This isn't the Way it's Supposed to Happen

Left in the Dust

I’ve covered the dynamics of the pursuit in several entries, and the episodes seem to have a somewhat predictable beginning, middle and end. Also, a majority of my entries seem to cover what happens when things don’t go according to plan, or a mistake happens. That’s not to say that I screw up royally every chance I get in this job, but like everything else in life, things aren’t always perfect. The incidents that go down flawlessly, or “textbook,” might even be called routine when looking at the big picture of what Law Enforcement has to deal with. But, it’s not the routine that makes for interesting stories—which is the purpose of the chronicles written here. Now, I can’t say during the times that something crazy occurs as a result of my mistakes, negligence, or missed opportunities why certain outcomes haven’t been worse than they were. We all know that it’s possible in the job I’m entrusted to perform. Maybe it’s blind luck, divine intervention, or a subconscious regression back to sound tactics.

An incident a few summers ago really threw me for a loop and had my thought processes constantly adapting to what would happen next as I struggled to keep up with the radically changing situation. It was about 2 a.m. I was riding solo and was one of two crews sent on a call of a prowler at the rear of an apartment building. I pulled up in front of the three story C-shaped unit on the corner with my lights out as Officer Dan pulled onto the side street. Exiting the cruiser quickly, I made my way up the slight hill toward the left side of the building, my flashlight piercing the darkness through the narrow walkway between the towering brick wall and the brush-lined chain link fence a few feet away. A man comes walking nonchalantly into my beam. He’s not acting suspiciously, and I can see his hands. To keep him off balance, in case he’s the subject of our call, I ask him if he’s seen anyone else hanging around the back of the building. He says he didn’t see anyone else, and I escort him back to my cruiser on the street. I have him take a seat quickly after a brief pat down. And, I know, big mistake, I didn’t put handcuffs on him.

At the time, I wasn’t sure where he might have fit into all this, and I was concerned with getting back to the rear of the apartment building as quickly as possible to back up Officer Dan. The two of us meet up at the back of the building right where that individual had come from. At the same time, we both see the broken window on the ground floor. I think we have our man. But for what? Criminal damaging? How are we going to prove it? I make my way around the building the way I came as Officer Dan retreats back to his cruiser from his direction.

Suddenly, I hear a panicky, garbled transmission over the radio coming through my shoulder mike. I recognize the voice of Officer Dan and try to understand what he’s saying. As I process what I think I hear, my gut clenches into a tight knot.”He’s taking the cruiser!”
Oh man! My petty criminal is now upping the ante committing grand theft, with a police car no less. And, what’s this going to mean for me? I try not to think about that just yet. As I round the building, I see my cruiser in the same spot as I left it. Relieved, but also wondering if the guy was still in the process of stealing it. I run up on it and see the driver’s side door is ajar and the back seat is empty. Damn!

Then I hear Officer Dan’s intense voice again, calling out a foot pursuit. Apparently Officer Dan had seen the subject escape my cruiser and flee on foot, around the corner, directly toward where he had parked and beyond. Officer Dan was now in the chase. And, me? I’m still confused over what I thought I heard Dan say over the radio. I shake it off and decide to join in using my cruiser—no match for a man on foot, unless he cuts in-between some houses. As I jump into my driver’s seat, I immediately notice something is wrong as my knees slam into the steering wheel. The seat is pushed almost as far forward as it can possibly go, with no way to slide it back. It was the days in which cruisers had simple metal grids at head level separating the front from the back, as opposed to the newer style of the one- piece back seat unit and clear shatterproof plastic partition. All this bozo had to do after he was left alone for a few brief minutes was to kick as hard as he could against the front seat, creating a gap once the seat broke, then snake through the opening under the cage grid and slide out the driver’s side door.

I still choose to use my cruiser for this pursuit in order to make up for lost time—and maybe run this dirt bag over. So here I am, driving like a 91 year-old grandma, my nose literally pressing against the front windshield. I’m coming up on the street where Dan is slowly losing ground to the fleeing suspect. Right before I pass him, I am witness to the funniest thing. Seemingly for no reason, Officer Dan takes a header in the middle of the street. His tall form just succumbs randomly to a distorted gravity, and he falls in mid-run flat on his face onto the street. Boy, that looked like that hurt! I check on him as he quickly picks himself up, eager to get back into the chase.

It looks like for now, we lost him. Dan starts checking between houses and in backyards near the last place we saw him, and I travel in my clown-mobile around the blocks, hoping to flush him out to Dan, or vice versa. Officer Dan’s excited voice breaks the radio silence for a third time, and I’m ready for anything.

“Suspect is now in a vehicle, traveling west down Oxton.”

I was wrong. What did he say? Did someone pick this guy up that quickly? Negative, I learn later. He gets right into the driver’s seat of a brown Olds a few blocks away and takes off, trying to get more distance between us. Luckily for Dan’s eagle eyes, we’ve been able to keep up with him—a few steps behind, mind you. But, we’re not out of it yet, especially now, as I close in on the fleeing Oldsmobile. My body mechanics inside the crammed cockpit, only allow me to safely go no more than 35 mph. Oddly enough, that’s about as fast as the suspect is fleeing.

And—he still crashes! Right into a parked car, one of several in a long line against the curb on a stretch of straight road. Officer Dan had gone back to get his cruiser and meets me at the crash site just in time to pull the suspect out of the driver’s seat. He’s placed in the rear of Dan’s cruiser—this time under arrest and a nice set of handcuffs on his wrists.

We have officers now arriving on the scene all wanting to know what the heck was going on. It was like someone went to Dispatch, pulled a copy of the recorded radio traffic on a typical pursuit and played it backwards. No one said this job has to make sense.

And our bad guy? Why did he run? A couple of minor traffic warrants. It’s no wonder after witnessing the way he drove. Well, before my adrenaline completely leaves my system, my overzealous self is preparing to slap him with some worthwhile charges—a few felonies—Vandalism and Fleeing and Eluding. But then reality grounds me in the form of my sergeant. He advises me that to document everything the way I say it occurred, even though it all worked out OK in the end, would open me up for an internal investigation of Escape. Great! The system ties our hands again. A little creative writing, however, and this suspect will still have a few charges to answer for. I decide to charge him with Criminal Damaging after all, upon a closer examination of his person. Small glass shards in his jacket cuff and a slight cut to the inside of his pointer finger. A small victory.

That’s all they ever are.