"Multi-Phasic"

She had an active warrant for a bad check or something. I hooked her up and was bringing her in but that isn't why she had such an odd expression on her face in my rear view mirror. It was me, I was making her nervous. Apparently this gal was not used to being chauffeured by a guy that has his right foot on the accelerator, left knee steering, left hand holding the hand mic, and right hand scribbling notes for the next call. Then, on top of all this, looks up to the rear view mirror to check on his prisoner. My old FTO called it being "mulit-phasic". He was a Marine, God help me, but often spoke of the need for a law dog to do multiple things at the same time. So, no shit there I was; pulling away from a Holiday gas station, clipping my seat belt, holding a cup of coffee between my legs, and talking on the radio when I spill. Turning to check over my shoulder the lid pops off of my straight black Holiday brew. The molten liquid runs down the inside of both thighs and makes a B-Line for my A-Hole. Holly shit this is Hot! I do some hip thrusts and manage not to cause an accident. Lucky for me home was only 4 blocks away. I make it there without sitting back down.

Moral of the story: use the cup holder.

The Chase

Routine patrol on a comfortable summer evening. I see a pickup parked on the road up ahead. Then the backup lights come on. This dope backs, swerves, and backs again stopping across the center line. Must be drunk. Better light him up and have a chat. Hit the cherries and give the siren a squawk. Pickup hesitates and then hangs a hard right down a dirt road. The chase is on. Lights are flashing siren is wailing and the adrenaline kicks in. Then a problem becomes apparent; this guy can hardly keep the truck from going off the road at a mear 35mph. The rig swerves wildly from side to side narrowly missing trees. This continues for about a mile before the dope pulls into a drive way and stops. I cut the siren and step out to do a felony take down. Besides the dope driving there are 2 passengers. Driver comes our first. The dope looks like a blueberry. Full Canadian tuxedo and he is round, has to be over 4 bills. Calling the fat man back I get him in position for the cuffs. First problem arises, can't get his fat arms together behind him. So I cuff in front, don't have a choice but always hate doing it. Now second problem, this fat dope will never fit in my Crown Vic. So I get a little momentum and stuff him in. The fit is so tight I am afraid that I will never get him out. He tests over .20 BAC, a gross misdemeanor, tack on the fleeing and fat dope is looking at some jail time. However, he gets a plea bargain misdemeanor DWI charge and nothing else. You have to love small town justice.

Surprise!

I circle around the side of the home and find another door. Creeping in and posting on a corner I can see him. Standing in the living room with his arms crossed over his chest. In each hand a large kitchen knife pointed to his throat. Raising my pistol, the 3 dots of the sights come to rest on the dick head's right ear. He is screaming at my partner and then takes a few steps forward. My finger tightens on the trigger and my sights follow his ear. This dick head is has no idea how close his is to having his head turned into a sticky canoe. Checking the area behind him I confirm that my background is clear. The hammer on my weapon begins its last swing back before finally coming free and sending a 200 grain Federal Hydra Shock jacketed hollow point down range...but wait. He stops and is now stepping back. The yelling continues but my partner is out of harms way for now. Loosening the trigger my sights never leave dick head's ear. Twice more he advances and almost dies. Twice more he backs off. For about 5 minutes time I am convinced that this dick head is going to make me kill him. I doesn't happen. Dick head had smacked around his parents and then trashed the house. My partner does an excellent job of talking him down and coming peacefully. He demands one condition; that he not be hand cuffed. My partner agrees. The stand off ends. Just as I turn to leave I get the word, hey you can transport this guy. With no cuffs? Yep. Surprise. Then after 4 miles dick head starts to get squirrelly, great.

Real Class

'There are two people I want to thank tonight; Jesus Christ, who stood up and died for our sins and the American GI, who stands up and fights for our freedom.'

-Randy Couture after winning the UFC Heavy Weight Championship

Dynamic

A 'Dynamic' entry is what you see S.W.A.T. officers doing in movies. It is a fast paced, smash the door, run in and throw the bad guys to the ground, turbo charged, adrenaline pumping, violent act. The idea is to use surprise and speed to gain a tactical advantage on a shit bag's home turf. I was always told that dogs will turn tail and run as you rush in, even big nasty toothy mean bastards. So, no shit there I was, helping an Immigration Officer with a high risk felony warrant. We had to find a shit bag in a trailer house. Gun out. Stack on the door. It is open so we let our selves in. Immigra turns right so I turn left, room clear, now a hall way so I rush to the end. There is a piece of plywood in the doorway and behind that a dog. I pause for 1/2 a second and then hurl the wood across the room. The dog scooted past me like a streak. Guess they were right. I find shit bag under a pile of clothes and hook him up. This is why I love to do my job. Who else gets to do shit like this?

Plugged

Carry ear plugs with you at all times. Nothing is worse than starting your shift and getting called to shoot a deer and then being deaf for the rest of the night. Can't hear my radio, can't talk on the cell phone and can't hear what the little old lady is saying as you take her complaint. After going a night asking everyone to repeat themselves I tossed a set in my kit. Only problem is that the kit is in the car and low and behold I found myself out in the brush next to another deer that needs the 'final solution'. So I go another shift with out the aid of my hearing. Now there is a set in my pocket and when ever I forget them I end up shooting something...

Need Sleepy Time (part II)

The engine is running. I grip the steering wheel and attempt to focus on the darkness that I am plunging into. I don't know how long I was out but now I can't see a thing. Slam on the brakes. Can't see the road. Don't know how fast I am moving. Not long til I hit something hard. I brace myself and wait. And wait. Then it strikes me. I am parked. The car is in park and the headlights are off. Too tired to drive so I stopped, turned up the 2-way, set the alarm for 20 minutes, and took a power nap. Now I turn on the lights and put the cruiser in 'D'. Where the hell am I? I know this county inside out but have no idea. I turn right. The 2-way crackles and I respond with a guttural utterance. Now everyone knows. 3 miles of gravel road before I finally get it figured out. I need coffee before I kill myself.