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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: More Practical Jokes

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

Practical Joke:  I never passed up a chance to lighten the mood and when an opportunity presented itself I usually jumped at it. Now, sometimes it takes planning and some logistics are involved.

 

Here’s my story. I was eating at a small Italian restaurant with my partner and we were joined by Steve and his probationer, Coleen. We were on our second cup of coffee when Coleen excused herself to go to the bathroom. Coleen had blond hair and blue eyes and was a real looker. It was said she had a crush on Steve but then a lot of probationers had crushes on their first training officer. Coleen came back from the restroom and being a trained police officer, I noticed she had an embarrassed look on her face.  

 

mens bathroom.pngI asked if everything was ok and she said well sort of. I have interrogated hundreds of suspects so I pressed her for an answer. She said, “I’ll tell you but you have to promise not to tell anyone else, I’d be too embarrassed.”

Ok, we all promised!

Coleen said she went to the restroom and common with most women, she had to sit to take care of business. She was sitting and holding her gun belt up off the bathroom floor when in walked a man. This bathroom didn’t have stalls, so Coleen calmly said, “I’ll be done in a moment.” 

The man excused himself. She then discovered she had walked into the men’s bathroom. Being a rookie, she missed the men’s room sign on the door and the fact that a urinal is seldom in women’s bathrooms, and well, she’s not detective material, yet!

We kind of laughed but also understood her embarrassment, except for Steve. He started telling other officers around the station. I noticed Coleen’s uneasiness and asked her if she wanted to get even with Steve.

She jumped at the opportunity. I set my plan in motion. As with any good practical joke you may need some help. I included my wife who was often a co-conspirator in my pranks. I had her get an old granny bra from her mother. I slipped the bra into Steve’s riot helmet bag and told my sergeant that we needed to have a helmet bag inspection. The sergeant thought the plan was perfect. 

granny-bra-lenouveausoutiengorge1906After roll call the sergeant had all the officers line up with their helmet bags in the station car port. The sergeant would inspect every other helmet bag. He finally came to Steve’s.  The look on Steve’s face when a woman’s bra fell out of his bag was worth the price of admission. He was speechless and Coleen smiled all day.

Hell, I could have bought an expensive Wonder Bra and it would have been worth it.

Back to the blood and guts of patrol!  

–Hal

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Ramblings: Multi-tasking Cop

We’re baaaack! Time to read Hal Collier and Ed Meckle’s stories of past years at LAPD. They are funny, thought-provoking, infuriating or just plain worthy of a head-slap.  

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

Police work is not all cops and robbers, blood and guts, and life and death. That’s just thrown in to break up the monotony. We often have moments where we almost seem normal to the general public.

graumannsAn example, I was working off duty at a movie premier and the after-premier party. I was in the parking lot behind the Chinese Theater. As usual, I had worked the day shift and was now into my 14th hour of work. Tired? No, I was young and indestructible and needed some extra money for my kids’ summer camp (which I don’t remember agreeing to). I was in the public eye and acting as professional as I knew how. That means no scratching your privates or picking your nose. Well, I thought I was acting professional.

Now, I was chewing gum—bubble gum, to be exact—and as I am a talented multi-tasked individual, I was also blowing bubbles. I thought I was due for a promotion due to my numerous talents. I was wrong!

bubblegum

So, there I am standing in the parking lot surrounded by celebrities and those who think they are. I had just blown a big bubble that even impressed my partner. I hear a loud laugh and turned to the sound. It’s a well-known female actress/director, she exclaims, “Did you see that cop? He just blew a big bubble.” I got the impression that she thought we were some kind of subspecies unable to chew gum, let alone blow bubbles.

Another liberal Hollywood star!

–Hal

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Ramblings: But I’m a Woman!

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

A short recap: I arrested a man dressed as a woman, commonly call a drag
queen, in the mid 70’s. When I was booking him in the old Hollywood jail, a
men’s only facility, he stated, “I’m really a woman and if you strip search me
I’ll sue you and make a personnel complaint to your Watch Commander.”

Now, I only had about six years on the job but I was first sued with only two and a half weeks out of the academy. I remember telling my wife that I was being sued
for a million dollars and she said, “Hal, we don’t have that kind of money!”
Hell, I knew we didn’t have that kind of money—some nights I lived on free
coffee and a jelly donut. Just kidding. My point, being sued and a
personnel complaint didn’t scare me.  My Watch Commander(W/C) was a different
story. He was a climber and worried that a complaint against him might slow
his climb to the top; which by the way, he never made it anywhere close to!

After talking to my arrestee, the W/C decided that we should take him/her
downtown to jail division and have a city doctor determine where this
individual should be housed. This easy arrest is turning into a nightmare!

I drive downtown and get in line at the jail dispensary behind the drunks
and DUI’s (drunk drivers) waiting to see the doctor. They were all well
enough to get drunk but too sick to go to jail! After an hour, it’s my turn
and the doctor tells my arrestee to strip. My arrestee tells the doctor if
you touch me I’ll sue you and everyone on the LAPD. This doctor must have
been on the same promotion list as my Watch Commander. He says take him/her
to USCMC (LA County Hospital Jail Ward) and have the sheriff deputies check
for his/her gender.

I’m about ready to let my arrestee escape and accept the days off without
pay for losing a prisoner! The jail ward at USCMC was a place where
seriously injured arrestees were treated and housed. It was never an in and
out trip. I often spent hours waiting for a doctor to look at my arrestee.
I once completed the whole five-page arrest report and got in a short nap
waiting for the doctor to spend ten minutes with my arrestee. Get my point?
The doctors were not in any rush.

So we take our arrestee up to the 13th floor where the jail ward is located.
We walk into the lobby and a sleepy deputy asks me, “What have you got?”

“I need a sex check.”

The look on his face showed he was in no mood for humor. I spent
the next ten minutes explaining why this rather ugly woman needs to have a
sex check. The deputy’s mood did not change. “Have a seat.
I have heard that before.”

Surprisingly, the deputy calls my name in a short time.  Up walks the cutest LASD female deputy I have ever seen. She’s has blond hair, deep blue eyes and a she has a smile that will melt the heart of any man. For the fifth time I explain what I need. The deputy takes my ugly woman into a small room and returns in about seven minutes. She’s not smiling as she tells me, “Our woman is still a man and hasn’t had any surgery whatsoever.” She even told me that my arrestee wasn’t Jewish!

The only one smiling now is my ugly woman!

I thank the deputies and walk out of the lobby. As I’m getting in the
elevator I look back at the deputies and notice that female deputy is still
not smiling. It’s a quiet ride back to jail division to book my arrestee as
a man.

I was pissed and sat down to write an extra-long arrest report, documenting
the four-hour delay in booking this ugly man dressed as a woman. I requested
additional charges for delaying officers. He subjected my partner and I as
well as a doctor and a few deputies to hours of delay in a simple booking.
A few days later I received a notice from the District Attorney that my
arrest was dismissed due to time served and in the interest of justice.


What Justice! 

Hal

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Ramblings: But I’m a Woman!

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD 

 

Ok, this Ramblings goes back to the mid 70’s. As always, I was working AM Watch (11:30 PM to 7 AM). I arrested what I thought was a commonly referred to as a Drag Queen. A drag queen was a man who dressed as a woman and usually acted as a prostitute. Now days in our politically correct world they are referred to as transgender and use whatever bathroom they choose.

Oops, I let that slip out.

 

They were pretty common in Hollywood at the time and were often arrested for prostitution, lewd conduct and various theft charges including robbery. The thefts and robbery usually involved a late-night encounter from some Hollywood street corner. The high crime statistics were causing the captain to yell at my lieutenant, who yelled at my sergeant, who yelled at guess who?

It always rolls downhill and I was at the bottom with the shovel.

 

So, this one night I arrested this drag queen. I don’t really remember for what and since this story is over 40 years old it doesn’t really matter. I transported him to the station and preceded to book him in the Hollywood jail.  Hollywood jail was a men’s only facility and the policy at the time was a strip search of all felony arrests. I thought, this shouldn’t take long and I can get back out on the streets and fight crime. My arrestee said, “You know, I’m a woman!”

Huh? “You were a man months ago when you were arrested for warrants.”

He/she said, “But I’d had some surgery and now I’m a woman!”

 

I flashed back a few months ago to a partner who arrested a drag queen for the fourth time. He had always been a man and this time when he was arrested and strip searched him he discovered he was now a woman. The man had surgery that changed his sex to female. The story made a few gay newspapers and a complaint was made to our internal affairs.

 My undetermined-sex arrestee said the magic words, “I want to speak to your

Watch Commander!”

 

Part 2: Search or don’t Search? What would you do?

 

 

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Ramblings, Playing Adult Tag

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

This is really part two of last Sunday’s “Errol Flynn Estates” but I thought the re-name was appropriate.

In my last Ramblings, I described the history and problems we encountered at night in the Errol Flynn Estates, later called Runyon Canyon Park. The problem escalated as the warm summer nights brought more rowdy kids. Some nights I estimated we were out-numbered 3 to 1. 

I hoped they would run out of rocks and bottles. 

 

It was a game of hide and seek in the beginning but later turned into a game of adult tag. Some nights, we mustered enough officers to send the kids running through the brush covered hills. If it was a moonless night you could hear them falling and swearing.

If you’re going to run blind through the brush you might bring some sort of lighting apparatus, other than your bright mind. Our sympathies were with the chaparral.

 

As with any “us versus them” encounters, we learned to use new strategies. Our tactics

usually depended on the supervisor in charge. Poor leaders would line us up in squad formation and make us an easier target to hit. That was while the supervisor tried to make a decision. Good leaders would let us charge and we’d scatter the misguided youths. That was the hide and seek part!

 

We had the advantage as we were armed with flashlights and were paid by the hour!

 

If you caught someone and issued a citation, the City Attorney usually dismissed any charges if you couldn’t articulate what they did. It was sometimes difficult to see who threw the rock when you’re watching the rock headed for your head!

Another problem with arresting the jerk was that you could expect to spend a few hours at the emergency room, having their cuts and abrasions treated. A real treat was if they ran through the poison oak. There might also be some resisting arrest injuries that needed attention.

That was the adult tag part!

 

 

The new tactic was chase them a little and when they scattered through the brush, retreat and go have coffee. No reports, no personnel complaints, no long waits at the emergency room. The down side was you might get a clean uniform dirty, especially irritating if it was on the first day you wore it. If you got a little too eager you might rip a hole in a $80 pair of uniform pants.

 

 

We paid for our uniforms and cleaning in those days.

 

The neighbors were happy but they sometimes called to tell us that after we left, some of the kids were lost in the brush and couldn’t find their way out of the Errol Flynn Estates! 

Brings a tear to your eye, doesn’t it?    

 

To the best of my knowledge Runyon Canyon is now only a popular day time hiking trail and dog park with lots of room for dogs to roam through the brush–maybe discovering a lost teenager from decades ago.   

 

—Hal

 

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Ramblings: Errol Flynn Estate

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

Hollywood had a lot of entertaining attractions—after all, it’s the entertainment capital of the world. The entertainment was mostly for the tourists but I have to admit when I was in high school in the 60’s, my future wife and I would cruise Hollywood and stare at the hippies and flower children. We never got out of the car. We figured they would think we were freaks!

 Hollywood has attractions for the police officers as well. The aforementioned hippies as well as the numerous other freaks (my opinion) that frequented Hollywood, always provided entertainment. Another entertainment for cops was mistakenly called the “Errol Flynn Estate.” It’s now called Runyon Canyon Park.

 

History:  Runyon Canyon stretched from the north end of Fuller to Mulholland Drive, the crest of the Hollywood Hills. Carmen Runyon bought the canyon in 1919 and that’s where it got its name, “Runyon Canyon.” In 1942, it was bought by Huntington Harford and Errol Flynn stayed at the pool house. It became known as the Errol Flynn Estates. He never owned it! The 160-acre park was bought in 1984 by the City of Los Angeles. It now has a 60-acre dog park and has many hiking trails that are popular with thousands, including celebrities who live nearby. Some of the celebrities you won’t recognize because without make up and fancy clothes they look just like us!

 

The area is hillsides covered with brush and is home to many wild animals, skunks, coyotes and rattlesnakes. There were also a few decaying foundations, including the cement pool on a hillside plateau which overlooked Hollywood. The views were of the LA Basin and all the way to Catalina on a clear night. In the late 70’s, the so-called Errol Flynn Estates was overrun by kids and punk rockers after midnight. Soon the calls came into the police department from the nearby residents of screaming women, breaking bottles, and fires. Besides the noise and vandalism the neighbors were mostly concerned about the chance of a wildfire burning down their house.

 

 

I’m guessing the first incident at the Errol Flynn Estates our Communications (dispatch) sent one two-man police car to handle the disturbance. The patrol car had to park at the Fuller Gate and hike into the canyon. They were met with thrown rocks and empty beer bottles. It sucks when the bad guys have the high ground. Rocks and bottles are easier to see in daylight. In a dark canyon, they are almost impossible to see. As a bottle whizzed past your head you’d know how close it was to hitting the target and giving you a nice scar that you’ll be explaining for the rest of your life. Of course, one of the officers had to run back to the police car and radio for help. This was before officers had radios on their belts.

 

Soon the entire division arrived and the officers with adrenalin surging through their veins, charged through the canyon looking for someone to arrest. Ok, maybe inflict some sort of justice. As the encounters increased the need for more police officers also increased. Have you ever thought of chasing game through 60 acres of dark chaparral?

The big problem is a cop’s mental state—we never give up or surrender!

 

Next a game of hide and seek and an adult game of tag! 

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Ramblings: D/O Successes, Part 3

do-sheet

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

My best D/O sheet arrest came with a lot of effort. I had a probationer who was hard-headed. I think he was the beginning of the “Why Generation.” He questioned everything I tried to teach him. One night, or morning, depending how you describe 2 AM, we get a radio call: hot prowl, suspect just left, in the Oaks. The Oaks is an exclusive neighborhood in the East end of the Hollywood Hills. All the streets have the name Oak in them. The narrow streets are in the hills and have lots of curves. The chance of catching a burglar is slim because he can see and hear you coming for blocks. Elvira, Mistress of the Dark and a Chief of Police of the LAPD lived in the Oaks. Guess who got the most extra patrol.

Wrong, it wasn’t the chief!

 

I was teaching my hard-headed probationer how to read the D/O sheet and where to get his own copies. He suddenly saw the light after he had to write a couple of hot prowl burglary reports in the Oaks! The Oaks was not in my patrol area but I spent a lot of spare time driving around. I had to dodge a few flat possums and the much faster raccoons. One night my probationer suggested we head up to the Oaks and look for the burglar. I think I found the soft spot in his head or he just got tired of taking crime reports. We drove up into the Oaks and just as our police car crested a hill we saw a flash of something duck behind a parked car. I raced up alongside the car and expected to see a coyote with someone’s pet in its mouth.

Lo and behold, it was a human. He fit the description of the hot prowl suspect we had been looking for. He told us he had jogged from 42nd and Western to the Oaks, a good 15 miles. At the time, I jogged 3 ½ miles after work and soaked my t-shirt with sweat. Our suspect lacked any sweat. Glad I didn’t have to chase him.

 

We booked him and a up and coming hard-working Hollywood detective connected him to fifty (50!)  burglaries in Hollywood and the adjoining division. Our suspect served a few years in prison and when released was again caught committing hot prowl burglaries in the Oaks.

So much for prison reform.

 

I had other successes from the D/O sheet but the sad end to my story is that one day I returned from vacation and went into records to get a few D/O sheets and found the folder empty. I asked the record clerk what happened to the D/O sheets. She told me they were too time consuming for the record clerks to type every day. 

She then asked me if I wanted to buy some Avon Products she was selling.

I think the department missed the boat when they did away with the D/O sheets but then maybe that’s just the dinosaur in me.  Hal

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Ramblings: D/O Sheet Successes, Part 2

By Hal Collier, retired LAPDdo-sheet

In my last Ramblings, I described what a D/O (Daily Occurrence) Sheet was and how I used it. I’m about to tell you how it assisted me in making numerous arrests and the biggest arrest of my career. The LAPD had a saying, “Random Patrol Produces Random Results.” In other words, don’t just drive around and expect a crime to happen in front of you. Patrol where the crime happens and increase your odds. Oh, it happens. I once arrested a robbery suspect while I was just trying to get a cup of coffee. “Random Patrol” was one of the few department theories I bought into.

As I said before, I became a D/O sheet fanatic and was seldom without one or two folded D/O sheets in my sap pocket. I once got a letter with the cover of a news magazine inside from an old partner. The picture on the cover was of a bunch of Hollywood cops stopping some gang members in a gas station. None of the cops could be identified from the picture but this old partner identified me because of the D/O sheets in my sap pocket.

 

If I had two or three days off, I went to work early and copied the D/O sheets from the days that I missed. I had an unusual amount of success. I would write down named wanted suspects and wanted vehicle license plates. I would review them from time to time to refresh my memory. Sometimes on my way to work I would ask myself, “What am I’m looking for tonight?” and recall what I got off the D/O sheet. I would then look at my officer’s notebook and verify the name or license plate. Some thought I had a photographic memory. No, I just worked at it.

 

When I was assigned to the Hollywood Boulevard Foot Beat I still kept abreast of what was going on in Hollywood. I once noticed a couple of BFMV (car break ins) at an apartment building just off Hollywood Boulevard. It was just outside of my foot beat responsibility but I didn’t care. So, one quiet night we walked down into the sub-garage and guess what? We caught a car burglar. It was mostly luck and a few D/O sheet clues but my lieutenant thought I was a genius.

–Hal

Part 3 on November 20, 2016

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Ramblings: D/O Sheets

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

When I came on the job and was learning the difference between my elbow and a hot rock we had Pin Maps. Pin maps for the non-police are maps with different colored pins. Each color pin represents a type of crime. Robbery, burglary, GTA’s (Grand Theft Auto), etc. A colored dot on the top of the pin indicated what watch the crime occurred. The pins are placed on the streets where the crimes occurred.

Now, being a rookie I would study all the different colored pins and try to figure out just what the hell they represented. One night my training officer caught me studying the pin map. He told me to quit wasting my time. He said they’re only good if their kept up to date which ours weren’t. He said no use in studying crimes that occurred six months ago. He told me the detectives were responsible for updating the maps but they were too busy taking two hour lunches.

He wasn’t very fond of detectives.

 

do-sheetHe introduced me to the D/O Sheet.  D/O stood for Daily Occurrence Crime Sheet. See attachment. The D/O sheet was typed daily by our record clerks as they were called in the dark ages of the LAPD. I think they’re called Clerk Typist now days. They got the crime reports straight from the Watch Commander after approval. They would list the location, time, suspect description, vehicle description with license info and a brief narrative of the crime. If you look at the Kidnap/ Robbery crime in the attachment you’ll see that the SLA (Symbionese Liberation Army) committed the crime May 17, 1974 in Hollywood.

 

The D/O sheet was passed out in Roll Call. It was only useful if you read it. Some of the old timers sitting in the back row made paper airplanes out of them and had contests to see whose flew the closest to the Watch Commander. Their theory was, “I don’t need any paper to tell me how to make an arrest.”

 

Because of my training officer I became a D/O sheet fanatic. I’d get mine before roll call and have all the important information recorded in my officers’ note book. In the beginning, I looked for crime patterns in my car district. Later, I would look for crime patterns anywhere in Hollywood Division. I just loved arresting bad guys. Loved that adrenalin rush.

 

My first success was not so worthy. I spotted a car listed on the D/O sheet. I practically caused my training officer to have a potty training accident when I yelled out, “That car’s wanted.”  It turned out the crime was a misdemeanor and California law states you can’t arrest a misdemeanor weeks after the crime. We did ID the criminal and made more work for our detectives. My partner advised me to narrow my D/O sheet scan to felony crimes where we could actually arrest the bad guy.

 

For years after that I could be seen with a folded D/O sheet stuffed into my sap pocket. I never carried a sap. Flashlight in one sap pocket, gloves and D/O sheet in the other. It was my quick Google reference, decades before Google was invented. I found the D/O sheet so informative I would read it in roll call when the W/C was trying to tell me how to do police work.

 

Next: the D/O sheet pays off big time.  –Hal

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Ramblings Reprise: The Art of Kicking Doors

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

This was originally posted 2/15/2015. It’s a good one–aren’t they all–so I’ll post it in its entirety. Normally this would be split up into several post but Hal, Ed, and I are taking a break. From October 23 until November 6th, Just the Facts, Ma’am will be on hiatus.

To the best of my limited knowledge, what I’m about to describe is not taught in any police academy. That is the art of kicking doors! Admit it, you can’t watch a cop show without the star kicking open a door at least once. It amazes me how easy it looks, sometimes they just lean on the door with a shoulder.

Please, all you’ll do is hurt your shoulder.

 

When I went through the Los Angeles Police Academy, they taught you when you can legally kick a door without violating some citizen’s civil rights, but not how! My initial experience was watching my partner kick in a door on my first day out of the academy. The door flew open and we raced in to save an attempted suicide victim.

 

I learned my first valuable lesson watching cartoons. That’s right. The Big Bad Wolf huffed and puffed and blew down the house of straw and wood but couldn’t blow down the house of brick. I know what you’re thinking: Collier is getting fitted for one of those long sleeve shirts with the buckles on the cuffs. No, what I learned is what door you can kick in and what doors you’ll just hurt you.

 

 

I learned the hard way. Let’s start with the door itself. Is it a solid wood door or hollow core? Is the frame also wood and how many locks does it have? I know—who has the time to analyze the structural integrity of a door? Well, you had better or you’ll waste your time and energy.

 

Smart cops will never try to kick a metal door with a metal frame unless you have a big red “S” on your chest. You’ll just pull a hamstring and look foolish. I once had a welfare check on a family in an apartment building. The police had been out there twice but couldn’t get in. The manager didn’t have a key so we finally called the fire department. The fire department had to cut the metal door and frame open. It was a murder suicide including the three young children. I’ll never get over that one.

 

My partner Gary and I once had a welfare check call on an elderly woman high up in the Hollywood Hills. She hadn’t been seen in days. It was an older house built with solid oak wood doors and frames. We knocked on the doors and then began looking in all the windows. We found a window where we could see the woman lying on the floor.  OK, we’ll kick the door and rescue the woman.

 

As I said the house was well-built and we kicked that door for fifteen minutes. First one kicked, then both of us at the same time. It almost got comical—this poor lady laying of the floor and Gary and I saying, “Ready 1, 2 ,3, kick, 1,2,3, kick.”  We finally got in and discovered that her dog was protecting her. You’ll never see that on prime time TV. We finally rescued her and the dog.

 

Hollow core doors?  They are usually interior doors, like bedroom or bathroom doors, but not always. This incident happened in the early 70’s. Hollywood cops got a “Rape in Progress” call. We all arrived and the person reporting (PR) said the girl next door is yelling for help.  We knock and the woman screams, “Help Me”

 

My partner, Jim Moody says, “I’ll kick the door.”  He steps back and plants a size 10, double E right in the middle of the door. It was a hollow core door so his foot gets stuck. Moody’s standing there on one leg, the other stuck in the middle of the door. We laughed as we rushed by and rescued the woman, leaving Moody outside.

 

That brings up where to kick a door. You kick next to the dead bolt lock. That’s where the door will burst open. Be careful not to hit the door knob. That is worth at least a sprained or worse, a broken ankle. Both will give you desk duty, a curse among patrol cops. A cop’s worst nightmare is a 2 inch deadbolt.  It may take 3 or 4 kicks before the door frame gives way.  If you’re securing your own house, use 2 inch deadbolts, even the cops have trouble getting in. Bad if you’re the one laying on the floor!!!

Another rookie mistake is not checking to see if the door is locked before you kick it open. Don’t laugh—it happens. I once watched an officer kick a door twice before someone realized it was unlocked.

 

 

Kicking doors takes practice and a strong leg, but it’s usually the smallest officer who pushes his way to the front and proclaims, “I’ll kick it.”  I usually let them try, that’s how they learn.  I once had a sergeant who insisted that the mule kick was the best. He would position himself on the floor with his back and butt toward the door. Then he would kick backwards like a mule. It worked for him but I didn’t like being on the floor with my back to the door.

 

Kicking a door doesn’t always turn out as planned. The Department has a term, “Called the wrong Door.”  That’s when cops kick the wrong door. I’m sure your wondering how could such highly trained cops make such a mistake? Easy—poor communication, egos, “me first,” and last, poor leadership. We once had an incident high up in the Hollywood Hills at a party where professional gambling was taking place. The sergeant led the charge and kicked the door across the street from the party. The residents were not impressed with their tax dollars at work. The sergeant was transferred to day watch where he could be better supervised. True story

 

Another time Mike and I were driving around when we see large billows of smoke coming from a four story apartment building. Oh crap, we have to save all those people. We run into the lobby and are met with smoke filled hallways. We start banging on doors and if no answer we kick in doors. After kicking two doors, we run to the fire escape window and suck in some fresh air. The smoke is burning our lungs and eyes. Residents are running into the streets as the fire department arrives. Hell, Mike and I will get a medal for saving all these people.

 

 

Guess what? No medal. The smoke was from a trash dumpster behind the apartment building. It was coming in through an open hallway window. I pulled a hamstring and had to get treated for smoke inhalation. Ever been treated for smoke inhalation? They stick a big needle in your wrist and draw blood from an artery not a vein. Arteries are down deep in your arm.

 

Every once in a while an opportunity comes along to practice kicking a door.  I had one such opportunity as a sergeant.  A four story apartment building on Argyle was being remodeled and all the tenants were evicted. The construction foreman told me there are squatters in some of the apartments, you can kick any door that’s locked. My eyes light up. I grabbed every rookie that was working that day and had them kick a few doors. I also kicked a half dozen doors myself, it was like a present from the police gods.

 

Like I said kicking doors is an art only learned after years of experience. There will also be a few wrong doors and failures that come with that experience. One last kick door story. I got a welfare check call for service on another elderly lady. Her porch light has been on day and night for days. Her mail and newspapers are piling up and the neighbors think there a strange smell coming from the house. These are all bad signs. I do my usual check of all doors and windows. Oh crap. I see flies on the windows—another bad sign. I won’t explain what the flies on the windows might indicate. My partner, a smaller officer, wants to kick the door. (See above!) I tell him we’ll call for an ambulance first. The fire department arrives and they said, “We’ll kick the door.”  Now everybody loves the fire department and firemen!

 

 

The firemen kicks the door we all rush in and guess what?  No one’s home. The smell and flies were from a plate of food left on the kitchen counter. A few days later I get a call from an angry elderly lady who wants to know why I kicked her door while she was visiting her sister in Florida. She wants me or the police department to pay to have her door repaired.  I told her we didn’t kick the door the fire department did. Here’s the kicker, no pun intended. We kick the wrong door and the police department has to pay to fix the door. The fire department kicks the wrong door they don’t have to pay.

The firemen are still loved!