Everybody loves to hear police stories. If you have a favorite or a funny police story send it in and I will post it on the "Police Stories" page.

LAST NIGHT'S SHIFT
(A  sample of what you get when you subscribe to my daily email.)

Last night was a tough shift on patrol. It started out slow. There was not many calls and it was raining quite heavily. My desire to pull people over and stand out the rain was not very high. 

My second call was one of the toughest calls I have ever had. 

Dispatch advised of a medical call, "code 3" (lights and sirens)........."32 year old male not conscious/not breathing" they said. Another officer was dispatched to it, but because I was not far away I decided to respond to assist the paramedics. 
As I arrived, the paramedics had already entered the house. I walked up to the house as one paramedic came out asking for my help. He said that they needed the "gurney" and a backboard. I helped him get it out of the ambulance. He said "this guy is in deep." I already knew what he meant, even though I had never heard it put quite that way. 

When I went into the house I saw a woman in a T-shirt with a badge with her name on it. On the front of the shirt was the name of a local restaurant. There was several small children around and they all looked somewhat interested in our comings and goings, but not too much. One little gal about 4 years old hid around a corner when I came in. She poked her head out, smiled and then waved at me shyly. I waved back and smiled, she then ducked back out of sight behind the wall. Then I went into the bedroom where the paramedics were working on the patient, the provider, the husband, and the father of this family. 

He was pale white. He had no color. He was lifeless. He had no response to anything the paramedics tired. They were getting tubes into his lungs and veins. All seemed to know exactly what to do. They worked like a machine. I offered to help, knowing that there was something I could do. They told me to pump the bag that was filling his lungs with air. I began to do that while they threw out medical jargon like it was going out of style. 

I looked around for anything out of the ordinary. I looked for any sign or reason that this guy was unconscious. There was nothing. While they were doing CPR and getting the I.V. going I looked up. In the hallway was the 4 year old girl that was waving at me when I came in. She was watching everything. I told one of the paramedics quietly to "get her into the other room"......there was no way that I wanted her to see what we were doing to her "daddy". 

They worked him for a few minutes and then quickly loaded him onto a backboard and then onto the gurney. I stopped in the front room and made sure that the wife had a ride to the hospital. She said she was fine to drive. Then I asked if there was some family I could call, I explained that we needed someone here for the kids. She said that family was on the way, but in the meantime the 13 year old daughter was going to watch the kids. 

She told me how she was getting ready to go to work. She said that her husband had felt sick all day and but she just noticed how bad he really was, so she called 911. 

By that time the ambulance was pulling out. She started to follow. One of the paramedics stayed behind and began to clean up all of the papers and garbage that was left behind in the bedroom. I began to snoop around for anything suspicious. Then I found it! There was a piece of paper folded up by the bed. I just knew it was a suicide note. I quickly opened it and read it......it was not what I thought at all. It was a drawing from one of the kids. It was a stick man and scribbles. There was more pictures like that on folded up papers throughout the room. No suicide notes. 

Now the last paramedic had left and I was alone in the room. I covered up the blood on the bed so that the kids could not see it. Then I walked out of the room. 

Standing in the hallway was all five kids. The 13 year old was holding a baby, the only boy. She was crying, she asked if he was dead. I told looked at her plainly. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I said "I am not going to lie to you". She said, like a
grown up, "I would not want you to". I then said simply, "It does not look good." There was another girl there. She was crying and having a very difficult time with it. I knelt down to talk to her. 

I asked her name. "Shannon", she said. "How old are you", "Eight" she said. 

Then she ran up to me and hugged me and would not let me go. I could not talk, I could not move, I could not get rid of that huge lump in my throat. I held her. I thought about my daughter, I thought about Shannon growing up without a dad, I prayed for her. 

At that time I thought that I just might be in the wrong profession. Who am I to try and console these kids? Who am I to try to justify or explain the death of their father? I dealt with it the best I could. Tears flowed on the two older girls faces. The younger two girls began to play and giggle on the floor in the hallway. Not many words were said. Not many were needed. Not many would fit the situation and few seemed as though they would explain the problem. 

After a while someone knocked on the front door. It was a lady from the church. She was there to help however she could. I could not talk to her. I just left. 

Outside there was two neighbors. They began to talk to me. It was simple talk with no subject. This was a time that I did not feel like talking. They asked how he was doing and I said not very well. One guy said, "I can tell by your actions what you are thinking." Ya, Nice observation. 

I got into my patrol car and began to drive. Dispatch gave me a call of a "gas theft" that had just occurred. I went to the gas station and got the information from the clerk. He was very concerned. I asked how much gas was stolen. It was a few bucks worth. A few lousy dollars, who cares about a few dollars? I told him that I would work on it and see if I could find the person. 

I then pulled around to the back of the gas station and called my wife. When my son answered the phone I nearly cried. "Get mom" I told him. When she got on I told her. Then I cried. And I cried for a long time. She did not say much. I did not want her to. What can a person say? There was nothing she could say. I kept crying. I saw those 4 little girls and that baby. I felt Shannon hugging me so tight. My tears were dripping off my face. I turned the police radio off. The rain was falling very hard on the windshield, so I knew that no one could see. After a while I told her that I needed to go. She offered to come over and see me, I declined. 

Then I went about my work. I gave it a serious effort to find the gas theft suspect, without luck. 

After that I drove around for a while. I saw speeders and other traffic violations. Right now, I did not care. I did not understand. Nothing seems to fit into the whole scheme of things. 

I went by the hospital before I left work. All they would tell me is that they did get a heartbeat on the guy, but he was not breathing. He was on life support. 

It's as if life was a glass water globe with snow in it and someone shook it up. Things were all messed up. I know that the "snow" will settle very soon, but I also know that the "snow" will never be the same when it does. 

I know that I will never be the same after seeing the look on those kids faces. 

Last Night's Shift    2-3-99

As I mentioned, I was scheduled to get off work tonight at 9pm. Just after nine I was getting sandwich, before heading to do my reports. About a block away there was a report of an auto pedestrian accident. I responded because I was close. I yelled at the clerk to just wrap that sandwich up and I would get it later. I dashed out and was the first one on the scene.

There was a man on the roadway. His head was facing the curb and his legs were out into the lane of travel. He was on his side and his neck  was bent in a strange position. A large group of by-standers was forming. I checked for breathing. He was obviously breathing. It was loud and heavy, it sounded as if he was really straining to breath.   There was a trail of blood coming from his head running into the gutter.  His friend was yelling at him to wake up, "DON'T DIE" the friend yelled.  Then I saw another person on the ground. It was an adult female. She was  hysterical. Very hysterical. She was laying on the sidewalk and there  was people trying to calm her down. I radioed the rescue  units---paramedics---and updated them "major head injury, not conscious, however he is breathing" Damn I forgot to check for a pulse, oh well what if he had none. Would I have moved him? Uh..... Ya? Yes I would have risked further injury to get a pulse. Ok, not the paramedics arrived. I  called for another ambulance for the female. She was showing signs of shock------ok she was in shock, no question.

Knowing that there was nothing that I could to help the guy in the   street, I decided to make sure that the female driver could be helped. The paramedics began to work on the man and I got the female into the rear of my car. I just tried to get her talking. I told her that I  needed her to calm down so that I could help the man further. I asked if  there was family I could call for her. She was calming down when another officer came over and said her name. It seems that he knew her. She looked at him and went hysterical again. She was blaming herself for hitting the man.

It seems that he and another man was running acrossed the street  together. She saw the movement and slammed on her brakes. It was too late. She struck one of them directly. His head hit her windshield. He then flew through the air landing on the pavement.

I gave the friend of the victim a ride to the hospital. On the way to  the hospital, he was crying. He said, "officer, do you believe in God",  I said "Ya"., He said "say a prayer for my friend". He begged me. I   never answered.

He was able to contact friends and the victims family. I talked to the  victims brother. I told him "I am not going to lie to you. It does not  look good". His face was STONE. I wished him and his family luck. "I  hope that it all works out". I know that the chances are very slim.

When I was leaving the hospital, I asked one doctor what he thought. He said that if he was a betting man, he'd bet that the victim is not going to make it.

I finished my reports at midnight. So, much for the 3-9 shift.

Russell

*************UPDATE*****************

In briefing I was told that the man involved in the accident passed away earlier this week. He had been kept alive on machines since the accident. It also turns out that the victim was diagnosed with hepatitis (I am not sure what strain).

I found out later that the victim was very intoxicated and had also taken narcotics. Since the accident I learned that the driver of the van has been checked into a "phsyc" ward.

With no disrespect to the victims in this REAL LIFE CASE, next time you hear someone say "My drug use only affects me........", think about all of the Paramedics, Police officers, innocent bystanders, doctors, nurses and family members that this guy affected. Include yourself as one of the people affected.

Russell
Friday,  March 19th, 1999

     On the night of August 8th, 1996, after finishing her shift at work, Donette was on her way home. A 29 year old female, left the "beer garden" at the county fair, around 11 PM. This girl had been there most of the night drinking. She managed to avoid the police and find her way through town in her Mercedes. Just outside of the city limits of town, she crossed the center line and sideswiped a Jeep, the full length, proceed on across the line and hit my daughter’s ‘95 Neon, near head-on. My daughter’s car was spun around and flipped on the drivers side and slid down and embankment, and came to a rest. A 3rd car drove through the point of impact and was untouched. The 4th car was hit by the debris from my daughter’s car, but no injuries there. My daughter had tried to move to the shoulder, but the other car continued on to impact. Donette had her seat belt on, and the air bags did deploy, but because of where the impact was the steering wheel went between the front seats so fast that the bag was of no use. Donette’s head struck the A post on her car, and then the pavement when it turned on it’s side. They said she died instantly of massive head injuries, and never felt any pain. I still wonder and have nightmare about this. 

Our daughter laid in her car, dead, while they attended to the drunk. Her dad was on his way home from work, an hour later, on the same road, and was detoured around the crash onto another road, not knowing it was Donette. He hadn’t been home very long when we got the horrible knock on the door that forever rings in my head. The shock, the screaming, the pain when your heart has been torn to shreds. Trying to make sense of it all, trying to find out where she is and that you can’t go to her immediately, because she has been taken to a strange, cold morgue. The next hardest thing I’ve had to do outside of burying my Daughter was to read the medical reports. How do you continue on knowing that her life drained from her ears, and that every major organ in her body was dislodged. The beautiful child, a gift from God, that you created, taken from you in a flash by an irresponsible drunk person, who made the choice to drink and then get in a car and drive. There is no excuse good enough that will ever satisfy us that this was an accident. It was no accident that this person, took that first drink and "chose" to "allow" herself to get in the drunken state, with a BAC of .18. This drunken persons injuries have healed, ours never will. Pain is our constant companion!

--Written by Donette’s mother    
Sadly, this is a true story.

This story is true, I swear it. I'm a retired Lieutenant from NYPD and this is of a experience of another Lieutenant when he was a young radio car cop in the Bronx about 27-28 years ago. My friend went to a Catholic Boys High School in the Bronx and really got the screws put to him by this one particular teacher which included calls to his parents, detention and so forth. Well, my friend graduated from High School in 1966 despite the efforts of this teacher and became a Cop in 1970 and was assigned to a South Bronx Precinct. While working a late tour he and his partner are assigned a job on the Triboro Bridge (connects Manhattan, the Bronx and Queens), the job is for a disabled vehicle in the roadway. He arrives at the job to find a male sleeping in a Volkswagen Beetle in the right hand lane, he wakes up the driver and too his amazement is his old high school teacher who now has had a few drinks. He and his partner get the teacher out of vehicle and proceeded with touching the fingers on the nose and walking the straight line (the old Field Sobriety Tests), at this point the driver is asking for a break because he is a teacher at a local Catholic High School. Needless to say the teacher did not recognize his former student in uniform. While his partner was chastising the teacher for drinking and driving, my friend when over to the Volks and removed the keys from the ignition and promptly threw them off the bridge into the East River which was about one hundred feet below. My friend then berated his former teacher for his drinking and told him the next time he would lock him up, with that he and his partner drove off into the night. The teacher was left standing somewhere between the Bronx and Manhattan in the middle of the night with a Volkswagen with no keys and a sever tongue lashing by a young Cop. Sometimes revenge can be sweeter than you could ever think.

This really went down the way I am telling it. One morning in the mid 1960's I was working a one man unit and about 0100. I started chasing a stolen vehicle. (it was on the hot sheet), through my own neighborhood. I was driving a 1967 Plymouth with a 383 engine. The Car I was chasing was a 1953 6 cyl. chev. 2 dr. with 5 suspects. in it. Every time I would punch the gas I would have to slam on the brakes to keep from ramming them. The car turned down the very street I lived on, which was a dead end. I hit the growler and they stopped right in front of my driveway. I yelled for back up and all I could hear was units asking:  " Where the hell is Mumford St.?". The only one in that damn neighborhood who came out to help me was Harvey who lived across the street. (He was a reserve Deputy Sheriff at the time. Later became a regular and retired as a lieutenant.). We jerked the fools out of the car and laid them in the street before the first backup arrived, which was a plain clothes felony car. The officers were dressed in old levis and T-shirts. Harvey's wife saw them and thinking they were somebad guys who were going to jump us. She ran back into the house and got Harvey's other pistol. By the time she came back out other units had arrived. Luckily, Pete and George didn't get blown away by a little lady who was damn well going to save 2 cops. Harvey was in a pair of pants, T-shirt and no shoes. He did have a big pistol in his hand. When the felony car pulled in I told him he could get his ass shot off. He asked me how? I told him, "when I saw you I nearly threw my shotgun down and put my hands up". The only thing I remember Harv. saying was: "YOU S.O.B." . We are both getting pretty long in the tooth now (68 and 64), but I would still work a black and white with him any day of the year.

The Cast

I promised you the story on the the wise guy who thought itwould be fun to give a cop with his hand in a cast a hard time. I broke a bone in my left hand while making an arrest in the eiry 1960's. I was put on light duty and assigned to the front desk on morning watch (12 Mid to 0800). The cast ran about 1/2 way up my forearm. After a few weeks it kept getting dirty and I kept washing it with a wash rag. The plaster of paris got soft and I tried to get the city MD to put more plaster on it. For some reason he refused and told me to stop washing it and live with the dirt. (No way Jack). I went home and got a good size container of spackle and put 2 or 3 coats on the cast. It hardened into a good substitute for concrete. One morning about 0230 this fellow with a real lousy attitude comes into the station and wants to see "The head A.H." His words. I told him I was the only one in the station (lie) and he was going to have to deal with me. At this time he really became abusive and reached across the desk counter and slaped the forms I was filling out and my pen out of my hand. I grabbed a hand full of his clothing with my right hand and
pulled him as far as I could over the counter. He started swinging at me and I started belting him on the head and face with my left hand and forearm. About this time the Watch commander hearing all the noise came out of his office and helped me pull el jerko the rest of the way over the counter. The clown was knocked colder than a clam. Jim the jailer came out and took him back to the jail, where I booked him For Battery on a Police Officer. I convicted the jerk in court. as soon as we had him restrained, ( I never used the word subdued, might sound like brutality.) Lt. Ed the W/C started raising hell with me for not calling him to handle the prisoner instead of reinjuring my hand. He Made me show him the cast and whem he found out what I had done to it, the only thing he said was "You S.O.B.". It seems everyone called me a S.O.B. at one time or another.

My partner and I made a traffic stop a while back on a registration violation. Well, when we pulled the guy over I approached the driver and asked him for his drivers license and registration. I could smell a strong smell of beer coming from his vehicle. I noticed a beer can on the passenger floor of the vehicle and what appeared to be a large wet stain on the floor. To make things short, we sited him for an open container and registration. When he appeared in court the judge called his case and asked him how he pleaded for the open container charge. He stated "guilty with an explanation your honor"  The judge asked him for his explanation and he replied "well your honor I am guilty for having the beer can in my car, but I am collecting aluminum can your honor" The judge replied well how is it that you only had one can?" He replied "well your honor I just started collecting" The judge could not keep a straight face and stated " I thought I had heard them all "case dismissed!!"

Open letter to the editors of The New Yorker magazine.

You have written off any respect I ever had for your magazine, by the irresponsible publication of the March 8th cover. Yes I am a police officer. As a result, I know that the incident referred to by your publication is the exception, not the rule. Only the officers present at that incident know what they thought, saw, or believed. We live in an ever more violent society, where we officers are as, if not more, likely as anyone to become a target. We are trained to stop perceived threats before they can kill us. This can lead to the rare incident where someone could be shot, where they were not actually armed, but appeared to be so.

Again, this is the rarity not the rule. Yet your publishing this picture conveys the impression that we go out of our way to shoot innocents. By such action, you increase the public distrust of police, and increase the likelihood of us being attacked. Thus, you increase the chances of a bystander getting caught in the cross-fire when the officer has to defend himself.

Police Officers are people. People sometimes make mistakes. Police officers sometimes make mistakes. As government budgets shrink, the police departments lose money through cuts. The officers are expected to do more with less. This increases the stress on each officer, and thereby increases the chance for error.

Your actions are the type that lead to further distrust of us, and thereby make it easier for the governments to further cut police budgets. A circle emerges where your publication, and all like it, focus on and sensationalize the errors made those trying to do what they've been hired to do. This can result in the police job becoming more difficult, more hazardous, and increasing the chance of errors.

I would urge everyone who believes that our society needs order, to boycott this magazine, not just the issue, but the magazine entirely. No publisher so willing to contribute to, and promote, civil unrest deserves our patronage.

Kevin Anderson    

  Thank you, Kevin for letting me pass this letter on to others.

Who We Are

We're the people that you may see every day and night. We're people that you depend on one way or another. We're working for you 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.

When you and your children pass us in the store, and you can't control them, you make them afraid of us. You tell them if they don't behave, you'll tell us to "get them". My friend, we aren't monsters. We don't want them to be afraid of us. We want them to know that we're their friends, and they can trust us. Do you know who we are?

Sometimes, we have to play the role of lawyers, judges, psychiatrists, reporters, medics, marriage counselors, investigators, firefighters, and many many times, just be a good listener. These are just a few skills that we must be able to utilize at any moment in the performance of our job.

We're constantly scrutinized by the media, and you, the public. We're bashed by you. If one of us makes a mistake, it sometimes makes the local news, and possibly even national and world news.

Many of you are more interested in what a few of us do wrong, than what most of us do right. You forget that we're not perfect. We're human, and we do make mistakes. Have you ever made a mistake?

We have the same emotions that you do. If something is funny, we laugh. If something is sad, we cry. When repeat offenders are released from prison and placed back into society to rape, rob and murder again, we get angry just like you. We wonder why they are put back out also.

We suffer from the same problems that some of you do. Some of us at this very moment are thinking about committing suicide. Some of us already have. Some of us, if not most, have marital problems. Some are alcoholics, and yes. some of us even have problems with drugs. Again, we're just like you.

We're of every race, sex, religion, nationality and even sexual preference known to mankind, yet, if we strike back to defend ourselves, we're called racist and prejudiced. Do you know who we are?

Most of you have no idea what we go through every day and night. You have no idea what kind of decisions we must make in a split second. Decisions that may forever change someone's life, family or future. Decisions that a jury will have hours or days to decide whether we were correct or not.

Many people would love to cause us pain, injury or even death. Some wish we didn't exist at all. We're cursed, ridiculed, shot at, cut, beaten, ambushed or murdered in cold blood by some. Would you ever imagine that we're here for those people also? Would you believe that we're the only thing that stands between you and them?

We see things that would horrify most of you. Things that you may think only exist in large cities. That's a common misconception. We see death, broken bones, dismembered bodies, and cut throats. The list is too long to really go on. These things are everywhere. A lot of the things you see only on TV or at the movies are all too real to us.

We see innocent little children that have no choice but to live in dirty, smelly, roach infested homes because their parents would rather sit on their butts and live on welfare in a government funded housing complex, or a house that is not fit for human habitat, than to get out and get a job. Parents that would rather spend more, if not all of their money getting high on drugs, than taking care of their children, and raising them in a clean environment. Some of the parents are only children themselves.

As I said before, we're human, and we have feelings. It hurts knowing that these children may never get to see and do things that other children with loving, caring, hard working parents are doing. I wonder if any of them will ever get to see that magical wonderland called Disney World.

Yet, our job is one that looks appealing to some of you. Especially when you see us stopped for lunch. We've heard some of you say things like "I wish I had a job that would pay me to sit around and eat." Of course, you don't think that the very next minute we may be fighting for our lives, or yours.

When you see us riding down the road, and you, not knowing where we're going, or what we're about to face say "I wish I could get paid to ride around all day and write tickets". My friend, I wish that was all we had to do. Do you know who we are? I think you do.

You don't see us as we ride through your neighborhoods late at night, trying to protect you, your family and property from the thieves who could care less about how long and hard you worked for everything you own. You may not know this, but they are roaming your neighborhood at night too while you are fast asleep. They're looking for anything of value that is easy to get. Things that you carelessly leave unsecured or laying in your yard. No neighborhood is completely safe.

When something is taken from you, you call us. Some of you will complain and wonder where we were when your property was taken. The sad, but true story is that we are extremely outnumbered by the bad guys. We can't be everywhere at once, and they know that. I wish there were more us us. You should know who we are by now. If you don't you will soon.

Now, the types of crime and the people that I have mentioned aren't the only ones that we come in contact with. We also come into contact with you, the citizen that never does any wrong. We're all too familiar with you and the remarks that you make when our paths meet for whatever reason.

Whether it's running a stop sign, a red light, speeding, or DUI. If we had a dime for everytime we heard you say "I pay taxes! Why don't you leave me alone, and go get the drug dealer standing on the corner?" "There are people out doing worse than me!" Or the famous..."I pay your salary!" We would be rich!

We know that those of you that make an honest living do pay taxes. So do we!

If we concentrated only on the drug dealers, how many innocent people would be injured or killed if we were to ignore the people that travel extremely too fast, or the people who get behind the wheel while intoxicated? The number now is too high, and is still climbing. I can't help but wonder how many lives we have saved by stopping the speeders and the drunks. Could one life have been yours or one of your family members?

We know there are people doing much worse than you, but the bottom line is, there are many laws that must be enforced, from minor traffic violations all the way to hardcore crimes such as rape and murder.

To the remark "I pay your salary". All I can say is, "Well, we're doing our job, boss."

If for some reason you still don't know who we are, we're the Police Officers, Sheriff's Deputies, State Troopers, State Police, FBI, and everything in between. We are many, but are still too few!

As I said at the beginning, we are always here for you. If you need us, call. Even if you don't, you don't have to be afraid of us. Remember that we are on your side. You can talk to us anytime you see us sitting on the side of the road, or in a parking lot, or walking in a store. If some of you would just get to know us, I think you would find out what I've tried toexplain. That is, we are just like you. We just have a different job.

Note: To some, I might sound some what arrogant. I'm sorry for stepping on anyone's toes, or just plain and simple "Ticking anyone off!" That is not my intentions. It may sound like Im down on all citizens, but Im not. You know who you are. I don't profess to be a writer, or to always use the correct words to convey what I feel, but I try. What you have read took about 2 years of adding to, and taking away. Its been a lot longer and a lot shorter. It's how I and a few other LEO's that I have let read it feel, however I do not speak for all. It was suggested to try and publish it. I may some day.

Any comments are welcomed.

Sgt. Richard J. Brown, Lanett Police Department Lanett, Alabama
Rick's DUI page
Rick's World