I know this is supposed to be strictly related to my professional life, but I find it necessary to mention my personal life in this particular post for a specific reason: I wouldn't be as successful or satisfied in my professional life without one very important person in my personal life. My Wife.
Recently, the Wife graduated from a local University. She did it while being a stay-at-home Mom and a Wife. She took care of the Kid and I at the same time as being a full time student. Not an easy task. Why do I bring her up now? Because I should have done it much, much sooner.
It is not easy being a cop's wife. I know lots and lots of officers that have been married and divorced repeatedly. "They" say the average cop is married 2.something times. I know of two in particular that were both married twice, divorced twice, and remarried a third time. All by the age of 30.
I waited 30+ years for a reason people. The Wife is that reason. I grew up in a Civil Service household with a Firefighter Dad. Each time he left the house, we couldn't say with certainty he would return the next day. It is the same in my house. It isn't something we verbalize daily, monthly, or annually. It just is. The Wife lives with the potential sacrifice I am willing to make for complete strangers. Maybe even strangers I don't particularly like. What's more...she supports me in it. That takes something beyond regular special.
I learned a long time ago from my folks that communication is key. That is true in every marriage, but more so in a cop's house (or firefighter's). I call the Wife to vent. I call the Wife to out and out bitch. I call the Wife to cry (get over yourself, you do it, too.). This is a tough job. She's a tough chick. I couldn't do this gig without her. If I didn't tell her about my day and just bottled up those emotions, be they good, bad, or otherwise, well I'd be mixing a recipe of complete and eventual disaster.
"They" also say that the two most volatile and unpredictable types of calls for a cop are domestic violence calls and plain 'ol traffic stops. I do more of the latter than most. A lot more. That ups the odds against me. Now I don't think before each stop, "I've got to get home to the Wife, so let's be careful on this one." However, I try and handle every detail and traffic stop as safely as I can. And getting home is always the first thing on my subconscious mind. If I had to spend my time worrying about whether the Wife is there to support my actions, it would take up part of my mind I need to concentrate on what I am doing. The Wife affords me the opportunity to completely devote my attention where it should be when I am on-duty. I never have to worry about wavering support on the home front because it just doesn't happen.
So, to all of you fellow officers out there, I pray you have the same unconditional, loving support I enjoy. To you spouses of fellow officers, I encourage you to be there to listen, be supportive, embrace the man or woman you married when they get home (and often).
Thank you, Wife, for all you do, who you are and the love you so unselfishly give me. xoxo
Friday, June 20, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Hiatus
Ok, kids, I know I haven't updated in a week or so but there's a good reason. I'm on vacation! Although there is just as much fun and frivolity in my personal life as my professional, it just doesn't apply to the 'ol blog. So, check back the first week of July. I shall return...
Until such time, however, please to enjoy the upcoming apocalypse that is 7/1/08. Introducing CVC 23123/23124, better known as the cell phone law. My friend and I have a little wager in regards to 7/1. Whomever gets more cell cites in one day wins. The wager? A night out without the little one. He wins (dream on), the Wife and I go to his house and watch his little one. I win (damn near a foregone conclusion) and he and his bride come over to our house and watch our little one. Oh, hold tight fair drivers of Town, for you know not the coming reaping of your very souls (I acknowledge this is a tad over-dramatic, but it's fun to imagine them all cowering in abject fear).
Okey doke, all, enjoy June....
Until such time, however, please to enjoy the upcoming apocalypse that is 7/1/08. Introducing CVC 23123/23124, better known as the cell phone law. My friend and I have a little wager in regards to 7/1. Whomever gets more cell cites in one day wins. The wager? A night out without the little one. He wins (dream on), the Wife and I go to his house and watch his little one. I win (damn near a foregone conclusion) and he and his bride come over to our house and watch our little one. Oh, hold tight fair drivers of Town, for you know not the coming reaping of your very souls (I acknowledge this is a tad over-dramatic, but it's fun to imagine them all cowering in abject fear).
Okey doke, all, enjoy June....
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Ah, Stupidity...
In my very first Admin of Justice class at LMC, back in '90 thank you very much, my instructor, a local Sergeant at the time, told us the following:
"There are only two ways we catch the bad guys. We get lucky or they do something stupid."
Please to enjoy my latest run-in with stupidity...
I'm sitting at a T-intersection monitoring it for stop sign runners or seat belt violations. I've already written eight and there's about an hour left in my shift, so I'm basically watching the clock waiting to go home. Enter Larry, Curly, and Moe (if Moe was a chick). There's a car stopped at the stop sign going northbound when a Chevy Tahoe pulled to the right and blew through the intersection without stopping. Hmmmm...crime is afoot! Or at least my ninth cite.
I pull out and hit my lites. The Chevy immediately (to be read suspiciously) makes a quick right onto the very next street. I pull up behind the car and walk up to contact the driver. The driver looks like a scumbag from 25', so use your powers of imagination to visualize what he was like close up.
**Sidebar**
Most of you have never worked in a jail or been in patrol in a, shall we say, seedier part of your area. Thus, you are wholly unacquainted with the specific aroma that seems to hover among and around criminals, their vehicles, and their homes. It is truly unlike anything you have ever smelled. Don't misinterpret now, it ain't a pretty smell. It is, however, uh....distinct. Any time I, and I feel comfortable speaking for my brothers/sisters in blue here, or any of my fellow officers contact someone and we smell that particular smell, it sends up a red flag that something is not right. It doesn't smell like pot or alcohol. The only way to describe it is (sorry, Mom) feet and ass. Together. Like there is a creature somewhere made up solely of feet and ass. And not the shapely soft portion of the ass of your favorite supermodel. Oh, no. You get the picture. This car smelled like that
**Meanwhile....back at the ranch...***
I asked the driver what he was doing. He said something to the effect of he was late to pick up his kid or on his way to his aunt's, or some such bullshit. I asked him for his CDL and *shocker* he didn't have it with him; however, I can see plain as day a CDL on his lap. I asked him to whom that CDL belonged. He said it was his girlfriend's. His girlfriend, Janelle. I'll skip the pregnant sarcastic pause and just tell you the CDL did not belong to anyone named Janelle. Like, not even close to resembling Janelle. The driver was in his early 30's. The CDL belonged to a 16year old girl. Curiouser and curiouser. Another amusing sidenote, the only picture ID the driver had was for a Cannabis Club. Now that is some funny shit.
I had Larry, Curly, and Moe step out of the vehicle. I asked the driver, Larry, if he minded if I searched his car. Larry said, "Go ahead." Seriously. He let me search his car. Did you know you have the right to refuse a search of your vehicle, kids? That's right. You do. It's a little something some old dead guys came up with called the 4th Amendment. Now, that doesn't mean I wasn't gonna search Larry's car anyways, cause I would have ended up with probable cause at some point given the fact that he was an idiot, but the fact remains. He could have told me to piss off. Probably better for him that he didn't, but still.
I found a phone number for the 16 year old girl. I called her and guess what? Not a fucking clue who my moron driver is. Although, she did throw in the interesting fact that she was currently standing next to a police officer in a neighboring city and reporting an auto burglary. Ah, irony, you fickle mistress.
Long story short, Larry, Curly, and Moe went to jail for possession of stolen property, auto burglary, and burglary tools. Whilst I was dealing with these morons, another auto burg came out in our Town. You guessed it, we found the stolen property from that one in the Chevy as well.
So, to review...Stupid Move #1: Running a stop sign immediately after you've just burglarized at least two cars. And not just rolling through, we're talking completely and obviously blowing the stop. Stupid Move #2: Allowing a search of your vehicle immediately after you've just burglarized at least two cars. Stupid Move #3: Burglarizing cars in the middle of the fucking day when a shitload of potential witnesses are around and then one of them subsequently ID's your dumbass resulting in you and your two idiot friends going to jail.
God bless 'em. Job security, my friends.
"There are only two ways we catch the bad guys. We get lucky or they do something stupid."
Please to enjoy my latest run-in with stupidity...
I'm sitting at a T-intersection monitoring it for stop sign runners or seat belt violations. I've already written eight and there's about an hour left in my shift, so I'm basically watching the clock waiting to go home. Enter Larry, Curly, and Moe (if Moe was a chick). There's a car stopped at the stop sign going northbound when a Chevy Tahoe pulled to the right and blew through the intersection without stopping. Hmmmm...crime is afoot! Or at least my ninth cite.
I pull out and hit my lites. The Chevy immediately (to be read suspiciously) makes a quick right onto the very next street. I pull up behind the car and walk up to contact the driver. The driver looks like a scumbag from 25', so use your powers of imagination to visualize what he was like close up.
**Sidebar**
Most of you have never worked in a jail or been in patrol in a, shall we say, seedier part of your area. Thus, you are wholly unacquainted with the specific aroma that seems to hover among and around criminals, their vehicles, and their homes. It is truly unlike anything you have ever smelled. Don't misinterpret now, it ain't a pretty smell. It is, however, uh....distinct. Any time I, and I feel comfortable speaking for my brothers/sisters in blue here, or any of my fellow officers contact someone and we smell that particular smell, it sends up a red flag that something is not right. It doesn't smell like pot or alcohol. The only way to describe it is (sorry, Mom) feet and ass. Together. Like there is a creature somewhere made up solely of feet and ass. And not the shapely soft portion of the ass of your favorite supermodel. Oh, no. You get the picture. This car smelled like that
**Meanwhile....back at the ranch...***
I asked the driver what he was doing. He said something to the effect of he was late to pick up his kid or on his way to his aunt's, or some such bullshit. I asked him for his CDL and *shocker* he didn't have it with him; however, I can see plain as day a CDL on his lap. I asked him to whom that CDL belonged. He said it was his girlfriend's. His girlfriend, Janelle. I'll skip the pregnant sarcastic pause and just tell you the CDL did not belong to anyone named Janelle. Like, not even close to resembling Janelle. The driver was in his early 30's. The CDL belonged to a 16year old girl. Curiouser and curiouser. Another amusing sidenote, the only picture ID the driver had was for a Cannabis Club. Now that is some funny shit.
I had Larry, Curly, and Moe step out of the vehicle. I asked the driver, Larry, if he minded if I searched his car. Larry said, "Go ahead." Seriously. He let me search his car. Did you know you have the right to refuse a search of your vehicle, kids? That's right. You do. It's a little something some old dead guys came up with called the 4th Amendment. Now, that doesn't mean I wasn't gonna search Larry's car anyways, cause I would have ended up with probable cause at some point given the fact that he was an idiot, but the fact remains. He could have told me to piss off. Probably better for him that he didn't, but still.
I found a phone number for the 16 year old girl. I called her and guess what? Not a fucking clue who my moron driver is. Although, she did throw in the interesting fact that she was currently standing next to a police officer in a neighboring city and reporting an auto burglary. Ah, irony, you fickle mistress.
Long story short, Larry, Curly, and Moe went to jail for possession of stolen property, auto burglary, and burglary tools. Whilst I was dealing with these morons, another auto burg came out in our Town. You guessed it, we found the stolen property from that one in the Chevy as well.
So, to review...Stupid Move #1: Running a stop sign immediately after you've just burglarized at least two cars. And not just rolling through, we're talking completely and obviously blowing the stop. Stupid Move #2: Allowing a search of your vehicle immediately after you've just burglarized at least two cars. Stupid Move #3: Burglarizing cars in the middle of the fucking day when a shitload of potential witnesses are around and then one of them subsequently ID's your dumbass resulting in you and your two idiot friends going to jail.
God bless 'em. Job security, my friends.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)