Thank you, Stranger

Yesterday was difficult. It is my assumption that unless you have been attempting to conquer Mt. Everest, you are aware of OPD's tragedy. I won't belabor the point here. I may post about the funerals later. I may not. I get the feeling those men want us to move on. We have paid our respects. Get back to work. And so I shall.

That is not to say I haven't cried today. Because I have. It won't be the last time. After an emotional week, I find myself easily moved to tears. I've been to two funerals this week, including the OPD funeral, including being under the weather. I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm only trying to impart my emotional status and how one simple gesture from a complete stranger restored some Faith.

And here it is...

I'm working a 12 hr OT shift today. It's one day after the OPD funeral. At about 1000 hrs or so, the Wife brought the Kid by to say hi. We went to our local caffeine slinger (aka The Bux). We stood in line and I held the Kid. The Kid is cute. She always gets comments. If I'm holding her, it usually elicits an "ooh" or an "ahh". Everyone loves to see a cop hold a little kid, right? Today, I noticed much less of that than usual. I didn't really know the reason behind it.

I looked down and saw two different local papers. Emblazoned upon the front page in full color were four flag covered coffins with bold headlines. I typically give off a pretty good "leave me alone" vibe and it can be dialed up or down when the uniform is on. Today, though, I was feeling pretty numb and wrecked from the week. I figured folks were taking my 'aura', if you will, in conjunction with yesterday's funeral and giving me a little space. On the other hand, I thought it a little odd at the lack of empathetic looks, nods, thumbs up, keep your chin up-type motions....but I'm with the Wife and Kid, so who cares. Something to consider later on.

I was standing on the passenger side of the Wife's car, getting ready to strap the Kid in. The Wife was on the driver's side. A woman I've never met (to the best of my knowledge) was walking across the parking lot towards me. I figured she had a question. I put on my Helpful Cop face (yes, I have one) and said, "Hi there."

The woman stopped, extended her hand, and said, "I just want to say thank you." As I instinctively reached out to take what she was holding out to me, I saw what is universally recognized as a Cop's best friend, a Bux gift card. I am not usually one lacking for words. She turned to walk away and I think I stammered out, "Thank you, ma'am. I very much appreciate this. Thank you so much." I've no clue if she heard me. I pray she did.

I turned to the Wife and said, "That lady just gave me this and said thank you." The Wife gave me her very best proud smile and just nodded. I remembered I was in uniform and in public right before I lost my mind and cried right there in the parking lot.

Later in the day, I went back to the PD to check the balance on the card so I would know how much additional money I would need to treat my co-workers to java. I couldn't believe my eyes when a balance of $25 appeared on my computer screen. Believe me when I tell you I didn't think for a second it would be more than $5. After all, that is way more than enough to say thank you. To be fair, merely walking up to me and extending her sympathies and letting me know she appreciates our time/efforts in her community is more than enough. Comments like that have been keeping me and my brothers and sisters going all week long.

Her generosity and heartfelt "Thank You" did more for me than I can express with the written word. I still feel sadness. I still feel for the families. Knowing that this woman is out there, be it specifically her or someone just like here, reminds me of why people like me do the job we do.

So, thank you, Ma'am. I very much appreciate it.

Brief Hiatus

As I'm sure you understand, there is little frivolity in my head this week. I also don't think it's good form to continue blogging in my usual fashion this week. So, I'm going to take a week off from the blog.

Prior to Saturday, I had already written a couple posts and scheduled to post them tomorrow, but in light of obvious circumstances, I've postponed updating until next Monday.

Please hug your families, friends, and loved ones a little extra this week.

For those of you in the area and are interested, funeral arrangements can be found here.

If you are interested in donation information, you can find it here.

For my children...

Today, something very bad happened. Four police officers weren't able to go home. How do I explain that to you?

I'm sure they kissed their kids goodbye this morning and ruffled their hair. Just like Daddy does. I'm sure the kids asked them, "You come back, Dad?" and they said, "Of course, sweetie." Just like Daddy does. I'm sure they said "I love you" as they walked out the door. Just like Daddy does. I'm sure they promised you the world. Just like Daddy does.

Daddy came home today. Just like he promised. Why couldn't the other Daddies do the same thing? I don't know how I can explain it. You don't understand Daddy's job yet. You know he rides a motorcycle. You know where he works. You've met the people he works with. But you're too young to know much more. You're too young to really understand. I fear the day you do. I wish your innocence would last longer.

Why did those four officers not get to go home today? There's evil in the world. Some day I'm going to have to explain to you what that really means. For now, I just don't have the courage. You see, honey, Daddy isn't brave enough to do that. Daddy is selfish and wants the world to leave you alone. I can't bear the thought of those bad, dark things coming anywhere near you.

Daddy swore to protect other people from those things long before you were born. You know I always keep my word. In keeping my vow, someday I may have to break my promise to you. The really lousy thing is my promise to come home means more to me than my vow. How do I explain to you why I keep risking breaking my promise and breaking your heart? How does that even remotely make sense?

Baby, I can only hope the time never comes. You know I am good at my job. Just like those officers. You know I will do everything I can to get home. Just like those officers. You know I will stick to my vow. Just like those officers.

How do I explain it to you if it doesn't make sense to me?

Please Pray

Officers shot in Oakland.

Two fellow Motors killed during traffic stop. Hours later, additional officer killed during investigation/pursuit. Additional officer currently on life support. One suspect dead. One outstanding.

Please pray...

***Updated a few hours later***

Per reliable sources (and eventually the media), four officers dead. Suspect dead. Apparently, there was only one bad guy. Unknown motive...aside from the obvious fact suspect had a loaded weapon either in his vehicle or on his person.

I've got my own....I don't need to parent yours as well.

I took a crash yesterday. It was a run-of-the-mill rear-ender. Both involved parties are teenage girls. One 17, one 16. 17's Dad showed up, as well as 16's Mom. The 17 yr old is at fault. No one is hurt. Both cars will probably be totalled. All-in-all, not a big deal...at least for me. I see crashes all the time. Both girls are crying and upset. Crashes are traumatic events. I get the emotion behind it. I tried to reassure them and calm them. You know, "That's why they're called accidents. You're both okay. Take a deep breath", etc.

So why am I telling you all this? Mostly because at the end of the detail, I wanted to punch Dad right in the face. Why? I'm just about to clear and I was telling Dad what to do regarding his insurance. I looked over and saw 17 smoking. Dad smokes. Dad is an adult and has the legal right to do whatever stupid shit he wants to to his body. 17, however, does not. Earlier, I saw Dad with a pack of smokes. Hmmm...wherever do you think 17 got the cigarette? (This didn't occur to me until later)

I looked at Dad and said, "How old is 17?" Dad said, "17." I said, "She's smoking." Dad said, "I know". But he said it with a tone and body language that said, "What are you gonna do?" Kinda like, "I've given up trying to stop her."

I just looked at him. Then I said, "Okay. I guess I'll deal with it." But I said it with a tone and body language that said, "Hey, moron, I'm not her fucking Dad, you are. Why don't you go over there and be a parent, ya douche." Or at least, that's what was in my head....

I walked over to 17 and said, "What are you doing?" No response. I told her it was against the law for her to smoke. She quickly put it out. I didn't cite her for it at the time (mostly because I thought there was a whole ridiculous rigamarole involved...turns out there isn't, so look out, underage smokers).

I initially told her she would most likely be at fault for the crash. She was. I also told her I wasn't going to cite for the PCF (Primary Collision Factor), in this case, speed unsafe for conditions. After seeing her smoking, though, I changed my mind and mailed her a cite. One point for the at-fault crash and another for the speed.

Maybe you shouldn't have been smoking RIGHT IN FRONT OF A COP, 17...enjoy your new insurance rates, Dad.

Hello my baby, Hello my honey...

What follows actually occurred. I am still shaking my head.

On 3/16/09, I worked a little OT. As I was getting ready to walk out the door, my Sgt. printed out a detail dispatch advised him of. He thought someone was screwing with him (wouldn't be the first time); however, it was legit. Here is the text in the detail

**PR refused to leave his name, insists upon speaking to a police officer regarding his neighbor who has frogs in a pond in the backyard that won't stop croaking. PR refused to give his name or address of the croaking. PR is at the PD for contact**

Laughing as I read the detail (and happy I was already in civvies) I stood around the corner and tried to stifle my continuing laughter as I listened to the PR gripe about his neighbor's frogs. The PR went on to explain he has already contacted Animal Control and they suggested contacting his local PD. The PR kept referring to some AC section about barking dogs, loud birds, and noisy fish. Noisy fish? Yes. Noisy fish. I didn't know fish could be noisy, but apparently, it's a possibility.

The Sgt. asked the PR if he had spoken to his neighbor about his caterwauling amphibian problem. The PR's response? "I have no problems with the man. I don't know him." Uh, so, no?

What the hell is wrong with our society? Remember the days when you could walk next door and ask to borrow a cup of sugar? Or an egg? How's about you just talk to the guy and say, "Hey, man, the pond in your backyard is full of frogs and I'll be damned if they don't keep me up all night croaking. Is there anything we can do to resolve that?"

They're just frogs, dumbass. It ain't like it's a 100 lb Rottweiler trying to chew through your fence and nibble on your face. Lighten the fuck up. Some people actually buy noise machines to mimic the sound of frogs. I don't think for one blessed second the neighbor was hatching some maniacal scheme to drive you insane through the seldom-used but oh-so-effective "Frog Sleep Deprivation Strategy".

I can just picture the neighbor with a mad ego-maniacal face holding a hose and filling up the pond. He puts the hose down, rubs his hands together, and laughs, "Muahahahahahaha. My plan is working!!"

His back up plan? Koi Pond-palooza. Ingenious.

Seriously? You couldn't maybe look a little closer?

I just got back from a "welfare check". Very rarely are they anything truly police related. This one was no different.

The detail came out as follows: RP advising a AMA (Asian male adult) is laying down in the front seat of a blk veh, unk plate, RP advising she just left her house and noticed him, wants PD to do a welfare check.

Medical was dispatched (to stage...why, I have no idea) in case dude was in need of medical care. There was an additional RP that gave a better description of the car. When I arrived on scene, I saw exactly what was reported. An AMA reclined back in the driver's seat of his car. Napping.

I see what I assume was one of the RPs about 30' behind the vehicle clutching her 'dog' or what passes for one these days in Town. I pulled up parallel to the car, rolled down my window and knocked on the car's window. Dude sits up, smiles, and rolls down his window. "Hey, you okay, sir?" I ask. "Yes, Officer. Just waiting for a friend." "Okey doke. Have a nice day." Then I pulled out and drove away.

My point to all this? Get out a pen and/or pencil and something to write on...I'll wait. Ready? Here it is...


WHY DON'T YOU JUST WALK UP AND CHECK ON THE FUCKING DRIVER?!?!

If you're so blessed concerned about the welfare of a fellow human, instead of waiting the ten minutes or so it takes to call 911, explain to Dispatch what's going on, Dispatch to enter the detail and notify patrol and for patrol to actually get there from what is most likely the other fucking side of town, why don't you just walk over and say, "Ya okay?"

If, by some astronomically ridiculous chance, the driver actually needs medical aid and you have no experience, at least you'll be able to properly advise the proper agency, be it police or fire, of what the problem is.

In this world of cordless and cellular phones, there is nothing stopping you from calling it in and simultaneously walking over to the car. Short of obvious blood/brain matter on the window, odds are the mother fucker is catching a catnap. In five years of patrol I've never gone to a welfare check described as above that was anything remotely legit.

And here's the second half of people ignoring the obvious...

I got dispatched this morning to a suspicious circumstance. The detail was as follows:

**1st house on the right on ABC St from 123 Ave, there is a white van with a latter (not a typo, by the by) on top ifo the house. The house door is open. There is a history of break ins in the area.**

Now, I'm all for neighbors keeping an eye on each other's property and such. When I arrived there was a man in coveralls holding a paintbrush on the porch. There was a sign on the door. It read "Wet Paint". Should I call in SWAT and CSI to solve this caper? Or do you just maybe think the guy was PAINTING THE DAMN DOOR?

Again, I've got no issue with neighbors being vigilant. However, before you go tooling by in your '09 Mercedes SL500 at 30 MPH and glance out of your periphal vision and see what, in your mind, is the crime of the century in progress, why don't you slow your roll a bit and take a second look and save us all a bit of time, okay?

And before some of you start whining about "that's what we pay you for", chew on this. While I'm enroute to details like these, along with a cover car usually, there are any number of legit crimes occurring elsewhere. Depending on the type of call, I may be driving Code 3 and faster than everyone else on the road. I am risking your life and mine. For what? Quite often, for nothing at all.

So, speaking for my fellow brothers and sisters (and I feel I can mostly because I can cause it's my blog), do us all a favor and before you go off the deep end and assume the worst, take a second. Think. Look again. Often the simplest, most obvious solution is the answer to your issues. We thank you...

And as far my 'closing codes' (how we finalize the outcome of a detail)? The 'welfare check'...STC (service to citizen) woke the sleeping gentlemen. The 'suspicious circumstance'...unfounded. obvious painter. obviously painting.

Sell out or Symbiotic Relationship?

You may have noticed some ads on the blog. As you scroll down, you will see ads from google. The ridiculous part? The ones I've seen that 'relate' to my site are all along the lines of how to beat a traffic ticket. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Is that ironic karma at its best or mere happenstance?

Acting on a suggestion from a friend, I added the AdSense widget in order to make some money. Apparently, the more followers one has, the more likely either they or other anonymous types will click on one of the ads. Now, I know next to nothing about AdSense, but, whore that I (apparently) am, I figured what the hell...I'll take something for nothing.

Therein lies my quandary. Am I selling out or, taking into account the type of ads, have I become the shark to the ad's sucker fish (or whatever those fish are called...you know, the ones that hitch a ride on the Great White...what am I, an ichthyologist? Look it up, I'll wait).

I'm fairly certain the amount of greenbacks, or more likely metal based currency, likely to come my way won't exactly pave the way toward retirement; however, if it gets me a dark, frosty adult beverage every so often, who am I to complain.

The funniest part about the ads is that I have actually looked into those types of services in the past. I was always curious how they go about defending a violator. The sites I have looked at charge fees that are well in excess of what the violator would pay. Now, I'm no Bernie Madoff (ooohh, and he's timely!), but I'm pretty sure that makes no financial sense at all.

Nonetheless, I shall continue to write tickets. You shall continue to violate the law. Regardless, fees will be paid. If you want to pay extra fees to some third party to lose in court anyway, knock yourself out. Matter of fact, I'll give you a hand. Go ahead and click on my new ads...I could use the four cents.

Traffic stops are like a box of chocolates...

...sometimes you get some nasty shit you'd never want to put in your mouth. Allow me to expand.

Yesterday, I stopped a car for following too close. When I made contact with the driver, I couldn't help but notice a couple things. First, there was an infant wailing away in the back seat. Second, the driver was pretty damn young. As in, "oops we got pregnant" too young.

I was half-bent anyway since she took her sweet ass time yielding, but after hearing the kid trying to make sounds that would make my dogs cry, I gave her the benefit of the doubt.

I went back to my car and ran her out. Dammit. Warrant. Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. What's it for? PC 647(b) - Prostitution. Oh, did I forget to mention she's 18? It's not a warrant out of my jurisdiction, so dispatch needs to confirm the warrant with the issuing agency. The most important question I need answered besides the warrant being good is, "Is it cite-releasable". That means I can just give her a ticket and she can take her spawn and gone on about her day. If it's not, then I have to try and get a hold of family for the little one. If that doesn't happen...CFS time. Grumble.

Whilst I'm waiting for the warrant to be confirmed, I write out the ticket for the moving violation. You better believe I'm getting my ticket out of her. I walked back to her car and tell her, "You know you've got a warrant right?" Her universal reply was, "I swear I took care of it." Yeah, sure you did.

Turns out, she did. And thank the good Lord for it. Sure, I didn't an arrest stat out of it, but I did get my bread and butter mover and she got to take her love child and get the hell out of my Town.

For those of you wondering, 'cause I know there are some of you out there...Absolutely not. Not with a 10' cattle prod. Yucky, yucky. Now go back and read the title of this post and the sentence immediately at the beginning of the post. Yup, that's right. And we've come full circle.

CVC 27007 or, alternate title, My Hypocrisy only goes so far

CVC 27007 states in part, "No driver of a vehicle shall operate any sound amplification system which can be heard outside the vehicle from 50 or more feet when the vehicle is being operated upon a highway".

Translation: Turn down your fucking stereo.

Herein lies my hypocrisy. I love me some loud music. Always have. I remember being a kid and studying in my room. Minding my own business, really (bait the hook). All of a sudden, Mom would come busting in my room (set the hook) and tell me to TURN DOWN THAT MUSIC!! (And play out the reel, baby....whiizzzzzzzzz). I calmly told her at one point something to the effect of "Mom, when I start getting something less than A's and B's, I'll turn down the music."

The preceding really doesn't have much to do with the post. I just like poking that particular bear in that particular zoo. xoxo

At any rate, since my childhood, I have enjoyed music at a decibel level that is more than likely not the healthiest for hearing later in my years. However, there have been times I have been trapped in a setting where loud activities were afoot and dammit, if I'm gonna go deaf, I'll do it to my music, thank you very much. That being said, I haven't changed all that much. I still enjoy my Rock and I enjoy it loud. Be it in the car or the iPod.

I understand the section listed above. More often than not, I ignore the loud music coming from passing vehicles. However. If I can hear you over the rumbling of my Harley, dispatch yammering in my left ear and Kirk Hammett wailing away in my right, you're getting a ticket. You heard that right. Have iPod, will travel. There's something intrinsically poetic about stopping a car while the Stray Cats sing "I fought the law".

And here's another point. If your goddamn bass is shaking my internal organs, you're lucky I don't get off my bike, rip your 1000 watt woofer out of your trunk and beat you to death with it.

So, yes. I am a hypocrite. But it's okay, because I embrace my hypocrisy. You better believe I'm not stopping anybody blasting "Wanted Dead or Alive"! Play on, Sambora, play on!

methinks Romance is dead...

Although I was hoping for a laid back OT shift, I couldn't be happier to have assisted with the following detail...

My partner and I were in the PD. He was eating and I was finishing up a T/C report from last week. He got dispatched to a trespass/suspicious circumstance detail at a well known abandoned house. Well, he was eating and Lord knows you never know if you'll get to finish your meal. Consequently, I offered to take it for him so he could finish eating.

The house has been vacant for as long as I've been assigned to the Town. It is a haven for ridiculous shenanigans. I'm also fairly convinced it's haunted (I'm only partly kidding).

Sure enough, upon arrival, I see a Lexus sedan pulled a few hundred feet up the driveway. Obvious as all hell. I asked for a cover car since, well, since the house is haunted and there's no way my Mom's kid is going in that house by his lonesome. My partner (now having left his dinner...sorry, bro) and the Sgt. arrive a few minutes later. Noting the potential seriousness of the detail, I quickly asked which of them was Shaggy and which was Scooby, 'cause I was claiming Fred. After an inappropriate accusation of "He's Velma", we started towards the house.

The house is all boarded up, with the exception of the rear door which has a panel kicked in the lower half of the door. It measures, about 2 1/2' square. We all go through the panel (some of us easier than others) and announce ourselves. We are met with the sound of scurrying upstairs. Great. Haunted house plus scurrying. Fuck.

My partner makes another announcement and what do you know? A teenage boy's voice greets us....along with a teenage girl's. Shocking. Once we figured out there was no seriously illicit activity occurring, the Sgt bounced and my partner and I were left with loverboy and his filly. Fantastic.

Let me try and describe the scene. The WMJ (white male juvenile) is shirtless and scrambling for his shirt. The WFJ (figure it out) looked like she was only missing her shoes...although she appeared a wee bit sweaty for recent activity. The upstairs area of the house is completely boarded up with cracks in the boards, so a little filtered light gets in...but the sun is almost down. There are three mattresses on the floor. They have been there for years. The room is covered in graffiti. It smells of piss.

My partner and I start asking them just what they think they're doing. WMJ mutters something about not starting anything yet, but there is an unopened prophylactic on the mattress. Sexy. My partner, rightly so, looks at WFJ and says, "You should have more respect for yourself." Couldn't have said it better.

I'm gonna go ahead and guess it wasn't going to be her first time. But, sweet Jesus, can you imagine if it was? I'm assuming most of us remember our first time. Pretty sure none of us would want to start out the story with "What's-his-name and I trespassed into a shitty, smelly, stuffy, dirty house with god knows what crawling in/on/under the mattresses and he made mad sweet love to me. Christ, I miss him!" Yeah, she's destined for greatness.

So, long story short, I got their horsepower (names, DOB, etc.) and FI'd (Field Interview) them for our records and told them to split. And here's where I realized the paths of Romance and this generation run parallel and never cross. This modern day Romeo walked back to his Lexus with Sweet Young Thing (who was more than willing to throw up her legs in a passionate petri dish). Romeo walked to the driver side. SYT to the passenger. They both got in. He didn't even open the fucking door for her. What a Douche. I even told him so...kinda. I believe I said something to the effect of "You bring her to this shit hole, get caught, and then don't open the door for her? You are fucking unbelievable." SYT said, "It's okay." No, sweetie. It ain't.

Oh, did I forget to mention it was Romeo's birthday. Boy, that SYT must really love him.

This is where the story ends, but I was really hoping to hear Romeo scream out the window as he drove away, "And I woulda fucked her if it wasn't for you meddling kids!"

What to do...

A caveat. This is not a cop related post. Rather, I'm wondering how to best infuse a new characteristic to my little experiment. If you'll notice, along the right side of the blog is a Twitter widget. (Man, I cringe at all this 21st century lingo...You kids get off my lawn!!!!) I'm enough of a facebook whore these days, all I need is another fucking techno-crutch.

At any rate, as I've stated a time or two before, sometimes things in this job just aren't that interesting. Shocking, I know, but it's true. Not every stop I conduct is blog-worthy. By in large, they are all fairly dull. (Note I didn't use "routine"). So, I'm thinking about using Twitter as a more, albeit brief, update of what I happen to be doing at any given moment. The other option is to use it as a more personal and not necessarily work related outlet. You know, let you behind the curtain a little to see the Great and Powerful OZ.

Let me know what your opinions are.