Although the events in Oakland are still fresh in our minds I thought I might relate an event which occurred last Thursday which shows how much we look out for each other, regardless of the department we work for or what color our uniform is.
I had just rolled into the station when I heard our dispatcher on our channel relay a Code 3 cover request for the California Highway Patrol for a motor officer who had made a traffic stop in South City and the CHP dispatcher was not able to raise him on the radio.
Our dispatcher calmly put out the last known location of where the CHP officer had made his traffic stop. So I head out of the parking lot with lights and siren blaring and headed to the broadcasted location. North Town also had officers on the way.
We arrived at the location of the traffic stop only to spot one of our motor officers there. Of course you can imagine the surprise on his face with us motors and patrol units arriving with lights and sirens on. Naturally he asked "What's going on?" We kindly told him of the Code 3 cover request for a CHP motor at this location.
Our motor officer began to laugh saying he had just finished having a conversation with that CHP motor officer. Apparently the CHP motor officer as well as the South City motor officer had their radios turned way down to the point neither one of them could hear anything being broadcast.
The CHP motor who was "missing" saw a couple of South City patrol units being led by a motor and thought there might have been a bad traffic collision. The CHP motor officer immediately turned around and followed the units traveling Code 3. In talking with him later he was telling himself that he hoped it wasn't one of us South City motor cops that was injured.
So there we all stood as the CHP motor rolls up asking what was going on. Needless to say we all had a good laugh about it. It was very reassuring to see so many motors and patrol cars from South City and North Town there.
The CHP motor is really a good guy. He lives in South City and we're always crossing paths, even having coffee together. Will we let him live this incident down? Probably.... but at least not for a while.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
EOW (End of Watch)
Today was a beautiful day in the bay area. Clear skies, cool, gentle breeze, flowers in bloom and trees budding. What a great Friday with everybody ready for the weekend.
With the exception for the 18,000 plus Public Safety Professionals... Law Enforcement Officers, Firefighters, Dispatchers, Paramedics, Emergency Medical Technicians. In addition to this number, add the countless people from all over the United States and around the world who joined us in their own way to grieve with us.
The Oakland Police Department has suffered a tremendous loss of four highly dedicated men. The Oakland Police Department will persevere and continue to protect the citizens of Oakland. They will go about performing their jobs as we all will. This loss of these four Heroes goes beyond the Oakland Police Department.
The unimaginable loss of a Husband, Father, Brother, Son, Uncle, and Best Friend, how could any of us comprehend the pain which their families and friends must be feeling? This loss extends itself to the citizens of Oakland, to our profession, our society.
Impressive was the sight of the number of Officers, patrol cars, and yes, the motors. The motors parked in neat rows, chrome sparkling in the sunshine, helmets posted on the right mirror, impressive.
Impressive, the distance Police Agencies in cars and motors traveled to honor OPD's finest, the Fire Engines and Ladder Trucks parked on the freeway overpasses rendering their smart salutes as processions of police cars and police motorcycles rumbled on highway 880 toward the Oakland Arena, impressive.
The heart felt words spoken by friends, and colleagues on behalf of the families of the fallen Officers. The heart felt words spoken by Sgt. Sakai's brave sister as she held back her tears were a vivid reminder of how great their loss is, was, and will be.
We are not unlike many people, we have our strengths and faults. We put our pants on one leg at a time. We are ordinary people doing an extraordinary job. We in our profession have what criminals lack. We have integrity, honesty, bravery, compassion, empathy and yes, camaraderie as evident by today's services.
To those who rejoice in our tragedy, when you become a victim of a crime and you dial 911, we, yes we, who you despise will be there in your time of need or in time of need for one of your loved ones.
What was witnessed today is that when good men die, other good men are ready and willing to step up and take their place and resume the good that we do in our profession. We keep society safe from the predators of good, honest, hardworking people.
The fact that Lovelle Mixon deservedly lost his life his for cowardly acts is consoling, it doesn't lessen our sorrow.
With the exception for the 18,000 plus Public Safety Professionals... Law Enforcement Officers, Firefighters, Dispatchers, Paramedics, Emergency Medical Technicians. In addition to this number, add the countless people from all over the United States and around the world who joined us in their own way to grieve with us.
The Oakland Police Department has suffered a tremendous loss of four highly dedicated men. The Oakland Police Department will persevere and continue to protect the citizens of Oakland. They will go about performing their jobs as we all will. This loss of these four Heroes goes beyond the Oakland Police Department.
The unimaginable loss of a Husband, Father, Brother, Son, Uncle, and Best Friend, how could any of us comprehend the pain which their families and friends must be feeling? This loss extends itself to the citizens of Oakland, to our profession, our society.
Impressive was the sight of the number of Officers, patrol cars, and yes, the motors. The motors parked in neat rows, chrome sparkling in the sunshine, helmets posted on the right mirror, impressive.
Impressive, the distance Police Agencies in cars and motors traveled to honor OPD's finest, the Fire Engines and Ladder Trucks parked on the freeway overpasses rendering their smart salutes as processions of police cars and police motorcycles rumbled on highway 880 toward the Oakland Arena, impressive.
The heart felt words spoken by friends, and colleagues on behalf of the families of the fallen Officers. The heart felt words spoken by Sgt. Sakai's brave sister as she held back her tears were a vivid reminder of how great their loss is, was, and will be.
We are not unlike many people, we have our strengths and faults. We put our pants on one leg at a time. We are ordinary people doing an extraordinary job. We in our profession have what criminals lack. We have integrity, honesty, bravery, compassion, empathy and yes, camaraderie as evident by today's services.
To those who rejoice in our tragedy, when you become a victim of a crime and you dial 911, we, yes we, who you despise will be there in your time of need or in time of need for one of your loved ones.
What was witnessed today is that when good men die, other good men are ready and willing to step up and take their place and resume the good that we do in our profession. We keep society safe from the predators of good, honest, hardworking people.
The fact that Lovelle Mixon deservedly lost his life his for cowardly acts is consoling, it doesn't lessen our sorrow.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
A Dark Day for the Thin Blue Line
I've read several blogs written about the four Oakland Police Officers murdered in the line of duty. I first heard about it from a telephone call from my sister as I was driving down Interstate 5. The information received was sparse and sketchy to say the least. When I arrived home late last night I had a message on my cell phone from my motor partner about the Officers.
I was shocked, angry, outraged and sad all at once as I watched the news story on television and read today's newspaper. The only consolation was the fact that Lovelle Mixon won't waste our tax money on what would have been his incarceration before trial, defense, jury trial, lengthy state prison term for life or the time spent in prison before all of his appeals would have been used up prior to the death penalty he hopefully would have received.
To the sympathetic Pieces of Shit who cheered the deaths of these Honorable Officers as detectives were on scene investigating this crime, and jeered the Officers who did their job and eliminated the threat of taking out that fuck stick Mixon. The next time you become a victim of a crime, you handle your own shit.
I was told by a non law enforcement friend, "Man I wouldn't want your job no matter how much it paid."
We don't choose this career to get rich. Why do we then? Is it a calling? I'm not sure I'm qualified to say why we do, but can say why I did. The fact that there are cruel and dangerous predators out there who are stalking their prey, who believe in lawlessness and have no regard for human life or just life for that matter, who's going to stop them?, who's going to protect the public?
Us, yes, us, those of us who feel that in our careers we do and did make a difference in society, helped that one soul from going down the wrong road. Us who chose an honorable profession to make this world a better place to live in. We get bashed from all sides, our retirement is too lavish. Lavish! How much is your life worth? A five or six digit salary?
After a 20 or 30 year career, most Officers pay a high price for their "Public Service" on a personal level.
Those Oakland Police Officers paid the ultimate price to protect the public. The same public which has groups which slander them, spit upon them, and believe that those of us who wear the badge are not a necessity for society.
You won't see the families of the fallen Officers protesting about their loved ones being murdered and making it a racial issue. You won't see John Burris, the attorney representing the family of Oscar Grant III suing the parents of Lovelle Mixon for wrongful death on behalf of the Officers families.
I've heard and been told that "You picked your line of work and the dangers that come with it." Yeah okay I did pick this profession and have accepted the inherent dangers as well as my friends and family have. So these fucking loser parolees, and career criminals, they chose their way of making a living and I would imagine the inherent dangers which come with their life style. So why the big ruckus when one of these scum sucking low life's is killed?
Lets face it, Lovelle Mixon was not going to be a Nobel Laureate, nor was he going to find the cure for cancer. He was a piece of shit who should have been flushed down the shit hole of society long ago. The world is a better place with him gone.
So to honor these slain Police Officers, I along with others will be attending their services to remember them, their sacrifice, and to honor their families.
To the Oakland Police Department, and to the families of the slain Police Officers our hearts and prayers are with you.
To all who wear the Badge of Honor whether they be a star or shield, stay safe.
Rest in Peace, Sergeant Mark Dunakin - Motor Sergeant, Officer John Hege - Motor Officer, Sergeant Erv Romans - SWAT Member, and Sergeant Dan Sakai - SWAT Member.
I was shocked, angry, outraged and sad all at once as I watched the news story on television and read today's newspaper. The only consolation was the fact that Lovelle Mixon won't waste our tax money on what would have been his incarceration before trial, defense, jury trial, lengthy state prison term for life or the time spent in prison before all of his appeals would have been used up prior to the death penalty he hopefully would have received.
To the sympathetic Pieces of Shit who cheered the deaths of these Honorable Officers as detectives were on scene investigating this crime, and jeered the Officers who did their job and eliminated the threat of taking out that fuck stick Mixon. The next time you become a victim of a crime, you handle your own shit.
I was told by a non law enforcement friend, "Man I wouldn't want your job no matter how much it paid."
We don't choose this career to get rich. Why do we then? Is it a calling? I'm not sure I'm qualified to say why we do, but can say why I did. The fact that there are cruel and dangerous predators out there who are stalking their prey, who believe in lawlessness and have no regard for human life or just life for that matter, who's going to stop them?, who's going to protect the public?
Us, yes, us, those of us who feel that in our careers we do and did make a difference in society, helped that one soul from going down the wrong road. Us who chose an honorable profession to make this world a better place to live in. We get bashed from all sides, our retirement is too lavish. Lavish! How much is your life worth? A five or six digit salary?
After a 20 or 30 year career, most Officers pay a high price for their "Public Service" on a personal level.
Those Oakland Police Officers paid the ultimate price to protect the public. The same public which has groups which slander them, spit upon them, and believe that those of us who wear the badge are not a necessity for society.
You won't see the families of the fallen Officers protesting about their loved ones being murdered and making it a racial issue. You won't see John Burris, the attorney representing the family of Oscar Grant III suing the parents of Lovelle Mixon for wrongful death on behalf of the Officers families.
I've heard and been told that "You picked your line of work and the dangers that come with it." Yeah okay I did pick this profession and have accepted the inherent dangers as well as my friends and family have. So these fucking loser parolees, and career criminals, they chose their way of making a living and I would imagine the inherent dangers which come with their life style. So why the big ruckus when one of these scum sucking low life's is killed?
Lets face it, Lovelle Mixon was not going to be a Nobel Laureate, nor was he going to find the cure for cancer. He was a piece of shit who should have been flushed down the shit hole of society long ago. The world is a better place with him gone.
So to honor these slain Police Officers, I along with others will be attending their services to remember them, their sacrifice, and to honor their families.
To the Oakland Police Department, and to the families of the slain Police Officers our hearts and prayers are with you.
To all who wear the Badge of Honor whether they be a star or shield, stay safe.
Rest in Peace, Sergeant Mark Dunakin - Motor Sergeant, Officer John Hege - Motor Officer, Sergeant Erv Romans - SWAT Member, and Sergeant Dan Sakai - SWAT Member.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Oxymoron
We've all heard the numerous oxymoron's like "military intelligence", and "close proximity". I saw another one the other day while riding down the interstate. It was on a billboard advertising for employment opportunities for the CDC (California Department of Corrections).
For those of you who are fortunate or unfortunate enough to live in California, CDC is the agency who run the state prisons in the golden state.
As I drove by the billboard I noticed CDCR and read the following in parenthesis "California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation".
Rehabilitation!? What fucking liberal came up with that?
My idea of rehabilitation is a single, 9mm, 38 cal, 40 cal, 45 cal slug to the head.... more air for us. Now that's rehabilitation with a guarantee!
For those of you who are fortunate or unfortunate enough to live in California, CDC is the agency who run the state prisons in the golden state.
As I drove by the billboard I noticed CDCR and read the following in parenthesis "California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation".
Rehabilitation!? What fucking liberal came up with that?
My idea of rehabilitation is a single, 9mm, 38 cal, 40 cal, 45 cal slug to the head.... more air for us. Now that's rehabilitation with a guarantee!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
SURPRISE!!!!
Many moons ago I worked the weekend graveyard shift, 6:30 pm to 7:00 am, Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. I had a great group of beat partners which made work fun. There were several bars along the main street which would keep us plenty busy. Those several bars also became our great customer base for DUI drivers.
So every Friday and Saturday night we'd see who could "hook" (arrest) the first DUI driver of the night. We'd always set the goal for a "trifecta" meaning all three of us graveyard officers would each hook a DUI driver. Needless to say we had our Friday and Saturday night trifectas more times than not.
DUI drivers, I was always happy to get them off of the roads which you, I, and our families use. If they were involved in a traffic collision or were on probation for a prior DUI or DUI reduced to a "wet reckless", or their BAC (blood alcohol count) was higher than .15%, it was an automatic trip to the county lock-up.
Sunday nights were typically awfully slow. We'd use Sunday night to catch up on our paper (arrest reports and such) as we prepared for our 4 days off. Sunday is a busy day for those ass wipes which prowl around our communities and check cars for unlocked doors so they could rip off what ever contents "Joe Citizen" was stupid enough to leave in plain view.
I'd use Sunday night's to look for these ass wipes who were out driving around looking for people to rip off. As stupid as Joe Citizen was, he or she didn't deserve to have their belongings taken from them.
The place where I worked was very easy to spot these ass wipes. In a place were the normal car driving around town was some German import such as a Mercedes Benz, BMW or other high end car, you'd see a beat up Saturn cruising around the neighborhoods.
I'd run the plate of the vehicle and lo and behold, it was from a less desirable city within the county or sometimes an adjoining county. It wouldn't be hard to develop some probable cause to pull a piece of shit car over. Not surprisingly the driver and occupants would usually be on some type of searchable probation or on parole.
Well after requesting a back up patrol unit to respond so I could search the car. I'd pull the occupants out one at a time, search them, and then have them take a seat on the curb. After my cover officer would arrive, I'd methodically "rip" the car's interior, trunk and even the engine compartment. We'd also check out the places where we believed if these ass wipes were clever enough to have a hidden compartment.
I'd always search cars while wearing rubber surgical gloves. The cover officer typically wouldn't. I don't know what it is about "cranksters", "tweakers" or what ever you want to call them, and dildos, yes you heard me right.....DILDOS. I'm talking cars with just guys in it and the driver happens to be the registered owner. Those are some sick mother fuckers.
So me being me, I holler over to my beat partner and tell him "check this out" as I'd toss the dildo to him. Of course not really knowing what it was, he'd instinctively reach out with both of his un-gloved hands and catch the rubber phallus.
It was always really good for a laugh. Of course there was always payback. The last time someone said "Hey check this out" and tossed something my way, I'd let it hit the ground before I'd look at the item.
Too bad it was dude's glass bong. I hear those things can be expensive.
So every Friday and Saturday night we'd see who could "hook" (arrest) the first DUI driver of the night. We'd always set the goal for a "trifecta" meaning all three of us graveyard officers would each hook a DUI driver. Needless to say we had our Friday and Saturday night trifectas more times than not.
DUI drivers, I was always happy to get them off of the roads which you, I, and our families use. If they were involved in a traffic collision or were on probation for a prior DUI or DUI reduced to a "wet reckless", or their BAC (blood alcohol count) was higher than .15%, it was an automatic trip to the county lock-up.
Sunday nights were typically awfully slow. We'd use Sunday night to catch up on our paper (arrest reports and such) as we prepared for our 4 days off. Sunday is a busy day for those ass wipes which prowl around our communities and check cars for unlocked doors so they could rip off what ever contents "Joe Citizen" was stupid enough to leave in plain view.
I'd use Sunday night's to look for these ass wipes who were out driving around looking for people to rip off. As stupid as Joe Citizen was, he or she didn't deserve to have their belongings taken from them.
The place where I worked was very easy to spot these ass wipes. In a place were the normal car driving around town was some German import such as a Mercedes Benz, BMW or other high end car, you'd see a beat up Saturn cruising around the neighborhoods.
I'd run the plate of the vehicle and lo and behold, it was from a less desirable city within the county or sometimes an adjoining county. It wouldn't be hard to develop some probable cause to pull a piece of shit car over. Not surprisingly the driver and occupants would usually be on some type of searchable probation or on parole.
Well after requesting a back up patrol unit to respond so I could search the car. I'd pull the occupants out one at a time, search them, and then have them take a seat on the curb. After my cover officer would arrive, I'd methodically "rip" the car's interior, trunk and even the engine compartment. We'd also check out the places where we believed if these ass wipes were clever enough to have a hidden compartment.
I'd always search cars while wearing rubber surgical gloves. The cover officer typically wouldn't. I don't know what it is about "cranksters", "tweakers" or what ever you want to call them, and dildos, yes you heard me right.....DILDOS. I'm talking cars with just guys in it and the driver happens to be the registered owner. Those are some sick mother fuckers.
So me being me, I holler over to my beat partner and tell him "check this out" as I'd toss the dildo to him. Of course not really knowing what it was, he'd instinctively reach out with both of his un-gloved hands and catch the rubber phallus.
It was always really good for a laugh. Of course there was always payback. The last time someone said "Hey check this out" and tossed something my way, I'd let it hit the ground before I'd look at the item.
Too bad it was dude's glass bong. I hear those things can be expensive.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
A couple that argues together....
Several years ago working as a motor officer with my previous agency, my motor partner whom I still work with at my current agency in the same capacity used to run radar on a particular frontage road which paralleled the freeway. This road would become a speed way when the traffic on the freeway became too congested.
So there I was parked beneath a shady Elm tree by a driveway patiently waiting for the salmon run to begin. It didn't take long as I spotted this SUV which looked to be exceeding the posted speed limit. With my handy-dandy LIDAR I get a speed reading of 66 mph, 21 mph over the speed limit.
I placed the LIDAR in my motor's right saddle bag and take off after the violator. I get behind the SUV and turn on my emergency lights and a few blasts of the siren to get the driver's attention. He pulls into a parking lot of some town homes along the roadway.
I contact the driver who obviously has no clue as to why I stopped him. While I'm telling him he was stopped for speed, the driver's wife just lets into him. She sure had a potty mouth. Her colorful, sailor like vocabulary brought me back to my old Navy days back in the P.I. (Philippine Islands).
Her ass chewing became so bad that the driver asked me if he could get out of his car. "No" I told him. "you need to remain inside your vehicle." As I scratched out a rag for the speeding driver, I looked over at him and saw that he had his arms on the steering wheel with his head down.
I thought that I would relish this moment as she continued her colorful endearing words for her hubby by taking my time to write the ticket. Needless to say, it was one of the neatest, legible printing I have done on a ticket (tell me your in a hurry and I'll give you a nice, legible ticket too).
So by the time I walk back up to the driver door, I'm half expecting the driver to asked for a self committal 72 hour psychological evaluation. He signs the ticket and I give him his copy. As I walked back toward my motor, I turned around when I heard the SUV door open.
The driver told me that he was just changing places with his wife as she was going to be the responsible driver. So off the happy couple go driving off into the sunset in marital bliss.
I'm standing there next to my motor and writing my notes on the back of my copy of the ticket just in case this guy decides to exercise his right to a personal appearance. I hear my motor partner on the radio. He was parked about a half mile down the same frontage road.
I'm not paying real close attention to his radio traffic until I hear him call out the license plate. It sounded so familiar. I turned my ticket over and saw that it was the same license on the vehicle I had just cited. The Dispatcher was on top of her game as she informed my motor partner the vehicle was just stopped by me and it was clear in the system.
Payback is a bitch as I later learned that Hubby was using his best colorful descriptives of his wife for being stopped for speeding.
They never did exercise their right for a personal appearance at our local court. It would have been funny to have both Hubby and Wifey in court as defendants driving the same vehicle on the same day, same roadway and getting a ticket by the only two motor officers with this police agency.
So there I was parked beneath a shady Elm tree by a driveway patiently waiting for the salmon run to begin. It didn't take long as I spotted this SUV which looked to be exceeding the posted speed limit. With my handy-dandy LIDAR I get a speed reading of 66 mph, 21 mph over the speed limit.
I placed the LIDAR in my motor's right saddle bag and take off after the violator. I get behind the SUV and turn on my emergency lights and a few blasts of the siren to get the driver's attention. He pulls into a parking lot of some town homes along the roadway.
I contact the driver who obviously has no clue as to why I stopped him. While I'm telling him he was stopped for speed, the driver's wife just lets into him. She sure had a potty mouth. Her colorful, sailor like vocabulary brought me back to my old Navy days back in the P.I. (Philippine Islands).
Her ass chewing became so bad that the driver asked me if he could get out of his car. "No" I told him. "you need to remain inside your vehicle." As I scratched out a rag for the speeding driver, I looked over at him and saw that he had his arms on the steering wheel with his head down.
I thought that I would relish this moment as she continued her colorful endearing words for her hubby by taking my time to write the ticket. Needless to say, it was one of the neatest, legible printing I have done on a ticket (tell me your in a hurry and I'll give you a nice, legible ticket too).
So by the time I walk back up to the driver door, I'm half expecting the driver to asked for a self committal 72 hour psychological evaluation. He signs the ticket and I give him his copy. As I walked back toward my motor, I turned around when I heard the SUV door open.
The driver told me that he was just changing places with his wife as she was going to be the responsible driver. So off the happy couple go driving off into the sunset in marital bliss.
I'm standing there next to my motor and writing my notes on the back of my copy of the ticket just in case this guy decides to exercise his right to a personal appearance. I hear my motor partner on the radio. He was parked about a half mile down the same frontage road.
I'm not paying real close attention to his radio traffic until I hear him call out the license plate. It sounded so familiar. I turned my ticket over and saw that it was the same license on the vehicle I had just cited. The Dispatcher was on top of her game as she informed my motor partner the vehicle was just stopped by me and it was clear in the system.
Payback is a bitch as I later learned that Hubby was using his best colorful descriptives of his wife for being stopped for speeding.
They never did exercise their right for a personal appearance at our local court. It would have been funny to have both Hubby and Wifey in court as defendants driving the same vehicle on the same day, same roadway and getting a ticket by the only two motor officers with this police agency.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
The "reverse"
When I first started in law enforcement I worked for a Sheriff's Department. In this department all deputies start their careers off by working the jails. Not a fun place to work. You had to make it fun, usually, well always at the expense of some criminal.
One of the not so fun tasks we had to routinely perform was to strip search criminals before giving them their jail clothes. We used these two small rooms which always stunk of bare feet and ass, what a combination. It is very shocking to the senses especially because most criminals have an allergy to soap and water.
The typical strip search went as follows; put them into the room and hand them an empty clothing bag. You'd tell them to place all of their clothes in the bag and when that was finished they were to hang it on the exterior door knob.
We would then enter the room with the door slightly open and have them standing in the nude facing us. We'd direct them to hold up their arms to make sure they weren't concealing drugs in their armpits. Next we'd tell them to open their mouths and lift their tongue and make sure they weren't concealing contraband in there. Then it was time to lift their penis and scrotum to make sure those areas were drug free. We'd next tell them to turn around and show us the bottoms of their feet. The last step was to have them bend over at the waist, spread their butt cheeks and to cough. Supposedly if they were keestering any contraband up their ass, the coughing would cause it to fall out.
Once this was done we'd then hand them their jail clothes. When they were dressed they took a seat on a wooden bench then led to a holding cell until the intake housing unit could accommodate them.
More than once while working the booking area of the jail you'd run into a problem criminal that had an attitude. I found a very subtle way to get them back. I dubbed it the "reverse". The reverse was the strip search as mentioned above only done backwards.
I'd usually make them bend over several times to spread their ass cheeks and cough. I'd tell them it wasn't done properly and to do it again. They'd get so pissed of that they would literally claw at their ass cheeks and ass hole. Then they'd be directed to turn around and ordered to lift their penis and scrotum. Of course they couldn't do it right as they were told to repeat the process because they were not going with the program.
The last step was to have them open their mouth, place two or three fingers in at the sides and pull the cheeks of their mouths apart. After that was done I'd add the additional step of having them smacking their lips together several times. That would always get me a strange look from the criminal as they complied.
I would then exit the room and return with their jail clothes. Before I would exit the room to allow them to get dressed, I would turn and ask them, "By the way, how did your ass and balls taste?"
Problem criminal - a waste of taxpayers money.
Jail clothes - $60.00
Criminal placing his nasty fingers inside his mouth after groping his ass and balls and smacking his lips - priceless!
Stupid sons of bitches.
One of the not so fun tasks we had to routinely perform was to strip search criminals before giving them their jail clothes. We used these two small rooms which always stunk of bare feet and ass, what a combination. It is very shocking to the senses especially because most criminals have an allergy to soap and water.
The typical strip search went as follows; put them into the room and hand them an empty clothing bag. You'd tell them to place all of their clothes in the bag and when that was finished they were to hang it on the exterior door knob.
We would then enter the room with the door slightly open and have them standing in the nude facing us. We'd direct them to hold up their arms to make sure they weren't concealing drugs in their armpits. Next we'd tell them to open their mouths and lift their tongue and make sure they weren't concealing contraband in there. Then it was time to lift their penis and scrotum to make sure those areas were drug free. We'd next tell them to turn around and show us the bottoms of their feet. The last step was to have them bend over at the waist, spread their butt cheeks and to cough. Supposedly if they were keestering any contraband up their ass, the coughing would cause it to fall out.
Once this was done we'd then hand them their jail clothes. When they were dressed they took a seat on a wooden bench then led to a holding cell until the intake housing unit could accommodate them.
More than once while working the booking area of the jail you'd run into a problem criminal that had an attitude. I found a very subtle way to get them back. I dubbed it the "reverse". The reverse was the strip search as mentioned above only done backwards.
I'd usually make them bend over several times to spread their ass cheeks and cough. I'd tell them it wasn't done properly and to do it again. They'd get so pissed of that they would literally claw at their ass cheeks and ass hole. Then they'd be directed to turn around and ordered to lift their penis and scrotum. Of course they couldn't do it right as they were told to repeat the process because they were not going with the program.
The last step was to have them open their mouth, place two or three fingers in at the sides and pull the cheeks of their mouths apart. After that was done I'd add the additional step of having them smacking their lips together several times. That would always get me a strange look from the criminal as they complied.
I would then exit the room and return with their jail clothes. Before I would exit the room to allow them to get dressed, I would turn and ask them, "By the way, how did your ass and balls taste?"
Problem criminal - a waste of taxpayers money.
Jail clothes - $60.00
Criminal placing his nasty fingers inside his mouth after groping his ass and balls and smacking his lips - priceless!
Stupid sons of bitches.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Motor Cop in a car
Due to inclement weather, we're forced from two wheels onto four wheels. I get the whole safety aspect of this, but being in a car sure sucks. I guess one positive thing is the car stereo.
We have these dash cameras installed in all of the department's patrol cars. They record audio and video whenever the emergency lights are turned on in a Code 3 situation. So when we "bust" intersections they'll be recorded along with the vehicle's speed. Big Brother is watching......
Us motor cops really aren't too familiar with how this system works. We usually have one of the patrol guys explain how to set it up.
Needless to say, I get dispatched to a 11-79, cop talk for a traffic collision with an ambulance en route. It usually means injuries, but not always. Well this call just happened to be at the very south end of South City and the quickest way to get there is via the interstate.
I've got lights and siren going, slowing to make sure each intersection between the office and the interstate are clear before I drive through. Being a motor cop and making Code 3 runs on a motorcycle, although fun, is very dangerous and because we don't have all that metal around us and our real only protection is the brain buckets we wear other than real super defensive riding. This cautious approach to riding Code 3 also carries over to and makes good practice for a patrol car on a Code 3 run.
I think it would be a good experience for every cop to make a Code 3 run on a motor on busy city streets. It'll teach you to be more cautious if you're not and will truly give you an appreciation of all that metal around you, seat belt and airbag. It'll probably also convince you that motor cops must have some kind of death wish.
Riding is an addiction, I've been addicted since around 7 years old. Not a bad addiction when you consider all of the other types of addictions out there.
So I'm on the interstate with lights and siren blaring. The traffic was moderate as it was near the end of the morning salmon run (morning commute). All of the cars which were ahead of me yielded to the right as the law requires, but you know there has to be at least one idiot on the road and I was quickly catching up to him.
So this whole Code 3 run is being recorded audio and visually. So as I catch up to Jack Ass, I switch over to another siren pattern to try and get his attention. As the sounds of the different sirens doesn't appear to be getting his attention, I hit the horn button. Jack Ass is still oblivious to all the flashing LED lights, loud sirens, and horn.
I'm not going to pass to Jack Ass's right as he'll probably then yield to his right and two cars going "bump" is not a good thing at freeway speeds.
I finally see the right turn signal of Jack Ass's car come on and he slowly and finally moves to the right. As I passed Jack Ass I looked out my right front passenger window as he looked back at me.
Mouth over mind took over as I looked at him and yelled "Fucking Idiot" I don't know if Jack Ass could read my lips, but hey no harm, no foul.
The traffic collision turned out to be with minor injuries, no one going to the hospital which is always a good thing. My partner arrives on scene and tells me that I could replay the entire Code 3 run.
Oops, audio recording, slow Jack Ass who is clueless to all the flashing lights behind him, and mouth over mind. Yep, clear as day you could hear "Fucking Idiot".
Oh well, we'll see if the tapes are reviewed and scrutinized. Big Brother is watching and listening, very scary and that's coming from a cop....
We have these dash cameras installed in all of the department's patrol cars. They record audio and video whenever the emergency lights are turned on in a Code 3 situation. So when we "bust" intersections they'll be recorded along with the vehicle's speed. Big Brother is watching......
Us motor cops really aren't too familiar with how this system works. We usually have one of the patrol guys explain how to set it up.
Needless to say, I get dispatched to a 11-79, cop talk for a traffic collision with an ambulance en route. It usually means injuries, but not always. Well this call just happened to be at the very south end of South City and the quickest way to get there is via the interstate.
I've got lights and siren going, slowing to make sure each intersection between the office and the interstate are clear before I drive through. Being a motor cop and making Code 3 runs on a motorcycle, although fun, is very dangerous and because we don't have all that metal around us and our real only protection is the brain buckets we wear other than real super defensive riding. This cautious approach to riding Code 3 also carries over to and makes good practice for a patrol car on a Code 3 run.
I think it would be a good experience for every cop to make a Code 3 run on a motor on busy city streets. It'll teach you to be more cautious if you're not and will truly give you an appreciation of all that metal around you, seat belt and airbag. It'll probably also convince you that motor cops must have some kind of death wish.
Riding is an addiction, I've been addicted since around 7 years old. Not a bad addiction when you consider all of the other types of addictions out there.
So I'm on the interstate with lights and siren blaring. The traffic was moderate as it was near the end of the morning salmon run (morning commute). All of the cars which were ahead of me yielded to the right as the law requires, but you know there has to be at least one idiot on the road and I was quickly catching up to him.
So this whole Code 3 run is being recorded audio and visually. So as I catch up to Jack Ass, I switch over to another siren pattern to try and get his attention. As the sounds of the different sirens doesn't appear to be getting his attention, I hit the horn button. Jack Ass is still oblivious to all the flashing LED lights, loud sirens, and horn.
I'm not going to pass to Jack Ass's right as he'll probably then yield to his right and two cars going "bump" is not a good thing at freeway speeds.
I finally see the right turn signal of Jack Ass's car come on and he slowly and finally moves to the right. As I passed Jack Ass I looked out my right front passenger window as he looked back at me.
Mouth over mind took over as I looked at him and yelled "Fucking Idiot" I don't know if Jack Ass could read my lips, but hey no harm, no foul.
The traffic collision turned out to be with minor injuries, no one going to the hospital which is always a good thing. My partner arrives on scene and tells me that I could replay the entire Code 3 run.
Oops, audio recording, slow Jack Ass who is clueless to all the flashing lights behind him, and mouth over mind. Yep, clear as day you could hear "Fucking Idiot".
Oh well, we'll see if the tapes are reviewed and scrutinized. Big Brother is watching and listening, very scary and that's coming from a cop....
Monday, March 2, 2009
Tourist Prop
One fine day when working for my last agency, I was told that I had to ride into San Francisco to attend the AAA insurance company's DMV update. So who am I to pass up a nice ride into the city. It just so happened that Juan "eets no probleem" Jalisco was designated from his agency (the future agency I'd be working for) to attend this same meeting.
Of course we took off in plenty of time to take our time to get there. I guess this tends to lend some credibility to "motor training" being considered as an "OWOT" (Organized Waste Of Time), just a smidgen of credibility.
So Juan and I sat through the presentation, asked some questions, took some pamphlets to take back to our respective agencies. You'd think most people after leaving a meeting either head home if its the end of the day or to go back to work if its not..... right?..... yeah right, what ever......
Juan and I decided to extend our OWOT by riding around the city, we justified this as "tandem riding with allied agencies training". And of course it had to be organized as we had to decide our route through the city. You can't visit San Francisco without riding down Lombard Street and needless to say we felt the same way.
It was pretty funny, because a lot of the other motor cops which were at the earlier meeting were also at Lombard St. So Juan and I did our "tandem riding training" down the steep and windy street. Once to the bottom we parked our motors along the street. One of the motor officers from a south bay agency asked if I would take a picture of he and his partner as the did their "training" riding down tandem.
Of course I would and did. I made my ascent and hiked about half way up Lombard St and let me tell you, those motor boots ain't made for running, or walking up steep hills. So I snapped a few pictures as they rode by and made my decent back to where my motor was parked safe and sound because Juan was parked next to it.
I hand the motor officer his camera and they ride off having concluded their OWOT. I get down to the bottom of the street and I see a line of tourists besides my motor and a tourist SITTING on my motor. Us motor cops are very protective of our bikes. We could be involved in a traffic collision and the first thing we'd check on would be the condition of our motor, never mind that compound fracture of the arm or leg.
Juan stood their smugly as he was having his picture taken with a very cute Italian tourist, the punk. He justified the photo prop as "They all asked before they sat on it."
Well I was able to get back on my motor as I told the remaining tourists that Juan and I were on a break and needed to get back to the movie set for the film we were extras in.... hey it worked and I got my motor back.
Juan to this day won't tell me how much he made for letting tourists sit on my motor.
Well after all of that hard work, Juan and I rode down to Fisherman's Wharf. We decided to have lunch at Alioto's restaurant on Fisherman's Wharf. We parked our motors, not that its a hard thing to do with them being police motors.
We walked up to the restaurant entrance just as Mrs. Alioto was exiting. She saw the shoulder patch on my uniform shirt and asked what I was doing so far away from home as she lived in that small city. I told her we had attended some training here in San Francisco.
She asked who was watching the small city if I was all the way out here. I politely told her that I locked the gate before I left. She had a good laugh and told the restaurant general manager that lunch was on her. That was a very nice gesture of Mrs. Alioto.
Lunch was fantastic!
Of course we took off in plenty of time to take our time to get there. I guess this tends to lend some credibility to "motor training" being considered as an "OWOT" (Organized Waste Of Time), just a smidgen of credibility.
So Juan and I sat through the presentation, asked some questions, took some pamphlets to take back to our respective agencies. You'd think most people after leaving a meeting either head home if its the end of the day or to go back to work if its not..... right?..... yeah right, what ever......
Juan and I decided to extend our OWOT by riding around the city, we justified this as "tandem riding with allied agencies training". And of course it had to be organized as we had to decide our route through the city. You can't visit San Francisco without riding down Lombard Street and needless to say we felt the same way.
It was pretty funny, because a lot of the other motor cops which were at the earlier meeting were also at Lombard St. So Juan and I did our "tandem riding training" down the steep and windy street. Once to the bottom we parked our motors along the street. One of the motor officers from a south bay agency asked if I would take a picture of he and his partner as the did their "training" riding down tandem.
Of course I would and did. I made my ascent and hiked about half way up Lombard St and let me tell you, those motor boots ain't made for running, or walking up steep hills. So I snapped a few pictures as they rode by and made my decent back to where my motor was parked safe and sound because Juan was parked next to it.
I hand the motor officer his camera and they ride off having concluded their OWOT. I get down to the bottom of the street and I see a line of tourists besides my motor and a tourist SITTING on my motor. Us motor cops are very protective of our bikes. We could be involved in a traffic collision and the first thing we'd check on would be the condition of our motor, never mind that compound fracture of the arm or leg.
Juan stood their smugly as he was having his picture taken with a very cute Italian tourist, the punk. He justified the photo prop as "They all asked before they sat on it."
Well I was able to get back on my motor as I told the remaining tourists that Juan and I were on a break and needed to get back to the movie set for the film we were extras in.... hey it worked and I got my motor back.
Juan to this day won't tell me how much he made for letting tourists sit on my motor.
Well after all of that hard work, Juan and I rode down to Fisherman's Wharf. We decided to have lunch at Alioto's restaurant on Fisherman's Wharf. We parked our motors, not that its a hard thing to do with them being police motors.
We walked up to the restaurant entrance just as Mrs. Alioto was exiting. She saw the shoulder patch on my uniform shirt and asked what I was doing so far away from home as she lived in that small city. I told her we had attended some training here in San Francisco.
She asked who was watching the small city if I was all the way out here. I politely told her that I locked the gate before I left. She had a good laugh and told the restaurant general manager that lunch was on her. That was a very nice gesture of Mrs. Alioto.
Lunch was fantastic!
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The natural order of things.....
I had just witnessed the autopsy of an adult involved in a fatal collision one Saturday morning. I saw a detective buddy of mine walk into the room. We hadn't seen each other in a while. What a setting huh, corpses laying on stainless steel tables and were catching up on what's been happening.
He tells me he's here for the autopsy of a young woman who was hit along our local interstate highway and obviously killed. He told me the corpse's name and asked me if I recognized it. "Nope, why?" I replied. He went on to say that she had a local address in South City where I work.
Next to the female corpse was a male corpse. I noticed the male corpse looked familiar to me. I walked up to the gurney he was laid out on and said "Hey isn't this Joe Shitbag?" My detective buddy answered, "Sure is." I asked my detective buddy, how did Joe Shitbag, such a deserving person finally end up where he should have been years ago.
How did I come to know Joe Shitbag? Many, many moons ago I worked at the county jail where Joe Shitbag was a frequent guest. He shared the wealth of his visits with the California Department of Corrections (CDC) while doing state prison time. He was a methamphetamine addict or what we call a "tweaker" or "crankster".
Turns out Joe Shitbag received a small inheritance from some family member, mind you Joe Shitbag was in his early 40's. Joe Shitbag unfortunately couldn't kick his habit and was placed back into the caring hands of the CDC for a parole violation.
Joe's girlfriend, Suzy Crank-whore was 18 years old and obviously well onto the road of living off of us taxpayers. While Joe Shitbag was in prison, Suzy spent his inheritance.
So when Joe Shitbag got out of prison for the parole violation, he was pissed off to say the least when he discovered he had no inheritance money left and Suzy Crank-whore had shacked up with one of his buddies.
Late one night neighbors report a loud fight between Joe and Suzy followed by a gunshot. It was reported that Suzy jumped into Joe's beat up car and fled the scene. Joe was killed in a relatives driveway and needless to say there's more air for us breath.
Suzy goes to jump on the local interstate and on the cloverleaf on ramp, spins out into a small marsh. She gets out of the car and gets whacked by a car on the interstate. The gun that killed Joe is in the car and his wallet containing his I.D. card is in Suzy's purse.
We all had a good chuckle about the circumstances. The only bothersome thing is the driver who tried to make Suzy a hood ornament is still at large.
It kinda reminded me of the food chain thing you know, career criminal killed by aspiring career criminal, killed by WTF was that, must have been a deer motorist.
A criminalist from my previous department was there and removing fingernail scrapings from Suzy, and then pubic hair samples from her.
You know us cops, gotta make fun of everything. We teased the criminalist about him removing trace evidence of himself on Suzy. Of course we had to take it further saying it was after she had been hit by the car.
Yeah, I know..... were sick and insensitive.
He tells me he's here for the autopsy of a young woman who was hit along our local interstate highway and obviously killed. He told me the corpse's name and asked me if I recognized it. "Nope, why?" I replied. He went on to say that she had a local address in South City where I work.
Next to the female corpse was a male corpse. I noticed the male corpse looked familiar to me. I walked up to the gurney he was laid out on and said "Hey isn't this Joe Shitbag?" My detective buddy answered, "Sure is." I asked my detective buddy, how did Joe Shitbag, such a deserving person finally end up where he should have been years ago.
How did I come to know Joe Shitbag? Many, many moons ago I worked at the county jail where Joe Shitbag was a frequent guest. He shared the wealth of his visits with the California Department of Corrections (CDC) while doing state prison time. He was a methamphetamine addict or what we call a "tweaker" or "crankster".
Turns out Joe Shitbag received a small inheritance from some family member, mind you Joe Shitbag was in his early 40's. Joe Shitbag unfortunately couldn't kick his habit and was placed back into the caring hands of the CDC for a parole violation.
Joe's girlfriend, Suzy Crank-whore was 18 years old and obviously well onto the road of living off of us taxpayers. While Joe Shitbag was in prison, Suzy spent his inheritance.
So when Joe Shitbag got out of prison for the parole violation, he was pissed off to say the least when he discovered he had no inheritance money left and Suzy Crank-whore had shacked up with one of his buddies.
Late one night neighbors report a loud fight between Joe and Suzy followed by a gunshot. It was reported that Suzy jumped into Joe's beat up car and fled the scene. Joe was killed in a relatives driveway and needless to say there's more air for us breath.
Suzy goes to jump on the local interstate and on the cloverleaf on ramp, spins out into a small marsh. She gets out of the car and gets whacked by a car on the interstate. The gun that killed Joe is in the car and his wallet containing his I.D. card is in Suzy's purse.
We all had a good chuckle about the circumstances. The only bothersome thing is the driver who tried to make Suzy a hood ornament is still at large.
It kinda reminded me of the food chain thing you know, career criminal killed by aspiring career criminal, killed by WTF was that, must have been a deer motorist.
A criminalist from my previous department was there and removing fingernail scrapings from Suzy, and then pubic hair samples from her.
You know us cops, gotta make fun of everything. We teased the criminalist about him removing trace evidence of himself on Suzy. Of course we had to take it further saying it was after she had been hit by the car.
Yeah, I know..... were sick and insensitive.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
