The action, drama, and even humor that an officer experiences during a shift can sometimes be difficult to imagine, let alone experience. This journal presents unique perspectives & chronicles events of a typical mid-western city's Police Department.

Sunday, March 27, 2005

First Days

I'd like to say I remember it like it was yesterday. Unfortunately, I can't even remember most of yesterday, let alone my first day on the job over a decade ago. I was assigned a Field Training Officer (FTO) who had been on about 8 years. He was a big guy, and by that, I don't mean fat. He was solid and a godsend to have as a back-up for a green, fresh from the farm, boy like me. My first day on the street was in June 1992, the start of one of the busiest summers the city had ever seen. Everything was a blur that night. I do remember our first call was a Domestic Violence, the particulars of which escape me. And, I remember clambering out of the passenger side of the behemoth Ford Crown Vic, tugging at my pants and tucking in the shirt of my uniform that was 2 sizes too big for me. I awkwardly slid the long PR-24 baton into my belt holster (what a pain that was to carry around) and asked my FTO if I should wear my hat.
"I'm not gonna hold it against you," he replied. "But, if you get caught without it on, it's your problem." The hat stayed in the car. Amazing how some things never change. We walked up to the front door and Charles knocked. I hid in his shadow as a man opened the door. Some brief words were exchanged, and the next thing I knew, Charles had the guy in handcuffs and was leading him down the porch steps and back to the cruiser. What the heck just happened? I don't even remember now, but I'm sure I was the one that did the paperwork.

Fast forward a few years and the shoe's on the other foot. I did my time and put in to be an FTO myself after I finally figured out what I was doing. My rook was a big guy too. A former guard at the local prison. For reasons beyond my control (i.e. not my fault) he is no longer with the department, but I do remember our first day together a bit more clearly. Another hot, summer day. Roll call was uneventful and I had all these plans how our night would go as I acclimated him to the world of policework. My first plan was to set him up with all the paperwork he would need-- traffic and parking citations, blank offense report sheets, property tags, traffic crash forms. All these things were in the Report Room and all Officers have a large duffle bag that doubles as a filing cabinet. Well, due in part to the dreaded 12 minute rule and the conflict to now have to do everything within Policy while having the responsibility of training a Rookie, I decided to bring us up On Duty in the cruiser first. I now planned on showing him how we check out the cruiser for damages or any contraband left in the backseat from the previous shift, In addition, we were to make sure the trunk had all its supplies-- first aid kit, charged fire extinguisher, shotgun, among other things (Stop Sticks came later). We needed to confirm all the emergency equipment worked (the pretty lights and sirens). I had just lugged my own supplies out to the lot when Dispatch was calling for a crew to take a stabbing. Nothing like jumping into the fray. Torn again between what we should do and what I'd like to do to maintain some semblance of order on this guy's first day, I decided. "We'll take that, Dispatch." Following my lead, and probably just as clueless as I was my first day, the Rook jumped in the car and we took off. We determined that the emergency equipment was, in fact, in working order as we ran a "tone" to the call. Thirty seconds later, we arrived. The scene was only a block away in one of the housing projects situated right behind HQ on the other side of the fence . Even our first emergency run was unorthodox. A training crew (a Rook and his FTO) are considered a one-unit crew for the first few weeks. It's like the Rook doesn't even exist, except to do the reports and the bidding of his FTO. So, a second crew was enroute to back us up but from a distance away. Pulling up, we see a disheveled older man staggering around in the courtyard with blood on his shirt. He just finished telling us who stabbed him in the stomach when who came slipping around the corner? A fifty foot chase and the not-very-determined suspect was caught. Man, my rook could run! We make the arrest on this somewhat major incident. Could this get anymore complicated? How about recovering the bloody knife in the bad guy's pocket? And, what's this? A crackpipe? Well, the first half of our shift has just been spoken for. See everybody in about 4 hours. Time moves half as slow when you have a rook with you. Oh yeah. Our back up arrived a few minutes later. "Anything you need?" he asked, knowing the answer and thanking the heavens for training crews.
"Nah, we got it."

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