Tag: Hollywood

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: More on Bombs

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

 

If you respond to a good suspicious package call, you have to cordon off a 300-foot perimeter. That’s large in a dense area like Hollywood. We closed major streets, denied employees access to their work locations and more importantly they couldn’t get to Starbucks!  We basically pissed off the citizens who will vote for my next pay rise.

 

Building evacuations might be required but we usually leave that to the manager or boss of the targeted location. Most businesses don’t want to shut down, so they tell their employee’s to remain at work. To some money was more important than their employees’ safety.

 

Schools were different, the principal would send the kids out of the buildings in a flat minute. I once received a bomb threat at a private high school. Before I arrived the principal had sent most of the students’ home. It was a test day; did the caller sounded like a student? Of course there wasn’t a bomb! The next week when a bomb threat was called in the principal kept everyone in their classroom.

 

Here’s one for the books. I respond to a suspicious package at a residence. The lady tells me she was delivered a package at her house by the U.S. Post Office. The name on the package was not hers and she didn’t recognize the sender.  She took the package to the local post office and explained that the package was suspicious. The post office clerk told her to take it home and call the police, “It might be a bomb!” The lady put the possible bomb in the trunk of her car and drove back home and called the police.

No bomb and the bomb technician said he would have a serious talk with the local post office.

 

This still makes me mad. Reserve police officers are volunteer cops who go through training and work one day a month as a cop. Now I worked with a lot of reserves and loved them. They took the same risks as me, all for the pay of one uniform cleaning a month. We got a call of a suspicious package at a large apartment building. We were searching the area behind the building when the reserve officer spots a suitcase. He immediately drops down to one knee and opens the suitcase. Thank goodness it was empty or my kids would be writing this Ramblings.

 

After, we had a long discussion in a vacant Hollywood parking lot.

Next week: 9/11/2001

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Bombs part 2

 

By Hal Collier, retired LAPD

I spent 15 months as a new sergeant in Watts. I don’t recall one bomb threat or suspicious package call. I returned to Hollywood division and my second day back we had a bomb threat call. It could be me the threats were directed at! Here’s some more.

 

CBS news was located in Hollywood at Sunset and Gower. Every night near the end of the 11:00 o’clock news they would air an editorial and some critic would phone in a bomb

threat at the station. My first response after roll call was to CBS. We’d search the news room area but never found anything suspicious. We’d take a bomb threat crime report and head for coffee—it’s going to be a long night. We also got to know the staff and newscasters on a first name basis.

 

 

 

A side note Dr. George Fischbeck was the weatherman at ABC in Hollywood. Every night around 11:45 PM he would stop at the strip mall at Hollywood and Taft. We were drinking coffee from, yes, a donut shop, and he stopped at the 7-11. He would then walk over to us cops to say hi.

 

I’d ask, “Dr. George, what’s the weather for tomorrow?”

His reply was always the same, “I don’t know. I only read that crap on TV.”

 

Fast forward to 1984.  The Olympics have come to Los Angeles and the police department is on high alert. Things are going smoothly and I’m eating code 7 at the Denny’s at Sunset and Gower. I walk out to my police car and get in the driver’s seat. Just before I turn the ignition key, I notice a small object on the windshield wiper. I get out and notice it’s about a 3” X 5” package and wrapped in Christmas paper.

It’s July!  Typical of most cops I look around for another cop playing a practical joke on me. Next, I get down on one knee and look for a bigger bomb. Nothing!  I called the bomb squad—my momma raised a hero but not a fool.

 

The bomb squad responded and inspected the package. They x-rayed the bundle and then opened it. It was a small bible! Maybe the person who left it figured I needed a little religion or then again it could have been a test. I apologized to the Bomb Squad technician. His name was Ronald Ball. He was later killed diffusing a pipe bomb. He told me don’t ever apologize, always call us. I did from then on! He told me that if it was a bomb it was big enough to blow off my hand!

 

I already told of the time I walked into the police parking lot at start of watch to get my cruiser. In between the front seat was a hand grenade. It was later determined to be a dud but I wasn’t prepared to take a chance without first checking my horoscope. The previous watch found it in a parking lot and forgot to book it. They knew it was a dud. They got two ass-chewing’s—one from me and my partner and another from the LAPD brass.

 

Being Hollywood just about every big story was covered by the media. We handled a lot of bomb threat calls and most were false. There was a radio station at Sunset and Argyle, it was right across the street from the world famous Hollywood Palladium. We would get a bomb threat at the radio station and set up our command post in the Palladium parking lot across the street. After the third threat a bomb squad officer told us that the threats could be to see where we set up our command post. Then plant a real bomb in the parking lot and take out a lot of first responders. I think my next command post will be at Pinks.

 

The last Ramblings bomb threats will cover a few more bomb threats and  9/11.

–Hal

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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings, Bomb Squad, part 1

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

First the disclaimer.

I never worked the Bomb Squad, I never wanted to work the Bomb Squad; their black jump suits added ten pounds to my toned body. I didn’t like responding to any of the bomb calls.

There are two kinds of bomb calls. “Bomb threats,” usually a phone call or letter.  Now days, there might be emails or texts. The other is a suspicious package.  Suspicious package can be anything from a brief case to a back pack both can get you hurt if the call is good. I used to think about my wife worrying about me every time I left for a normal day’s work—whatever normal is! In the Bomb Squad, you get a call out in the middle of the night and your spouse knows you’re driving to danger. You can tell your spouse not to worry. “I’ll be careful,” but that only reassures them for a few minutes. I’ll bet after you leave they look for an all-night news station on TV. They know you might never come home again.

 

My first personal experience with explosives was with fire crackers that I smuggled across the border from Mexico. Oh come, on I was only twelve! I once lit a fire cracker in a model airplane that I built. Did I mention that I had put some gasoline in the plane? I light the fuse and after the explosion, I spent the next ten minutes putting out the small brush fires it started. “Stupid is as Stupid Does.”

 

I think that Bomb Squad officers are smart and professional and more than qualified to handle any suspicious package as most bombs were called, but every once in a while something goes very wrong. No “take overs” with bombs!

 

I remember a few early suspicious package calls both at the old Hollywood Police station. The first was where some good intended citizen placed a package at the back door to the station. The bomb squad blew it up with a water cannon. It was a chocolate Easter Bunny. The second was placed in front of the station and when blown up 500 pieces of a jigsaw puzzle were scattered across Wilcox Avenue.  Both of those might have been a test to see how we’d react.

 

My first real recollection of a true bomb was August 1975. That was the night that the SLA (Symbionese Liberation Army) placed a bomb under a police car at the IHOP. I was eating six blocks away and thought it could have just as easily been under my police car. The bomb squad later placed that same pipe bomb under a car and set it off.  It would have killed both officers and a lot of IHOP customers. For the next thirty years, I bent down and looked under my police car to see if there was a bomb.

That’s tough on the knees especially when you get in your 50’s.

 

Next more bomb stories, including 9/11

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Ramblings, Code-7 the Last One, Really

By Hal Collier, LAPD retired

Ok, enough of interrupted code-7’s

I’ll finish with a few facts. Some days you worked alone or if you got stupid and promoted to sergeant you almost always ate by yourself. Now, you don’t usually want to eat with the patrol cops because they won’t relax around a supervisor. That’s their time, leave them alone. Now, every once in a while I was asked to eat with them, that’s a sign that you are accepted and an honor.

In my later years, I brown bagged Code-7. Actually I ate better than most cops. I brought in leftovers from my dinner from the night before. When eating at the station, I was not chasing perpetrators. Of course, I was often interrupted by the desk officers asking a question or advice.

Let me leave you with one last thought. If you eat a heavy meal, don’t get in a foot pursuit. Now days, people will have a video tape of you throwing up on You Tube before you finish your shift.

Hal

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Ramblings, Code-7: Absolutely the (next to) last one

By Hal Collier, LAPD retired

Ok, this is the absolutely (next to—from Thonie: there will be one more next Sunday 4/24/2016) last Ramblings on Code-7. Some of you must think that all I did for thirty-five years was eat. Actually a lot of times cops miss Code-7 due to an arrest, a busy night, or no other police cars available to cover while you ate.

Then was something called a Tactical Alert. A Tactical Alert was called when a major incident occurred anywhere in the large city of Los Angeles. Tactical Alert means no one eats and the waitresses throughout the city get stiffed on our quarter tips. Sometimes an incident has occurred in the Harbor, LAPD Communications Watch Commander will broadcast a city-wide Tactical alert. Now, if I drive up to Mount Lee just above the Hollywood Sign I can see the harbor but there’s little chance I’ll be sent there. Later, they would scale the Tactical Alert down to a bureau. It still means that you’re likely to eat Code-7 off the hood of your car.

Ok a last code-7 interruption (we already discussed this–it’s not the last).

When I moved to day watch, the locations to eat Code-7 multiplied by 800%. I liked a little Italian place, “Stephano’s.” It was family owned and run plus they had the best lasagna and garlic bread you ever tasted. If you weren’t very hungry they served a baby pizza. So one beautiful day, I’m dining at Stephano’s with my former partner, Lindy, and her future husband, Lou. He’s a LAFD firemen but I’m not prejudiced. I’ve eaten with the homeless if you remember a previous code-7 Ramblings.

So we’re sitting in a booth with a view of Vine Street. Just as we’re being served our lunch, Lou yells, “Look, a perpetrator.”

A what?

Who calls them perpetrators?

We look out the window and see a guy fleeing from the Pavilion’s Market across the street. Someone is chasing him. Now I might have thought they were just out for a midday jog but Lou said it loud enough that the rest of the restaurant patrons are now looking at us. Crap, keep my food warm. My partner and I run out to our car and catch up to the suspect—see? A suspect. I never caught a perpetrator in my entire career. He had been shoplifting when the security guard tried to arrest him. We had another police car meet us and take the suspect to the station while we returned to Stephano’s and finished our meal. We were then tied up with the shoplifter for the rest of the watch but at least we had full stomachs.

 

Sometime later the LAPD equipped their officers with handheld radios. They were carried on your gun belt which was already overloaded. There were advantages and disadvantages. The advantage was you were always within sound of Communications. The disadvantage was you were always within the sound of Communications! If you were eating and an, “Officer Needs Help” call comes out, you dropped your fork and responded. Later you had to go back and pay for the meal you didn’t eat. If you were still eating and a little over your allotted Code-7 time, the communications dispatcher would ask you if you were clear. That usually meant they had a call for you.

–Hal

Read the absolutely and for real last Code-7 post next week.

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Ramblings, Code-7 Interrupted Again

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

I use to eat at a little coffee shop, Angels Café, just east of Western and Hollywood Boulevard. It was tucked in the corner of the Vagabond Motel and had about six booths and counter seating. Angel was the cook and took good care of us cops. Most of the customers were tourists staying at the motel. 

As we walked in we took the usual notice of the customers already dining. This morning we noticed a rather unkempt gentlemen seated at the counter. He wasn‘t wearing shoes or socks. As the waitress brought us our coffee, I inquired what he had to eat. She replied steak and eggs, the most expensive item on the menu. That is usually the meal of choice for homeless people who can’t pay. Eat good, then go to jail.

Oh crap! You guessed it he had no money. We arrested him for defrauding the inn keeper and missed our code-7. Didn’t even get to drink our coffee.

 

Ok, another interrupted code-7 at Angels Café. Hollywood and Western was a real armpit at the time. I once had a lieutenant describe Hollywood and Western as, “If God was to give Hollywood an enema he’d lay the hose at Hollywood and Western!”

Did you ever have one of those days where nothing went right and you didn’t want to be bothered? Well, I was having one of those days. I got OK code-7 and sat in the booth at the back of the café. I was served my coffee when this homeless man appears at the window. We were only separated by the glass. He stares down at me for minutes. I’m served my breakfast and he watches every bite I take. He’s only inches from my face and food. 

The rest of the customers noticed and are watching me for my reaction. Soon these alligator tears are streaming down his face. I’m losing my appetite and I can fill my blood pressure rise. I can hear the comments for the other customers. Some have sympathy for me others for the homeless man.

The homeless man then walks to the café door and enters. I’m wondering why I didn’t bring my nightstick with me. The man goes to the cash register and asks for change.  He exits and walks up to the news rack. 

The whole café is now watching this man and me. Angel, the cook, has even stopped cooking. The homeless man puts coins in the news rack and attempts to lift the rack. It took his money but didn’t give him his paper. The customers all groan! He puts in more coins and the rack opens, he takes out the LA Times and reenters the café. He walks directly back to my booth. I tense. This can’t end up good. Everyone is watching me.

The homeless man hands me the paper and says, “Have a good day officer.” He turns and walks out the door and disappears. I give the paper to Angel, pay for my half eaten meal and disappear also.

 

Absolutely the last Code-7 Ramblings next.  

Hal~~

 

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Ramblings, Code 7 with Women

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

Here’s when things really changed. Around 1974/75, women were introduced to patrol. Now, I like women. My wife and daughter are women. Some of my favorite partners were women and I worked with a few women as captains and lieutenants. All great cops and people. My only complaint was that they showed their mother instincts when it came to code 7. They didn’t think that a juice dripping hamburger was all that healthy. Pink’s at 1 A.M. was out of the question and a Tommy burger was ok—but only once in a while.

 

What’s happening to my LAPD?

One more thing about eating with women. They usually took a doggie bag from the restaurant. Then we spent an hour driving around Hollywood looking for stray dogs or cats to give the food to. Once my partner spotted a kitten with a potato chip bag stuck on its head. There were two of LAPD’s finest chasing a kitten around the street trying to get the bag off of its head. Thank goodness this was before everyone had video cameras.

Now, when working Morning Watch (11:00 P.M. to 7 A.M.), your choices were pretty slim for fine dining on the hood of your police car. At that hour most of your food choices catered to the bar crowds. That’s when I started brown bagging. Once I brought in a big pot of my wife’s homemade chili. I shared it with my partner who said she enjoyed it but didn’t ask for seconds. The next night she made Matzo Ball soup. I declined seconds. We also ate in the police station break room, not fine dining! Before I knew it I was eating salads at Sizzler and potato skins were a no no! I was also taught to dip my fork in the salad dressing instead of pouring the dressing on my salad. Less calories. The change was probably for the better but every once in a while I feel the strong urge to eat something bad for me on the hood of my car.

 

The following stories all happened to me on code 7.

My first story didn’t have an interruption but had a real impact on my career! It was August 21, 1975, and I was dining at the Copper Penny at Sunset and Hudson. As preferred, I was sitting in a booth seat with a window view of my parked police car. Keep in mind this is when we only had radios in the car and if something big happened you didn’t know until you got back into the car.

After dining I get in my lowest bid official police cruiser and start the engine. The radio is abuzz with chatter. I detect an urgency in the dispatcher’s voice as she is directing units to block intersections.

The SLA (Symbionese Liberation Army-a domestic terrorist group) placed a pipe bomb under the police car of John Hall and James Bryan at the IHOP at Sunset and Orange, only six blocks from where I was eating.

See—another reason why I hated IHOP. I suppose it could have been under my car except I was seated where I could watch it. The bomb failed to detonate due to a stroke of luck. Both officers would have been killed instantly as well as quite a few diners.

For the next thirty years, I got down on one knee and looked under my police car for bombs. True story.

Next typical code 7 interruptions.

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Ramblings, More Fun at LAPD

By Hal Collier

Retired LAPD

Ok, some more fun from the Los Angeles Police Department, once called the finest police department in the world. That’s is until the politicians and the media changed the public’s perception. 

 

We are still the best but after a few years of criticism and politicians dictating how police work should be done, a lot of officers saw the only way for career survival was to do little and avoid confrontations. Ok, I’m going to carefully back down off my soap box and get back to fun.

I never worked Detectives but some of the best practical jokes ever played occurred in the detective room at Hollywood Station. Remember the detective’s desk drawer lined with a plastic bag and filled with water? Detectives always seem to have spare time. 

I think just about every Homicide Detective had a can of shaving cream close by. No, not to take care of that 5 o’clock shadow! 

A detective would load up the earpiece of a detective’s desk phone with shaving cream and then summon the target detective to pick up line two. According to plan the detective would pick up the phone and hold it up to his ear and immediately get a 1/4 ounce of shaving cream packed into his ear. The entire squad room would laugh and the detective would spend the next thirty minutes in the bathroom removing shaving cream from his ear.

One day, detective John set up a partner who had been riding him for wearing the same C&R suit for a week. The detective John loaded up the target detective’s phone with shaving cream. John was distracted by the target detective who maneuvered him to his desk. Another detective informed the detective John to pick up line two. That’s right John picked up the phone on the target detectives desk and caught himself in his own joke. He had shaving cream in his ear and on his C&R suit. Funny.

 ~~

Another favorite was to tell a detective you have a message to call Detective Meoff at headquarters. Here’s his name and phone number. The detective would dial the number and ask for Detective Meoff.

Who?

Detective Meoff! 

I was told to call this number and ask for Detective Jack Meoff!!!!  Jack me off; get it? 

Ok, a little juvenile but that’s your tax dollars at work.

–Hal

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Ramblings, Losing an Officer

By Hal Collier

Retired LAPD

Did you ever have one of those incidents where one minute you were calm and actually got to finish a cup of coffee while it was still hot and the next minute is the exact opposite?

My night is going smoothly and I’m hoping to coast for a few more hours and then go home and enjoy my next three days off. We’d just put another bad guy in jail and finished our arrest report. The sun will be coming up in a few hours, my favorite time of the day. It’s about 4:00 a.m. as I drive out of the Hollywood Police Station parking lot. I turn north on Wilcox and head toward Hollywood Boulevard. The Boulevard has been deserted for at least an hour. The bars and clubs have closed, the drunks have found their cars and the predators of the weak have given up and gone home.

Or so I thought.

 

I just crossed Selma Avenue when I notice a strange light lying in the middle of Wilcox. I drive up to the light. It’s a metal flashlight. Just like the kind most cops use! In a millisecond chaos erupts.

A citizen drives up to us and asks me, “Are you looking for that cop who was in a fight?”

“What cop?”  There goes that coasting to EOW (End of Watch)!

I ask the citizen, “Where did he go?”

He replies, “I don’t know, I lost sight of him when I turned around.”

Ok, I’ve got a lost cop who probably needs help. I pick up the police radio to broad cast “Officers needs help!”

Suddenly I hear a shot.  Oh shit, this is turning real bad in a hurry. My heart has jumped into my throat and my mind is racing.

Now in the middle of a big city with lots of buildings, it’s often hard to tell from where a sound is coming. I’m guessing it’s from the street west of me. I speed around to the next street and turn south. I don’t see anything at first. I slow down and hear a voice yell, “Over here!”

There’s a cop sitting on the ground in a parking lot. He’s pointing to another individual lying on the ground in front of the Chesterfield Hotel. That individual has been shot! I get on my radio and soon the entire division has thrown out their coffee and joined us, including the Watch Commander. An ambulance responds and treats the individual for a gunshot wound and my cop for a contusion to his head.

Not only are we not going to coast to EOW but we’re not going to get off on time, and my three days off are going to be cut short by at least a day. It’s overtime but my pillow is going to miss me!

Here’s what happened:  The cop was a Hollywood sergeant just driving down Hollywood Boulevard. He heard what he thought was glass breaking. He pulled to the curb to investigate.

A Drag Queen named, Otha, had just smashed the display window to Playmates, a famous Hollywood Boulevard lingerie shop. I guess he was doing a little early shopping. This was in the 70’s and the only police radio was in the car. If you were out of the car and needed help, you had to run back to the car radio or fight for your life. My sergeant confronted Otha and the fight was on. Otha gained control of the sergeant’s flashlight and hit the sergeant in the head. The sergeant was dazed but not about to give up the fight.

 

 

The two combatants ran westbound through the parking lot. Otha climbed over a four-foot chain link fence next to the Chesterfield Hotel. The sergeant was starting to feel the effects of the blow to his head. Fearing he might pass out and lose his weapon to Otha, the sergeant fired one shot. The bullet hit the chain link fence and split into two fragments. Both fragments hit Otha.

The sergeant survived, as well as Otha, except that Otha went to jail after being treated for two wounds from one gunshot. Me, I had trouble sleeping that day. I kept waking up, it sometimes takes a long time for the adrenalin to leave your body and let you coast.

Hal

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Ramblings, When a Good Arrest Goes Bad

Due to some technical glitches, the blog layout on my website http://www.thoniehevron.com didn’t work the way I hoped. So here’s Hal’s Ramblings installment for Sunday, December 6th, 2015. It’s also on my website but just barely readable. I’ll update my progress here. Until it’s fixed, come here for Hal’s Rambling.

With apologies for this nuisance, Thonie

~~~

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

Did you ever make an arrest that started out good but later turned to crap? This is that kind of arrest.  As usual I’m working Hollywood Morning Watch (graveyard) and I get a radio call at the Bowl Motel at 2010 Highland Avenue.

“See the Man, Robbery just occurred. Suspect described as a female Caucasian, 5’10” 160 lbs.; Last seen running southbound on Highland Avenue toward Hollywood Boulevard. Property taken wallet and car keys.”

 

A little background. The Bowl Motel was a dirt-bag motel usually inhabited by prostitutes, hypes, drug dealers and the low life’s that frequent the entertainment capital of the world. I’m guessing the advertisement for the Bowl Motel stated, “We’re within walking distance to the Famous Hollywood Bowl.” Which it was, but it was also within running distance of Hollywood Boulevard! I’m guessing it was never on the Star Line celebrity tour. Any crime coming out of the Bowl Motel at 3 A. M. with a man and a female suspect had to be prostitution or drug related. Most female suspects 5’10” and 160 pounds are not female. That’s right, a man dressed as a woman. They were called Drag Queens, before the world became politically correct.  I won’t go into whether the man knew he was dating a large-boned woman or just liked men dressed as females.

 

We meet the victim. A victimless crime as prostitution is often described! He’s a well-dressed, middle management type who stuns me with his honesty. He admits picking up the prostitute on Highland Avenue near Hollywood Boulevard and going back to the Bowl Motel. Once in the motel room, he was told to go into the bathroom and wash up. First mistake—he had removed his pants. When he exited the bathroom his wallet and car keys were missing. He confronted the female and she threatened him with a knife. She fled out the motel door and he said that girl could really run fast. At least his car was still parked outside the room.

 

We conducted a thorough interview and collection of evidence. Ok, we got the basics and had him sign the report. We use to have a saying for these types of crimes, “You came to Hollywood to get screwed and you got screwed!” I exchanged the word “screwed” for a better known word. Hint it starts with an “f—.”

We’re on our way back to the station to finish the report and we drive past Hollywood and Highland.  Well, shit howdy, there’s our suspect. We handcuff him. Yes, she was a “he”. We have another unit pick up our victim for a field show-up, or what we use to call a one person line up!

Victim says, “That’s her!” We break the news that she’s a man. He didn’t act surprised. Our suspect admits to taking his wallet and still even has it.

 

We have the other officers transport the victim to the station while we take our suspect in our car. It’s not a good idea to transport them together unless you want to end up on one of those YouTube videos of stupid cops!

 

At the station the suspect tells us the victim’s car keys are in the bottom of the motel swimming pool.  He didn’t want the victim following him in his car.

Ok, we conduct a more detailed interview of our victim. He asks for a ride back to the motel to get his keys out of the pool and drive home to his wife and three kids. I agree to take him back to the motel because I need some information from the motel manager. I leave my partner at the station to start writing the arrest report. I drive the victim back to the lovely Bowl Motel.

 

This is where this arrest turns to crap.  I pull into the driveway of the Bowl Motel. I stop at the manager’s office.

My victim yells, “What are they doing to my car?”  I look up and see four hypes with the victim’s hood up and they’re trying to hot wire the car.  Guess they didn’t know the keys were in the bottom of the pool. The hypes don’t see me because I had my police car headlights on. I’m alone except for my less than smart victim who is now ducking down in the back seat. I request a backup.

 

I hear the sound that all LAPD officers in the 70’s knew. That’s the sound of a 1969 Plymouth engine as it races to your rescue. You can almost feel the earth shake as the four-barrel carburetor opens up with a familiar roar. I can tell it will only be seconds when I’ll have sufficient officers to make four more arrests.

 

One small problem, that Plymouth that is racing to my rescue is Sergeant Frank, the department mistake I described in an earlier Ramblings.  Sergeant Frank sails past the Bowl Motel at 60 MPH and continues up Highland. This can’t get any worse. Two long minutes later another black and white police car pulls in behind me. It’s a good thing the car thieves were all hypes and loaded. We arrested all four and now we’re running low on hand cuffs.

 

We now have five arrestee’s, two separate arrest reports, two crime reports and an evidence report. Two of our arrestee’s have open oozing wounds from abusing drugs and will need MT (medical treatment) downtown. I’m guessing that we’ll finish up all the arrestee booking and reports by about three P.M.

Swell, this my only day off this week.  By the way, it was fun watching the victim trying to fish his car keys out of the bottom of the pool!

Sergeant Frank is still at the Hollywood Bowl looking a police car.

Hal