Tag: detectives

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The Call Box

The Call Box: Every Day’s April Fool’s Day

By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD

polic-call-box-pedestal-lapd-gamewell-DCAL2786_dt1

Our lieutenant was a very nice, elderly gentleman awaiting retirement who has been with us for a very short time and has no idea of whom he supervises.

He was the “victim” when, while during pistol inspection, he stood with an empty gun pointed at Tom Ferry’s “netherlands,” Sully set off a fire cracker behind him, convincing him for a few seconds he had just shot one of his detectives. Enough background.

This lieutenant and his wife were childless and the love of his life (besides his wife) was the family car. A 1950’s something Oldsmobile 88, red and white, polished to perfection and the object of his affection. In short, he loved his car.

While at home one night, it was stolen. He was almost inconsolable. He nagged the auto theft team every day about the car and talked of nothing else.

On day 4 or 5, I sat at the squad table across from Sully while we both worked on reports. To this day, I will swear I “heard” the idea formulate in his mind. I looked up and he sat there with a faraway look in his eye and the hint of a smile. I gave him the “what’s up” eyebrow and he nodded toward the door. I followed to the records room, teletype section.

Teletype_with_papertape_punch_and_readerTo the very young of you, a teletype was the then police method of reaching a lot of other agencies en masse.

Consulting the code book for proper and convincing numbers, et cetera, he composed something along the following lines:

From Contra Costa County Sheriff’s Office, be advised. On [date] 1st National Bank in Cedar City held up by following subjects.
Names of two made up persons with descriptions and CII (California Information and Identification-indicates a person has a rap sheet or criminal history with the state of California) numbers were here inserted.
The teletype went on to recount a gunfight in which bandits’ vehicle was riddled with bullets, a wild chase on back roads, minor collisions, more bullet holes until they were captured.
Particulars were inserted: weapons recovered and where stolen from; attention particular departments, suspects admit crimes your weapons, et cetera. Last: “Attention L.A.P.D. Wilshire dets (detectives) veh (vehicle) is your stolen, 1950′ Olds 88 red/white,” et cetera.
Veh impounded, many bullet holes, and damage. Please advise re: dispo (disposition) Not drivable.

Sully typed it–did not send, naturally, and took the only copy, inserting it into the lieutenant’s daily mail.

We sat back to watch.

 

1955 Olds 88_LI
1955 Olds 88-wrong color for Sully’s lieutenant but you get the idea.

When his “victim” read it, he stood and tried to walk in 2 or 3 directions at once, sat down, picked up the phone, put it back, stood up, sat down and just stared for a moment or two. The lieutenant suddenly turned and caught Sully and I watching him.
He pointed at us and nodded.

 

Then smiled. His car was eventually recovered undamaged.

 

 

 

Categories
The Call Box

Call Box: Detective Story, The Real Deal, part 2

By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD

Badge_of_a_Los_Angeles_Police_Department_detective_(2434)If only it were that easy and glamorous.

Your average detective drowns in paper/computer reports. He/she is assigned a specialty such as homicide or robbery. Crimes are usually broken down by type, burglary (either residential or business), auto theft, theft from vehicle or forgery.

First thing in the morning:
You must check for arrestees assigned to your team. They are either questioned and released, held for further investigation with strict time constraints or submitted to the D.A. for charges to be filed.

You also may have to transport your own prisoner to a different lock-up.

You must read the overnight reports to see if anything requires immediate attention.

If you have a heavy case load you are probably in court several days a week.

You must find time to re-interview all victims and witnesses and serve all subpoenas for your court cases.

You must keep abreast of all deadlines for required reporting.

You must be prepared to respond to any and all calls for service.

f prints magnifierTelling the lieutenant, “That’s not my field/specialty/responsibility/job,” earns the response, “There is nobody else available, handle it. Like it or not, you are a good soldier. You do what you must.”

Not only does the fictional detective get the bad guy, he does it with time out for commercials. In real life, our clearance rates vary by crime but are never as good as the T.V. cop’s.

Categories
The Call Box

Call Box: Detective Story, the Real Deal, part 1

By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD

det badge lapdWhat does the average citizen know about detectives? I would imagine those raised on a diet of TV, movies, books, would with some confidence state they knew quite a bit.

Ok then. Tell us what you know. Well, ah, suits worn in public but coats off the minute they are in the station. Sleeves up two turns, tie pulled loose, top button undone. Yeah.

When talking to victims or witnesses or suspects, nobody ever takes notes or fills out long involved reports. They come and go, showing up at whatever crime scene suits them, whether state or federal, makes no difference. They “take over” but usually let some vague other person do the real investigative work. They walk in and out of crime scenes giving incredible orders to everyone, then leave.

If it’s a “period” piece the detective works in a “quaint” squad room. If modern, then he/she has either an office or very well-equipped work station. There are computers that with a few key strokes can access any and all data bases worldwide; then correlate and collate all information in an instant to reach a conclusion without having to go from point A to point B.

notebook-308849_960_720At a crime scene, they can examine a bullet gash in a tree then look back along line of sight and announce the shot was fired from the 7th floor, 3rd window from the right. “In that building across the park, you will probably find an empty shell casing for a 22-250 with a 9-power scope. That is the weapon used.” (Apologies to Hal)

Later, after visiting several more locations he will announce that the killer will be, “a male in his early 40’s with a college degree in chemistry, born and raised in the mid-west. He will walk with a pronounced limp and has a slight speech impediment. He also has halitosis.”

The captain is a gruff old codger with a heart of gold. He demands you solve whatever it is quickly as he is getting “heat” from downtown. Even the mayor’s office is calling. If the boss is a she then we have to balance authoritarian with feminism.

Then, there are foot chases where the detective completes acts that would make an iron man envious.

Don’t forget car chases. Since yours is a plain sedan, you must use that stupid red light that you reach out and put on the roof while driving. No siren? Well that should not faze you as you careen through city traffic and crowded streets endangering life and limb.

 

Detective_Maxwell_on_his_desk_in_the_movie_Until_Death
Detective Maxwell on his desk in the movie Until Death

Gunfight? Sure. The suspect(s) are usually heavily armed with automatic weapons and have nothing to lose.

 

Married detectives must fend off suggestions and innuendos. But single? Then prepare for gratuitous sex, almost always with the wrong person.

If only it were that easy and glamorous.

End of part one; part 2 will appear Sunday, 12/24/2017.

 

Categories
Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Boy, that was close!

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

Did you ever have an incident happen to you that made you think, boy, that was close? I’m sure that I’m not the only one who just barely escaped death. Soldiers from any of the recent conflicts could probably give you lots of incidents when they just missed being a sad memory. Well I’m living proof that you can survive an almost “Ah shit,” right here in America!

 

1983_Ford_Sierra_dashboard_(base_model)The closest I came was early one morning when Neil Diamond saved my life! I was working day watch and I liked to get my workout in before roll call. I would get up at 4 AM, shave, grab my lunch that my wife made me and get on the road. Now I only lived eleven miles from work so my commute was about 20 minutes. Very little traffic that time of the morning, mostly big rig trucks and few other knot-heads like me who start early. Oh, there were a few who were on their way home after a night on the town!

 

A semi-truck is in the #3 lane next to me. I’m about to cross under the 5 freeway when Neil Diamond comes on my truck radio. He was singing Brother Love’s a Travelling Salvation Show. I loved that song and turned up the volume. I was in a better mood and hoping for a good workout.

 

Neil Diamond
Neil Diamond

 

I’ve been driving this route to work for about 30 years and know that the #3 lane next to me funnels into my lane around the corner. I figure I’ll move over 1 lane so the semi-truck will have a lane to move into. It saved my life. I no sooner changed lanes when a car driving the wrong way comes around the corner and passes between the semi and me. I didn’t even have time to swear. I look over at the semi driver and his eyes were as big as mine. My heart was pounding and I figured my workout will never top the blood now flowing through my veins.

 

I never heard if he crashed or was caught but, even now, I always turn up Neil Diamond on the radio.

~~~

This was not a lifesaving event but then you never know. I was driving a plain detectives’ car but we were in full uniform. We were chasing the prostitutes on Sunset Boulevard. We had stopped at the intersection of Sunset and La Brea, in the left turn lane, heading for a cup of Winchell’s coffee. The light turned green and we waited for on-coming traffic to clear.

640px-Toyota_86_GT_-_Rear-view_Mirror

I suddenly heard a car racing up behind me! I look in the rear-view mirror and see this large sedan barreling toward our rear bumper. I only have time to yell to Randy, my partner, “hold on.”

At the last instance, the car swerved to the left just missing our rear bumper. The sedan slammed into another car head-on going the other way. The crash sent car debris flying all around us. I took a big breath and asked Randy, “you ok?”

Randy replies, “I think so.”

We get out of our car and check on the drivers. The sedan driver is DUI (drunk) and the other driver has moderate injuries. Boy, that was close for us!  I know of two other Hollywood officers who were rear ended by a drunk driver and had to be pensioned off with severe back injuries. I was too young for a pension!

~~~

The third incident happened when I was working a super-undercover assignment. We were plain clothes and worked the entire West Bureau of the LAPD. We had worked in Wilshire Division that night and just finished our shift.

LAPD Crown VicWe were standing in the parking lot of the Wilshire police Station and we were debriefing the nights activities.  Ok, we were standing behind the open trunk of a car drinking beer. That’s a big no no in the LAPD Manual. We had been debriefing for about one beer, oh, I mean 20 minutes when a shot rang out and whizzed past my head! We all ducked as a reaction but since the bullet has already missed us, a late response.

We don’t have a clue where the bullet came from and didn’t want to answer questions of why we were violating a department rule. We all got into our private vehicles drove home. I wonder who recovered the beer we left behind in the parking lot.

A day later one of our group asked a Wilshire officer about the shooter. He replied, “Yea, don’t hang around in the parking lot. There’s some nut who takes pot shots at cops every so often.”

My question was how could a LAPD police station allow someone to shoot at the police and ignore it?

–Hal

 

Categories
The Call Box

The Call Box: Working Robbery

By Ed Meckle, Retired LAPD

polic-call-box-pedestal-lapd-gamewell-DCAL2786_dt1In early 1965, I got an offer I couldn’t refuse. Not from Don Corleone but from Captain Ed Jokisch. I had been at Metro for five years, the last two as a sergeant—an absolute jewel of an assignment and one highly sought after. Now, however, I was offered a chance to not only work for probably the best detective commander on the job but to work robbery as well. The two “big dogs” in detective land are homicide and robbery. Now I had a chance to work robbery. This was not to be offered twice if turned down once.

Each division/station was home to not only patrol (uniforms) but to detectives as well. At that time, the L.A.P.D. had I believe 14 geographical divisions. I was to be assigned to Wilshire Division which is due west of downtown.

Wilshire was a fairly busy house, home to three robbery teams. I was to be a part of that crew.

 

Dwight Stevens and Richard L. Sullivan were the “’business robbery team.” Tom Ferry and Jim Nichols were “rolling business,” being cabs, buses, (yes, buses) Helms Bread trucks. Helms sold fresh baked goods door to door ringing their bell as they moved through the neighborhood, like the poor push-cart ice cream vendor (also a favorite target). I swear if there had been trains and stagecoaches, they would have hit them too.

Dale Brown “Brownie” and I rounded things out by working “street robbery,” which included purse snatchers, street toughs, muggers, hugger muggers (hookers), drunk rollers, pick-pockets and anything that did not fit any other category.

 

Papa Bear and Detectives cropped.jpg

The division was fairly large and stretched from the edge of the downtown area west to the “silk stocking” district—poverty to fabulous wealth. Mom and pops to Saks, I. Magnin and Perinos on the miracle mile.

 

Captain Jokisch was a no nonsense WWII veteran, a Navy chief petty officer, who did not suffer fools gladly and passed out compliments like they were gold nuggets. “You did okay there,” was considered high praise. To his face he was Boss, Skipper or Captain. In our little world, he was “Papa Bear.”

As I have said before, the TV detectives have CEO size offices. In our 19th century building we were (all six of us) crammed into a room, approximately 8’ x 10’ (I may be overly generous with my fading memory). One long table, four phones, 2 or 3 file cabinets and one antique manual typewriter. The standing joke was, “it was so small that if you wanted to change your mind, you had to step outside.” We were separated from the even smaller homicide room by an opaque glass partition ending several feet from the ceiling.

Arrestees that came in overnight were parceled out to the various teams and interviewed as early as possible to determine charges, if any, and whether they merited further investigation. The overnight crime reports were read also to decide future action.

Standing between us and the captain, was our immediate supervisor, Lieutenant Bob “Red Jet” Helder. I’d known him for years; he was laid back and great to work for. “I don’t like to be surprised. Make sure I’m not and you will never know I’m here.”

A good number of our cases contained little or nothing considered useful in follow up. We did re interviews on cases with vague or worthless descriptions if for no other reason than to placate our victims. Maybe—just maybe—we’d come up with something. When we got that something to “run with” we were all over it. We loved slamming the door on the type of bad guy we dealt with. Many our victims were older, defenseless people, some treated badly by the suspects.

These people were our clients and we took satisfaction in bagging another bad guy. We stayed busy since the only thing we had more of than victims was crooks. We handled so many bodies (arrestees) and cases it seemed we lived in court. 10-12 even 14 hour days were not uncommon.

I worked with Brownie for two and a half years and look back with pride and satisfaction. I worked for Papa Bear for two and a half years and got a couple of “You did okay there’s.” I worked Wilshire robbery for two and a half years and never heard judge nor jury say, “not guilty.”

A I have said before, police work is intangible and you have to take pride in what you do. I worked Wilshire robbery until I promoted out. Did I make a difference?

I like to think so.

This column is dedicated to all the names mentioned above.

All good friends, all good men and all gone to soon.

Categories
Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: More on Dispatchers

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

This is where I really stick out my neck. I hope I still have the friends who were dispatchers (or RTO’s as us dinosaurs called them). First let me give you the disclaimer. I spent most of my career working in the middle of the night and a lot of those were weekends.

What does that have to do with RTO’s? I’ll tell you, most of the computer systems, DMV, Wants & Warrants etc. are taken off line in the middle of the night for service and updating, especially on weekends at night. I guess the normal part of the world thinks crime only occurs weekdays, during daylight hours. Most of this story happened before the in car computers that changed police work for ever.

Back in the mid-1970’s, I worked swing shift on the weekends (low seniority) and remember an officer running a warrant check on a driver in a traffic stop. The national computer said there was a warrant “hit” on the on a driver. But, it was mandatory for dispatchers to confirm the warrant with the originating agency—in this case, it was with the Texas Department of Justice. When I called it was closed. For the weekend. The guy went free because we had no valid warrant info to keep him.

I would run a license plate and the RTO would reply, “No Want, DMV down.”  Not un-common. But after a string of “No Want, DMV’s down,” you get suspicious. I’d run a license plate off the hot sheet. It was listed as “Code 6 Charles,” in LAPD vernacular that meant “Wanted Armed and Dangerous!!” If the RTO returned “No Want, DMV down,” you knew the RTO was not running the license plate. The RTO might have been in the middle of a good mystery novel but our life could be in jeopardy. If the RTO returned, “Code 6 Charles,” you replied, “Information only.” Just checking.

 

I once responded to radio call of a citizen who earlier had his car stolen at gun point. A day later he found his car a few blocks away. I ran the license plate and the RTO said, “No Want, DMV down.”

I asked the RTO to re-run the license because it should return “Code 6 Charles.”   She knew she had been caught and ran the plate.

I’m guessing there was a one on one conversation with the RTO and her Supervisor.

During my tenure from 1975-2011, it was not unusual for officers to run license plates on parked cars at motel parking lots on slow night. Their hope was to find a stolen vehicle. On weekend nights, that could be over fifty plates per officer. But it was our job to do this. I’ve seen dispatchers answer, “DMV down,” but never participated in it for the reason Hal articulates here. What if a car was stolen, the driver was behind the wheel and armed? It could go to hell in a handbasket fast. This is not a good job for a lazy person.

 

I was trying to catch a Hollywood Business burglar who was stealing my car area blind. I was getting heat from my watch commander as well as the burglary detective. They thought I was sleeping on duty. Heck, it was Little League season and I wasn’t sleeping much during the daytime either. I was really busting my butt trying to catch this asshole but I was always just a few minutes behind him.

I responded to a business burglary alarm on Hollywood Boulevard. I immediately drove to the back and caught a guy walking out from behind a group of businesses. Ah ha! I caught him.

I checked the source of the alarm and found no evidence of a break in. He told me he had to use the bathroom and left evidence under the fire escape. I checked. Now, I’m no expert on human crap but it looked fresh to me. Steam rising!

I ran him for wants and warrants and the RTO returned “No want.” I reluctantly let him go.

A day later, I’m standing in front of the Burglary detectives desk getting my ass chewed for letting our burglar go. After ten minutes being call incompetent in front of the whole detective bureau, the detective demanded to know why I didn’t run him for warrants, as he was in the system as a “Code 6 Charles” suspect. I waited until the detective was hyperventilating. Then I calmly told him, “I did run the suspect and the response was no want!”

As I walked out of the detectives’ room I heard him on the phone to a communications supervisor. Let him chew on someone else’s ass.

Side note: My burglar and his defecating at the rear of a business was his MO and excuse for being in the alley. Fooled me.

 

Next, computers have changed the job for both cops and dispatchers.   Hal

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More Street Stories

Tim Dees Answers:

Why do detectives have to be cops first?

T Dees downloadTim Dees, retired cop and criminal justice professor, Reno Police Department, and Reno Municipal Court, is considered a “Top Writer” in the field of Law Enforcement, Police Procedures, and Criminal Justice. He’s been read in Time, Newsweek and many more professional magazines as well as on Quora.

This post was taken (with Tim’s permission) from Quora, an online Q & A forum on many subjects. Tim is a Quora “Most Viewed Writer” in Interacting with Police.

 

First, detectives are cops. They simply have a different assignment than the uniformed guys in patrol.

Television has convinced many people they know everything they need to know to be detectives. TV makes it look easy. You want to question someone, and they are both immediately available to you and willing to talk. You only work one case at a time, and if it goes to trial, the trial is later that week. If someone clams up and demands their lawyer, all you have to do is act mean and they’ll come apart in a heartbeat. Confessions are obtained in minutes.

Police work is very seldom like what you see on TV. No two calls are exactly the same, and you have to be able to apply broad legal and procedural principles to ambiguous situations, often when the immediate world is coming apart. While you think you can keep it together at these moments, I can guarantee you will have experiences where you have no idea what you are supposed to do next. Those experiences happen less often as you grow in the job, but they still come around now and again for everyone.

In order to do long, complex interviews, you first have to learn to do short ones. Those happen on traffic stops, on field interviews, when you’re talking to a domestic violence or burglary victim. You have to know about search and seizure, which is a field that changes constantly. When can you stop someone? When can you search them? Is there a difference between a search for weapons and a search for evidence of a crime (hint: yes, there is). If you have a search warrant for someone’s house, can you also search their garage?

You also have to learn about people very different from you. You have to be aware of the body language of native Asians and Hispanics, which can be very different from that of Americans. You have to know your community at a level people who live there all their lives never get into.

These things are all learned while you’re a patrol cop. Some people learn faster than others. Hardly anyone gets it before they’ve been doing it five years. A few people circumvent the usual career path and get promoted before that, but they nearly always become substandard cops, people who could have been much better in their jobs if they were left on a vine a little longer.

Policing is something almost no one understands until they have done it. There is no way to acquire the necessary experience in a classroom or from a book. You have to live it.

Dees at Quora

Categories
Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Characters, Jimmy Long Stick

The following stories are true to the best of my memory which is considered good. That’s because I still remember to wear my own underwear and shave with the black razor not the pink one. The character is alive, retired and living under an assumed name in Idaho. Bud Arce, aka “Jimmy Long Stick.”

First, my stories.

I’m sure that most cops have been fooled by crooks but they won’t admit it to anyone. Well, I was fooled a few times but I tried not to be fooled twice by the same con.

It’s Saturday night, we see a car full of gang members conduct a California rolling stop. For my non police friends that’s rolling through a stop sign. Whatever it’s called, it’s probable cause to stop the car and see what these hombres are up to. Before the liberal courts limited what officers could do on a traffic stop, this was a free ticket to get everybody out of the car, search them for weapons and check them all for warrants. So we figure we have a good catch.

Most cops are out hunting elephants (big game) not a traffic ticket. We stop the car and the driver immediately tells us, “The guys with the guns just turned the corner. If you hurry you can catch them. They are driving a blue Chevy.”

Oh shit, bad guys with guns? We got to catch them. We jump back into our cruiser and speed around the corner. Two blocks later we figure we’ve been screwed. I had visions of these gang members driving around, laughing at the dumb cops who are chasing non-existent crooks. I spent months looking for their car.

To my credit, it was tried a half dozen other times, but I only chased the phantom men with guns once. “Bird in the hand better than two in the bush.”

Here’s a story that still haunts me.  I’m driving eastbound on Virginia Avenue from Western. It about 3 A.M. and Virginia turns into Oxford. This northbound VW comes around the corner and almost hits us. Shit, I make a quick U-turn and watch as the VW turns southbound into an alley. Damn, he’s trying to lose us. I turn into the alley and see the VW only 250 feet ahead of us. OK, we got him now!  I watch as the VW glances off a telephone pole and continues southbound. The alley runs into Flemish Lane. I’m closing and arrest is certain. The VW is slowing down and about to cross Santa Monica Boulevard.  I was relieved when it clears cross traffic and rolls up a driveway into a parking lot. The VW crashes into a parked car. We stop behind the VW and order the driver out. No response. We approach and discover the VW is now empty.

I look at my partner and he has the same “Aw shit” look on his face that I have. The driver must have bailed out in the alley before we turned into it. The suspect jumped out while it was moving and it continued through the alley and across Santa Monica Boulevard. The VW was stolen, so we have a Recovered Vehicle Report, a Traffic Accident report at two locations: once when it hit the telephone pole and the second collision when it hit the parked car. That’s it, we’re done for the rest of the night.

We finish all the reports and submit them to the Watch Commander for approval. He reads all the reports and then tells us we shouldn’t have taken the Traffic Accident reports.

He said the car crash was City Property Involved (CPI) by influence. In other words, because we were chasing this guy we sort of caused the accident. We could have saved ourselves hours of reports if we knew better. I’ll learn as you’ll see in my next story.

I’m driving southbound Western approaching Santa Monica. The car in front of me makes a left turn right through the red light. He’s weaving back and forth. He’s drunk. He is now entering the Hollywood Freeway. Damn, this guy is very drunk and now he’s going to get on the freeway. We turn on the red lights and give the siren a quick blast. Nothing, he has now accelerated to 35 mph and is weaving between two traffic lanes.

My partner picks up the microphone and says I’m putting us in pursuit. I tell him, “No wait, just say were following a possible DUI.” Once you say pursuit, a sergeant has a bunch of paperwork to complete and he won’t be happy. The entire police department will listen as you follow a drunk at 35 mph—not the stuff Joe Wambaugh writes about. So we broadcast were following, not in pursuit, of a drunk driver southbound on the Hollywood Freeway. The drunk makes it all the way to the four level interchange in downtown L.A. before he crashes. We get him out of the car and of course he’s not hurt. Drunk drivers are never hurt in crashes.

The CHP shows up and wants to know, did the drunk know you were following him? I say, “No.”  No CPI. We give the whole thing to the CHP and go have a Pinks Hot Dog.  My sergeant is happy, no pursuit report. The driver had an alcohol level of .30, almost 4 times the legal limit now.

See, sometimes I learn a lesson.

Character: Jimmy long Stick

This Hollywood Character didn’t work Hollywood for his entire career, like some of us, but he made an impression with everyone he was around. Unlike my other stories, I wasn’t present for some of these incidents but they have been passed down from different officers and are just too funny not to share.

Most of the stories I’m about to describe are true and can be verified by no less than six registered Republicans, some sober. Before the political correctness illness took over the LAPD, cops had a lot of fun while still doing a difficult job. It’s how cops deal with the horrors they see on a daily basis. Practical jokes were a way of life in the LAPD.

The first few stories involve a captain that was at Hollywood during the early 70’s. He was a drunk and often could be seen driving around Hollywood with his wife during the late night hours. I once got a call to back up the captain on Sunset Boulevard with a drunk man. My captain was wrestling this drunk in the parkway. I arrived and the captain said, “The drunk was about to stagger out into traffic.”  It was a toss-up who was drunker.

The Captain’s Office was next door to the station in the old Hollywood Receiving Hospital. The building was also the offices of Narcotics or Vice. Anyway officers would come into the building late at night and find the captain passed out in his office on the floor. I heard that Jimmy Long Stick would place a card with the date and time in front of the passed out Captain and take a picture. I believe it was called insurance.

This captain was also a smoker and was constantly patting his pockets to find his cigarette package. It was rumored that Jimmy Long Stick would place snails in his pockets and wait for him to pat his pockets.

I know there are many other Jimmy Long Stick stories but I’m going to finish up with a story that legends are made from. Jimmy Long Stick was working Hollywood Detectives and he had to go to New Mexico to pick up a couple of wanted persons. Jimmy Long Stick and Dave Lovestedt, another Hollywood character, were given the task to drive an unmarked city car to New Mexico and pick up these miscreants. They arrived the night before they were due to take the suspects back and decided to spend some of the per-diem the city gives officers for overnight extraditions.

The local constable usually shows the Detectives the town’s sights which might include a cantina or two. The sun rises and Dave Lovestedt awakes in the hotel room alone. He notices that their city car is gone as well as Jimmy Long Stick. Maybe Jimmy Long Stick went for a little food. Dave sits on the bed and turns on the TV to the local news channel. Instead of news the founding fathers parade is on the TV. Dave sits back and wondering where Jimmy Long Stick is, watches the parade.

The parade is the usual small town parade, high school band, local dignitaries, an equestrian unit or two. As the end of the parade appears on the TV, Dave sees a dark police-type car, very similar to the one they drove to New Mexico. Dave leans forward and watch’s as the TV camera zooms in on the last entry in the parade. That’s right it’s Jimmy Long Stick, leaning out the car window, waving to the crowd. True story.

Your probably wondering why Bud Arce was called Jimmy Long Stick. I was wondering the same thing so I asked him. After a distinguished career with the LAPD, Bud Arce retired and moved to Idaho. Now Bud is half-Mexican and it was easier to blend in as a native Indian than Mexican. So Bud Arce became “Jimmy Long Stick.”

Bud Arce, another Hollywood Character.

Categories
Ramblings by Hal

Miscellaneous Ramblings, part 1

By Hal Collier

The following stories are true. I’ll only use first names if I remember them correctly. These are bits and pieces of things that happened in my career. Hope you enjoy. I hope I don’t get sued.  

 

Dale Hickerson and I are working together. Dale and I have been partners and friends since 1971. Partners come and go; friends like Dale are for a lifetime.

 

LAPD 69 Plymouth Belvedere
LAPD 69 Plymouth Belvedere

Ok, enough mush. I’m going to drive today. We check out a black and white (B/W) from the kit (equipment) room. You never know who drove it last, whether it has gas, or has a half-eaten Pinks Chili dog with jalapeños under the front seat that’s been there five days? Anyway, you get your car keys, walk around the parking lot for twenty minutes, looking for your car—they all look alike.  Ok, I found it.

 

I open the trunk and drop in my twenty-five pound equipment bag. Dale is a few steps behind me. He was searching the west end of the parking lot. I open the driver’s door, lean in and put my baton in the door holder. I lean in a little farther to put my clipboard between the front seats. 

 

I freeze. Sitting there between the seats is a pineapple hand grenade. Dale opens his door and I yell freeze. Dale looks down and see’s the hand grenade. Now, anyone who’s been married for a long time knows that husbands and wives often think the same things and finish each other’s sentences. Dale and I have been partners for so long that we both stand up and look for cops or a sergeant laughing at us. No one’s looking at us. We check the fire department next door, (see earlier story about firemen’s practical jokes) nothing. The hand grenade is wedged between the seats. All we can see is the middle part of the body.

 

Dale and I were young cops when the SLA and other subversive groups were targeting police officers. They planted bombs under police cars. We didn’t want our pictures on the wall in the station lobby. That’s reserved for officers killed in the line of duty. We called the bomb squad. 

 

Any time a suspected explosive device is found, you clear a 300-foot perimeter. The entire police parking lot is shut down and it’s change of watch. Detectives are showing up. All they want is to park their car, go to their desks, and have a cup of coffee. Even worse, the previous watch wants to go home and climb into bed. None of that is going to happen until the bomb squad checks out our car. Dale and I look at each other; this day is starting out bad. Detectives are making a Starbucks run and the previous watch is asking if they get overtime because they can’t get to their cars.

 

The Bomb Squad arrives and checks out the hand grenade. Apparently, the thing is a dud. The bottom is drilled out, but we couldn’t see that. Two night watch officers found it in a parking lot, saw that it was a dud and put it between the seats of the police car. At the end of their shift, they forgot about it and went home. They got their asses chewed and Dale and I spent the rest of the day looking over our shoulders.

 

Hollywood StationAt one time, our police station parking lot had planters with some trees. The planters were next to parking spots where officers would have arrestees get out of the back seat of the police car. If officers were not watching, the bad guys would drop their dope in the planters. One year we had a 12-inch Marijuana plant growing in the police station parking lot. The planters were removed when they built the new fire station next door.

 

This is a locker room story. It was a known fact that I was the first one in the locker room every day for almost 35 years. I even beat the probationers. I didn’t like being late or rushed. It was also well known that I always had chewing gum in my pocket and carried a sharp knife. I hand sharpened my knives and liked to keep them very sharp.

Early one morning I’m polishing my badge and Billy is in the next aisle. Billy Berndt yells over the row of lockers,  “Hal, do you have a knife?”  I reply, “Yea but be careful; its sharp”.  Twenty seconds later, Billy asks, “Hal, do you have a bandage?” 

Yea, I had bandages too.

Categories
Ramblings by Hal

Bits and Pieces

By Hal Collier

The following stories are true. I’ll only use first names if I remember them correctly. These are bits and pieces of things that happened in my career. Hope you enjoy. I hope I don’t get sued.

 

Dale Hickerson and I are working together. Dale and I have been partners and friends since 1971. Partners come and go; friends like Dale are for a lifetime. Ok, enough mush, I’m going to drive today. We check out a black and white (B/W) from the kit (equipment) room. You never know who drove it last, does it have gas, does it have a half-eaten Pinks Chili dog with jalapenos under the front seat that’s been there five days!!! Anyway, you get your car keys, walk around the parking lot for twenty minutes, looking for your car, they all look alike. Ok, I found it.

 

I open the trunk and drop in my 25-pound equipment bag. Dale’s a few steps behind me. He was searching the west end of the parking lot. I open the driver’s door, lean in and put my baton in the door holder. I lean in a little farther to put my clipboard between the front seats.

 

I freeze. Sitting there between the seats is a pineapple hand grenade. Dale opens his door and I yell, “freeze.” Dale looks down and sees the hand grenade. Now anyone who’s been married for a long time knows that husbands and wives often think the same things and finish each other’s sentences. Now, Dale and I have been partners for so long that we both stand up and look for cops or a sergeant laughing at us. No one’s looking at us, so we check the fire department next door, (see earlier story about firemen’s practical jokes). Nothing. The hand grenade is wedged between the seats, all we can see is the middle part of the body.

 

Dale and I were young cops when the SLA and other subversive groups were targeting police officers. They planted bombs under police cars. We didn’t want our pictures on the wall in the station lobby. That’s reserved for officers killed in the line of duty. We called the bomb squad.

 

Any time a suspected explosive device is found, you clear a 300-foot perimeter. The entire police parking lot is shut down and it’s change of watch. Detectives are showing up. All they want is to park their car, go to their desk and have a cup of coffee.  Even worse, the previous watch wants to go home and climb into bed. None of that is going to happen until the bomb squad checks out our car. Dale and I look at each other; this day is starting out bad. Detectives are making a Starbucks run and the previous watch is asking if they get overtime because they can’t get to their cars.

 

The Bomb Squad arrives and checks out the hand grenade. Apparently, the thing is a dud. The bottom is drilled out, but we couldn’t see that. Two night watch officers found it in a parking lot, saw that it was a dud and put it between the seats of the police car. At the end of their shift, they forgot about it and went home. They got their asses chewed and Dale and I spent the rest of the day looking over our shoulders.

 

At one time, our police station parking lot had planters with some trees. The planters were next to parking spots where officers would have arrestees get out of the back seat of the police car. If officers were not watching, the bad guys would drop their dope in the planters. One year, we had a twelve-inch Marijuana plant growing in the police station parking lot.  The planters were removed when they built the new fire station next door.

 

This is a locker room story. It was a known fact that I was the first one in the locker room every day for almost 35 years. I even beat the probationers. I didn’t like being late or rushed. It was also well known that I always had chewing gum in my pocket and carried a sharp knife. I hand-sharpened my knives and liked to keep them very sharp. Early one morning, I’m polishing my badge and Billy is in the next aisle. Billy Berndt yells over the row of lockers, ”Hal do you have a knife?” I reply, “Yea, but be careful—it’s sharp”. Twenty seconds later, Billy asks, “Hal do you have a bandage?”

Yea, I had bandages too.

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