Categories
Street Stories The Call Box

The Call Box: A Caper Story

By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD

What follows, is a true story as I lived it and remember it.

Nobody ever called me at 3 AM with good news. No one told me I won the lotto, or to take the next few days off and get some rest. No sultry voice ever asked me if I would like to— OK forget that one.

The voice that morning belonged to the Wilshire Division watch commander (WC)where I was assigned as a Detective Sergeant Robbery Squad. A stickup had gone bad, the victim was injured, four were in custody and one was dead as a result of a gunfight with an officer. The WC concluded with, “Oh, and we can’t reach your partner, so you are solo on this one. DHQ is here and got things started.”

NOTE: DHQ or DHD (Detective Headquarters Division) are the people who roll out usually in the middle of the night and hold the fort until the responsible investigators arrive.

I was briefed as follows and later filled in the blanks.

A 30-something ex-con (XC) had “reliable” information regarding an elderly man with a big safe full of money. The information was from a hooker who made house calls and saw the safe and “it just had to be full of money.”

XC recruited some of the local intelligentsia ( ages 16 to 20) with a get rich promise. One was to steal a truck to transport the safe and another to steal a getaway car. The victim was to be out of town so stealing the safe should be a piece of cake. Right? 

Now we have all seen the “caper” movie where a well-organized, intelligent and skilled set of thieves pulls off some improbable job. That however does not describe this bunch.

They had agreed to meet at 1 AM. However, nobody was on time as nobody, repeat, nobody had a watch. One of the group was a no show. The truck turned out to be a large unwieldy flatbed which meant the safe would not only be visible but as conspicuous as a frog in a punch bowl.

The hooker had not provided the address and gave only a description of the house which the XC had not bothered to scout. It is now very early AM, the stolen vehicles are driving the streets looking for the right location while dogs bark, house lights go on and people call the police. All of this while our robber band still looks for the right house.

Finally, locating it, the truck backed into the driveway while the getaway driver found a place to wait—which was not only several blocks away but unknown to any of his cohorts. 

Breaking into the house awakened the owner. Yeah, he was home—and he attempted to resist. One of the group, without sharing the information, had brought a revolver. He used it to pistol whip the victim demanding the combination to the safe which turned out to be an old bank veteran weighing in excess of 600 pounds. It was unlocked and contained 30 or so long-play record albums, which are placed on the truck. One more pistol whipping for good measure and they were off. 

As the police arrived everyone scattered. Speeding around the first corner, the truck turns the albums into frisbees flying off into the dark. The getaway driver left alone while the pistol whipper makes the fatal mistake of firing at the police and pays the ultimate price. 

DHQ had the body transported to the Wilshire station garage where I had the victim ID him. I spent the rest of the day with reports and tying up loose ends. Our juvenile unit agreed to handle the getaway driver who was very thoughtfully driving the stolen car when they got him.

I know this sounds like some wild ass made up tale, but every word is true as near as I can recall.

Categories
Roll Call

Roll Call: Short Dogs-Jack in the Box and 7-11

By Mikey, Retired LAPD

Occasionally, on busy nights, I’d “buy” easy radio calls to ease up on the call load so the patrol cars could handle more important calls. At about 0130 a“415 Man” (man disturbing the peace) call came out at the Jack in the Box, Sunset and Ivar. The comments on the Mobile Digital Computer (MDC) read that the man had one leg and was on crutches. The man was approaching cars in the drive thru and he would ask the occupants for money. If they refused, the man would strike the vehicle with his crutches.

Mobile Digital Terminal (MDC) – interior of police car

I arrived at the location and saw the man approaching a car in the drive thru. I shined my flashlight on him and yelled for him to turn around and stop.

He turned and said “I ain’t doing nothing.” 

“Well, go do nothing somewhere else,” I said.

“I’m staying right here!” 

“Get moving or get arrested for trespassing. Your choice.”

He stood there looking at me and I said again, “Get moving!”

The man slowly turned to leave and as he did he kept looking back at me. Just as he turned his head away again, shots rang out north of my location. They sounded very close and as I jumped back into my unit, I looked at the man as he was heading west at top speed. I have NEVER seen a man in his condition move that fast! I believe to this day he thought I was shooting at him. He never looked back as he headed north on Cahuenga Boulevard!

The shots had come from a night club a couple of blocks north from me, but that is another story.

THE 7-11 CAPER

There is a 7-11 convenience store on Cahuenga Boulevard just north of Yucca Street in Hollywood Division that had an armed security officer working there. He covered the graveyard shift and for the most part, maintained pretty good control over the transients, the inebriants, the homeless who lived or frequented that area of Hollywood. If I was on patrol and wanted a cup of coffee, I’d stop by and drink a cup with the man.

The weekends in Hollywood always rocked! The smell of food from restaurants and fast food places filled the air. Then there was the thumping of the music, folks both locals and the tourists and their excitement made it a great place to work.

I was once asked if I would ever work Hollywood and I said no. When asked why, I answered, “If God gave LA an enema, he’d stick the tube in Hollywood. Just saying.” I did work Hollywood and I stayed there 10 great years. I fell in love with the division, but I digress.

It was a Saturday night and the division was spring-loaded for a wild night. You could feel it. At around 0100 a 211 (robbery) in progress call at the 7-11 was broadcast. A second call at the location stated that shots had been fired. The first unit on scene broadcasted a “Code 4 suspect GOA” (all is OK, suspect gone on arrival). I arrived on scene and saw that the officers were talking to the security officer, so I stood back and listened. As I looked around the inside of the business, I noticed bullet holes on several walls.

I just had to ask the security guy a question, so I interjected. I asked him if he had exchanged fire with the suspect and he said, “No.” 

I asked if the suspect had been armed, he answered, “He had a big knife.”

“Were those warning shots?”  

“Hell no, Sarge, I was trying to shoot the asshole, but he kept ducking and dodging!” 

Thank God none of the rounds had exited the store.    

Categories
Street Stories The Call Box

The Call Box: A Common Law Divorce

By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD      
 

For: Maura, Mary, Anne, Megan and Bill Fitzgerald

If I had to guess I would imagine the average age of the officer out there in the black and white right now would be mid 20’s. This is totally unscientific and based only on observation.

However, it was not always so. My first year in patrol was 1957. The PD was populated with returning WWII vets and both of my partners (teachers) were ex-military and probably in their 40’s as seemingly most of the department. Officers looked like what you would imagine a copper should look like. Something from a 40’s black and white crime movie. Large, tough and no nonsense. This was the era of the hat squad and in my opinion,  it was these older uniforms and detectives that made the LAPD what it is today and earned the reputation as the “Best of the Best.”

Chief William H. Parker spoke at my graduation and his words still ring true. Paraphrased, he said, “You now inherit the good name and are part of a very well-respected organization. You stand on the shoulders of giants.” Without actually saying so, we were told not to “f**k it up.”

My partners were Ward Fitzgerald and Hal Brasher. Both vets and looking back I consider myself a very lucky man to draw two of the best. They were very much alike and (if this makes sense) very different. Both were soft spoken, and I never heard either raise his voice or lose his temper. They never lectured or preached but let me learn by example. They naturally shared experiences and tips and I felt like a little leaguer hanging out with the N.Y. Yankees.

Hal had a great sense of humor and shared stories. Ward was always cheerful and in good spirits, quieter than Hal but when he spoke you listened because he had something to say. Both had a way with people. Hal, smiling and kind of easy going while Ward had a very calming manner about him which lowered most semi-hostile situations. 

Our patrol area was the northwest corner of the old University Division (3A15). A residential/business mix, old, poor and more than our share of crime. Despite this I felt most of the residents were hardworking, law abiding, God-fearing citizens. 

One fairly common call was, “see the man/woman, family dispute.” We were expected to act as marriage counselors. This is the story of one such call.

Working with Ward we responded and found the couple to be elderly, polite and respectful to the law. 

Usual practice was to separate them, speak quietly and hope to defuse the situation before it could turn violent. They listened politely and then said that they just didn’t think they could continue living together. 

Ward gave the usual pitch about seeking professional help or in the extreme, divorce, etc.

Their answer was a classic. They couldn’t divorce because they never married. They were “common law.”

{ASIDE} Common law briefly means living together and holding yourself out as a married couple resulted after a while in a “common law” relationship. It was a routine situation for the time and place, but too complicated to discuss here. 

By this time in my training process I had learned to let nothing I saw or heard surprise me. 

Wards statement did. He told them that police officers were permitted by law to perform “common law divorces.” 

I was sent to the car to retrieve the Vehicle Code. It was the dimensions of the Readers Digest but about 2-3 inches thick. 

In bold print on the cover were the words VEHICLE CODE of the STATE OF CALIFORNIA. Holding his thumb over the word “Vehicle” he let them see the rest of the title.

If they wished to go through with this, he told them they would place their left hands on the book holding the right hand up. At this point Ward rattled off some very impressive mumbo-jumbo. Did they wish to proceed? Oh, by the way, one of you has to leave the house and never return. They conferred and decided they would try to work it out. 

Later in the car I commented on his expert flim-flammery. His answer: “We kept the peace and did no harm, right?”

That was pure Ward, my teacher and friend.

RIP Sir.

Categories
Writer's Notes

Lots to Report

By Thonie Hevron

March 1, 2019

Much going on here in the Hevron household. Now that taxes are done (ugh), I’m focusing on the upcoming Spring Market in Novato. Live sales have always been productive for me. This will be the second year in Novato. Last year I set a personal record for meeting people and selling books even though it rained all day. This year the weather looks to be the same, but I’ll have a new partner: Sandy Baker is a children’s author as well as a Master Gardener. She incorporates these two loves into kids gardening books. Jeane Slone will be back again later in the year. We will be at the Margaret Todd Senior Center, 1560 Hill Rd, Novato from 10AM-3PM on Saturday, March 2, 2019. Stop by if you’re in the neighborhood!         

This past weekend, February 21-24th, I was in Ventura, California for the annual board retreat for the Public Safety Writers Association (PSWA). I was voted in as a board member. It will be my pleasure to work alongside the many club leaders who have mentored (Marilyn Meredith) and supported me through the past years. I’m proud to stand by two prominent Law Enforcement technical writers, Tim Dees and Michelle Perin-Callahan, as we map out the future of our club. Also there, Mike Black who is a giant in the publishing world and makes the annual conference better every year, Mysti Berry our IT wrangler, John Schembra (a military/thriller/paranormal author) is our very capable membership chair.  The other new board member, Scott Decker, an award-winning non-fiction writer, has volunteered to man the social media console. The board came up with some great ideas and ways to implement them. I’ll be talking more about this as time permits in the upcoming months.

If you’re wondering what my job will be, wonder no more: in 2020, I’ll be the PSWA Contest Chair. With Michelle Perin-Callahan’s help, I’ll steer writers toward the coveted PSWA Writers Club award.                 

View from the Ventura Pier during an early morning walk.

~~~

In May, the Mister and I will be taking a well-deserved break. I’m not planning on posting, appearing or even writing for most of the month.

As always, thank you for your support.

Categories
Writer's Notes

TOP TEN STUPID COP MISTAKES (IN FICTION)

Re-posted from “Rogue Women Writers” from Wednesday, February 13, 2019 this post is originally intended for authors who write about cops. However, I decided to post it on Sunday’s Just the Facts, Ma’am because cop stories must be authentic for cop readers. For you coppers out there: this is the education most writers get telling your stories. I thought you might like to see it. Feel free to comment and/or visit Robin Burcell’s site. By the way, Robin is a former police officer.

by ROBIN BURCELL


You can never have too many handcuff keys.

How do you make the police procedure in your mysteries or thrillers seem authentic?

Below are some of the mistakes and overused tropes I’ve seen in books that usually pull me out of a story. The good news is that not everyone who reads mysteries are cops, so they might not notice some of what I consider my top pet peeves. More importantly, just because I’ve listed them doesn’t mean that you can’t use them. Just that if you do, know why it is they appear on my list. 
The top ten are…

10.   Long radio transmissions no cop would ever make. I’ve seen authors write a full paragraph of just one radio call. It’s just not going to happen. Some departments talk all in code, some in plain English, so feel free to throw in a bit of police lingo to mix it up. Just keep it simple and preferably short. And if you do have a long transmission, you have to add a “break” for any emergencies that might arise while you’re hogging the mike. 

9.  Not knowing the elements of the crime, or what constitutes a crime.  Imagine some cop is parked, writing reports.  He looks up, sees a man bumping into a young lady who falls to the ground as he runs away. Purse snatch? Robbery? Looks like a good pinch, so he shifts to drive, and races to the rescue.  He jumps out, sees the woman is okay, then chases after the suspect, tackles, and cuffs him.  See any problems with this?  He did not see the crime.  He assumed.  While it’s okay to assume (good cops make assumptions based on expertise), at least have your cop stop to ask the victim what happened before he gets in a foot chase.

8. The loner alcoholic cop with the rumpled raincoat, whose wife and kids were murdered by the serial killer (who was never caught) while said cop was out eating donuts.  This is a twofer. One, we’ve got to come up with better back stories. Two, back in the day, donut shops were the only thing open on graveyard shifts, and that was where the coffee could be found.  That cliché would never work in California, where there’s a Starbucks on every corner, and a bagel shop two doors down. Who eats donuts anymore? 

7. Having cops hired on a whim, or transferring from a different agency without doing a proper background investigation. Since when is it ever a good idea to hand someone a gun and the keys to the building without knowing who they are or where they came from?

6. Evil or stupid police supervisors.  Repeat after me:  Only some of the bosses are evil or stupid (and no, they didn’t all work for my department).  Even fewer fit both descriptions at once. The standing joke is that to get promoted to sergeant, you have to first have a lobotomy.  To make it to lieutenant or captain, you have to have your spine removed.  True in all cases?  No.  

5. The hated, despised Internal Affairs cop, who is usually evil or stupid.  See # 6 above.

4. Dirty cops planting phony evidence. I’m not saying you can’t use this trope, but if you surround the premise of your book around this plot point, do it better than anyone else.  One of the best examples of a well-done plant was from a (decades-old) movie, where a dirty cop was seen committing a crime on a surveillance video that was then booked into evidence by the investigator. The dirty cop set up a “window smash” of another business, using a very large and highly magnetic device to shatter the window.  The device was booked into evidence, and placed next to the surveillance tape, which it then demagnetized, rendering it useless. (Granted, this wouldn’t work in the digital age, but the set up for that time period was brilliant.)


Lee Lofland’s Police Procedure & Investigation

3. Stupid blunders by cops at crime scenes. Just knowing the basics can help, everything from keeping a crime scene log to what constitutes trace evidence and cross-contamination. To keep your cop or amateur sleuth from mucking up good evidence, consider picking up a copy of retired cop Lee Lofland’s most excellent Police Procedure and Investigation: A Guide for Writers.

2. Cops handling major felony investigations alone.  These guys are assigned partners for a reason. Safety is one of them, but so, too, is having a second set of eyes and ears for investigative purposes, as well as for testifying later in court.

And the number one pet peeve…?  1. Throwing officer safety out the window. If you’re going to put your cop in danger, at least give them a very good reason why they’re now ignoring every basic rule they were ever taught from day one in the academy. Just because they do it on TV or on the big screen, it does not make it okay for your book. It makes the story unbelievable. For instance, if a cop knows he is going to contact a bad guy in person, or going on any sort of call with the possibility for a confrontation of any type, he/she always waits for back up or takes a partner. And hot call or not, they never pull out their guns and check to see if they’re loaded—or rack a round into the chamber—just before they go chasing after the bad guy. (Yes, you can have your bad guys do this. But not the police.) A cop’s weapon is always loaded and the safety is OFF. And yet, the cops do this in 90% of the TV shows and movies. It sounds cool, and definitely looks cool, but it’s stupid. When the bad guys are firing at you, last thing you want to do is stop to load your weapon then turn off the safety. Wasted seconds equals wasted lives.
No doubt, those of you in other professions have noticed big mistakes in books (and I’ll bet I’ve made a few of my own). 

So, Rogue Readers and Just the Facts readers, do you have any professional pet peeves in fiction?

(From Robin: Due to a deadline, this post has been updated and recycled from this 2009 blog post from Mystery Fanfare for this month’s Rogue post. Hope you enjoy!)

Categories
Street Stories When Pigs Fly

When Pigs Fly: When You Gotta Go, You Gotta Go

LAPD Bell 206 Jetranger

By Ron Corbin, Retired LAPD, LVMetro PD

LAPD Airship

There was a new sergeant at Air Support who felt that one of the air crews was wasting time; that they should be doing more proactive patrol from the skies and providing quicker responses to patrol calls. In an effort to oversee what was actually being accomplished, one night this sergeant went on a ride-along with “Pilot Jones” and “Observer Smith.”

Flying for two-plus hours at a time, sometimes “Nature” calls. So when air crews need to use a restroom, there are fewer locations to take advantage of this physiological function then there are for street officers. There are no “porta potties” floating around among the clouds. Landing at an airport is an option, but takes longer for actual landing clearances and a dash for the pilot’s lounge. The best options were helipads on one of the newer police stations, but there were only a couple of these. Terminal Annex, LA’s main postal building, had a rooftop helipad with a stairwell door leading to a small restroom. It was not much larger than a commercial airplane lavatory. This was the most convenient place for air crews to use when flying in the downtown area.

With over an hour left scheduled in the patrol flight before returning to the main heliport, the sergeant notified the pilot over the intercom that he had eaten too many burritos from the local “roach coach” and needed to “hit the head” … with an emphasis on “quickly!” Realizing that the interior of a police helicopter was a cramped and confined space with very little air circulation, Jones turned and dove the ‘copter at warp speed towards Terminal Annex. Flaring the aircraft as if in a combat zone under fire, the skids had no sooner touched down when the rear door opened and the sergeant bailed out, running and unbuckling his “Sam Browne” equipment belt at the same time. By the time he reached the stairwell door, his pants looked like some of the fashion statements that certain ethnic, young guys wear today in public.

After a few minutes, a radio call came-out that officers were in foot pursuit of a suspect with a gun. This is a type of call that needs an air unit, and fast. So, without hesitation, Jones took-off while Smith communicated to Dispatch that the air unit was en route to the location. Just as the skids cleared the edge of the roof top, the sergeant came running out onto the helipad while simultaneously trying to buckle his pants. Without a radio, he was stranded in the cold, night air for nearly an hour before Jones and Smith returned to pick him up.

When they landed, the air crew could see the “daggers” emitting from the sergeant’s eyes. As soon as he boarded into the rear seat, got strapped-in, and connected his helmet to the intercom, Jones gave a sarcastic apology saying, “Sorry to leave you Sarge, but a priority call came out and we’ve been told that we need to be more proactive in our mission.”

Flying back to Air Support’s heliport, not a word was spoken between the sergeant and the crew. As soon as the landing was finished, he exited the aircraft and “stormed-off” to the operations trailer. Jones and Smith burst-out in uncontrollable laughter. The sergeant never again said anything about air crews not properly responding to calls.

“Negative flyby, Ghostrider, the ‘toilet’ pattern is full.”

~~~~

After military service, Ron joined LAPD in 1971 with the ambition of becoming one of their helicopter pilots. He achieved this goal in 1974, working his way up from Command Pilot status to an Instructor Pilot. In 1976, he was involved in a training crash that killed his student pilot and left Ron with 2nd and 3rd degree burns over 70% of his body.
He was given a disability pension in 1977. During many months and years of hospitalization, post incident surgeries and physical rehabilitation, he finished his education earning a BA, MS, and PhD. He rebuilt his life around new careers, including being a school teacher and principal. However, law enforcement and security was still his primary love. Unable to do police work, he pursued various jobs in private security and training in personal safety, including being a body guard, director of security, consultant and trainer for security forces at DOE nuclear facilities.
He moved to Las Vegas in 1993 and joined LVMPD. On behalf of the Department, he served as a CPTED (Crime Prevention Through Environmental Design) expert consultant to various public and private entities in Las Vegas. He retired in 2011 after several years as the Police Academy Training Manager.
Ron has won sixteen awards for his writing skills from the Public Safety Writers Association. He has been married to his HS sweetheart for over 52 years, and has three children and seven grandchildren.

Categories
Roll Call

Roll Call: Matt Dillon and the Hooded Gangsters

By Mikey, Retired LAPD

As the adjutant to the Hollywood Divisional Commanding Officer there was a lot things like additional duties, reports, work assignments that I could do myself or assign to personnel. One of the unpopular duties was to take celebrities out on patrol to show them what field patrol was like. One of the additional duties Hollywood Division got was taking actors out on patrol to “familiarize” them with some of the technical things patrol personnel do on a daily basis. I received a phone call from downtown that actors Matt Dillon and Ryan Phillippe were coming to the division for some of the technical training.  The men were going to co-star in the 2004 movie Crash.

Crash 2005

The captain felt that I should be the Hollywood supervisor to escort the actors during their “training” ride-along. I prepared for the assignment by asking downtown if this was a generic or specific purpose ride-along. I was told it was a generic, have a good time ride-along, cool. Matt and Ryan arrived on a Monday and the informal training started: the wearing of the uniform, hand-cuffing, searches (no, I did not teach Matt to search with the baton), the proper stance for a drawn weapon and so on. Ryan stayed the day but Matt wanted to come back the next day as well. He was very interested in learning what it was like being a police officer both on and off duty. He started observing things and got pretty good at it. I took him to jail division to watch the booking process and several of the “hand-cuffed to the bench” arrestees gave Matt some broad smiles when they recognized him. 

Our last night was very interesting. It was extremely busy, and I took him to any call that I thought he’d get something out of. We were stopped facing south on Las Palmas Avenue at Selma Avenue waiting for cross traffic when a west bound vehicle deliberately steered into us and turned away at the last minute. We had just been baited for a following or a “stop us if you dare.” I started a following and explained to Matt what was happening. There were four occupants in the ride ahead and they all had their hoods up over their heads. I explained to Matt that our chances of getting back-up in a timely manner would be difficult and the civilian traffic would make it difficult for any kind of proper stop. AND I told him that the remainder of the year and the beginning of the next would be the worst for me if HE was injured or seriously killed.

Matt Dillon
Ryan Phillippe

I checked the plate and found no wants or warrants, the address came back to a residence in the south side of the city. I looked over at Matt and his eyes were as big as saucers.

He looked at me and asked, “Do you smoke?” 

I said “no.”

He asked, “Do mind if I light up a cigar?” 

As we were pulling into the parking lot of Hollywood station, Matt said, “You said my charter is a training officer, and would have two stripes.” 

“Yup” was my reply. 

“You are a Sergeant; could you be a training officer too?”

“I’m training you. I’m gonna were three stripes if I can swing it, thanks for all of your help.”

Matt went on to get nominated for best supporting actor in his role. The day of the Academy Awards, I arrived at the station and walked into the watch commander’s office heading for the sergeant’s room when one of my female officers and a female communications tech stopped me.  

“Sarge, Matt Dillon called for you. I recognized his voice, and here is his number.”

I looked at his number then at the two women. They had that LOOK in their eyes.

“No, I’m not calling him now.” 

Later on that night I arrived to Hollywood and Highland to where the awards were being held and saw an off-duty copper I know who was working security for event, in a tux, ear piece and all.

“Dave, when Matt Dillon comes out, let him know I’m here.”

“What?” Dave asked.

I repeated myself and I told him that he was expecting me. Fifteen minutes later, Matt and his entourage came out of complex and Dave approached Matt. Matt spotted me and waived me onto the red carpet. I was introduced to his people and after a warm conversation; he went to his parties and went back onto patrol.

Categories
Writer's Notes

Killing Your Darlings: by Glenda Rosen

Dead in Bed Cover Updated Final Jan 2019The Gangsters Daughter

by

M. Glenda Rosen (aka Marcia Rosen)

Author: The Senior Sleuths Mysteries

BOOK TWO: DEAD IN SEAT 4-A, FEBRUARY 5, 2019

Published by Level Best Book the delightfully humorous antics and serious crime-solving of “The Senior Sleuths.” Book One: Dead in Bed launched, February 6, 2018, Book Two: Dead in Seat 4-A launched February 5, 2019. Book Three: Dead on the 17th of the Month, will be published in 2019.

 Our history and experiences can define us, inspire our actions and as writers impact our words and stories.  Mine most definitely has, my father was a small-time gangster.  Really.

I grew up in an unusual, and sometimes outrageous, environment.  It wouldn’t take a genius, a psychiatrist or a palm reader to figure out the geneses of my fascination with crime and criminals. In my series, “The Senior Sleuths,” Zero the Bookie is a version of my dad and several other characters are based on his associates.

I actually met Doc, The Gimp, Johnny the Jig, Fat Lawyer and others in Buffalo, New York, where we lived. What a wealth of material there was for me to claim! Believe me, I saw and heard a lot.

I visited my dad’s gambling hall, where a card room was hidden behind closed doors. In our kitchen at home, I saw my dad count “the take” from football and baseball bets. He was a fancy dresser and some of my friends described him as a Damon Runyon character. I wrote a story about him and my mother, in which I called her his “gun moll.”

There were advantages. If I was out on a dinner date and one of my dad’s cronies was there, he picked up the bill.  The waiter would tell us, “The man over there took care of it. Said you’re Vic Barr’s daughter!”  I was equally safe from the pawing hands of any young man. All I had to do was ask, “Do you know who my father is?”  All of them knew who my father was.  My dad taught me incredible life lessons about generosity, trust, taking risks and to never be a quitter.

I was always fascinated by how Film Noir characters acted and interacted. My all-time favorite is “The Thin Man,” where Nora Charles was certainly equal to Nick Charles, her charming husband.  Nick adored her. Now what woman doesn’t want that?

In my series, “The Senior Sleuths,” Dick and Dora Zimmerman, Zero and others take on similar roles. Still in their early sixties, they not only have the time—but the money, the smarts and the chutzpah—to get involved even when they are warned by police and criminals to stay away. It seems murders fall in their laps, sometimes on them. Even when facing danger in the course of solving a murder, they mix wit and humor and are accompanied by a colorful cast of cohorts. They strive for justice, not an easy thing to accomplish when the bad guys are determined to do evil.

None of us are innocent. We all keep secrets about who we are and things we know.  In my case, I have been able to put these past family peccadilloes and experiences to use. No doubt, thanks to my father, writing mysteries is in my DNA!

~~~

Marcia Rosen head shotBio:  Marcia Rosen (aka M, Glenda Rosen) is the author of “The Senior Sleuths Mystery Series,” and  “Dying to Be Beautiful Mysteries.”  Rosen is also author of “The Woman’s Business Therapist” and “My Memoir Workbook. ” She was founder and owner of a successful Marketing and Public Relations Agency for many years, often speaking on successful strategies,  and received numerous awards for her work with business and professional women.  She currently resides in Carmel, California. For more information, visit www.theseniorsleuths.com.

 

Categories
Street Stories The Call Box

The Call Box: L.A. County General Hospital


By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD

Opened in 1923, it was 20 stories of imposing granite and dominated the skyline in East L.A., 800 beds, the largest hospital west of Chicago. Its art deco interior gave the massive entry way a cathedral-like atmosphere. One of the largest public and teaching hospitals in the U.S. it also trained military doctors in trauma (gunshot wound) care. 

L.A. was able to supply plenty of those. One million ambulatory cases and 150,000 E.R. patients annually. Appearing in numerous TV shows and movies, it has, since 1975, been the “establishing shot of T.V.’s General Hospital. 

LA County General Hospital

A portion of the 13th floor was constructed as a jail ward, 50 beds for ill or injured prisoners. Run by the county it was officially “L.A. County General Hospital,” known in the medical community as, “The Great Stone Mother.” By the cops, it was, “County Generous.”

I was there that day with my partner Richard L Sullivan (Sully). We were detective sergeants assigned to Wilshire, Robbery Detail and there to interview/interrogate a bandit shot during a holdup. The questioning should’ve been brief—no more than 10-15 minutes. 

A word about Sully who has been my subject of stories several times in the past. Among his many attributes, besides being a very good detective, he was a world class practical joker. He would be my friend for 50-plus more years.

Most of the beds were filled but the nurses were nowhere in sight. As I finished my interview, I turned just in time to catch him as he pulled the sheet up over the face of the prisoner sleeping in the next bed. The prisoner’s head was back, mouth open, and snoring softly. 

Hospital ward

As we left, I retrieved my weapon, thanked the deputy who was reading a magazine and went straight to the elevator. Without any consultation I knew my role. Sully also picked up his gun and engaged the deputy in small talk until the elevator arrived. As I held the elevator door he said casually to the deputy, “Did you know you got a dead guy in there?”

The deputy scrambled as the door closed behind us. 

On the ride down, still the picture of innocence, he said, “The sad part is I never get to see the end of things like that.”

Another time, still Wilshire Detectives Robbery—

Sully had a middle-aged female victim of a robbery who, after having a gun stuck in her face was understandably reluctant and frightened about the pending line-up. Not in the least bit stymied, he convinces the somewhat cooperative and not terribly bright holdup man to identify the victim—a reverse line-up.

It played like this:             

The victim was on the far side of the room with several other women.

Robber was led in.

Sully: Do you see anyone in this room you recognize?”         

Robber: “Yes, that lady there.”

Sully: “How do you know her?”

Robber: “I robbed her.”

Sully: “Do you have anything to say to her?”

Robber: “Yeah lady, I’m sorry I robbed you and scared you with the gun.”

Imagine how powerful her testimony would sound in court when she related the above.

And that was just a very, very little bit of Sully.

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More Street Stories

War Stories

By Thonie Hevron

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

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

Some future prompts might be like this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–Thonie

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

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