One for the Memoirs

This can't end good

I once joked with one of my co-workers, Officer Mike, that if I were to write my memoirs after leaving this career, that I would inflate my performance and attribute certain accomplishments of other officers, namely Officer Mike, as my own. I would never intentionally do that, but in the interest of keeping this journal lively, I have taken liberty with a few thoughts and feelings in these chronicled entries that actually occurred after the fact. Although I’ve exercised poetic license in portraying what was going on around us at the time, let me assure you, that everything you’ve read happened to me in one capacity or another. That being said, I’d like to share with you an event that is not exaggerated and did actually involve me. It was a fine bit of police work, if I do say so myself.

The story involves another vehicle pursuit. Even though I’ve covered the dynamics and philosophies of the police pursuit, each chase is anything but typical and this particular Autumn evening bears revisiting. In fact, in terms of set-up, this chase was unremarkable. Many times we are prepped and ready from the radio traffic announcing that the vehicle taken in the aggravated robbery or felony assault on an officer is coming our way. The one or two crews who kicked it up keep us informed, and their initial emotions set the pace for those who fall into the chase. We then get into position, trying to parallel the pursuit, anticipating where the cars will be when we finally get close enough to the action and put ourselves in the best spot to intercept.

As it happens, I’m minding my own business, like usual, just coming from the local convenience store for my nightly dose of junk food and news headlines from the Daily Rag. I think most criminals secretly cry for help and want to be stopped. Why else would the guy driving the piece of junk car draw attention to himself by squealing his tires and running the stop sign right in front of a police car? I get in behind the car on the neighborhood street, having no choice but to take some sort of enforcement action. It’s about two in the morning, and the street is otherwise deserted. I follow as we are now going at a responsible speed and obeying all other traffic laws. Like it makes any difference after the first bonehead violation I watched him do. I activate my emergency lights to signal the driver to pull over. I have no reason at this time not to believe it’s just some guy who doesn’t know how to drive or pay attention to his surroundings. I plan on running the license plate on the on-board computer once the car has stopped. For now, I want to keep my eye on the driver and my own surroundings until it’s safe to be distracted by typing in the vehicle information. For any number of reasons, the least being he just doesn’t want a ticket tonight, the driver decides he doesn’t want to stop for me. Here we go. My hand has already been tipped, and I’m at a disadvantage from already turning on my light bar, giving my intentions away that I know he’s a “bad guy.” It’s just the way it plays out, since this was supposed to be a routine traffic stop. If I had known it was a stolen car or involved in a previous crime, I wouldn’t attempt to stop it and give myself away until I could coordinate other crews’ responses and get more officers in the area. But for now, it’s just him and me. If he were smart, he’d bail out now, before any other officers got near and before my supervisors called me off. If the car’s not involved in any violent crime, our department does not allow chases. I’m in a dilemma now. If the car’s not “chaseable” and I alert Dispatch and other crews over the radio in hopes of getting some help, I get called off and the bad guy gets away, laughing as he looks in his rear view mirror at the cruiser turning off its overhead lights and turning around. If I don’t say anything and chase this car to Holy Hell and back, making him nervous enough to bail out—what if he crashes in the meantime? Can you say, “Lawsuit?” And, where would my back up be? Elsewhere doing their own thing, if they don’t know I’m after someone. It’s best to do it by procedure, right? I mean, that’s why they wrote the policies that way in the first place. This time I have to play it by the rules, and I radio out that I have a car taking off from me. We’re headed into a neighborhood with numerous “traffic gates.” These are hinged iron picket gates fastened to brick pillars at key points throughout the neighborhood to direct and restrict vehicle traffic. They’re both a blessing and a curse. I’m just hoping that there’s something up with the car that will allow me to keep with it more than a few blocks before being told to discontinue. I’m also in the gray area of the pursuit dynamic where I’m alone for the time being, hoping my back-up gets in the area before the guy bails out. Don’t get me wrong, I can still do my job if it’s one on one-- mano e mano, but it’s nice to have friends. That’s why they give us radios and fast cars. Before Dispatch even has a chance to get back with me, the 80’s gray Oldsmobile turns left on a dead end street ending in a T-intersection. At the end of the street to the right is one of the traffic gates, if breached, would lead the car back out toward Main St. If he went that way it would lessen my chances for a more controlled, safer “pursuit.” To the left is an alley that is ultimately blocked midway down. I’d rather not chase down a narrow alley and have the suspect be surprised by a gate. Although, there’s not a whole lot I can do at this time but keep up with the car as it increases its speed toward the dead end. I’m thinking he believes he’ll be able to make a quick left or right to continue his flight. At the same moment he realizes he can’t turn left or right without more than likely crashing, I realize I’m following a little too closely in an effort to keep right on his tail. The suspect locks up his brakes and keeps the car straight, headed right toward a red placarded guardrail announcing the end of the line. I’m faced with a choice now. Do I keep straight, hoping the cruiser comes to a stop before I kiss his rear bumper? Or, do I commit the tactical no-no of pulling along side to avoid the potential crash? The second option has its benefits. I could inadvertently block him in with my cruiser and make him think twice about his options of possibly turning that direction or running on foot after realizing he’s not going anywhere anymore in the vehicle. Things now seem like they’re happening in slow motion. As the suspect’s vehicle is coming to a stop, the driver’s door is opening. I’m coming around the driver’s side, narrowly missing the collision. I need to stop my cruiser a little more desperately than the other driver as I had been going faster in order to decrease the distance between us. As I put my front passenger side quarterpanel as near to the other car’s driver’s door as possible, I’m aware of a person hopping out. I think we’re still in motion, but we stop within one foot of the guardrail. I jump out and prepare to engage the driver on foot. He showed his intent to run by opening the car door before he was even stopped. So, I’m a little confused as I run around the front of my cruiser and to the right toward the suspect vehicle and the driver doesn’t flee. I’m also a little distracted by another person running from the passenger side of the car. We are expected to apprehend the driver in these situations as he is the one who will face all the charges. But, seeing as how he was deciding to stick around for some reason, and “Fat Albert” didn’t seem to present much of a challenge as he bounded along straight down the sidewalk away from the scene, I decided to give chase. A small part of me felt like the trained dog, manipulated by the sudden movement, running after the tossed stick, while the master held the real prize by his side. But something told me this would work out. I caught up to the super-sized passenger easily enough, pushing him forward and letting his own momentum work against him. He fell to the ground, and I used him as cushioning as I landed on top of him. At the moment of capture, I’m almost on auto-pilot and don’t even remember pulling the cuffs out of their case on my belt in the small of my back in one slick motion. Surprisingly, for his girth, the handcuffs go on easily enough, and I manage to stand him up. We walk the half block back to my cruiser as I hear sirens approach in the distance. Better late than never. As we near my cruiser, I’m aware of a different sort of wailing sound. There’s the driver still standing in between our two cars. Boy, did he miss a grand opportunity to disappear. Now, what’s he going on about? “My leg! My leg!” he screams. Oh. “Just a minute!” I yell back at him. I put the huffer and puffer in the back seat of my cruiser and move in toward the space between the two cars. That’s when I realize there isn’t any. The scene almost makes me laugh. As the driver had opened the door to bail out, he stepped his left foot out at the exact time I pulled up along side him. Mine was such a piece of precision driving that my cruiser had rested right against his open driver’s door, pinning his leg against the open door and the door frame. He wasn’t going anywhere. He’s still yelling as I calmly get behind the wheel of the cruiser and back it up. I take all his hootin’ and hollerin’ with a grain of salt. I know all the grandstanding and drama king and queen performances that go on out here. I don’t even waste my breath telling him not to try anything stupid when I move the cruiser. Would I expect anything different besides a total lack of cooperation and another fleeing felon? In fact, I welcome it. I already caught the passenger with little effort. Maybe the driver could make me work for it. I pull backward about three feet and the guy drops to the street. I jump out and sprint toward him. It’s clear he’s not going anywhere for a while. And, neither am I. On his exposed shin beneath the hem of his baggy knee-length shorts is a huge rectangular divot. No skin is broken, but it looks bizarre, like there had never been any flesh there to begin with and the skin just conformed around the vacant space. After I hook the guy up, I tell him to relax, that it’s not bleeding, and I shut him in the other side of the back seat of my cruiser so I don’t have to hear him whine. As I await the arrival of my fellow officers, eager to impress them with having wrapped up the scene with two apprehensions before their arrival, I’m a little disheartened when the supervisors call out Internal Affairs and the Special Investigator for Accident Reconstruction. Apparently, there’s this little clause in our Manual of Procedure that call for these measures when an officer causes serious injury to an individual as a result of a pursuit or traffic accident. “Looks like you crushed his leg!” someone comments. Then, there’s the whole thing as to how the collision occurred in the first place. Even though I scored some points for not totaling a cruiser, I’m chastised for putting myself in potential harm’s way by having come up along side the suspect’s vehicle. I can live with that, even more so, when Medics arrive and tell us “No broken bones.” Unfortunately all the “guests” have arrived at this party, and I can’t cancel the event. We go through the motions for paperwork’s sake, and I get a good story for my memoirs. Oh yeah, and the car turned out to be stolen…