Posted on March 21, 2014 by Behind The Badge/Anaheim PD Blog
After being shot in the face, Anaheim police K-9 officer Bruno returned to his handler, whimpered once and wanted to return to the action.
Even as his handler raced him to the hospital, Bruno’s ears were up and he didn’t want to lie down, police officials said.
“He saved at least one life yesterday,” said Police Capt. Ben Hittesdorf Friday morning during a briefing of the Chief’s Advisory Board.
Police identified the man who shot the dog as Robert Andrew Moreno, 21, an Orange gang member who was released from prison 10 days ago.
His rap sheet includes auto theft, narcotics violations and assault on a custodial officer, officials said.
He was killed Thursday when officers returned fire.
The action began to unfold about 2 p.m. near the intersection of La Palma Avenue and Citron Street when two probation officers approached three men.
Two fled.
At least one of them fired at the probation officer who chased him – and then the other who had detained the suspect who didn’t flee, police said.
Deputy Chief Julian Harvey said the probation officers were shaken up but otherwise okay.
As one of the suspects fled, he confronted a woman who was unloading groceries with her children, ages eight and 10.
The suspect brandished the gun at the children and threatened to kill them if they called police, Hittesdorf said.
About 3:15 p.m., Bruno joined SWAT officers in searching for the suspect. His handler had him on a roughly 20-foot leash when he gave the signal that the suspect was either inside or behind a black trashcan with a lid.
The suspect opened fire.
Anaheim PD K-9 with handler Officer Young
Following the unrest of 2012, the police department instituted a policy where it would visit family members following an officer-involved shooting to answer any questions they can and provide them with information about the process that follows, including the District Attorney’s Office investigation.
Early Friday morning, police a counselor, a District Attorney’s Office investigator and a Coroner’s official met with Moreno’s mother and aunt for about an hour.
Police say they plan to have counselors in the neighborhood where the shooting occurred – and also at two schools that were on lockdown Thursday.
At Yorba Linda Regional Animal Hospital, where Bruno was in surgery for three hours, surgeons removed a good part of his lung and worked to reconstruct his shattered jaw, said Capt. Bob Conklin. The round missed his aorta by less than an inch, he said.
A six-year veteran, Bruno is Anaheim’s most senior K-9 officer.
“His vital signs were stable,” Conklin said. “The next 18 hours are crucial. The hospital did an amazing job.”
Police K-9 handlers from Riverside, Los Angeles and elsewhere joined police officials and even community members who visited the hospital to show support for Bruno.
His handler was joined by his wife and young child at the hospital. Police officials said Bruno is a beloved member of the family.
Capt. Mark Cyprien said another K9 officer put on scrubs, was by Bruno’s side during the surgery and gave regular reports to his colleague and his family.
“He’s a tough dog who did his job well yesterday,” Cyprien said. “He’s a hero.”
Deputy Sheriff Ricky Del Fiorentino was shot and killed while searching for a subject who had abducted two people in Oregon earlier in the day and then shot at a store owner near Leggett, California.
Officers from multiple agencies were searching the area when Deputy Del Fiorentino came across the subject’s car on a dirt road in the town of Cleone, near MacKerricher State Park. The subject opened fire on Deputy Del Fiorentino from ambush, firing multiple rounds and fatally wounding him before he had a chance to exit his vehicle.
A Fort Bragg police officer who was nearby and heard the gunfire responded to the scene to discover the subject going through Deputy Del Fiorentino’s patrol car. The officer exchanged shots with the subject and struck him in the leg, causing a fatal wound.
Deputy Del Fiorentino had served with the Mendocino County Sheriff’s Office and Fort Bragg Police Department for a total 26 years.
Police Officer Nicholas Lee was killed when his patrol car collided with a commercial vehicle at the intersection of Loma Vista Drive and Robert Lane, in the Beverly Hills area of Los Angeles.
He and an officer he was training were responding to a call when the patrol car collided with the truck carrying a roll-off dumpster at approximately 8:00 am. The other officer and truck driver both suffered critical injuries.
Officer Lee had served with the Los Angeles Police Department for 16 years. He is survived by his wife and two daughters.
Mike Roche: The Restoration of First Responders Suffering from PTSD
Mike Roche
Thomas Bean was a police officer enjoying his day off on December 14, 2012, when a call went out that would change his life and that of the nation forever. A shooting occurred at Sandy Hook Elementary School. Officer Bean responded to the call for assistance and was one of the first to arrive at the horrific scene. The images of the lifeless bodies of twenty small children haunted Bean as they would for any healthy individual.
Bean went home that evening and found comfort in the bottom of a bottle of alcohol. His battle with the demons continued, as his one night of drinking continued to many more nights. While standing in a store shortly after the attack, Bean became hyper-vigilant and paranoid that every person in the store was potentially targeting him. He realized he was in trouble. In an emotional fog, he considered cutting himself, so that he could feel pain. Bean told CNN, “I had no feeling, no sensation, no nothing.”
Officer Bean was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and unable to return to his job, as he is haunted with the reminders of that horrific day. Further exacerbating his condition is that the City of Newtown sent him a letter of termination. That has since been rescinded. The State of Connecticut does not cover mental health under workers compensation. If he were shot, he would be covered for physical injuries. Connecticut will apply for a federal grant and if approved, $6.1 million would be allocated for mental health counseling and wellness programs.
PTSD is a condition that can be managed and overcome with appropriate counseling, treatment and medication. PTSD is commonly characterized by flashbacks to the trauma-induced events, avoidance, detached personality, sleep disturbances and irritability. The stress often spills over on their home life and performance at work.
Those who are suffering from the illness are more likely to harm themselves than others. Police suicides outnumber the line of duty deaths by a two to one margin. Many more suicides are ruled an accident blamed on a firearm mishap while cleaning the gun or the single car fatality accident.
Those who suffer from PTSD can feel a sense of isolation and betrayal depending on the support provided by their respective departments. This wallowing in self-doubt, while considering the adverse impact on their future careers, could have negative consequences. Many times, officers who have been diagnosed with PTSD will have difficulty returning to the street because of liability concerns if they involved in a shooting situation. As a result, officers are often reassigned to assignments that reduce their exposure to perilous situations.
Approximately 13% of police officers will suffer from PTSD. This can be caused by a single traumatic event such as Newtown, Aurora, September 11, a line of duty death, shooting or from cumulative stress suffered during the course of a career. Police officers after leaving the scene of a traumatic incident often drive away alone in their car and are left to contemplate and relive the critical incident. The death of children is the most haunting images that officers try to suppress. They will often project a facade of normalcy, but inside they are ravaged by demons destroying their soul.
Franciscan Center River View
I serve as a peer support counselor at a program focused on healing and restoring police officers who suffer from the effects post traumatic stress. Comments from some of the attendees were, “You saved my life!” and “This experience altered my life!” The goal of The Franciscan Center Post Trauma Education Retreat in Tampa, Florida is to return stability and balance to the lives of first responders suffering post trauma stress and to deepen their relationships at home.
The five-day resident program located on a six-acre serene campus is perched along the Hillsborough River. The program is peer based and clinically guided by the warm embrace of trust from those that have walked in the shoes of the responders and share many of the same experiences. Confidentiality is essential to develop trust and a shared bond to mend the exhaustive darkness that consumes so many who have experienced trauma.
The program is intense and requires the commitment of long days. Education is at the core of the program to provide a foundation of skills to cope with and manage stress in the future. The educational component includes a number of classes. PTSD Resiliency explores the effects of the stress illness and that the illness is curable. Greif and bereavement is taught by two wonderful retired VA Hospice nurses. These angels have listened to many veterans’ deathbed confessions and a release of their inner turmoil that has gripped them and impacted their lives. Forgiveness explores the shackles that bind us with hate, betrayal and revenge.
Wellness addresses the basic needs of our body. Proper diet and exercise can help to alleviate the harmful effects of stress on the body. In the throes of anxiety from trauma, officers often fail to address the most basic needs for the body. They pass the salad bar for a more expedient fast food meal and postpone a beneficial workout in favor of sitting at a bar or watching TV.
Eye Movement Desensitization Reprocessing (EMDR) has had amazing results on the participants. The procedure is difficult to describe, but the practitioner explores a traumatic event with the participant through the recall of visual images. The process commands the right and left-brain to sync up and is often described as the process used by computers to defrag the hard drive. The EMDR process results in a restoration of recall of the trauma to a more acceptable mindset. Participants who have been besieged by sleep disturbances report their first restful night of complete sleep in years. Imagine the gift of a full night of sleep.
Group discussions and socialization provide a normalization of the experience. Often feeling alone, these brave men and women learn that others share similar experiences and mutual feelings. The group process provides a therapeutic sharing of inner turmoil in a confidential and serene environment and allows for the exploration of possible remedies to help cope and confront the stress.
The transformation I have witnessed by the participants has been astounding. On the first day, as the responders checked into their own private rooms, I observed their guarded approach and hesitation. Slowly the veneers of apprehension begin to dissipate as the week progresses. After graduation, I notice an apprehension of the guests to leave their comrades. The veil of reluctance has been replaced with a positive hope for the future. They have become close knit and the bond is unmistakable. I witnessed a renewed passion and embracing of life. The energy is invigorating for not only for the participants but for the peer support and staff, as we have witnessed a restoration of the human soul and watch these warriors return to serve the community.
The Franciscan Center Post Trauma Education Retreat is open to first responders from anywhere. Many departments with tight budgets will not cover the costs. They will replace the tires on a patrol car while ignoring the human capital. The center is dependent upon the financial support of generous donors to help fund and defray the cost of the training.
* * *
Mike Roche
Mike Roche has spent over three decades in law enforcement. He started his career with the Little Rock Police Department, retired from the U.S. Secret Service as a special agent after twenty-two years, and is an adjunct instructor at Saint Leo University. Mike is the author of three novels and two nonfiction works, Face 2 Face: Observation, Interviewing and Rapport Building Skills: an ex-Secret Service Agents Guide and his most recent on Mass Killers: How You Can Identify Workplace, School and Public Killers Before they Strike.
*We’re extremely pleased that Special Agent Roche is once again joining us as a presenter at the 2014 Writers’ Police Academy. He’ll be teaching two workshops—Romance Behind the Badge and Real Cops for Real Writers: The Psychology of Cops.
That in itself is isn’t newsworthy. But the theme that ran through the service was almost tangible. I could feel it with every hug, hand shake and pat on the back.
“Honor the brotherhood.”
In the way of backstory, let me say that the man who died was in his mid-sixties and passed with the kind of grace and courage that reverberated throughout the crowd. He had been a fire-fighter for eight years and worked with my husband who is a retired firefighter. Those eight years made all the difference.
Fully, a third of the crowd was from the Petaluma Fire Department. It made my heart proud to see the familiar faces of my husband and my past there to honor their brother and comfort the widow.
You see, firefighters know about honor. They know about entrusting their lives to another with confidence. They know about the secret language between them that defies words. They know about pride—not the cardinal sin kind, but what makes your chest swell when someone asks what you do. The kind of pride you feel when your job is well done.
It’s the same for cops, and dare I say—dispatchers and all other non-sworn.
Richard E. Perkins
When we lose one of our own, it’s like a little piece of ourselves is lost. Some people have lost more than one–my colleague from LAPD, Hal Collier has lost many friends in the line of duty. Myself, I have only lost one–Officer Richard Perkins, EOW (end of watch) August 15, 2001.
I’ll never forget the night I was notified. An officer rang my doorbell in the middle of the night. When he told me, I felt like he punched me in the stomach. That feeling has only slightly diminished with time. Richard was a good friend, one whose loss I will always feel. But there is something bigger at work here.
Police officers and firefighters are who you call for help. They If they aren’t there, what do you do?
If my thoughts make you think emergency workers believe they have a franchise on grief, then I’m not getting my point across. We see others’ grief almost every day: death notifications, traffic accidents, and the like. When it happens to us, it defies our sense of identity. There isn’t a cop I know who wouldn’t admit we think of ourselves as the good guys: the people who are just short of super-heroes who save Joe Citizen. When one of us goes down, it’s a loss we all feel. It’s more than facing our mortality; it’s a loss for society.
Whether it is an accident, ambush or otherwise, any agency who has lost an officer in the line of duty will leave an indelible mark on all its employees. This is why I change my Facebook profile photo to a black and blue banner.
Three ounces, that’s what my badge weighs. I shared in common with those around me, a three-ounce piece of polished metal, whether it is a star or shield. Some wore uniforms in shades of blue, others tan and a few, khaki. Soon, they had filled all the seats. Yet, more filed inside, civilians and officers alike, lining up against the walls. More of them stood outside, uncomplaining. I saw few familiar faces among those assembled. Many showed the strains of unimaginable grief.
I finally looked to the stage in front. A small group of Marines, resplendent in their dress uniforms and stood at attention on both sides of a casket covered with an American flag. A single spotlight shined on it, bathing it in a bright white light. Photos taken during more serene and happier times lined a table to one side. On the other side, in front of many ornate floral displays, hung the dress uniform of a United States Marine Corps Major. There among the many decorations pinned to the tunic, I recognized a Silver Star and the Purple Heart.
The officer was experienced, with more than seventeen years of service. He had gone into one of the half-dozen McDonalds in the small city where he worked, for lunch. Nothing heroic, nothing dangerous, he just wanted lunch. He never knew that the man sitting in the corner, next to the soft drink dispenser, had just shot and killed his wife.
Looking around the auditorium, I glanced at some of the people in uniform. Was I the only one there wondering if a similar fate awaited me?
When the police chaplain began the service with a prayer, we bowed our heads. Friends, family, coworkers and a few city dignitaries then came forward to tell of the impact this officer had on them or the community. Some of those speaking could not finish before their anguish overwhelmed them. A Marine Brigadier General, his eyes red with tears, spoke of the officer’s heroism while serving with the Reserves in Iraq. The Chief of Police, his voice breaking, next spoke of not only the community’s loss of a dedicated police officer but also of a family’s loss of a son, a husband and a father. When he introduced the widow, many of us were surprised to see she wore the same blue police uniform as her husband had. She stood there, tears running down her cheeks, unable to utter a single word. She finally broke down, sobbing and needed the Chief and General’s help to move from the podium. Then, as if her tears were silent permission, most of us also lost the tight grip we had on our own feelings.
An eerie silence fell when the color guard moved out, marching together up the center aisle in step to a trained silent cadence. The American flag went first, followed by the California State flag and that of the US Marine Corps. Following them was the honor guard, consisting of four police officers and three Marines, each of whom carried a ceremonial rifle. We stood as the pallbearers walked past, carrying their sacred burden and my eyes started to water. I struggled not to surrender to the grief I felt for this man I’d never met. This was not the time, not yet.
None of us spoke much as we filed outside to our cars. I took my place in a motorcade dominated by black and white police vehicles that officers drove there from police departments all over the state. Behind the dozens of police motorcycles leading the way were six camouflaged Marine Corps Humvees. Driving out of the parking lot, we passed beneath a huge American flag, hanging from the top of the raised ladders of two fire trucks. Black bunting hung from each of them. The hundreds of flashing red and blue lights drew attention to the orderly procession that stretched out for more than a mile. How strange this all must have appeared those we passed, to those who did not know. If only they had an inkling of the emotional turmoil within us. I imagined the disruption caused by our little convoy annoyed more than a few, as we worked our way to the cemetery, some miles distant. I’m also certain, not one of us cared.
citizens honor fallen officer photo by sfgate
I marveled at the skilled performance of the motorcycle officers, leapfrogging from intersection to intersection so we could pass unhindered. We drove under a bridge from which hung dozens of handmade signs honoring the fallen officer. I felt my eyes tear up yet again as car after car drove past two disheveled homeless men standing motionless, at attention, presenting a salute as smart as that of any active Marine. The officer had been a regular visitor to their shelter.
Silently, we walked to the gravesite, the creak of our polished leather gear the only sound anyone could hear. For some odd reason, I couldn’t help noticing how the gray of the granite headstones starkly contrasted with the vivid green of the freshly mown grass. Soon, we could hear the distinctive sound of helicopters approaching and a flight of five passed overhead. As they did, one peeled away, leaving a vacant space to create the traditional missing man formation, honoring a fallen comrade. As those sounds faded, a sharp and precise command rang out a short distance away.
“Honor Guard, Attention!”
With practiced precision, the seven people, each with a ceremonial rifle, snapped to obey.
“Ready…Aim…Fire!”
Most of the civilians present flinched when seven shots rang out simultaneously, shattering the solemn quiet of the cemetery. Twice more the commander gave the order to fire; a twenty-one gun salute.
As the sound of the last fusillade resounded across the grounds of the cemetery, someone else called us all to “Attention” soon followed by the order “Present Arms”. Those of us in uniform rendered a hand salute and held it. Moments later, two buglers, one a police officer and the other a Marine, began to play “Taps”. Hauntingly, one echoed the other. Several more of us lost the struggle to hold back our tears. The command “Order Arms” rang out just before the pallbearers removed the American flag from the casket and folded it with military precision. One officer then handed it to the Chief of Police.
Though I couldn’t hear what he said, I could well imagine the Chief’s words of solace as he presented the tightly folded flag to the widow and her young son. Finally, the mournful sound of a lone bagpipe playing “Amazing Grace” tore at our already aching hearts; aching for someone, most of us there never knew. Everyone around me was crying unashamedly. I felt no shame at the tears running down my own face.
The ceremony had ended. We had lain to rest a brave soul and a fellow law enforcement officer.
I shared with those present and the one now gone, three ounces of polished metal.
With apologies to my Wednesday post readers-I’m a little late. Here is your Wednesday post in all its glory!
Sir Robert Peel
It started with COP. In 1829, Sir Robert Peel of Britain succeeded in reforming the criminal laws and established the London police force, whose members came to be called Peelers or Bobbies. In time, another title: “Constable on Patrol” was shortened to cop.
For the same reason radio codes are used, cops have come to use acronyms as shorthand. Whether a pursuit at 90 miles per hour or sneaking around a fence line searching for a prowler, an officer cannot always afford the time to use proper English. Codes help but don’t always do the trick. To avoid confusion, shorthand acronyms are used.
Some are universal, some unique to the agency that uses it. For instance, when I worked for Petaluma PD, we used the letter “W” to designate the station. No one knew its origin but it was used until I left in 1991. Anyone know if they still use it?
There are many terms for the same thing. In Southern California, law enforcement uses “BO” to indicate something (usually equipment) is broken. In Northern Cali, if I said BO on the radio, everyone would think I was calling something stinky. Here we use “down”. An example: My patrol unit is down.
Also while in Petaluma, I worked with a Wonder Dispatcher who had a low tolerance for fools—in or out of uniform. Before computers, magnets were used for unit identifiers. A BTW: For example—Gerry Goldshine was 1Tom36: 1 (1 is city designator for Petaluma, 10 for the Sheriff’s Office) Tom (the alpha that stands for a traffic unit) 36 was his patrol number. When I was a Community Service Officer (acronym: CSO, predictably) I was 1Charles 65-Charles was the CSO alpha.
Police dispatcher photo by gazette.net
Somehow, Wonder Dispatcher got a magnet made with NARS on it. It stood for “Not a Rocket Scientist”. Every day she worked, she would place the little sign over the officer’s activity card. Whoever made a fool of himself (or herself) that shift, got the dubious honor. This was awarded for general or specific stupidity and Wonder Dispatcher was the Queen who bestowed it.
Sometimes members of the general public were given their own acronyms. A particularly used set of initials were not condoned by the department, but used regularly as needed: PVP, NHI. Needs were based on judgments about the type of call or the behavior of the involved parties. “Low-lifes” occupy a lot of police time. Many are regulars—or frequent fliers—who don’t have the common sense to solve their problems, thus they become a problem for others. The letters stand for “puke versus puke, no humans involved”.
Most of the other acronyms I can readily think of aren’t nearly so interesting. Here are a few.
DEA-Drug Enforcement Agency, FBI and all the other agencies…
GOA-gone on arrival
OIS-officer involved shooting
WC-watch commander
ETA-estimated time of arrival
X-stands for female i.e. 10-15X is a female arrestee
J-juvenile
IFO-in front of; JSO-just south (change the letter for the different direction) of…
HBD-has been drinking or ETOH-borrowed from our paramedic co-workers, it pertains to someone who has been drinking
HUA-when I quizzed acronyms on Facebook, this one got volunteered a lot from friends who know the job. It’s a catch all that hopefully won’t see much radio time: head up ass
BOL or BOLO-Be on the Lookout; similar to APB-all points bulletin
WMA and variations: white male adult (race, gender, age given in same order), WFJ is a white female juvenile, BFA is a black female adult, Latins are generally known as Mexican or Hispanic (is currently correct), Asian are O probably to avoid confusion with Adult…and so on.
DOA-dead on arrival
PC and VC-penal code and vehicle code; the two Bibles for California law enforcement. Additionally there are other code books we must know: WIC-Welfare and Institutions Code (particularly in child welfare incidents) H&S-Health and Safety is used in drug incidents, including cultivation, use, sale, and possession of all types of narcotics and other drugs.
POS-refers to a vehicle, residence or sometimes even a person that is a “piece of shit”
Most of these won’t find their way to official police transcripts or on the radio. Some are just used to get a point across to another officer.
A while back, Hal Collier and Gerry Goldshine posted pieces on vehicle pursuits. This technology has been around for a while and there are questions about confidentiality but to avoid the hazards of vehicle pursuits–well, you decide if it’s something you want. Yes, it sounds like an ad for GM, but it also may be just what you need at a critical moment. Read on… –Thonie
GM OnStar button
From Smart Planet blog by Andrew Nusca
Oct 21, 2009
GM’s OnStar service, installed on many of the auto manufacturer’s vehicles, offers GPS navigation, handsfree calling and remote diagnostics. But this past Sunday, it stopped an armed carjacker in his tracks.
GM’s OnStar service, installed on many of the auto manufacturer’s vehicles, offers GPS navigation, handsfree calling and remote diagnostics. But this past Sunday, it stopped an armed carjacker in his tracks.
A shotgun-wielding criminal carjacked a 2009 Chevrolet Tahoe early Sunday morning from its owner in Visalia, California. Normally, the story ends there, but the owner flagged down a police officer to report the incident, noting that the Tahoe had the OnStar Stolen Vehicle Slowdown service.
That service allows OnStar advisers to locate the vehicle. Once law enforcement neared the vehicle, OnStar initiated the slowdown service, slowing the Tahoe down to a stop. Obviously, the suspect hopped out and ran, but officers apprehended him before he could get away.
The whole process took 16 minutes.
GM launched the slowdown service in Oct. 2008, and until now had only activated it 38 times, for reasons as varied as dealer theft, rental vehicles and stationary vehicles as a preventative measure. This is the first time that SVS has been activated to help a subscriber in a carjacking situation, GM said.
“It helped us not only safely recover a vehicle for a local citizen, but also prevented a dangerous high-speed chase and allowed us to quickly apprehend a suspect,” Visalia Police Department Sergeant Steven Phillips said in a statement. “It’s a win for everyone.”
Here’s how it works: Once OnStar sends a signal to the vehicle’s engine, it begins reducing engine power and gradually slows the vehicle to idle speed. All other vehicle systems, including power steering and brakes, remain fully operational.
The OnStar service is optional and costs a subscription, of course. But it’s an interesting real-world application of a technology that may play a big part in how we interact with our vehicles in the future.
Here’s the Tahoe’s owner, Jose Ruiz, explaining what happened:
Andrew Nusca is editor of SmartPlanet and an associate editor for ZDNet. Previously, he worked at Money, Men’s Vogue and Popular Mechanics magazines. He holds degrees from the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism and New York University. He is based in New York but resides in Philadelphia. Follow him on Twitter.
Attorneys work with police officers through depositions, prosecutions, defense cases, and through many other interactions — maybe even getting stopped for a traffic ticket. We all know “it’s not like on TV,” but it might be worth exploring some of the most common myths about police officers as they pertain to the work of an attorney.
Myth #1: Cops don’t like attorneys.
In the old Hollywood cliché, the hard-bitten officer resents the defense attorney and the persnickety prosecutor, who always wants more evidence. In the real world, every officer I know appreciates the distinct role of attorneys on both sides of our adversarial system. We also know that some of the most aggressive judges are former defense attorneys, because they have heard it all.
Myth #2: We focus only on getting the bad guy.
One of my favorite recent conversations was with one of our detectives a few weeks ago who had spent most of his day gathering and confirming evidence that excluded a suspect from a criminal case. As he said to me, “It’s our job to make sure guilty people get charged, but it’s just as important for us to make sure innocent people do not.” The comment was even more powerful when you realize that the person on whom he had been working to get exculpatory evidence was not a very good person — but he was not involved in this particular case.
Myth #3: Officers mostly have military backgrounds.
This myth used to be mostly true, but in recent years the demographic of officers has changed considerably. While many officers do have some military background, many more went straight to college and then to law enforcement, like myself. Our department has several officers with four-year degrees and one officer with a JD.
Myth #4: We spend all of our time fighting crime.
The amount of time officers spend investigating and forwarding charges on crimes is diminishing as a percentage of our total time. An increasing amount of time, particularly for patrol officers, is now spent on service calls and dealing with persons with mental illness. The calls where individuals with untreated mental illness use violence get a lot of media attention, but there are also everyday calls that require diplomacy, training, and a great deal of time. As more agencies and social services are defunded or choose not to provide services to the mentally ill, it has been falling to the criminal justice system to become a de facto front-line social service agency. This is a profound and unintended consequence of many years of policy decisions.
Myth #5: Cops are all cynical.
There is some truth to this myth, but the fact is, despite all of the reasons for officers to become very cynical, most are not. Officers are some of the most optimistic and idealistic people I have known. Every so often, YouTube will catch an officer buying food for a homeless person, or stopping traffic to allow a line of ducklings to cross the road, and it gets a lot of attention. However, officers do things like that all the time without anyone noticing — and the officers don’t want anyone to notice.
It really is our honor to do this job, and we appreciate the important part attorneys play in our system.
About the Author
Bremerton Police Chief Steve Strachan
Bremerton Police Chief Steve Strachan. Steve was appointed by Mayor Lent in February 2013. Prior to becoming Bremerton’s Chief, he served the King County Sheriff’s Office from 2011–12 as the Chief Deputy and as the Sheriff. From 2006–10, Strachan was Chief of Police in Kent, Wash., and from 2004–06, he was Chief of Police in Lakeville, Minn. He also served as a member of the Minnesota House of Representatives.
Apparently there is a belief in this fine country of ours that if you move to Any Town USA, you have achieved the idyllic state of living in an area where there is no crime ever, and you don’t have to lock your doors and windows, and you can leave all of your valuables in plain sight in your car and nothing bad will ever happen. Ever.
Please wake up and lock your damn doors already!
In our sleepy college town for the past four years during the months of August and September — when students are moving back into town for the new school year — we responded to an average of 85 parties per month. Problems associated with these parties include noise, vandalism, and out of control drunk kids.
Some of those kids are smart and try to walk home from the party instead of driving drunk. Kudos to them for avoiding that tragic fatal accident. Unfortunately, sometimes they wander into the wrong house on their way home.
Rohnert Park tract house
To a drunk college kid, these houses look alike.
Imagine your surprise when you come downstairs for a glass of water and find a drunk kid snoring away in your living room. No, I’m not kidding. It happens so frequently that when we get these calls from the reasonably panicked resident, we are able to say with some confidence that the strange person in their home is not there to steal their stuff, but was simply looking for his or her own bed. Our officers then arrive whereupon one of three things will happen: 1.) the student will be released to a friend and taken home to sleep it off; 2.) the student will be arrested for being drunk in public and not able to take care of themselves and 3.) transported to either the jail, or the hospital and then the jail.
How can you the homeowner avoid this situation? LOCK YOUR DAMN DOOR.
Here’s another call we love to take: I went out to my car this morning to go to work and all of my stuff/CD’s/radio/GPS/toys/presents/important papers are gone. I’m so sorry to hear that, was your car locked? No.
Let’s see, how can you avoid being a victim of this crime of opportunity? LOCK YOUR DAMN DOOR. (It might also help if you BRING YOUR VALUABLES INSIDE THE HOUSE.)
Of course, there’s also the caller who screams, “my car has just been stolen!” Okay, did you see it happen? Yes, I left the keys in the ignition and went back into my house for my purse/coffee/cat, but I was just gone for a minute!
How could you have prevented this one? That’s right, LOCK THE DAMN DOOR!
I know, I’m not sounding very empathetic or sympathetic. I promise I’m not like this when I’m actually answering your call. This is just my way of saying, I’d rather NOT be taking your call at all. If you would just take some small precautions — LIKE LOCKING YOUR DAMN DOORS — you too could prevent crime…
Because most criminals are not rocket scientists; they’re just opportunistic.
As Mike Dettling progressed in his reserve officer training, we had the opportunity to ride together quite frequently. One Friday night, dispatch sent us to the Lucky Market Shopping Center to check for a possible DWI that was supposedly cruising around the parking lot. The person who reported it described the suspect’s vehicle as a dark colored, Ford 4X4 pickup truck with roof mounted off-road lights.
On the way, we talked about how there happened to be a small bar located right next to the supermarket. I figured that our suspect was either coming from or going to it. Coincidentally, on the other side of the bar were the offices of a local advertising newspaper. My wife had a job there as a typesetter and I mentioned to Mike that she was working that night.
Being a Friday night, , the parking lot was chock-a-block full when we arrived with all sorts of vehicles belonging to folks rushing to buy groceries for their Friday night parties. We thought the likelihood of finding this one particular vehicle among all that traffic to be on the slim to none side. I no sooner finished saying this to Mike, when I looked in my rearview mirror and noticed that the vehicle behind us was all but riding our bumper. I did a double take when I realized, it was the truck we’d been searching for.
“Mike, I think he’s behind us.”
He whipped his head around and exclaimed, “No shit?”
Okay, so fortune dropped him almost into our laps, but now we had to figure out how to get behind the pickup to make a traffic stop. It took a few minutes to find a spot to pull over and let him pass by us. As soon as we were in back of him, I flipped on the emergency lights. We got a little tense when the truck kept on going. We followed as he maneuvered around to the back of the market, apparently oblivious to our presence. He continued to creep along at no more than 10 MPH and nearly collided with a perfectly innocent dumpster. Finally, I flipped the siren on just briefly to get his attention and at last, he slowed to a stop. The spot he chose happened to be in front of the window where my wife’s workstation was located. As Mike let dispatch know our location, it occurred to me that this might be a nice show for her and her co-workers.
A felony car stop
As that old saying goes, “Be careful what you wish for.”
Mike moved up along the passenger side of the truck while I did likewise on the driver’s side. I could smell the alcohol from his breath through his open window before I even reached the back of the cab. I had stopped just to the rear of the door and had just finished asking the driver for his license, when Mike called out the last thing any officer wants to hear.
“GUN!”
To this day, I don’t recall pulling my sidearm out of the holster. I only remember pointing it at the back of the driver’s head and quietly telling him that if he so much as sneezed, it would his last one. Mike was also pointing his weapon at the driver. He told me that it was right under the driver’s seat. I quickly requested a clear radio channel and a back up unit, letting dispatch know that the driver had a gun. While we waited for the other unit, I suddenly hoped that my wife wasn’t watching.
Up until then, it had been a slow, boring Friday night. So naturally, every officer even remotely close by responded to back us up. After two cars rolled up with lights and siren blaring, I let dispatch know that we had sufficient help. Once everyone took up safe positions behind cover, I ordered the driver to get out, keeping his hands raised, of course. I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised when right as he got out he did a face plant onto the asphalt. The prospect of his getting to back up unaided seemed problematic. While the other officers covered us, Mike and I helped him to his feet and the handcuffed him. Once I patted him down for any weapons, one of the other officers took him to the front end of my car.
Now that the driver’s door was open, I could see the wooden grips of a revolver sticking out, ever so slightly, from under the front of the driver’s seat. There was no way I could have seen it from my side of the truck, even if I had been 6’6” tall, instead of 5’8” and had been standing right in front of the door. How Mike managed to see it from the other side was a wonder.
Do ya feel lucky, punk? Pinterest
When I pulled it out, I’m not sure whose eyes were wider; Mike’s or mine. The gun was a loaded, chrome .44 Magnum revolver. You know, the one about which Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry Callahan said, “This is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world and will blow you head clean off so you’ve gotta ask yourself a question: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, do ya, punk?”
Yeah, that .44 Magnum revolver.
I unloaded the gun and gave it Mike to take as evidence. Then, I went back to talk with the driver. His physical symptoms of intoxication were plainly obvious even to the most casual observer. His clothes were disheveled, his breath reeked of alcohol and his eyes had more red lines than a Rand McNally road atlas. He was unsteady on his feet to the point that he had to lean against my car for balance. His speech was so slurred, it was questionable whether he was speaking English.
Not surprisingly, he was less than enthusiastic about our having stopped him and launched into a loud, vicious tirade about the police constantly harassing him. Aside from being “loaded”, the fact that he had two recent convictions for DWI on his driving record explained a good deal of his sour disposition toward us. Before I had a chance to get any further into my DWI investigation, he made it clear that he wasn’t taking any “drunk” tests. He groused about passing them the last time and still went to jail. That was fine with me because I had seen enough to articulate the needed probable cause to arrest him for driving under the influence of alcohol. Of course, there were also the additional concealed and loaded weapon charges as an added bonus for him. On went the handcuffs and we offered him a comfortable seat in the back of our patrol car.
Before I closed the door, I asked him why he had a loaded gun under his seat. His surly reply was, “for protection, of course”. Naturally, I was then just a wee bit curious what he needed he needed protection from.
He looked up at me, through his glazed, watery eyes and said rather emphatically, “From shit like this.”
I don’t know about Mike, but that gave me a slight case of the “willies” that I could well have gone without that or any other night.
On the way home, at around 3:00 AM, I started wondering how much my wife saw of what went on outside her window and if she was going to be upset or worried. When I got there, she was awake and asked me how the night went. I thought she was being funny.
“Well, what did you think?” I asked.
“Think about what?”
“The stop.”
“What stop?”
“The drunk driver Mike and I stopped right in front of the window where your workstation is.”
“Oh, I was at a different station tonight. Didn’t see a thing.”
Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, she added, “But everyone else who saw it, told me all about the big gun that you found under the seat.”
With that, she turned out her nightstand light and went to sleep while I stood there feeling “had”.
As for Mike, despite that boundless energy of his, he had reacted in the calm manner of a seasoned officer. He didn’t second-guess what he saw, didn’t hesitate to take action and took the appropriate response. Mike didn’t stay a reserve officer with us for very long; the Department hired him as a regular, full-time officer.
