. You still have to show up or run the risk of getting a complaint. A failure to appear complaint can cost you days off without pay. Ouch. You also could have an angry judge issue a bench warrant for your arrest. Double ouch. When the judge is through with your butt, the department has its turn. It’s a kind of double jeopardy.

For over nineteen years, I’ve worked all night. I really want to go home and sleep before I have to go back to work. One of my last court appearances, I was working Day Watch. I walk into court and the DA isn’t there yet. I sit down and when the DA walks in, he declares, “I’ll take Morning Watch Officers first.” When he’s done talking to the sleepy cops. I walk up. I ask the DA, “Where the hell were you when I worked Morning Watch for nineteen years?” He tells me his dad was a cop and worked morning watch and knew that officers who worked all night needed to testify then go home and sleep. My kind of lawyer.

I show up for work after three days off. In Roll Call they give me a “be in court subpoena” for the next morning. Crap! My mind races, which dirt bag is this that I have to go to court for? Double crap, I remember this jerk, I found the evidence–I’ll have to testify. Triple crap, I didn’t bring my suit, I’ll have to go to court in uniform.

I’m proud of my uniform but walking to court in uniform, you become an information booth. “Officer, can you tell me where, this or that building is?” The questions were endless, I hated going to court in uniform. Some officers had an extra suit in their locker. I only owned one for weddings, funerals and court.

Once, I was in my suit walking to court. This guy comes up to me and asks for advice on a charge he was arrested for. He must have thought I was an attorney. Damn, I hate to think that I looked like one of those bottom feeders. I told him he needed to speak to his attorney or the Public Defender (PD). He persisted as we wait for the traffic light to change. I told him three times he needed to talk with his PD. Finally I told him, “I can’t advise you because I’m the officer that arrested you.” The snickers from the crowd around us were priceless. An hour later I testified against him. Dumb ass, no wonder he got arrested.

I worked with a sharp training officer during my probation. One time we were looking for a knife used in an ADW (Assault with a Deadly Weapon). I was searching on one side of the street and he was on the other side. He called me over and told me to look around here, pointing to the ground in front of him. I looked down and there was the knife. He smiled and said “you found it.” I was in court until after 3 P.M. He left after ten minutes. Valuable lesson learned—we both got three hours overtime.

Court parking was another story. All most all of my court was downtown. The first year or two I went to the old Hall of Justice. I remember walking past Charlie Manson’s girls during his murder trial. They had shaved heads and those swastika’s carved into their foreheads.

Parking changed over the years but free parking downtown for officers always involved a four to five block walk. Walk to court in the morning sun and walk back in the rain in the afternoon. The courts later moved to the Criminal Courts Building, a brand new building, but the wheels of justice didn’t turn any faster.

There are four different courts that I attended. Felony prelims, misdemeanor trials, felony trials, and civil trials. Prelims are a pretrial to see if there is enough evidence to hold a defendant over for trial. Misdemeanor trials are for minor offenses. Felony trials are for the real bad guys, robbery, murder, assaults anything that if convicted can send you to state prison for at least a year.

Civil trials can be something minor where one party is suing another party involved in a traffic accident you investigated. The other side is where someone is suing you for some act you committed or failed to commit. Being a defendant is not fun. Some officers had to homestead their house during a civil trial so they didn’t lose it to a low life who was suing them. Think about some career criminal sitting on your front porch smiling at your former neighbor’s daughter.

In my next court installments, I’ll describe some of the judges and court cases I was involved in. Some outside of law enforcement world think the court system is a well-oiled machine. My 1940 ringer/washing machine has more oil than our justice system. Yea, I really have one, pictures available for a minimal cash remittance. No checks or tokens to Angels Flight.

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Characters 8, Last Characters Post

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.
The following story is true. The Character is real but for the life of me I can’t remember his name. My memory loss might be due to suppressed feelings about this strange person. Sometimes I sleep better when I try to put these characters out of my mind. I’m not sure what sparks these recollections but then I dropped out of my psychology class in college. That explains a lot, huh!

As you already know, I spent more than half of my career working morning watch, that’s the dark time when most sane people are sleeping. I loved catching burglars both business and residential. It didn’t matter to me as long as I could put a bad guy in jail. Most burglars working at night were breaking into closed businesses, but occasionally they will break into a house.

One night I get a call of a burglar there now at a residence in the Hollywood Hills on the west side of the division. These are extra nice homes usually owned by executives and celebrities. The person reporting (PR) states the burglar is tunneling in through the second floor roof. In all my years, I have never seen or heard of a burglar chopping a hole in the roof of a house to enter. I suspect the PR has missed his scheduled medication or is smoking some strange tobacco.

We arrive and the PR meets us out front. He seems normal as he tells us he was awaken by a noise on his roof. He says that someone is tearing off the wood shingles and attempting to enter. I look the PR in the eye and I’m thinking maybe he’s having a flashback to the 60’s. The PR tells us that the painters have left a ladder up against the house in the back yard. I give my partner a wink and tell the PR, “We’ll check it out.” I’m going to give this citizen my half-assed effort to placate him. After all he pays my salary.

I start to climb the ladder which reaches to the second floor roof. Just as I get to the edge of the roof I see something duck down on the other side of the roof. Oh shit. I grab my gun and alert my partner who is below me on the ladder. The adrenalin is now pumping and I’m swearing at myself for being a little complacent and not believing that this might be a dangerous situation. I’m looking for some kind of cover in case there’s a shooting. I’m also thinking I don’t want to get into a fight on a sloping second story roof. The fall will ruin your day and any chance of having kids.

Photo by roof.com
Photo by roof.com

My partner joins me on the roof. We deploy and approach the crest of the roof. Yep, there he is, with a burglar’s mask and all. It’s a raccoon, and pregnant as well. The raccoon jumps from the roof to a tree and flees. I know better than to mess with a pregnant woman so I let her get away. The raccoon was tearing a hole in the wood shake roof to get into the attic to have her babies. We climb down the ladder and give the PR the good news and bad news. No burglar, but you have a hole in your roof and the raccoon will probably come back. Nothing is simple or easy in Hollywood.

Hollywood Characters: Jack

Jack was one of those strange individuals that some officers stayed away from and others just had to stop and talk to him. Guess which group I belonged to? I might have been in the other group but remember—I didn’t finish that psychology class. Jack was usually hanging out in the area of Hollywood Boulevard and Western. If you saw Jack walking around and he had a suit case or other type of bag you just had to stop and see what was in it. Jack was a collector!!!

Once Dale Washburn stopped Jack with his suit case. Dale asked Jack, “What’s in the suit case?”

Jack replied, “My dog!”

Dale asked, “Can I see him?”

Jack said, “Sure.” He opened the suit case and sure enough it was a dog. Did I mention that the dog was dead? It was probably a road kill that suitcaseJack found and put in the suit case.

Another time Jack was carrying a bag similar to a carry-on bag for air travel. Officer: “Jack, what’s in the bag?”

Jack, “My shit!” Now that could mean anything, including his property, but with Jack you never knew. Guess what? It really was his shit!!!

Jack created the most attention when he was observed pushing a shopping cart down Western Avenue during morning rush hour traffic. Propped up in the cart was a dead goat. The phone calls came pouring in. I defy anyone to tell me where you get a goat in Hollywood. Well, maybe I don’t want to know how the goat died or why it was in Hollywood. The goat looked like it was being taken for a walk. It was a weird sight and thank goodness that PETA wasn’t around.

Imagine all these people arriving at their office, and starting the conversation, “You’ll never guess what I saw in Hollywood this morning on my way to work.” I’ll bet the boss recommended a pee test for that employee.

I once responded to a window smash burglary at Hollywood and Western. Witnesses said dozens of suspects helped themselves to property. I was taking a report when I spied Jack walking up Western with one leg straight, just like Chester in Gunsmoke.
“Jack, what’s in your pant leg?”
Jack: “Oh, hi officer, my new sword!” That’s right Jack took a four foot sword from the business.

Jack, like most of the Characters in Hollywood, just disappeared, but they left a lasting impression on old timers like me. Dale Washburn later told me the Jack’s name was Jack Harper.
Hope Dale didn’t lose any sleep trying to remember Jack’s name.

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Ramblings by Hal

A Donut Story

A vignette from regular “Ramblings” author Hal Collier.

This had me laughing out loud so I thought I’d share it with you all.

By Hal Collier

 

It’s a Saturday morning and I’m sitting in my den with the newspaper and a cup of coffee. I also have the television on so I don’t miss any breaking news. Channel 5 KTLA has a show they call Burrous Bites. Chris Burrous is a KTLA reporter and people e-mail him good places to eat in Southern California. Chris visits these places and samples the food. Most don’t interest me as they are in outlying counties or the type of food that I don’t care for.

On this Saturday I’m half-paying attention when Chris visits a donut store. Now, despite common perception that cops eat a lot of donuts, I don’t. I use to eat about two a year when I was working morning watch. You stop at Winchell’s at 4 AM for a cup of coffee. The baker has just set out a tray of fresh cooked donuts. OK, maybe I’ll have a hot cinnamon roll. Two hours later, you remember why you don’t eat donuts. The cinnamon roll sits in the bottom of your stomach, which is now making noises that will alert the enemy of your presence.

A belly bomb if I ever saw one!
A belly bomb if I ever saw one!

Since I retired I haven’t eaten a donut in three years but that was about to change. My wife tells me that Chris Burrous is at the Donut Man http://www.thedonutmanca.com. in Glendora on Route 66. I set down the sports page and watch as they show donuts filled with fresh strawberries. (see attached photo) They also have peach filled donuts when in season. If you look at the web site they have all kinds of donuts and are open 24 hours a day.

I can barely find Glendora on a map but that’s also about to change. One fine Sunday morning, we finish our shopping at Wal-Mart in Duarte. If I’m going to watch sports for most of the day, I need to do something special for my bride. I can do the dishes, vacuum, or take my wife to The Donut Man. Bet you can guess where we went.

We pull up in front of the Donut Man and see that it’s a busy place but not a cop in sight. Must be a lot of spouses making up for past or future indiscretions Terri comes back with two large boxes. I suspect that we’re buying donuts for all of Eagle Rock. The second box contained fresh strawberries dipped in chocolate for the grandchildren.

Well, I ate mine with a fresh cup of coffee. I’m retired I deserve this. It was good, but I broke my three year ‘no donut’ record.

A few hours later Terri asks, “Was that an earthquake?

“No it was my stomach!”

Hal

P.S. Stop at the ATM before you go to the Donut Man–a strawberry filled donut is $4.00. When do peaches come in season?

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Characters, part 7

Hollywood Joe

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

We are happy that 35-year veteran Hal Collier is sharing his ‘stories behind the badge’ with us.
The following story is true and the character is real. It quite possible that this character, Joe Fierro, is still walking around Hollywood causing trouble for paramedics and police officers.

First my story.
For my non-police friends, your first day at the police academy they give you a serial number. That number will stay with you for the rest of your life—I mean it. When you die they list your serial number on the death and funeral notice published by the police department. They never re-issue a serial number and if you quit and come back at a later time you still have the same number.

I joined the Los Angeles Police Department in October of 1970. I was given a serial number of #16336. At the time that was a very high serial number. The serial numbers only go up and the higher the number, the less time you had on the job. It was common for a senior officer to ask “What’s your serial number?” When you told him he would scoff, and reply, not your social security number. Some of the old timers in my day had four digit serial numbers. I think serial numbers now days are over 40,000. Yikes!!!

When I got my badge, it said, “Policeman.” Female officer’s badges said, “Police Women.” Later when females became patrol officers, the badges all said, “Police Officer.” Older cops cherished their Policeman badges. I still have mine. I fondly remember the last time I qualified on the pistol range. You step up to the range window and give your serial number. I hear this young officer say, “16336, that must be at least thirty years.” I look back and say, “Thirty-four years and counting.” I saw him looking at my targets. Yea, I could still shoot.

On special occasions, officers wore class A uniforms. Those were long sleeves, tie and any ribbons or medals you earned throughout your career. On the left sleeve you had hash marks. One hash mark represented five years of police service. I had six hash marks and enjoyed watching younger officers trying to count my hash marks as I walked by.

I had a young probationer and we had to book a forgery suspect downtown. You were required to get booking approval at DHD (Detective Headquarters Division). They had a really old timer who worked the DHD desk, Detective Fowler, Serial #7602. We got a booking approval and Fowler told us call him back with the booking number after we processed the suspect. I wrote down Det. Fowler #7602 DHD.

Back then the city phones all started with 485- If you were on a city phone you dialed 5 and the last four digits. Example; 5-2504 connected you with DHD. I was finishing the arrest report and it was after 8 A.M. I told my probationer to call Fowler and give him the booking number. I overhear my probationer saying over and over, “No, I want to talk to Detective Fowler at Detective Headquarters Division.”
I asked my probationer, “What number did you dial?” He points to 7602. He had dialed Fowler’s serial number. He’d never seen a four digit serial number. I don’t know what city agency he was talking to. I just hung up the phone.
Rookies.

Hollywood Character: Joe Fierro aka Hollywood Joe

Hollywood Joe
Hollywood Joe
Ramb pic 2 char 7
Hollywood Joe, AKA Joe Fierro

Just about every cop and fireman in Hollywood knew Joe. Joe was on disability of some kind and lived somewhere around Hollywood Boulevard and Wilcox. Joe took some kind of medication for mental health issues. When Joe was on his medication he was not a problem and was cordial. He would often say hi to me and I had a pretty good relationship with him.

The problem came when Joe stopped taking his medication and started drinking beer. Joe would act bizarre and attract the attention of the police. Some days when no one paid attention to Joe he would go to a public phone and dial 911. He would tell the emergency operator that he wanted to commit suicide. Of course the paramedics and police would respond and haul Joe off to a mental facility. On some occasions Joe would make small cuts on his wrists or stomach to gain more attention. Joe would disappear from the streets for a few days, then reappear waving to the cops and firemen. Yea, Joe was back on his medication, at least for now.

I remember one day I walked into the rear door of the police station and I recognized Joe’s voice. He was in one of the holding tanks and yelling. I opened the tank door and told Joe to shut up and sit down. Joe replied, “Yes, officer.” See? I have a way with Hollywood Characters, I think they fear that I might be one of them. Joe has been arrested for abusing the 911 system, but never seems to serve any time. I know Joe is out on Hollywood Boulevard right now, I just don’t know if he’s on his medication.

Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, To Carry or Not to Carry

My apologies but there will not be photos with this week’s Rambling post due to computer issues.
–Thonie
By Hal Collier, LAPD, retired
Hal is a thirty-five year veteran of LAPD. We are pleased he is sharing his stories with us.
This may be political and of little interest to non-police but it’s a true concern to anyone who ever wore a badge. Due to the recent deaths of individuals in Ferguson, Missouri and New York,a threat to cops all across the country has become apparent. Some media posts have actually suggested that people go out and kill cops, even retired cops. Two New York police officers were shot to death as they sat in their car!
Ok, I live in Los Angeles, not a small town without it’s share of crime. When I was an active member of the LAPD I carried my loaded handgun off duty all the time. The reason was not so much to stop a crime but to protect myself and my family. I once carried a loaded gun to a wedding. Heck, I saw crooks on every corner back then.
After I retired I carried my gun for about a year then slipped into that retired mode. I only carried it occasionally and it depended on where I was going and what clothes I was wearing.  Huh? Clothes?
Yea, try concealing a loaded handgun under a tank top and tucked into your shorts. You might as well slip a red brick into your waist band. I once put my six shot .38 caliber revolver in my waist band to pick up a take-out order. While standing in the restaurant lobby my gun slipped down my pant leg. I had visions of being prone out by the local cops.
There were occasions when my wife carried my gun in her purse! She was a pretty good shot but I’m not sure how my department would have felt about my wife shooting a thug with my gun. 
Ok, back to today’s dilemma. After retirement and a few years of easing out of the cop mentality, I stopped taking my gun everywhere. I always know where it is but I only take out my gun to clean and oil it. I also check to make sure the bullets aren’t turning green.
Last week my wife informs me that we need to go to the credit union for some Christmas cash. No problem, our local branch is at the LAPD Police Academy. I’ve been to the academy about a half dozen times this past year, without my gun. 
I suddenly remember the stories of people targeting cops, even retired cops. I shift into my cop mode: I’m leaving the bank at the police academy with a pocket full of cash. I’ve got cop written all over me, I’m loading up. 
My wife looks at me as I slip my fully-loaded 9 MM auto between my legs as I back out of the driveway. I’m wondering if I should have brought another fifteen round magazine of ammo. As we leave the credit union I’m watching for cars following us. We make it home, but I’m wondering, should I now carry all the time or slip back into my retired mode? 
Once a cop always a cop!  Let the bad guys guess when I carry my gun!             
                                                                                                                          Hal
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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, “Let’s do something fun!”

By Hal Collier, LAPD, Retired

Hal is a thirty-five year veteran of LAPD. We are pleased he is sharing his stories with us.

I’ve often said a bored cop is a dangerous cop! We’re used to living on the edge, adrenaline coursing through our veins—oh, I can’t believe I wrote that crap. We do have our moments but quite often we spend hours looking for something to do. Someone once described being a cop as hours of boredom followed by thirty seconds of sheer terror.

When the criminals, who really pay our salary, don’t cooperate, we invent our own entertainment. Have you ever left a puppy alone for a few hours and then wondered how he could get into so much trouble? Cops of any age are the same as puppies—entertain us or we’ll get into mischief. My apologies to dog owners everywhere.

I know you’re tired of hearing I worked Hollywood Division on the grave yard shift, the entertainment capital of the world. I’ll admit, most days it was the busiest division in the city of Los Angeles. Every so often, things got slow. Sometimes, it was due to the weather and sometimes, because of the misalignment of the planets. Heck, I don’t know, it just happens.

So you’ve spent a few hours looking for crime. You saw a car slowly moving down a residential street with its lights out. You stopped him and found it was the LA Times delivery man, again. That’s it. It’s too early to eat and we’ve already had six cups of coffee. Then one of you says, “Let’s do something fun!”

How cops amused themselves depended on where they worked and who it involved. You could amuse yourself, or involve other cops, or the citizens who think they pay your salary.

My experience in working different divisions was very limited. In a 35-year career I worked 33 1/2 years in Hollywood, and 15 months in Watts. I don’t know what officers in other divisions did for entertainment but I heard rumors. One famous story is two LAPD Officers drove to Las Vegas in the middle of the night and had their picture taken in front of Caesar’s Palace, police car and in uniform then drove back before end of watch (EOW).

Frederick's of Hollywood on Hollywood Blvd.
Frederick’s of Hollywood on Hollywood Blvd.

Let’s start with amusing ourselves. Hollywood had a lot of interesting businesses. Ever heard of Frederick’s of Hollywood? Hey, had a large display window with scantily clothed mannequins. It was first light and what better way to end a slow night than check out the new window display. February was the best month, Valentine’s Day. One morning as we stopped in front of Frederick’s we saw this old homeless man admiring the display. He was intently looking at a mannequin that was lying on her side. As we watched, he pretended to stroke her ribs down to her thigh. We laughed but decided we didn’t want to watch what he was going to do next.

Another favorite spot was Trashy Lingerie on La Cienega. They also had nice window displays. The city even assisted us when they built wheel chair ramps so we could drive right up on the sidewalk to get a closer look.

Laurel Canyon photo by eileenwalshrealtor.com
Laurel Canyon
photo by eileenwalshrealtor.com

In an earlier Ramblings I described how two cop cars raced from Sunset and Vine to Laurel Canyon and Mulholland. Why? To relieve the boredom. Another game I played was “Have you ever been on this street?” Randy Witkamp and I walked a foot beat on Hollywood Boulevard. We walked from 11:30 to about 5 A.M. After 5 AM even the prostitutes called it a night. We would grab a bite to eat then look for something to do. We’d both been in Hollywood for a long time and often found ourselves on obscure side streets. Some in Laurel Canyon were only dirt roads with one or two houses!

Whoever was driving would head up into the hills and find some small street and ask, “Have you ever been on this street. You got extra points if you remembered the house and the radio call you handled there.

Wild animals were always a nice diversion. We once caught an opossum and put it our Watch Commander’s patrol car. Another time I chased a coyote down the middle of the street with my police car. I probably saved a neighbor’s cat.

Sometimes we would watch a citizen run a red light and follow them for miles. We’d bet on how many times they would look in the rear view mirror. Loser had to buy breakfast. The expensive neighborhoods were the most fun. They were already thinking of all the important people they know to get out of a ticket. We never wrote them a ticket, just entertained ourselves.

Hollywood signSunrise was always a treat when watched from above the Hollywood sign. It took a while to drive up there and involved opening and closing locked gates. If you had a partner new to Hollywood you gave them the tour of the division. I had a much better map of the stars home than they sold on street corners on Sunset. Another favorite was the Bronson Caves, better known as the Bat Cave in the Batman TV series.

Another treat was driving up to the Sunset Ranch Horse stables in Beachwood Canyon right at sunrise. Keying the radio microphone just as the rooster crows. The dispatchers always enjoyed that!

If you read any of my past Ramblings you’ve heard of the practical joke cops play on each other. Rocks in the hub caps, a snowball fight in the watch commander’s office. Pigeons in my police car! Dale Hickerson and I once screwed a cops tennis shoes to the bench in front of his locker. How about the time a patrol cop lined the detective’s desk drawer with a plastic trash bag and filled it with water?

–Hal

Any stories from long boring graveyard shifts out there?

–Thonie