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Police Academy Redux, part 2

By Gerry Goldshine

Petaluma Police Department, retired

 

 

Part 2 (part one appeared April 2, 2015)
Beside myself, there were two other recruits from the Sheriff’s Office attending the Academy with me. The largest contingent of recruits was from a Silicon Valley Department of Public Safety. I found it a bit startling when I learned that there were several people in the class who had not been hired by any particular department; in essence, they were “civilians” putting themselves through the training in the hopes that successful completion would make them a more attractive employment prospect. I was also surprised at how small our class was; while I don’t recall the exact number of people who started training, I do know that 24 of us graduated and there was not an especially high attrition rate. Contrary to my fearful expectations, SRJC did indeed run a low stress, twelve-week-long training program whose atmosphere was almost collegial. Having a small class was not necessarily a bad thing because it meant much more one to one interaction with the various instructors. For me, the relaxed training environment took some getting used to and as I was the only recruit with any military training, I often found the lack of discipline and decorum disconcerting.

In 1979, women moving from administrative and non-sworn positions to becoming street officers were still somewhat of a “novelty”. In my class, they numbered less than a half dozen, one of whom was a fellow SCSO recruit. I didn’t find it particularly unsettling to have women among my classmates; they had been moving into “non-traditional” occupational specialties in the Army for some time, so I was quite used to training alongside and working with women. Some of the less enlightened male recruits felt differently and made no effort to hide their opinion that women did not belong, behaving like stereotypical misogynists. One of these “gentlemen” was almost a match to the “Police Academy” character “Mahoney” but with all the negative traits and none of the positive. Like Mahoney, somehow this person managed to make it all the way through training and graduated with the other recruits from his department.

Police Academy 3-Officer Hooks
Police Academy 3-Officer Hooks

Nearly every training course I’ve taken has had a cast of characters very much like those in the Police Academy movies. There always seemed to be a “Tackleberry” type; the borderline super-macho personality disorder who carried a virtual arsenal in the trunk of his car, always wore camouflage fatigues, often reckless and overeager. In most of the coed classes I been in, there was usually someone very much like the character “Hooks”; a female trainee soft of voice, uncertain of her abilities, and often deferring to men. Invariably there was someone like “Hightower”, the huge muscular guy who was smarter that he appeared, gentler than he seemed and loyal as a puppy dog to his friends. Finally there invariably seemed to be someone like the characters “Sweetchuck” and “Fackler”; this was the guy who tripped over his own feet, walked into closed doors, had a voice that cracked when under stress, lacked a scintilla of common sense and invariably either shot himself in the foot or a fellow classmate in the arse. Looking back, each in their own way, made the training far more interesting as well as more memorable, though at the time I sure many of us considered them with less kindly thoughts.

Having just come out of the Army where highly strenuous physical fitness standards were de rigueur, I found the “PT” at the Academy less than challenging. Unlike the other subject areas, such as criminal law, criminalistics, and firearms, our class did not have an instructor dedicated to physical conditioning. To be sure, we had someone to teach weaponless or hand to hand tactics but no one was assigned for every day physical training or “PT,” something which I had practically lived by over the prior four years in the Army. More often than not, our PT consisted of volleyball or disorganized workouts in the weight room. We did do some running, usually no more than two miles and generally less, during which time nearly everyone complained. For me at that time, a mile run was a warm up as I had been used to running up to five miles in full combat gear in under 40 minutes. I cannot recall if we had to pass a PT test to graduate beyond completing an obstacle course within a specified time frame. I thought then as I do now that we rendered a disservice with such lackadaisical physical conditioning. Aside from the obvious health benefits, maintaining a high state of physical conditioning is essential in surviving street encounters from fist fights to foot pursuits to the use of deadly force. I wasn’t the only recruit that was disconcerted by this and I do know it eventually changed for the better.

Contrary to Zed’s bit of wisdom, my academy class spent a great deal of time in the classroom receiving instruction on subjects ranging from the obvious, such as criminal law to less considered but critical report writing. However, looking back over 35 years later, the very first place to which my Field Training Officer took me, when I was with the Sheriff’s Office, was a Winchell’s Donut shop. Much as I hate to admit it, even to this day many a cop visits the local donut eatery because it’s fast and the coffee is always hot; I guess there was a bit of truth to what Zed had to say.

Police Cadets
Police Cadets

Donuts aside, we were about to get a great deal of information distilled and condensed into a 12 week time frame. Hours were spent on learning the fundamentals of California Criminal Law and Criminal Procedure. Things that now still seem so basic were new to many of us back then, such as the differences between statutory and case law–both of which we needed to know. What were felony, misdemeanor and infraction type of crimes? We committed to memory the elements of the more commonly used sections of the Penal Code, such as 211 P.C. which is robbery or 459 P.C. which is burglary. We had to know the applicable sections of the Business and Professions Code, particularly those parts dealing with alcoholic beverages. There were the parts of the Health and Safety Code that dealt with drugs, legal and illicit. We had to know the parts of the Welfare and Institutions Code some of which dealt with children and psychiatric cases. Then there was the California Vehicle Code, which covered everything from driving while intoxicated to what color the front turn signals on a particular year car have to be.

All those various codes and laws were just really a foundation and a starting point. Knowing what constituted a violation of a particular law was just part of the process. There followed training on the complex laws governing arrest, probable cause to detain versus probable cause to arrest. We had to know the most up to date court decisions and laws governing arrest, search and seizure. Then there were the courts; traffic, municipal and superior. As a peace officer, you had to know the differences between them and what type of case went to what court. Beyond that, we had to have a working knowledge of how the criminal justice system functioned, from the filing of a criminal complaint to an arraignment to a court or jury trial. If that wasn’t complex enough, there were separate systems for adult and juveniles.
I was not the only one with a college background in Criminal Justice and though we were familiar with much of the material, there was still much that was new in some manner. It was all coming at us fast and furious. Fortunately, there was plenty of practical, hands-on training that got us out of the classroom to stretch our legs and shake out the cobwebs that inevitably formed in our minds. Naturally, we all looked forward to firearms training. Levels of experience with firearms varied greatly among us. Many grew up around guns through hunting and other sporting activities. As a result of my Army training, I had a familiarity with a very wide assortment of weapons, though it seemed highly unlikely I would have need of an anti-tank missile system as a Deputy Sheriff. As a deputy, my duty weapon was going to be a Smith and Wesson Model 66, .357 magnum revolver, which took some adjustment, as my sidearm while in the Military Police was the classic military Model 1911, .45 semi-automatic pistol. In the late seventies and early eighties, firearm training was on the cusp of a revolution, both in technology and theory. I was fortunate to have been exposed to some of it while in the Army. There was interactive training with lasers giving immediate feedback under simulated combat conditions; automated targets made to look like human silhouettes; and shooting in a variety of conditions both in lighting and weather. Our instructors were some of the best, most knowledgeable military people in the world when it came to firearms. Gone were the days of plinking away at a circular stationary target some hundred yards away.

 

Witchita, Kansas Police Recruit shooting training
Witchita, Kansas Police Recruit shooting training

Back to my Academy firearms training, I wasn’t expecting our instructor to be someone who split his time between firefighting and police work in the South Bay. Understand that I’m not saying he was a poor instructor; it just was not what I was expecting. While I had qualified “Expert” with nearly every Infantry weapon in the Army, I was only shooting just slightly above average with that .357 pistol. It wasn’t until several years later, when I was a Petaluma Police Officer, a range master discovered while right-handed, I was left eye dominant, which had a great effect on my pistol shooting accuracy. In addition to the live fire range, we also received instruction in what was called “Shoot-Don’t Shoot”, the idea being to develop situational awareness and judgment when employing deadly force. In 1979, our “state of the art” technology for the practical portion of this training consisted of a video projector which showed a scenario on a butcher paper screen and a pistol that fired wax bullets. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one that felt a bit foolish yelling “Freeze!” at that butcher paper.

Read the conclusion of Police Academy Redux on April 9, 2015

Traffic Officer Gerry Goldshine aka T-36 Petaluma Police Department mid-1980's
Traffic Officer Gerry Goldshine
aka T-36
Petaluma Police Department mid-1980’s
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Writer's Notes

How I Get My Story Ideas

Law Officer magWriters are frequently asked how we get our story ideas.

Sometimes they are like an epiphany (read my last post for a scary moment that became a novel—yet to be published), but more often they’re an evolution. A sentence in a newspaper article, a scene in a movie that I really like but think I can do better. Like a pearl, the idea starts small, grows in my mind, then takes on a life of its’ own.

Mostly, my characters determine the path of the story. At the moment, I’m languishing in the middle of my third novel in the Nick and Meredith Series. I’m an outliner by nature—not just my stories, either. I started Possession for Sale with the barest idea of what would happen between my two characters to get them to the end. So I outlined the beginning—as much as I knew. Then, I outlined the ending and left the middle open for all the different tribulations Nick and Meredith must endure to become the people they hope to become.

I am now a quarter of the way through Possession for Sale. Imagine my surprise when I typed the main characters kissing waaaay before I planned. Oh no! So, do I write the whole middle differently?

Yes, I do. The characters have spoken. Even though they jumped into each other’s arms prematurely, this may work to increase the tension for the rest of the story. The end should, I say should, remain as I planned. But you never know: the characters may find a more truthful ending—their truth.

Back to how I get my ideas. When I’m stymied, there are a myriad of places to go to jumpstart my plotting. First, prompts are very helpful. Writers Digest has a daily prompt sent to your email inbox. Calendars offer prompts as well as specific writing classes. In my county, we have two that come to mind: Jumpstart in Petaluma and QuickStart in Rohnert Park. I found a used book at Book Passages in Corte Madera with an inventory of plot ideas: Plots Unlimited by Tom Sawyer and Arthur David Weingarten, Ashleywilde, Inc. 1995. Inside, you will find thousands of variations of ideas to get your characters moving. Usually, I find a snippet of an idea that leads to another then develops into something interesting.

I read news reports, subscribe to several online law enforcement e-zines that re-tell true stories by the dozen. Sometimes, I’ll find my path there. John Wills put together an anthology of women cops that is rich with ideas based in truth called Woman Warriors: Stories from the Thin Blue Line. Here is where I learned a valuable lesson: stories don’t always end happily, or the way you think they should. Sometimes, they are untidy conclusions and/or in need of a sequel to sort things out. This doesn’t mean you should end your story with a cliff-hanger, per se. The work should stand on its own as if the reader will never pick up another one of your books. But an ending with short term solutions and long-term intrigues can lead to interest in your next book.

Sometimes, my stories depart from the original plan. My second (unpublished) novel, The Walls of Jericho, started in one direction. When a transient-type drop-in critique group lambasted my secondary hero as being vengeful, I had to look at the story I was trying to tell. I finished the novel as outlined, packed it up and shoved it in my closet where it sits today. Over the years, I’ve re-directed the two main characters, minimized the secondary hero and generally re-constructed the story—in my head. Don’t look for that one anytime soon, though. I have the third Nick and Meredith novel to finish as well as prepping the first two for publication this year.

I will get to The Walls of Jericho but it won’t look anything like I originally planned. I’ll just change my outline. And it will be a better book for it.

The point is: cull your ideas from overheard conversations on the street, your cousin’s disastrous third marriage or whatever. Then, even if you outline, stay open enough to allow the story to be told the way it should be—by the characters voices.

That’s where you’ll find your best ideas.

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Dispatcher Appreciation Week

Petaluma PD dispatch
Petaluma PD dispatch

This is National Dispatcher Appreciation Week. So far, I’ve attended a luncheon in Petaluma for Sonoma County Dispatchers and will attend a CHP sponsored BBQ in San Luis Obispo tomorrow. All around, agencies are celebrating their employees. I heard a staggering statistic today: only one percent of the American population is capable of doing this job.

It’s a pleasure to see department heads, division commanders and managers show up to honor those people who are the first line contact with the public. I am proud to have been a dispatcher.

–Thonie

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Field Training Tales, part 1

By Gerry Goldshine

 

Of the many experiences I had as a police officer, training other officers as an FTO – Field Training Officer – gave me one of the greater senses of accomplishment that few other aspects of police work provided. Oh, I have my share of trainee horror stories, as most training officers usually do, but I was lucky. Most of what I taught involved the specialty at which I was very adept and enjoyed immensely—Traffic. Now, Traffic, be it accident investigation or enforcement, is an anathema to most cops for many reasons. But, that’s a discussion for another time. For now, just trust me. With the exception of us perverse few who enjoy the intricacies of the vehicle code or snagging a DWI just as were going to go off-duty or working through the physics of a major collision, the average beat cop abhors anything remotely related to Traffic.

Traffic Officer Gerry Goldshine aka T-36 Petaluma Police Department mid-1980's
Traffic Officer Gerry Goldshine
aka T-36
Petaluma Police Department mid-1980’s

At the time I worked there, Petaluma Police Department (PPD) was a small agency that could not support a completely staffed and full time traffic bureau. (Now it has one complete with motorcycles.) That meant there were many occasions necessitating beat officers to investigate traffic accidents and process their own DWI’s. As the requirements for more detailed investigations grew, many officers began complaining that the training they had received at the academy was inadequate. The department asked me to put together some training to complement the FTO program; it evolved from a single shift into a one-week block of instruction. Teaching other officer the skills I had developed was a source of pride and a whole lot of fun.

One of the hardest things for a FTO to do is letting their trainee take control. If a trainee is having difficulties, the urge to jump in and do it your way can be almost overwhelming. Letting that trainee work it through is the best way for them to learn, provided of course, it’s not an officer safety issue.

Mike Dettling started at PPD as a reserve officer when he was 19 years old. Frequently, new officers have problems handling the radio for a variety of reasons. Mike was having trouble managing his vocal inflections when making traffic stops. Back then, Mike was a bundle of raw energy, often walking down the hallway singing Sting’s Roxanne at the top of his voice. He would also get so excited making traffic stops that it would come across on the radio that other officers occasionally thought something serious was happening. Since a good part of my job entailed making lots of traffic stops, one Friday night my Sergeant asked me to work with Mike on his radio procedure.

I came up with a simple training plan. Anytime we got behind a car or truck, I would have Mike pretend we were making a traffic stop on it and I would act as dispatch. After about two hours of doing this, controlling his vocal inflection was becoming almost second nature to him. So, when we started making actual stops, Mike handled them like a seasoned veteran.

Since he was doing so well, I decided to advance his training to handling the radio during a pursuit. I would start following random vehicle and have Mike act as if he was calling out a pursuit on the radio. I’m sure that during the course of these exercises, we probably made more than one driver paranoid as we followed them around. For the next couple of hours, between making actual traffic stops and working through several imaginary pursuits, Mike became steadier on the radio, doing a good job at keeping his emotions in check and his voice steady.

Around 10:30 or 11:00 that night, we were heading north on Petaluma Boulevard South, when we noticed a motorcycle ahead of us that appeared to be speeding.  Just before I started a pace to determine the motorcycle’s speed, the driver abruptly turned right, onto “D” Street and blew right through a red light. As I turned right to follow, the driver finally noticed we were behind him. He turned, looked at us and then hunkered-down on his bike. I knew right then what was going to happen next.

Motorcycle on the streets after dark by nationalgeographic.com
Motorcycle on the streets after dark by nationalgeographic.com

I told Mike that we were going in pursuit, though I had yet to turn on any of the emergency lights. Mike looked at me as if I had just sprouted a third eye or something, unsure if I were serious or if we were still training. I handed him the microphone and told him to do it just as we practiced and then flipped on the emergency lights.

As soon as they went on, the motorcycle took off like an F/A-18 hitting the afterburners. Mike just gaped, reminding me of Wiley Coyote’s expression when the Roadrunner vanishes in a cloud of dust. He quickly recovered his composure and began calling out the chase to dispatch. He gave them the motorcycle’s description, the street we were on, our direction of travel, the approaching cross street, traffic conditions and finally our speed just as we had practiced; as he did so, his voice began to rise a few octaves. This was pretty exciting stuff and his first chase. I told him to take a few deep breaths and just do as we had trained. From there on, Mike had it down.

This turned out to be one wild pursuit. After buzzing up and down a few residential side streets, the chase continued onto Highway 101. When we started to hit speeds over 100 MPH and fell further behind the motorcycle, I decided it was time to shut it down; jeopardizing everyone’s safety for a couple of traffic infractions wasn’t worth it. Then our sergeant came on the radio and told us if the traffic remained very light, we could continue the pursuit.

I sped up just as our errant motorcyclist exited the highway about a mile ahead of us. It was a “Tee” intersection and he was going so fast that he couldn’t make a turn. Fortunately for him, he was able drive straight across into a parking lot of a business directly opposite the off-ramp. By the time he circled around through the lot and back out onto the street, another officer who had been shadowing the pursuit came up behind him. At about the same time, we were coming down the off-ramp and the chase was back on, but now with two police units involved.

The street we were now on was a two lane state highway – Hwy 116 – and in no time, the motorcyclist was going more than 90 miles per hour and pulling away from us. When a third police unit joined us, our sergeant decided it was becoming a case of diminishing returns and terminated the chase.

On our way back to the station, Mike was almost goggled-eyed and full of post-pursuit adrenaline. He kept asking how I knew the motorcycle was going to run from us. He also seemed incredulous over how perfectly the chase dovetailed into that evening’s training. I swear he thought I had planned it.

To the best of my recollection, from that point on, Mike never again had problems with his radio usage. However, this was not the end of our training adventures together.

To be continued in Part Two of Field Training Tails.

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Congratulations and You’re Holding Over!

Petaluma, CA, Petaluma Blvd
Petaluma, CA, Petaluma Blvd (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
By Gerry Goldshine

The brass ring for pretty much any rookie officer is that final day or night in their department’s field-training program. They’ve gone through the hiring process, completed the academy and are now at the end of twelve to fourteen weeks of having their FTO painstakingly scrutinize every citizen interaction, every arrest, every citation and every report. As a Petaluma officer, I finally grabbed my brass ring on a Saturday night in December of 1980. At that time, the Petaluma Police Department’s field-training program was about 12 week long, broken down into three, four-week phases. The last week of the program was known as “Plain Clothes Week”. During this phase, your training officer wore street clothes and was along only to evaluate you; they were not to assist you in any way though you could ask other officers for help. In essence, this was the police department’s final exam to determine your abilities to solo as a police officer.

Officer Dave Long had been my training officer for my final phase, working the Swing Shift, which ran from 1630 hours (4:30 PM) to 0230 hours (2:30 AM). On this memorable Saturday night, the swing shift sergeant had called off sick. Since Dave was the senior officer working that night, he had to fill-in as the acting Watch Commander. Dave asked Officer Tom Swearingen, another FTO, to take his place as my training officer. Dave then assigned us the busy downtown beat just to make sure I had an “active” final night of training.

As I recall, it was definitely very busy that night but one incident in particular still stands out in my memory; the party on Elm Street (no, not that Elm Street). Somewhere close to 0200 hours -2:00 AM- I was beginning to let myself think about finally reaching the finish line when I heard dispatch sending units to investigate several anonymous reports of a loud, disruptive party in the beat next to mine. A few of the people calling, complained that there were more than a hundred attendees and that some of them were tossing beer bottles and cans into the yards of neighboring houses. Other callers said that there were minors consuming beer and hard liquor. I knew officers, an hour or so earlier, had already warned the people throwing the party to quiet things or we would have to order it shut down.

A few minutes later, Officer Long requested all available westside units to respond to the Elm Street situation and meet up with him. The first clue I had this was not going to be a simple operation, was the legions of parked cars lining both sides of the street and throngs of people making their way down the sidewalks to the party, several blocks before I got even close. I pulled in behind a line of double-parked police cars, in time to see other officers putting on their riot helmets. I wasn’t exactly sure what had transpired before I got there, but I had a hunch that the first requests to shut the party down had been met with less than enthusiastic compliance.

There were about a half dozen of us standing out in the street, waiting for Officer Long to tell us the plan of action when a car drove up and parked in the driveway of the party house. Now you would think a bunch of police officers wearing riot helmets, in front of that same house, might be a clue that something was amiss. Apparently not to the occupants of this car, because the passenger, later identified as ““Stu Pidteen”, got out of the car holding a glass containing some type of beverage. Given the circumstances, Officer DJ Phimister, who was nearby, suspected the beverage might contain liquor and asked the young man to wait a moment. Ignoring DJ, ““Stu”” continued walking towards the front door, which, under the circumstances, seemed to be a rather impolitic course of action. DJ then ordered the teen to stop and in response, “Stu” sent the glass he had been holding, hurtling at DJ’s head, before running inside the house. Happily, it missed Officer Phimister, who took exception at coming close to testing the efficacy of his riot helmet. Naturally, he ran after “Stu” and since I was close by, I followed behind.

Just before making entry, I distinctly remember looking back at Officer Swearingen; he was, after all, my training officer that night. He had one hand raised, as if he were about to offer some sage FTO advice but then realized it was too late. Following DJ down a hallway towards the backyard, I couldn’t help from noticing the scores of people crammed inside that house; in fact, it was standing room only. I remember thinking that more than a few of the young men I ran past appeared to be on the very large and athletic side – as it turned out they were members of the Petaluma High varsity football team.

DJ managed to lay hands upon “Stu” just as he was about to scale the back fence. No sooner had DJ put the “habeas grabus” on him than one of the nearby partygoers decided he wanted a “piggyback” ride…on DJ’s back. Not prepared to play horsey, DJ reflexively let go of “Stu”, who attempted to make a beeline back to the inside of the house. I was close enough to grab “Piggyback Rider”, pull him off DJ and throw him to the ground. He lunged back up at me and I drilled him in the solar plexus with my baton, ordering him to stay down on the ground.

DJ was less than amused and “Piggyback Rider” suddenly found himself the focus of his attentions. As DJ was handcuffing “Rider”, I watched his back to prevent a replay because there were now about twenty very unhappy belligerent people moving to surround us; not a particularly good sign. While this was happening, some other officers managed to snag “Stu” just before he made it inside and he was quickly hustled out to the front yard.

So much was happening; I began to feel as though I were in a three-ring circus especially when I caught sight of another officer turning in a circle, spraying mace at about six or so people who had him surrounded.  As if that weren’t enough, I saw another officer holding his 36-inch long riot baton in such a way to keep another portion of the crowd from moving past him to prevent DJ from arresting “Piggyback Rider”. At the same time, he was trying to keep an avenue of escape open to us. From out in front of the house, Officer Long asked over the radio what our status was in the backyard.

It was then that this officer holding back the crowd with his riot baton immortalized himself as a master of understatement. He calmly replied over all the noise and tumult, “It’s building!”

Finally, someone made the wise decision that was time for us all to “get the heck out of Dodge City” and make our way back out front. Officer Phimister somehow maintained custody of “Piggyback Rider” as we made our way back through the house. I think we were fortunate there were so many people crowded inside that house because none of them realized what had just taken place in the backyard.

A cacophony of noise greeted us when we got out front again. Sirens filled the night air, as units from the California Highway Patrol and Sonoma County Sheriff arrived to help us shut down the party. Up and down this section of Elm Street, you could hear the clipped voices of dispatchers and officers blaring from the various portable and car radios. Adding to the hubbub was the loud animated voices of the partygoers themselves, as they poured out of the house and into the surrounding neighborhood. In the resulting confusion, “Stu Pidteen” got into a scuffle with yet another officer and made his escape into the night, though he was thoroughly sprayed with Mace for his efforts.

In the midst of all this, I heard Officer Long calling me on the radio.

“Lincoln 36…Congratulations…You’ve successfully completed training…Now I need you to hold over for two hours.”

I quickly looked down at my watch and saw that it was 0240 hours; Swing Shift had officially ended! I was at last, exactly where I wanted to be. I wisely resisted the temptation to respond with a loud, ‘Yahoo”!

Epilogue: Since several officers knew “Stu Pidteen’s” identity from prior encounters, the District Attorney filed an assortment of charges and the Court issued a warrant for his arrest. In a town of just slightly over 30,000 people, it didn’t take long for us to find him and serve the warrant. With the passage of time, “Stu Pidteen” eventually became a far wiser adult.

As for the phrase “It’s building!”, for several years after, it became almost obligatory to describe any situation, large or small, that seemed to be spiraling out of control.

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And We’re Off and Running, part 2 of 3

And We’re Off and Running

part 2 of 3

By Gerry Goldshine

My Motorola radio crackled loudly, only just audible over the siren and engine noise, “Tom-36, be advised, I have no units 10-8 (in service) to assist and no one in the area of the north end of town. We’ll notify CHP and SCSO. Also, we’ve had reports of patches of heavy fog in that area.”

Swell, Murphy – of “Murphy’s Law” infamy – was now definitely riding shotgun with me. Moreover, Petaluma Boulevard North, as it led out of town, was a divided roadway, with two lanes in each direction. It was not especially well lit and was lined with large oak trees that regularly claimed errant drunk drivers. I let dispatch know that the tan Toyota’s speed reached about seventy-five miles per hour and was weaving from one lane to the other. That was until we came upon the first patch of what is fondly known as “Tule Fog” – or by its more proper nomenclature, “Radiation Fog”. This bundle of condensation was about a hundred feet or so across and my lead-footed prey braked hard once more, quickly dumping off his speed like a fighter jet from Top Gun pulling up in a dog fight, only to increase velocity once out of the fog. Continuing on towards the north end of town, we encountered at least two more of the fog banks and each time, my fleeing driver would dutifully reduce his speed, albeit locking his brakes again on several occasions.

Petaluma Blvd. North at Old Redwood Highway
Petaluma Blvd. North at Old Redwood Highway

For those unfamiliar with Petaluma, at the far north end of town, Petaluma Boulevard turns to the east where it crosses over US Highway 101 and eventually becomes Old Redwood Highway. Just before the Boulevard crosses Hwy 101, it is intersected by another northbound street, Stony Point Road. In this area, Stony Point was an even more poorly lit, as well as a poorly paved, “country” road surrounded by large fields and very few residences. Why this is important, is that upon reaching this intersection, the suspect ran the red light and turned left onto Stony Point Road to continue heading north. We encountered several more patches of thick dense fog spilling out of the fields, crossing the roadway before closing on a long driveway that led up to an old farmhouse on the west side of the road. As we approached, the suspect turned on his left signal and began slowing as if they were going to turn into the driveway.

Still without any backup, I’ll admit to imagining all sorts of nightmare scenarios, each of which had me being lured into some type of ambush but almost the same time, I began formulating response strategies just in case. Reflecting back on my training, I knew about the best thing I could do was to gain more distance from them. Tactically, more distance means more time to react to any danger. Fortunately, all my threat assessments were for naught because they passed by that driveway and several others, continuing to signal for a left turn. Then, perhaps a mile or two ahead, I saw a set of flashing red and blue emergency lights speeding towards us. The suspect apparently saw the same thing and abruptly stopped his car right in the middle of the single northbound lane. About a half mile from us, the oncoming police unit stopped and proceeded to close off the southbound lane to any traffic. It was with palpable sense of relief that I finally heard, still off in the distance but converging on my position, the welcome sounds of multiple sirens meaning the cavalry was nearly there.

Unlike what is frequently depicted on the news, officers in my department did not rush up to the driver at the conclusion of a pursuit, screw a gun in his ear and/or yank him through a window. If doing so didn’t get you killed, it would probably get you fired and rightly so. Consequently, I had positioned my car a good five to seven car lengths from the tan Toyota, angled in such a way so that the engine would act as cover should they open fire on me. I got down low, behind the driver’s side front window frame, with my pistol pointed at the driver.

A felony car stop looks like this during the daytime.
A felony car stop looks like this during the daytime.

Using my patrol car’s public address system, I ordered the suspect driver to first turn off his car, then both occupants to put their hands on top of their heads and finally not to move. Naturally, neither of them complied and both made what is not so fondly referred to as “furtive movements”. Even after I repeated the commands two more times, they acted as if having a police officer point a loaded gun at them was all a perfectly natural happenstance.

As the sounds of the responding backup units grew closer, I tried repeating the commands in Spanish but to no avail. So, I turned my attention to directing the arriving units into what I felt were the best tactical positions. When at last I was joined by Sgt. Dave, down behind the door of my car, he patted me on the shoulder and said, “Nice job.”

I shook my head, looked at him and replied, “Go get him, Ger? Seriously? Go get him?”

Read the final installment of Gerry’s pursuit tomorrow, May 9th, 2013

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