A Fun Ride

Birthday Woes

Today's my birthday. I'm not going to harp on how old I'm getting or even the fact that I chose to work on this day instead of having it off. Eight extra holiday hours pay is hard to pass up. Several people have told me, "I don't think a guy should have to work on his birthday." So, after I spent all day in the backyard chopping tree roots in 80% humidity, I am getting ready for work. I don't mind. I feel it has to be better than the birthday I had a few years ago...

It's about 1 a.m. officially on my birthday. I had roll call at 2000 hours on the 23rd and was having a normal shift. I had recently received my Radar certification after having had Laser training for some time now, and I was anxious to try out my newly learned speed detection skills. I pace up and down Main St. in my patrol car, switching between the Forward Opposite Direction Moving Radar and Rear Same Direction Moving Radar to keep things interesting. Later, when I get tired, I'd find a place to sit and run the Stationary Both Directions Radar. Almost out by the City Corporation line, I see headlights approaching at a fast rate of speed. The audible tone of the Radar Unit confirms my visual observation as its high-pitched electronic sound increases in octave. I lock it in at 60 mph. Almost double the speed limit on this 35 mph roadway. By the time he passes me, he's slowed down enough, but it's too late. I got him. I activate my overhead lights. I'm in the right hand northbound lane of the four-lane road and prepare to make an arc by slowing and turning to the left to get in behind him to pull him over. As I do this, I hear brakes locking up and think, "Man, I surprised him!" But, it's me who's surprised. The brakes were not from the violator but from a car in the left hand lane slightly behind me which had been in my blind spot heading my same direction. I had turned right in front of him! Bam! He hits my rear driver's side door-- a perfect T-bone crash. The impact is enough to lift me out of my seat and toward my door. I slam into the door and my head bobs out toward the impact and hits the halfway-down door window, shattering it. I bounce back into my seat as my cruiser is sent across the oncoming lanes and off the far curb. It comes to rest in some tall shrubs. I turn around to see the crumpled front end of the blue mid-sized car that collided with me. I can't get out but know I need to check on the condition of the other driver. I shake the "cobwebs" from my head, along with the peppered shards of glass and crawl through the window opening. The man behind the wheel of the other car appears all right. He doesn't know what to say. "I tried to stop," he explains. I've been in a few and have seen several officer-involved vehicle accidents, and it has always seemed the civilian driver is trying to figure out how he could have avoided the accident that just had to have been his fault. Many are, but this one is clearly my fault. I'll take the blame on this one, no question about that, as I call for additional crews and a supervisor and prepare to "take my medicine."

It's still my birthday nineteen hours later as I show up for roll call to the surprise of many. I tell them I feel fine-- just a little stiff and sore. I have a few small cuts in my scalp from the impact with the side window but nothing serious. However, the sergeant and my co-workers all felt it better if I were not to drive a cruiser tonight. So, I show up in my Bicycle Patrol uniform and prepare for a fun night of exercise with Officer Alan and Officer Ron. After all, how dangerous can riding a bicycle be? I find out twice this evening as I put that question to the test. At first, I count myself lucky, even skillful, as we travel in lower One Beat down the narrow sidewalk beside the vacant car dealership and its long stretch of display showroom plate glass windows. Officer Alan leads the way, and Officer Ron brings up the rear, forming a line of protection for me in the middle. I apparently lose my balance navigating uneven sidewalk blocks, empty beer bottles and dilapidated decorative iron tree supports. I bounce into the windows as I fall to my left, scooting my shoulder along the glass as I right myself and try not to lean too far the other way and out into traffic on the roadway so close on my right. I survive! Albeit, to the laughter of Officer Ron behind me. Alan will have to be filled in later, although he'll get his chance to witness my bike riding etiquette again fairly soon. As the shift goes on, we find ourselves approaching an abandoned drug store lot. It has a narrow passage behind the store that comes out at the far end of the parking lot. Officer Alan takes the passage as we cut across the lot, in case he stirs up any activity in the rear as crackheads and prostitutes often conduct their business back there, out of sight from conventional police pro-active enforcement. I'm building up speed, trying to time Alan's exit from behind the store with my arrival at the far end of the lot. Alan comes around, Ron is on my left and slightly behind me. I turn the front wheel, ever so slightly, right over a thin patch of mud on the concrete, a drying puddle, and the whole bike whips to the side. I can't keep upright as I follow the bike to the ground and land on my back-- right in the mud. It's more comical than painful as I lay there staring up into the light of the tall lamp posts and the stars beyond. I see the other officers riding circles around me as they slow their momentum to stop safely and check on me. I start laughing, not moving. The only thing I can say, almost lyrically, as I lay there feeling sorry for myself-- "Happy Birthday to me..."

"Hello. What's this?" A re-enactment

Time For Some Fun

This job is unique. Nowhere else can you experience the intense stress and see the terrible side of the human condition while at the same time have so much fun. Police officers tend to poke fun at the macabre-- and each each other. We also are great practical jokers. The sense of humor we have helps us cope with the negative things we see on a daily basis to keep us distant from them. It's not about being cruel-- it's about getting us to laugh at ourselves. No one knows this better than me. I have a reputation of exploiting a co-worker's boneheadedness-- immortalizing his actions in the form of business cards handed out at roll call that advertise their comic misfortunes or perhaps a doctored photograph with an amusing caption in the Report Room. It's almost a rite of passage for someone to get a business card from me. One for the officer who started a chase on a car that ended up not being stolen, only to have other officers pull it over at gunpoint and wonder where the originating officer was. Or a card for the officers who shot a charging Rottweiler, not once, not twice, but 13 times! Or the officer who can't make it out of the parking lot in his cruiser without backing into a parked truck. Or the officers minding their own business on a call, only to have a bird overhead do his own business on them. Or the officer who was in the wrong place at the wrong time during a suspect take down and got kneed in the backside by a officer charging in. Humorous events in which we need to be reminded of our own humility and humanness. Sharing a laugh about these remind us not to take things so seriously. I may be the master, or at least the most active, of these "reminders." But I can still be bested.

One cold winter night, the kind of night when we were lucky to take maybe four calls an entire shift-- and two of those being self-initiated-- I was struggling for something to do to keep my eyes open. I was tired! The hot, dry air blowing from the cruiser's vents along with my two pairs of socks and long johns made me toasty indeed. And, at three o'clock in the morning on that boring night, all I could think about was curling up in a bed and entering dreamland. There is a particular place in D5 where officers can safely retreat to complete reports, read the paper or just wait for the next call without worrying about being bothered or having something jump off right in front of them. Plus, this "hiding spot" offers a nice view of downtown. I finally decided to make good use of this spot before I drove off the side of the road or into a passing car. I pulled in and turned off my lights. With nothing to do, I quickly succumbed to sleep. Unbeknownst to me, I had visitors during my slumber. An officer's voice on the radio soon brought me back to the present. Another crew was calling me. I knew the two-unit crew was trying to catch me off guard. Whenever I would disappear for a while and no one heard from me, it was assumed I was sleeping. I answered my radio quickly and as alert as possible. The officer asked to see me at a location not too far from where I was. To show them I wasn't falling for their "Caught You Sleeping" trick, I told them as chipper as possible that I'd be right there. I pulled out and headed in their direction down the hill and out of the immediate area. They weren't there yet. A cruiser was coming down the road. It wasn't the crew from the radio. It was a D3 crew from across the river. "I was in the neighborhood," he told me after pulling up along side me from the opposite direction along the curb. "Sounded like you guys might have needed help." "No," I told him. "Those guys are just messing with me." He smiled. "Looks like they succeeded," he replied. "What's all that scene tape doing on your car?" What? I went to open my door to get out and see what he was talking about, only to realize it wouldn't open more than six inches and I couldn't get out. As I pushed harder, I felt something give and heard the familiar 'snap' as streams of yellow crime scene tape stretched to their limit and fluttered to the ground after having been wrapped completely around my police cruiser dozens of times. "Jerks," I muttered, smiling to myself as they watched secretly from afar atop the hill. I hear later that somewhere now there's a complete portfolio in pictures of their handiwork and my dozing, comatose figure. I only hope after I eventually "one-up" them, which I am bound to do, the pictures don't end up surfacing when I decide to take over and run this department as their Chief. Time will tell, but for now I plot...

Any School, Your Town, USA

A Unique Perspective on Terror

I can't begin to understand what any of the students and teachers went through or how they felt during the ordeal at Columbine High School and other schools in our nation that have been the arenas of senseless death and injury over the last several years. I can, however, understand Law Enforcement's early response to the new form of terrorism they faced. And, I do not fault it. There had never been a policy in place to deal with that type of situation, and first responding officers and even SWAT teams fell back on their training and tried to adapt. Unfortunately, short indeed is the window of time when lives are being taken at that very moment beyond the immediate reach of potential rescuers. Time is of the essence to prevent further loss of life. Falling back on your training is still an option. It's just time for new training. These previously mentioned comments seem like common sense statements to officers now, and departments everywhere are enacting procedures to handle this dangerous situation. As we've all seen, it can happen in any community now and everyone must be prepared. The concept behind the training is to immediately engage the enemy and stop the threat. Again, not an alien concept. All that is needed is a re-evaluation of the oath officers swear. In some form or fashion, we all swore to protect lives. Examining the hierarchy of that protection is necessary. Innocent civilians rank number one and the police officer is a close second. The suspect ranks last-- as it should be. The problem in the thinking for many is, when it comes down to it, where the officer fits in. When faced with the barbaric mindset of these killers and what they put their victims through, it is easy to see they must be stopped by putting the officer in immediate harm's way at great personal risk. But, let's not give up sound tactics. We still plan on coming home after putting down the suspects. Hence, the Active Shooter Response Training. Our department has two training tools to help with this. They are both based on the previously mentioned theory that when you experience something and gain familiarity with a situation, it will be easier to work through it the next time. One involves a large interactive videoscreen displaying several scenarios. This is still in the experimental phase in our department. The most effective, and most intense, training we employ involves a simulated mass shooting in progress in a social setting-- ideally a school. Our department uses a semi-abandoned military facility to mimic a school environment. There are several large multi-floor buildings with long hallways and numerous classrooms and wide open stairwells. It's a cold winter morning when I arrive for orientation in a wing of one of the dilapidated structures that stands ready for renovation. The lack of activity in the halls, my unfamiliarity with the dank, dull surroundings and the nagging cold temperature, key me up for what is to come. We break into small squads of four with one instructor and practice various room entry techniques and hallway sweeps. Eventually, we suit up for the real-time training, involving Simunitions, as mentioned in the previous post. We are led to another area on the property-- one we haven't been practicing in. There are several instructors in the zone who will not be actors and we are not to shoot, wearing vests declaring "TRAINER." They will be with our group and within several of the rooms to observe our progress and comment on it later. The scenario is this-- available crews have been dispatched to the High School on reports of shots fired, several people down. Not a lot of information, but we're used to that on a daily basis. We are arriving on scene with a total of four officers. There's no time to wait for additional crews as the idea is to take immediate action with what you have at the moment. We are led to a set of hallway doors and told this is the school's main entrance where we have pulled up. When the instructor gives the go ahead, we proceed like it's the real thing. We are encouraged to behave as if on a real call, interact with people we observe, or simulate the use of our radios if need be, as if actually communicating with dispatch or other responding crews. Our send off is not what I expected as the instructor shouts, "What are you standing around for? There's some guy in there killing kids! Get moving!" We run through the doors, guns drawn. Suddenly, I'm assaulted by a loud barrage of industrial hard metal music and intense lyrics coming from a blaring radio somewhere in the hallway, in addition to a pre-recorded loop of sporadic automatic gunfire from another sound-system elsewhere. To get the most of this, I tell myself this is the real thing, even if it ends up scaring the daylights out of me. I feel a need to broaden my knowledge across the realm of human emotions and experiences, but deep down would still not wish the real encounter on anyone. There are real bodies on the floor in the middle of the long hallway. Others come running out of classrooms, screaming. Some fall down and don't get up. Some approach, bloodied, try to grab me, screaming for help. I can only tell them to run, get out of the building. We have only one objective here. Head to the sound of the gunfire. I simulate contacting the dispatcher to advise him of what we have in here, but the scene becomes too dynamic. I must concentrate on getting down the hallway without getting shot. More "students" come running past. One shouts, "He's in there! He's killing her!" He points back to a room off to my left over fifty feet away almost to the end of the hall. That's when I see him. He comes out of that very room, his arms leveled with a pistol pointed right at us. He's moving in our direction with a purpose that says to me he's not afraid to die and he wouldn't mind taking a few of us out with him. There's no place for immediate cover and retreat is not an option. If I lose sight of him, he may disappear into another room and continue shooting. My only thought is "Engage." My backdrop is clear-- no innocents behind him, but it's a heck of a shot with everything that's going on around me. I fire several shots down range as the suspect shoots at me simultaneously. I'm suddenly aware of a stinging sensation in the middle finger of my gun hand. Apparently a round from the suspect hits right above my knuckle at the base of my middle finger as my gun was raised eye-level outstretched in a firing stance. An inch or two either way and it would have sailed right by and struck me in the face. I face a small conflict that gets handled in microseconds. Assimilating myself into the training, I first behave as if my gun hand has been rendered inactive from a bullet wound and am about to adapt and go to my weak hand. However, in reality, the wax bullet didn't hurt that badly, and I fall back on the mantra of "Keep fighting, no matter what." If you behave as if you're hurt badly, your body will react appropriately. If you keep going, not giving up without a fight, you can survive a lot longer. I decide to keep firing with the same hand. The guy goes down from fifty-plus feet. I find out laterthe shot hit right under his gun arm in the chest. A "fatal shot," as for this drill, the suspect was not wearing body armor. I fall back on involving my radio and dispatch by advising we have one suspect down, but quickly abandon using the radio as we don't know if the situation is over. The pulsating hardcore music still drones on, and now there's screaming from the room the suspect had exited. The fellow officer with me at the front of our 4-man formation takes my cue to do a "button-hook" entry on the room. I'm in for another shock as I approach from the left side of the classroom door and "hook" around quickly to enter to the left side of the room. My partner had approached from the same direction, but angled in to the right to cover that side of the room. The entry door is off-center and near the left side of the class room-- not much area for me to cover, however there's a closet in the far corner on that side. In the doorway of the closet, there's another gunman standing over several hostages. He's the only bad guy in the room. He shoots one and exits the closet upon seeing our entry. This one has me a little shaken up as I fire three rounds at him from less than twenty feet. I'm able to run back out the door for cover and to evaluate. I'm surprised when my partner hasn't come out with me. We need to clear more rooms to look for more shooters. I peer around the doorway and see why. He's still engaged with the suspect. I approach the closet and order the two others out at gunpoint, ready for anything and anticipating one may be another shooter. They exit with hands up and have no weapons. I tell them to get out as my partner downs the other suspect. The music stops and the observing instructor ends the exercise. I try to fathom what happened those last few seconds in that room. Then, I see. My three "perfectly placed" shots show as flecks of blue on the far wall, at chest level, just two feet to the right of where the suspect had been when I fired. How could I have missed such a close shot? My sense of failure is overwhelming. That's not supposed to happen. We get the bad guys at that close range. I could have cost my partner his life for not finishing the job. I should have emptied my magazine into that dirtbag until I saw him hit the floor. I was too quick to assume just by firing, that I got him. I'm brought up a few notches and my level of confidence is restored as the instructor who played the shooter in the hall came up to me during debriefing and congratulated me on my long range shot. He shows me the "hit" after a pat on the back. It's going to take me a while to get rid of all this adrenaline and bring myself out of the simulation and back to reality. What an eye-opener!

I would never want a school shooting to feel routine, however, the training had its desired effect and made me realize we need to know what we're going to do before we do it. And, if we can deal with the oncoming emotions because we've done so before, then we'll perform that much better. I also learned that nothing ever works like clockwork and mistakes can happen. It hasn't been my intention over the last two entries to glorify anything or to bring worry to anyone, but to explore the realities Law Enforcement officers encounter and to deal with the emotions of those experiences by writing about them-- the humor as well as the terror.

Ready for Abuse

Just Like Being There

I used to think I was the only one-- having police-related dreams after 13 years on the job. But, I still do. A lot of us do. It says a lot about our psyche but not our ability as officers as we live through a variety of scenarios when we close our eyes for the night. The dreams I have usually involve dealing with a situation by excessive means or, on the other extreme, not enough force. The other popular theme is equipment malfunction. The former are not secret desires, and the latter are not necessarily secret fears. But when so much is riding on how we deal with people as to how the outcome of encounter will play out and how our equipment performs which can make the difference between life and death for us or someone else, these issues will certainly try to come to light in our tangled thoughts during sleep. It's scary to me when I wake up and realize I beat the crap out of someone while trying to arrest them or shot them six times for not obeying a lawful order. But, scarier still, is when, in the dream, I have to legitimately take care of business and my gun jams, or the bullets just go "poof" and fall out the end of the gun. The biggest cop dream cliche of them all. These dreams do serve a function, however, as I can take the feelings I experience and things I observe (at least from the dreams that make any kind of sense) and apply them to real world situations. My mind has believed I've already lived through a particular situation, and I can better plan what to do next if, and when, it ever happens again. The Law Enforcement Community has a tool to assist officers as well in dealing with high stress, dynamic situations. Its called Realistic Training. One can hear all about all-out fights and shoot-outs any number of times in a classroom setting, but there's no substitute for experience. And, obviously, the experience of a shoot-out between an officer and a suspect doesn't happen to everyone, especially with any degree of frequency so as to be beneficial to the officer as he learns from past mistakes to make the next encounter that much more favorable. In this profession, we don't have the luxury of making mistakes when it really counts. So, it all comes down to training. There's an old adage, "Train like you fight. Fight like you train." When it hits the fan, an officer's mind will go on auto-pilot and use "muscle memory" to accomplish his objective, which in these cases, is to survive and put the other guy down. If you have a memory of positively conquering a particular scenario, your brain will talk you through it the next time instead of wasting time sifting through choices, wondering "What do we do now?"

Our department uses an excellent product of Realistic Training called Simunitions. The guns we use are real Glock handguns specially outfitted with a blue barrel and only able to accept magazines carrying the unique Simunition round, which consist of a waxy red or blue bullet tip. It's all carefully supervised as we make the transition from live rounds to the non-penetrating, yet fully shootable, ammunition and get ready for our training event. One of the mandatory training sessions we have involves proper approaches to vehicles on traffic stops. In the morning, we analyze the theories and diagrams in the Academy classroom then apply the techniques that afternoon out on the large concrete lot in our outdoor firing range. Several unmarked city vehicles and older, abused patrol cars are lined up beyond us as we outfit ourselves with facemasks and exterior groin protectors. It looks like a glorified Paintball expedition-- the blue team against our, as of yet, unseen adversaries. We break into about four groups of four plus an instructor and head out to one of the cruisers. Each station will simulate a traffic stop where anything, or nothing, can happen, giving us the opportunity to apply the techniques we learned. We'll see if we can, in fact, control the situation on a high or unknown risk traffic stop. And, if it goes south, then we have the proper training to act accordingly. It's B.C. (before contacts) for me, and I'm wearing glasses. However, the wrap around face shield I don, doesn't accommodate glasses. While I'm not blind by any means and have department acceptable uncorrected vision, I'm still uneasy at how blurry things are. The first incident of Murphy's Law presents itself. I can use this to my advantage though, as I realize I may face a situation someday where my glasses are knocked off or broken and will have no choice but to work through it. I pull the "suspect vehicle" over in the limited space we have, careful to have enough space between the two cars and a proper bladed position with the cruiser. I see one person in the car behind the driver's seat. But, I'm prepared for anything. I know how these instructors can be, so I'm expecting people hiding in the backseat or the trunk to pop open with 2 or 3 others jumping out. I do everything right as I call in my stop to the dispatcher and look for traffic upon exiting my door. I make an approach as close to the surface of the other car as possible. We are taught that it's more difficult for a driver to turn completely around and shoot directly behind them from outside the driver's window. But before I even get up to the car, the driver exits the vehicle and walks toward me. I'm stunned by what I see. Part of me realizes this is a training exercise, and what is before me is part of that. But the part of me that needs to benefit from this experience takes everything in as authentic as possible. The man is wearing full zip-up coveralls, like Jason from the Friday the 13th movies. Plus, he has the Simunitions face mask on for his own protection, but the effect is stunning. I stop and order him to stop as well. I don't need the distance between us diminishing now that control of the stop is an issue. One of the topics of this training addresses contacting violators outside of their vehicle. It can sometimes be better if an officer conducts business at the side of the vehicles, but usually at the direction and under the control of the officer, not the suspect. I don't have time to even consider this as the suspect keeps walking toward me and suddenly points a gun right at me. There's no time and no need to tell him to drop it. I draw my weapon and fire multiple shots at him from a distance of about 30 feet as I move to the right, between our two vehicles. He keeps approaching. I can't let myself be surprised that he didn't go down. Perhaps my shots didn't hit him. Or, as I think in terms of a real life situation, maybe he's wearing body armor or he's pumped so full of adrenaline or drugs that he's going on auto-pilot. I'm on auto-pilot now, that's for sure. I'm retreating, walking, if not jogging, backwards in order to get behind cover and re-engage. I haven't fired my second volley of shots yet as the second incident of Murphy's Law takes place. Suddenly I'm down on the ground. It's not a result of being shot. I couldn't tell if I had been shot at that point or not with everything happening so quickly. I had lost my footing on the spent casings of my shots as they acted like marbles beneath my feet. I'm on my back now and look up at the looming figure approaching me. I fire the rest of my rounds at him from no more than 5 feet away, seeing the blue flecks of wax bounce off his chest. He goes down and the exercise is over. I'm uninjured, except for the red flecks I see later on my arm and side. Survivable. Lesson learned-- expect the unexpected. I didn't even have the opportunity at that particular station to apply the newly learned knowledge, just reinforced principles from my time at the range during the Academy. Keep fighting, no matter what. What a rush. Like bungee jumping. I'm ready to go again.

My next entry will address another Realistic Training scenario involving Simunitions-- the very intense situation involving Active Shooter(s) (e.g. Columbine High School) and our redefined and immediate necessary response. Stay tuned!

"Ouch!"