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, An Honest Mistake

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

The story you are about to read is true, the names have been changed to protect the embarrassed. Earlier I wrote about rookie mistakes, some made by probationers, some made by new supervisors, a lot made by me. I thought I was finished with that category but I had an epiphany. This story is short because the practical joke is long.

 

I’m the junior officer and I’m working with Ron on A.M. watch. It about 3 A.M. and the radio is quiet. Ron is driving and complaining about how little sleep he got during the day.

 

Now, to my non-police friends who think cops don’t catch a few winks during the long nights—they probably think their elected politicians have their best interests when passing laws.

 

After about fifteen minutes of Ron complaining how tired he is, I offer to drive and let him nap. I tell Ron I’ll drive around the hills so the sergeant doesn’t catch us. Ron jumps at the chance and pulls over. We exchange seats on Prospect Avenue, a quiet side street on the east end of Hollywood. Ron adjusts the head rest and crosses his legs. I’m adjusting the mirrors because Ron is shorter than I am. Ron’s head rests on the headrest and he closes his eyes. I put the car in drive and accelerate to about fifteen MPH. I drive about two blocks and realize that the seat is too close to the steering wheel. Short partners are great for looking under things, like beds, but not for looking over fences. 

 

I reach down to pull the seat lever to move the seat back. This is before electric seats so you have to push off on the floorboard with your foot to move the seat back. Ok, remember the car is traveling about mph. Ron is reclined and drifting off to sleep. I put my foot down and slide the seat back.

 

The car jerks to an immediate stop, Ron lurches forward almost slamming into the dashboard. I immediately realize that I stepped on the brake pedal.

 

Ron begins calling me names, usually reserved for the low life’s we deal with. I’m thinking of my stupidity and began to laugh. Ron thinks I did it on purpose and spews more profanity at me. The more he yells the harder I laugh. Ron didn’t close his eyes for the rest of the night.

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, A Practical Joke

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

A Practical Joke

 

This joke has been going around the police stations for decades. The first time I saw it done was early 1971. You need a relatively new probationer, a kid who obeys his senior officers and still has that desire to serve the public that pays his salary. He also doesn’t want to get into trouble for kissing off a citizen. I personally participated in about three variations of this joke.

 

Ok, the scene is the front desk of any police station. A senior desk officer is working alone. A probationer happens to walk by. The senior officer asks the probationer to watch the desk while he goes to the bathroom. Ok, the phone rings and the probationer answers,

 

Probationer:  “Good morning, Hollywood Police Station, may I help you?”

 

Caller:  “Yea, I want to report a theft.”

 

Probationer:  “What was stolen?”

 

Caller:  “Water.”

 

Probationer:  “Water?”

 

Caller: “Yea, from my swimming pool!”

 

Probationer:  “How much water?”

 

Caller: “30,000 gallons.”

 

Probationer:  “How did someone steal 30,000 gallons of water?”

 

Caller:  “I was in Europe for a month on business and when I got home my swimming pool was empty.”

 

 

Ok, the probationer begins to think the caller might be a Hollywood nut, waiting for a job at city hall. 

 

Probationer:  “How could anyone steal 30,000 gallons of water?”

 

Caller:  “Look I pay a lot of taxes, including your salary. Are you going to do something or do I have to call my friends down at City Hall? Do you know how much 30,000 gallons of water costs?” 

 

The probationer begins looking around the station for a senior officer to bail him out of this call. Of course no one is around. The plan is working. 

 

Caller:  “I think I know who took my water!”

 

Probationer:  “Oh who?”

 

Ok, the hook has been set. Now all you have to do is reel the probationer in.

 

Caller:  “I’ve been having a dispute with my neighbor down the street and I think he took my pool water while I was in Europe.”

 

Probationer:  “What makes you think he took your water?”  

 

Caller:  “I was walking my dog by his house yesterday and I saw water coming out from under his garage door.”

 

This is where the probationer catches on, but not always. The first time I was aware of this joke, they made a sketch of an officer standing outside a garage door. He was scratching his head, with water coming from under the garage door behind him. They presented it to him at the division Christmas party.

 

I miss the good old days.

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Ramblings by Hal

A Veterans’ Day Tribute from Hal Collier

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

Hal sent this article along to commemorate the day we honor veterans–the real American heroes.

The following story is true and I’ll use real names. I worked many special events during my time in Hollywood. I worked the Hollywood Christmas parade in one capacity or another for 30 plus years. Notice I said Christmas and not Holiday parade. I’ve resisted being politically correct and now that I’m retired I’ve been set free. I’m writing this now because it is appropriate.

 

I worked more movie premieres than Siskel & Ebert. The best job I ever worked was the “Welcome Home Desert Storm Parade” for the military. It was May 19, 1991. It was a tribute to all the soldiers who served in all the American wars. It was especially for the Viet Nam veterans who never were welcomed back.

 

I was assigned to the Green Room with Dale Hickerson. The Green Room for my non-Hollywood readers, is the room where celebrities gather before and after an event. They serve food and drinks and the celebrities mingle. Dale and I have worked the Green Room for the Christmas parades and learned that the best place to stand was at the rear exit. That’s where the stars walk out to get on a float or in a car to begin the parade. It’s also next to where the caterers bring in the fresh appetizers. We had first shot at all the good food. Caterers always take care of the guys with guns.

 

Dale and I are not into the Hollywood celebrity worship thing. We find that most of them are phony and have enormous egos. The Desert Storm Parade was different. They had real American heroes.

 

Dale and I were standing by the back door when two old timers walked up to us and started talking. They both had Congressional Medal of Honor medals around their necks. Damn real American heroes. I had lump in my throat and could hardly talk. One received his medal at Pearl Harbor. I wish I had written down their names but I was star struck.

They spent thirty minutes talking to us. What a thrill.

 

Later we were introduced to General Westmoreland, a general during the Viet Nam War. He was warmer than some of the department brass I’ve spoken to. We met Martha Raye, who entertained our troops during WW II, the Korean, and the Viet Nam Wars. We also met other soldiers but these made the biggest impression. 

 

Dale and I will never forget the sacrifices and the thrill of meeting some of these true American Heroes. To the veterans who read this;   “THANK YOU.”        

Hal 

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Supervisors, part 3 of 3

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 of my suggestions on being a good supervisor, I promise!

Another thing I learned as a supervisor is you can’t take your reputation as a street cop with you. I felt I was a good street cop in Hollywood and made some pretty good arrests. I made Sergeant and I was transferred to Southeast (Watts) Division. Only a few officers there knew me and I had to establish my reputation all over again. Your reputation, good or bad is earned and that takes time. Be patient.

 

I got this advice in sergeant’s school and I used it the rest of my career. Don’t ask your officers to doing anything you won’t do. Get your hands dirty too. Don’t tell your officers to stand out in the rain or cold while you sit in your warm dry car. Once, I was working the Hollywood Christmas Parade and it was bitter cold and the wind increased the chill factor. The parade was over and the citizens scurried home. Our captain made us stand out in the cold for hours as he drove around in his car with the windows rolled up. A large number of us got sick. I was often the Watch Commander and on weekends we didn’t have a custodian. I could have asked a probationer to empty the trash cans but I remembered the lesson I learned in sergeant’s school. I emptied the trash myself.

 

Write the officers commendations when warranted. Everyone needs to be appreciated. I know it’s extra work but if an officer did a good job, don’t ever tell them, “That’s just your job.” Commendations are in your personnel package forever. If a commendation is not warranted at least verbally commend the officers, in roll call if possible, in front of their peers is even better. Never ever chew out an officer in public or in front of other officers. I hated Hawaii Five-0 and Kojak because the boss belittled his people in front of others.

 

Roll call—the start of a new day. What mood do you want the officers in when they leave roll call? I attended nineteen roll calls a month for eleven months a year for thirty-five years. That’s over 7,000 roll calls so I consider myself an expert on roll calls. If you’re the supervisor in charge of roll call it’s your responsibility to keep them happy. A while back we had a Chief of Police who publicly stated that officers’ morale was not his job. He was not well liked! Don’t send them out in the streets in a bad mood. The paperwork they will create for you is not worth the aggravation. If you have negative issues, say them early and then leave them on a happy note. We use to call that the sandwich method. Good, bad, good!

 

Last but not least, this was not required but I found it was a morale booster. I would bring in homemade cookies and See’s Candy at Christmas, a cooked turkey at Thanksgiving, and tubs of red licorice just because. It was much easier to get the officers to meet the goals of the department when they’re happy. I once decided to bring in a big basket of fresh fruit from Costco. I filled the basket with apples, oranges, bananas and pears. I thought it might be healthier than chocolate first thing in the morning. After roll call the remaining fruit was taken to the Watch Commander’s officer to share with the rest of the division. My captain walked in and asked who brought in the fruit. I said “I did, I have to take care of my officers.” 

He thought they were his officers. Ha ha, I let him think that.

 

It’s not easy switching hats from being one of the boys to being a supervisor. You show up at a coffee spot with three patrol cars and they all get busy and leave you there alone. I had one officer that I knew quite well. We fished together and talked all the time. I made sergeant and he refused to call me Hal. It was now ‘sergeant’. Get used to it.

 

Being a supervisor can be a hard job and lonely at times but it can also be rewarding. I remember one officer talking about a supervisor who held his retirement party in a phone booth—he wasn’t liked.

These are my suggestions and might work for some newly promoted supervisor or help an older supervisor. 

Good Luck.  

Hal

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Ramblings, Supervisors, part 2 of 3

By Hal Collier, LAPD Retired

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

 

Again, these are my suggestions on what makes a good supervisor and they certainly don’t reflect the opinions of the LAPD.

 

I use to think that the LAPD needed a promotion tree with two forks.  One tree fork was for the building boys who promote, they can stay inside and read and write policy books. That’s fine, if that’s your wish. The second tree fork was for street cops who had experience in patrol and knew what worked regardless of what the psychologists said. I once expressed my two forked tree theory and found myself peeing in a cup and taking a Rorschach exam. After that I kept my opinions to myself, my first step in being a good supervisor.

 

“I’d like to intervene, but I haven’t completed the appropriate paperwork.”

A good supervisor also needs to have a good working knowledge of the department rules. The LAPD manual has so many rules and regulations that you never can know them all but know the ones that apply to field situations. Only a building boy will care how many copies of a LAPD form 15.7 are needed. That’s because they ask those kind of questions on the promotional exams. This will save you and your officers from complaints or worse yet, termination and jail!

 

One of my pet peeves was sergeants who were never in the field. I remember one sergeant who was always downtown at headquarters looking for a job to get out of patrol. The officers knew where the sergeants were and what they were doing, most of the time. If the cops have mischief in mind, they don’t worry about being caught. If the sergeant is in the field, they might have second thoughts about bending the rules. Sergeants should show up at the routine calls once in a while. The cops won’t expect you. If they ask why, I would tell them I was bored. You’re also available for help if they want it. But just let them do their job and only step in if they ask or are doing something illegal. 

 

Be fair to everyone! That’s means even if you don’t like them. I once watched the watch commander tell the roll call that there were a few days that we were over deployed and officers could take a day off with their accrued overtime. Right after roll call, an officer walked up to the watch commander (WC) and asked for a day off.  The WC (without even looking at the time book) denied the request. He didn’t like the officer. That WC was not a favorite of the officers or mine either. I hated sergeants that played favorites.

 

Ok, here’s a tricky one. One of my training officers use to keep a log of a sergeant’s misdeeds. You know—date, time, location and the violation of department rules. He called it insurance in case he didn’t want this particular sergeant to write him up for his own violations. If you bend the rules in front of an officer, you are theirs. Trust me, they’ll bring it up when the department is trying to fire them. Drowning rats have no friends. Be on time. I remember one sergeant wanted to write up an officer for being late to roll call. The officer reminded the sergeant that he was late more than he was.

 

I was a new sergeant in Watts and working graveyard. We had long quiet nights and I couldn’t find any of our officers in the division. Having been an occasional member of hitting the hole (sleeping) in Hollywood, I knew what they were doing, I just didn’t know where. One night I was driving down Figueroa in the industrial section of the division. A hot shot call came out and before I could turn around I was almost run over by half the watch. They came from behind a big building. Now here is the dilemma: If I confront the officers and do nothing, I’m an accessory and they have me. If I write them all up, I’ll have no back up. It’s not a major violation and the other seasoned supervisors probably already know about it. I kept my mouth shut and took the information with me when I transferred a few months later. They might have asked me to join them.

Wait, I forgot. I’m not one of them anymore.

 

Next, the last installment!       Hal   

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Supervisors part 1 of 3

Part 1 of 3

 

I was recently asked by a close partner to give her some advice for her husband. He was getting close to promoting to sergeant and wanted to know what makes a good sergeant. Now, I’m not an expert and I’m not even sure I was a good sergeant. It would be a tossup between what the brass thought and what the field officers thought. The following opinions are mine and mine alone.

 

My background: I worked twenty-two years as a street police officer, my choice. I saw too many good cops promote too soon and miss out on all the fun. I promoted to sergeant only thinking of an increase in my pension. You can’t spend fun after retirement. I spent another twelve and a half years as a field sergeant and watch commander.

 

I’m sure the LAPD has different views but then I didn’t agree with everything they taught either. I attended a lot of leadership classes put on by my department and I actually took some notes. Most of these suggestions are from my own experience and my methods were not always accepted by the brass. The brass thought they were really in charge of the patrol cops.

 

First, what is the job of a supervisor? What a loaded question, but here goes: Supervise your officers, give the officers advice, but only when they need advice. Keep them out of trouble and that also includes jail. I thought the most important thing was to know your officers. I used to pride myself in knowing the officers on my watch. I knew who the hard workers were, who the slackers were and who had a tendency to take shortcuts or stretch the rules. I learned their first names and some of their backgrounds or hobbies. I was always looking for a common ground for communication. 

 

Before making sergeant I wrote down what I liked about a good supervisor and what I didn’t like about a bad supervisor. An example, I worked for a lot of good street cops who promoted too soon. They still wanted to do police work but the LAPD frowned on supervisors being street cops. By the way, the department told sergeants not to even write tickets. I remember one sergeant was told turn in your ticket book or turn in your stripes! Street cops hated a sergeant who made an arrest then handed it off. It’s like someone else catching a fish and giving it to you to clean. Whoopee.

 

I once had a sergeant drive through a dark alley and found a drunk sleeping in a doorway out of harm’s way. He called me to come book him downtown, he then had the nerve to tell me he was going to eat. After medical treatment and booking, I had to have my police car checked for crabs. I worked three hours overtime, itched for two days and no, I didn’t get to eat that night. See who your friends are when you stand naked in the locker room and ask some cop in the next aisle to look for bugs on you. 

 

I don’t begrudge the building boys, as we called them. They promote early, because they wanted out of patrol. My only problem was when they promoted they were then sent back to patrol to supervise us street cops. They often made poor tactical field decisions based of very little experience on the streets. I once had a new sergeant respond to a scene and when asked to make a decision she opened the department manual looking for the answer. It wasn’t there! She actually asked for another sergeant to respond and make the decision. I did respect the new sergeants and lieutenants who asked the senior officers for advice. It’s the supervisors responsibility but it’s good to have a veterans input. Sometimes the cops can keep the supervisors out of trouble. I was told in a leadership class, “You can delegate everything except responsibility.”

 

I saw a lot of supervisors who didn’t make a decision at all, for fear that it would stall their next promotion. If the lack of a decision was news worthy, like during the LA Riots, the supervisor’s career was over and forget about the retirement home in the marina. No more promotions and something they call “freeway therapy.” That’s where you live in northern LA County and your next assignment is in the southern most division in the city. Nothing like an hour drive or two, to and from work to get your mind straight.

 

More suggestions in part 2.     Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, A Practical Joke

By Hal Collier, LAPD Retired

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

One night, my partner, Bill and I were bored and happened to be driving through Ferndale Park.  Ferndale Park is on the fringe of Hollywood in the foothills below the Hollywood Sign. It is common to see deer, coyotes, raccoons, opossums and owls in the Hollywood Hills. I was driving and Bill suddenly yelled to stop. I slammed on the brakes and put my hand on my gun. We both exited the car, I’m looking for a crime, Bill is getting a pair of work gloves from the trunk of the police car. Next thing I know we’re running through the park in pursuit. Bill is in the lead because I don’t know what we’re chasing.

I soon spot the culprit, it’s a possum. Bill grabs it by the tail and holds it away, careful of its snarling teeth. I’m waiting for the adrenalin to stop rushing through my body. I’m a somewhat educated man, so I ask Bill, “What the hell are you going to do with that?” Bill replies, “Open the trunk.”  Bill drops the possum in the trunk and slammed it closed. Bill directs me to the back of a supermarket, where we rummage through cardboard boxes and crates. Bill finds the perfect animal container. I recognize it as a wood crate with wire, used to hold red cabbage for delivery. My previous job was delivering produce. I might need my old job if we get caught. It takes twenty minutes to get the possum out from behind the spare tire and into the crate.

Bill lets me in on to his plan. We have a lieutenant, who is not a building boy.  He completes the necessary paperwork, to keep the captain off his back then goes into the field. Street cops love this kind of leadership. We’re going to get a set of keys to the lieutenant’s car and place the crated possum on the front seat. My role was to delay the lieutenant until Bill could get the possum in the car.

I met the lieutenant at the back door and told him I need a day off. He said he had to get out of the station and to see him later. He walked out to his car as Bill was walking in. I think we got away with it.

Bill and I watched as he opened the driver’s door. We could see him looking across the car interior at the crate. By now that possum is a snarling fur ball ready to bite though the crate. The lieutenant tells Bill and me that if we ever want to have a weekend off again, to get that oversized rat out of his car.

Now before you call PETA or the SPCA we took the possum back to Ferndale Park and released him.

P.S.  The lieutenant got even about two weeks later. He called us into the station on a rainy night and told us to put on our old uniforms and boots. There’s a major mudslide in the Hollywood Hills and we need to check for survivors. We were half changed when the lieutenant got on the station P.A. system and said “Pay back is a bitch”.

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Ramblings, Probationers

By Hal Collier, LAPD Retired

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

The story you are about to read is true, the names have been changed to protect the embarrassed. In thirty-five years as a police officer I have worked with hundreds of partners, some good, some not so good. Some have been great, some have caused me sleepless nights. This story will deal with probationers. All cops have worked with probationers, boots, and rookies. Hell, we were all probationers once. I was a training officer for over nineteen years, so I guess I could be a department expert.

 

My son is a training officer and he recently asked, “How much time will I get if I kill my probationer”? I told him, “None if you make it look like an accident.” 

 

My first night with a new partner was to get a little background. Not personal stuff, just looking for a common ground to talk about. If you spend eight hours in a police car with someone you need something to talk about. I would start out with “Why did you become a cop?” The following answers would amaze the department shrink. 

 

Female: “I’m looking for a husband, cops are clean and they have a good paying job.” 

 

Male: “This was the only job that paid close to my last job.” 

 

Female:  “I was making over a hundred grand a year but was bored with my last job.”   I heard that a lot from both male and females.  See? Money isn’t everything. 

 

Male:  “I want to right all the injustices done to my people.”

 

Male: I got into the wrong line at the civil service test. Ok, I made that one up but sometimes I think it applied.

 

I would ask what their hobbies or interests were to see if we had anything in common. One probationer asked what I liked and I said hunting. He said he didn’t think he could kill anything! Not what you want to hear from someone who might be asked to take a life to save yours or his. 

 

I had a female probationer with a master’s degree in aeronautical engineering. Nice girl but one night she didn’t talk for three straight hours. I like westerns, she liked science fiction. Her parents hated her because their culture didn’t like cops.

 

I had a female probationer, who sat in the car seat with her knee up on the seat and back turned toward her door, as if we were on a date. 

 

I had a male probationer who spoke five languages, unfortunately English wasn’t one of them.

 

I had a female, just off probation, tell me she felt sorry for the male probationers. I asked why and she said that all she had to do to make probation was sleep with her training officer. I wasn’t surprised because her reputation had preceded her.

 

In the early 70’s, I would ask, “Did you ever cruise Hollywood Boulevard?  Most would say “Yes.”  I’d tell them that my wife and I cruised Hollywood during our dating years. I would then tell them that they were now paid to do what they use to do for nothing, and if we saw something interesting we could stop and question that person. I remember they interviewed an officer on why you would become a police officer. He said, “They pay me $60,000 a year. They give me a gun and a club, a new car and tell me to go out and look for trouble. What a great job.”

 

Probationers come from all walks of life. Some were Vietnam veterans, some from small towns in the mid-west. Some were married, some divorced. Regardless of where they came from, most were about to become Los Angeles Police Officers.

 

What I’m about to tell you next is not news to anyone who ever wore the badge. Being a cop gets into your blood. It’s like an E-Ticket at Disneyland or a roller coaster ride. Hours of boredom, followed by thirty seconds of sheer terror. When there’s gun fire, most people are running away, the cops are running toward the shots. It’s not about the money, because most business people have better hours, and pay. 

 

Not everyone is cut out to be a cop—it takes a lot of desire and sacrifice. I heard of a recruit that said he had to have weekends off because he dated a lot. A probationer is lucky if they get one weekend off a month. They’ll work all the holidays, miss birthday parties, anniversaries and graduations. It’s a known fact that if you have five days off and a trip planned, you get a court subpoena for the middle day. The kiss of death is telling your partner you need to get off on time. 

 

The hardest to teach were the naive. They led a sheltered life and think all people have a little good in them. I remember a female probationer from Texas. She had a degree in interior decorating. She lost her job and came to L.A. One day at start of watch she asked her training officer why we keep dynamite in the trunk of the police car. Her training officer, trying to keep a straight face, informed her they were road flares.

 

Another male probationer went out in the middle of a cold night to sit in the police car while his training officer finished up some paper work. When the training officer got into the car the probationer remarked that the car heater was broken. The training officer started the car and the heater came on full blast. The probationer didn’t know that the ignition had to be turned on for the heater to work. I think he’s now employed as a Wal-Mart greeter in Bakersfield.

 

Being a training officer wasn’t easy but damn it was sure fun!

–Hal

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Ramblings, Hollywood Homicide and Sergeant Frank

 

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

The story you are about to read is true, the names have been changed to protect the embarrassed. The following story is a little grim so if you’re queasy skip down to the practical joke section.  Of course if you watch any of the Law & Order, CSI or Bones on TV during dinner, your already numb to blood and guts.

 

My partner’s name was Bob. I was working A.M. watch with Bob. Our field sergeant, Frank, was a department mistake. He was nice enough but he could screw up anything you were trying to accomplish. An example: I was at a homicide scene. We had the crime scene tape surrounding the area we were protecting. Sergeant Frank kept walking through the crime scene disturbing the evidence. I reminded Sergeant Frank that he was walking through our scene and he would smile, oblivious to the fact that he was destroying evidence. When the homicide detectives arrived at the scene he asked what I had. I briefed him on the death of a low-life Hollywood citizen and my idiot sergeant kicking shell casings around the crime scene. The detective told me, if he walks through the crime scene one more time the detective will book the Sergeant’s work boots as evidence. Fortunately for Frank, he wised up. Anyone who wants the sergeant’s name this will be a freebee. His fame is renowned to anyone who worked Hollywood at that time.

 

My partner, Bob, was no rookie, and he was an outstanding street cop. In fact Bob is now a Deputy Chief with the L.A.P.D. I’m sure it was working with me that allowed him to promote so high. We get a radio call of shots fired deep in the Hollywood Hills. Most “shots fired” radio calls are false. Some are fireworks, cars backfiring or no evidence of shots fired. These types of calls in the Hollywood Hills are also hard to locate the source. Because of the deep canyons and echo effects, loud party calls can be over a mile away. 

 

We drive into Laurel Canyon with our map book open. Even an experienced Hollywood cop needs the map book in the hills. We find the PR (person reporting). He tells us he was awakened by a loud gun shot. He goes on to tell us that he is a hunter and avid shooter, so he knows the difference. He stepped out on his front porch and he could smell fresh burnt gun powder. We assumed that our PR knew what he was talking about. He said he thought the sound came from across the street. He advised us that a divorced mother and her teen age son lived in the house. Bob and I approached the house. I’m going to have to describe the house—the front had a carport and a solid wall. No windows; to the right, there was a small walkway with an eight foot tall wooden gate. The other side of the gate was a pool area which had sliding glass doors that led into the house.

 

Bob and I approached, using the solid wall for cover. We both felt that the PR knew what he was talking about so we used caution. There wasn’t any outside light so we were using our flashlights. We inched along the wall toward the gate, all the time listening for sounds of danger. I was the senior officer and taking the lead. I looked down and observed an oval object, six inches in length, lying on the ground. I shined my flashlight on it and said to Bob, “What the hell is that”?  Bob gave me that, ‘well, you’re the senior officer’ look.  We both stood there for a minute, our minds racing, what was that? It looked like a piece of meat.

 

We looked around and spotted blood on the eves above our head. We inched closer and could see where something had been dragged back through the gate. There were blood scrapes. Ok, we have a crime scene. 

 

We were going to need additional officers and a supervisor.  For my non-police friends, your first concerns are, is someone injured and in need of medical help, or is there a suspect inside, possibly barricaded? We radio for additional officers and a supervisor. Yep, you guessed it, we have Sergeant Frank responding. Our only hope is that he gets lost trying to find us. Bob and I look at each other and think how can we keep him from screwing up our crime scene?  We formulate a plan on how to get inside the house without a detective booking our boots.

 

Our additional officers arrive and we make up a search team. Sergeant Frank is three streets away and lost. We direct him to our location. I brief Sergeant Frank and ask him to go to the PR’s house and call the Watch Commander. Sergeant Frank trots away. Bob and I conduct a search of the house. We had to go around to the other side of the house. We find a female dead just inside the gate. The top of her head was missing, yep, that was her brain outside. The suspect was gone. I go back out front and tell Sergeant Frank that we have a homicide. I tell him to notify the Watch Commander and Detectives. Sergeant Frank agrees and trots off. Bob says to me, you’re treating that sergeant like your puppet. I was just trying to let him keep his shoes.

 

The suspect was a boyfriend, got into an argument with the victim. She tried to call the police, he shot Ma Bell (telephone) and she ran outside and through the gate. He caught her by the arm and the gun went off. He flew to Florida but forgot his passport and couldn’t leave the country. He plead guilty to manslaughter.

 

Practical Joke

 

I was a sergeant at Hollywood and we had a female captain who was a real diamond. Everyone like her and I never heard a negative word about her. The station needed a paint job inside and the city performs the work. The trim around the door frames and windows was painted a maroon color. The rumor was that the captain picked out the color. Most of the cops figured this was the captain’s female touch to the station. She was getting a lot of ribbing about the color, and well you know I can’t pass up a chance to play a practical joke.  Every day, sergeants are required to turn in a log, informing the captain on the day’s happenings or concerns. Well, I got a sheet of maroon paper and printed out my sergeant’s log on it. I started out with a note to the captain that the paper color would go with the new station decor. I got my log back with a message from the captain.  “Very funny, Officer Collier”. 

Message received.

Categories
Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings Reprise, Cop Funeral

This post is a reprise LAPD veteran Hal Collier’s post of December 12, 2012. America has lost four policemen in violent deaths this week and I thought it would be appropriate to recall Hal’s emotions as a pall bearer for his friend Duane C. Johnson in 1984. The emotions never change, just the date. —-Thonie

 

By Hal Collier, LAPD, retired

I’m about to describe the funerals where I knew the officer and in some cases the family. These still haunt me after four decades.

It was raining, just six days before Christmas, December 19, 1984. I was on a day off when the phone rang. It was Keith, a partner and he flatly stated, “Did you hear the news, Duey Johnson was shot and killed in China Town!” Duey and his partner had responded to a robbery alarm at a jewelry store.

I swear, it took me minutes to breathe again. Duey was a probationer that I had trained just two years ago. I had trained over hundreds of probationers, but I never lost one.

Duane C. Johnson, was a “Baby Huey” type of kid. He had a heart as big as he was. Duey had 3 loves, His wife “Cat” Catherine, the United States Marine Corps and finally the LAPD. Duey use to brag that he was in one of the Rocky movies. He was in the Marine Corps color guard in the boxing ring.

Unlike most probationers, Duey stayed in touch. We even talked about having dinner together sometime in the future. It was a few days after, that I got a call from some officer downtown that I was asked to be a pallbearer at Duey’s funeral. I had attended dozens of cop funerals but I was never a pallbearer.

I spent the next two days shining everything that was visible on my uniform and everything that was under it. I wanted to make Duey proud. Along with a few dozen other Hollywood cops, all in their finest dress blue uniforms, black elastic bands across our badges, we headed to the church.

I walked into the church and almost fainted. Duey’s twin brother, Dana, met me. He was in his Virginia Beach Police uniform and I swear he was the spitting image of Duey. Duey and Dana were both cops. They gave each pallbearer a pair of white cotton gloves. I’ll talk about those damn white gloves later.

The service at the church was very difficult for me and ride to the cemetery seemed to take forever. I don’t think I brought enough Kleenex. At the cemetery, you put on those white cotton gloves. The gloves look nice and have a dignified appearance. The casket is removed from the hearse and the pallbearers will now carry Duey to his final resting place.

As I mentioned earlier, Duey was large boned and the casket was heavy. I could hardly hold the polished handles of the casket with those damn white gloves. The graveside service was a blur, I remember the 21 gun salute and the folded flag from Duey’s casket being presented to “Cat”. The pallbearers then walked up to the casket and placed the white gloves on Duey’s casket and said good bye.

We left the cemetery and headed back to Hollywood. My shift started in 2 hours. I have never let a December 19 pass by without thinking of Duey.

October 9, 1990 I, arrived at work early to go for a pre-watch run. I saw the Hollywood Homicide Detectives already at work. They informed me that Russ Kuster had been shot and killed at a restaurant by a deranged Hungarian mobster. Russ was a renowned Hollywood Homicide Investigator and had handled many high profile cases. Russ had returned fire and solved his own homicide.

The drive to the cemetery was lined with citizens. Firemen had American flags draped from their hook and ladders. I attended the funeral with my current female probationer, she forgot her Kleenex, but no problem I had plenty. They played those damn Bag Pipes.

I have been a pallbearer at two other Hollywood officers’ funerals and attended a lot of others. They were all just as emotional. Joe Rios, 5-27-93, a Viet Nam Veteran who always said, “Hal, got a quarter for a cup of coffee for a Vet?”  Joe owed me over 10 dollars. James Pagliotti, 6-22-87 who I played flag football with on Hollywood’s team. Rob Cottle, 3-24-10, who I supervised at Southeast Division and later at Hollywood. Rob died in Afghanistan serving as a Marine reserve. He was a SWAT officer on LAPD. He always went out of his way to say “Hi Sarge!”

I don’t go to cop funerals anymore, I just can’t handle the emotions, some nights I don’t sleep very good with all the memories of lost cops!  I don’t know how their families live with it.

You might think I had dozens of those black elastic bands that go over your badge. No, the sad part is I just saved one and kept it in my locker and wore it every time we had a cop funeral. I still have it.

Still want my job? These scars don’t show on the outside.

Hal