For the past eight years, the Los Angeles Police Department has been under a federally-monitored and mandated Consent Decree. It has caused the implementation of WAY more activity at Parker Center. It has made line officers beholden to many more levels of review. And for the whole of my career, I have had to operate under the rules and oversight of the Consent Decree. You had to hear that word everyday. And you know what it's done for me?
Not a fucking thing.
If anything, the Consent Decree (same letters as Crushingly Draconian or Can't Deliver or Critically Damaged or Controlled Diplomacy) took a highly bureaucratic, paperwork-laden big-city police agency and made it . . . . much more highly bureaucratic and paperwork-laden. But now - NEW AND IMPROVED - with everyone looking over everyone else's shoulder like Caucescu's Romania.
I've been accused in more nonsensical bullshit complaints by two-bit gangsters trying to get me off the street than I ever would have been subjected to at Torrance or Manhattan or Newport Beach Police Department. And even though some of them were BULLSHIT on their face, it went to full investigation. Thanks Consent Decree!
I've been responsible for more penny-ante paperwork than I ever thought possible. The slogan on the door should read: "LAPD, We Do More With Less! But Not Less Paperwork!" That means less manpower, less public support and less, less, less officers in the street. Citizens, when it takes forever for an officer to show up, say "Thanks, Consent Decree!"
I have to do the job of the Jailer, the Property Clerk, the butcher, the baker and the friggin' candlestick maker because I spend about 6 hours of a 12 hour day just trying to outthink all these knuckleheads while I do what SHOULD BE their job. Hell, the jailers don't have to worry about the body until the last possible moment. I am responsible for these maggots from minutes 1 through 59 per hour. Then I'm off to label, list, account for, issue a receipt for and book evidence and property. Then I have to transport my sick arrestee all over the city for a medical service and on and on and on ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. Thanks, Consent Decree!
And then, at roll call the next morning, the poor Lieutenant has to pass down the directive. We are all behind on traffic citations and the How can we save lives at these major intersections unless we write speeders and slow people down to prevent accidents? speech comes out. Even though he or she knows that we have so many pogues and slugs sitting downtown monitoring the consent decree that we could field a whole other division of officers. Thanks, Consent Decree!
The Consent Decree did help me buy a new house, what with all the overtime for paperwork and crap you have to fill out. I have a detective friend who used to joke that a robbery or homicide meant a new pair of shoes, because, Daddy, that callout to the scene is overtime! Of course, we are not really that cynical, but you have to stay motivated to do the excellent police work we do.
I think it will be a great time again here in La-La Land with no Consent Decree. Not everyone agrees with me, as this excerpt from Zach Behrens July 21, 2009 http://www.laist.com/ article shows:
“We’re disappointed by the judge’s decision. The department has made substantial progress under Chief Bratton, but there’s still too much evidence that skin color makes a difference in who is stopped, questioned and arrested by the LAPD,” said Mark Rosenbaum, legal director of the ACLU/SC. “We look to the Police Commission to work diligently to help keep the department focused on the goal of removing racial bias from its policing.” Last year the organization released a report titled "Racial Profiling & The LAPD: A Study of Racially Disparate Outcomes in the Los Angeles Police Department."
Chief William Bratton basically told them to go suck on an egg. “I resent their continuing intent to try to infer that this department engages in racial profiling,” Bratton said. “The ACLU needs to basically get off it and move on, because this city is moving on and we’re going to leave them behind.”
(See the article http://laist.com/2009/07/21/consent_degree_lifted_off_lapd_now.php :)
Well, the ACLU never did like us anyway, so they can cram it with walnuts.
See you on the streets, unless you see me first.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Obama, Stay Out of This One.
OK, I'll admit it. I am a person of color, an African-American, a Black man. I don't know if that affords me a certain cache on this issue, or if it will make anyone take my opinion seriously. But there it is and it's out there.
RE: Cambridge, MA July 16, 2009 Arrest of Henry Louis Gates, Jr.
TO: President Barack Obama
Dear Mr. President,
We all know Mr. Gates, Jr. is your buddy, but please shut the hell up. I think it is high time to acknowledge you are better with a teleprompter than you are as an extemporaneous speaker. Don't feel bad, the last president had the same problem. But you are a LAWYER. You were a senator and a state legislator. You were elected to lead ALL the people of this great nation, not just minorities, not just people who agree with you, not just your buddies - EVERYONE.
Let me run it down for you in this fashion. Did you seriously think it was the best thing in the world to call police officers, even just a select few "stupid"? To say that "the Cambridge police acted stupidly in arresting somebody when there was already proof that they were in their own home" shows how little the public, even the president, know about police tactics and officer safety. Is he aware how many times officers receive a Burglary In Progress or Hot Prowl call, only to find the ex-husband or ex-wife lurking around the house. And of course their identification says they live there when they were just ordered out by a restraining order two months ago. It doesn't mean they aren't breaking the law. It doesn't mean we don't check the house for any other suspicious activity or possible intruders about which the homeowner is unaware. Our safety and that of the people we serve is paramount.
President Obama repeatedly said he did not know all the facts of the case during the course of the July 22, 2009 news conference. (Best Matlock-style Southern drawl here) Well, your Honor, I believe that dog don't hunt. The president has spoken out of school.
If you don't have anything nice to say, say NOTHING. Who wrote this speech for him, that ham-fisted Press Secretary Robert Gibbs? Hahaha. My goodness, Mr. President, you sure can pick 'em. You don't know the facts of the case, so guess what? I'll give you a free lesson. Your reply to questions on the issue could be, "Well, as you are probably all aware, Mr. Gates and I are old friends, good friends. I have spoken with him about the matter and offered him my support as a friend. I don't know what the outcome will be, but I know he is a decent, honorable and learned man, with the admiration of many students, scholars and friends. I also know that our police officers here and everywhere have a tough job to do. As citizens we need to offer them our support in their endeavors to keep the peace and help maintain the system of justice that gives us so much pride."
And leave it at that! When he opens up his mouth on this, he can't get some of those idiotic statements back. It's like herding cats; there is no way to organize this chaos.
Now, I know that race is a national and international issue. I LIVE WITH IT. I live with people looking at me, then looking at my kids, then doing a double-take. But there is much less of that than there was when I was a child. The world has changed and we have witnessed it. What we need to do is be honest about what we think, and yes, sometimes we have to watch what we say. But more than anything, we need to have an open dialogue about it. Do Blacks inherently have better rhythm? Are Asians and Indians somehow better engineers? Are Jewish people better with money? Or is it safe to say that we can all excel at whatever we put our minds, hearts and passions into, regardless of race, religion or ethnicity? Think about that, Mr. President.
RE: Cambridge, MA July 16, 2009 Arrest of Henry Louis Gates, Jr.
TO: President Barack Obama
Dear Mr. President,
We all know Mr. Gates, Jr. is your buddy, but please shut the hell up. I think it is high time to acknowledge you are better with a teleprompter than you are as an extemporaneous speaker. Don't feel bad, the last president had the same problem. But you are a LAWYER. You were a senator and a state legislator. You were elected to lead ALL the people of this great nation, not just minorities, not just people who agree with you, not just your buddies - EVERYONE.
Let me run it down for you in this fashion. Did you seriously think it was the best thing in the world to call police officers, even just a select few "stupid"? To say that "the Cambridge police acted stupidly in arresting somebody when there was already proof that they were in their own home" shows how little the public, even the president, know about police tactics and officer safety. Is he aware how many times officers receive a Burglary In Progress or Hot Prowl call, only to find the ex-husband or ex-wife lurking around the house. And of course their identification says they live there when they were just ordered out by a restraining order two months ago. It doesn't mean they aren't breaking the law. It doesn't mean we don't check the house for any other suspicious activity or possible intruders about which the homeowner is unaware. Our safety and that of the people we serve is paramount.
President Obama repeatedly said he did not know all the facts of the case during the course of the July 22, 2009 news conference. (Best Matlock-style Southern drawl here) Well, your Honor, I believe that dog don't hunt. The president has spoken out of school.
If you don't have anything nice to say, say NOTHING. Who wrote this speech for him, that ham-fisted Press Secretary Robert Gibbs? Hahaha. My goodness, Mr. President, you sure can pick 'em. You don't know the facts of the case, so guess what? I'll give you a free lesson. Your reply to questions on the issue could be, "Well, as you are probably all aware, Mr. Gates and I are old friends, good friends. I have spoken with him about the matter and offered him my support as a friend. I don't know what the outcome will be, but I know he is a decent, honorable and learned man, with the admiration of many students, scholars and friends. I also know that our police officers here and everywhere have a tough job to do. As citizens we need to offer them our support in their endeavors to keep the peace and help maintain the system of justice that gives us so much pride."
And leave it at that! When he opens up his mouth on this, he can't get some of those idiotic statements back. It's like herding cats; there is no way to organize this chaos.
Now, I know that race is a national and international issue. I LIVE WITH IT. I live with people looking at me, then looking at my kids, then doing a double-take. But there is much less of that than there was when I was a child. The world has changed and we have witnessed it. What we need to do is be honest about what we think, and yes, sometimes we have to watch what we say. But more than anything, we need to have an open dialogue about it. Do Blacks inherently have better rhythm? Are Asians and Indians somehow better engineers? Are Jewish people better with money? Or is it safe to say that we can all excel at whatever we put our minds, hearts and passions into, regardless of race, religion or ethnicity? Think about that, Mr. President.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
You Called Me A FA@@OT?
So we go to a radio call of a battery suspect in the projects. Or what passes for the projects in this area, Mar Vista Gardens. Long story short, we meet with a female black who tells us her friend (SEE girlfriend) and her got into an argument. The victim's shirt is torn, she's upset. And she tells us this suspect is on probation. We get all the information on the suspect, run her up on the computer and sure enough...she's got outstanding warrants. I proceed to call out a few more units and a supervisor. We formulate our plan, approach and order the suspect out. She is taken into custody without incident.
Now comes the good part. Everything is Code 4! Suspect is in custody, all the other officers can go back to their areas, we will take this "lady" to jail. My partner and I go back to the car and our suspect is detained in the back seat. I call my partner to the rear of the vehicle. As I am about to close the trunk, I say, "Well, we could violate her probation and all that, but why don't we just take her for the warrants! No reason to make it worse." My partner concurred. I closed the trunk.
I approach the rear passenger side of my vehicle. "Miss," I say, "Do you want to tell me what...
"FUCK YOU MOTHERFUCKER YOU FUCKING FAGGOT ASS PUNK FAGGOT BITCH! I HEARD YOU TALKING SHIT ABOUT ME BEHIND THE CAR YOU THINK I'M STUPID I CAN'T HEAR YOUR FAGGOT ASS TALKIN' ABOUT ME THROUGH THE TRUNK YOU WANT TO TAKE ME TO JAIL VIOLATE MY PROBATION FUCK YOU DO IT THEN YOU PUNK AS BITCH!
"Ma'am, I have barely said two words to you...why don't you try to calm down."
"DON'T FUCKIN' TALK TO ME YOU UNDERCOVER FAGGOT! I SEE THAT RING ON YOUR FINGER! YOUR WIFE KNOW YOU A UNDERCOVER FAG!?! THAT YOU TAKE IT UP YOUR ASS? STOP TRYING TO TALK TO ME YOU PUNK ASS FAGGOT! YOU LIKE PEOPLE TO PACK YOUR FUDGE! I'M A BITCH AND I GOT A BIGGER DICK THAN YOU! I'LL PACK YOUR SHIT NIGGA! YOU AIN'T SHIT, YOU COPS AIN'T SHIT YOU AND NOTHIN' BUT A UNDERCOVER FAGGOT YOU PUNK ASS BITCH!"
"Ma'am, you don't hear me yelling at you. Why don't you calm down for a minute and I could tell you what's going on with -"
She cuts me off, sweating like a pig, sitting in the back of my police car, yelling and ranting loud enough for the whole fucking world to hear it...
"FUCK YOU MOTHAFUCKA YOU-AIN'T-SHIT AND I'LL PACK YOUR SHIT YOU UNDACOVA FAGGOT ASS PUNK BITCH YOU AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A BITCH DO ALL THE OTHER PUNK ASS COPS KNOW YOUSE A FAGGOT YOU BITCH. DOES YOUR MOMMA KNOW SHE GAVE BIRTH TO A BITCH YOU FAGGOT PUNK I'LL FUCK YOU UP! I'LL PACK YOUR FUDGE NIGGA YOU AIN'T SHIT!"
Now, allow me to pause here for a moment. I was trained by several OLD-timers. When I came on these guys already had 35 years and told me how it was, how it used to be, and don't put up with this shit. LAPD doesn't take shit from NOBODY. Standby for the ass-kicking lady! But they also understood that the reality now is, since RAMPART and since RODNEY-FUCKING-KING and since every other stupid thing that people are willing to believe, we have a Consent Decree and that means we have to think. We need to play it cool sometimes and be the police professionals we know ourselves to be.
But let's not kid ourselves....nothing would have been as much fun as to pull this idiot out of the car and get in some baton therapy. But I digress. I was, at that time, working with a probationary officer, a rookie. I have to set a good example so this person doesn't get herself fired someday.
So I told the lady, "Ma'am I am done talking to you."
But she went on and on for at least three more hours. All the way to the station, out of the car, into the station, sitting in the holding tank, back out to the car, all the way to Van Nuys Jail IN HEAVY TRAFFIC, all the way out of the car, into the Valley Jail, onto the bench outside the dispensary.
THREE HOURS OF THIS BITCH. I even recorded her on my cell phone. It was nuts. I really started to feel sorry for her because her life is FUCKED.
And after three hours of her trying to goad me into something stupid so she could hit the LAPD Use of Force lottery, I waited until about ten minutes before she got booked...
"Miss, you know why I haven't talked to you? Why I choose to ignore all the things you say?"
"CUZ, YOU AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A FAGGOT BITCH. DO ALL THESE JAIL PEOPLE KNOW YOU A FAG?"
"Shhh. Be quiet. You're in my house now. Show some respect for these people, even if you don't like me."
"FUCK YOU FAGGOT."
"Ma'am, the reason I don't talk to you is because it is obvious to me and everyone here that you are MENTALLY ILL. You obviously hate yourself and you're crazy so you don't know what to do. I have no reason to waste my time on such and unreasonable person."
"FUCK YOU I AIN'T CRAZY, YOU THE CRAZY ONE YOU UNDACOVA FAG!"
"Shutup. You don't understand the forces at work against you. You see, for you THIS is it. This right here is the rest of your life....getting locked up and going to jail. You're what? Twenty-five right now? I imagine that you keep going like this you'll be lucky if they don't scrape you off the street at thirty years old. You can pop off to me all day, but do that in the street and it will get you capped (Euphemism for getting shot). Good luck with your life because this is just the beginning of how screwed up it will get..."
"FUCK YOU! I AIN'T CRAZY. YOU AIN'T SHIT AND YOU AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A FAGGOT! FUCK YOU."
"Good luck to you. You're gonna need it."
And they say we don't earn our pay....hahaha. I love this job.
Now comes the good part. Everything is Code 4! Suspect is in custody, all the other officers can go back to their areas, we will take this "lady" to jail. My partner and I go back to the car and our suspect is detained in the back seat. I call my partner to the rear of the vehicle. As I am about to close the trunk, I say, "Well, we could violate her probation and all that, but why don't we just take her for the warrants! No reason to make it worse." My partner concurred. I closed the trunk.
I approach the rear passenger side of my vehicle. "Miss," I say, "Do you want to tell me what...
"FUCK YOU MOTHERFUCKER YOU FUCKING FAGGOT ASS PUNK FAGGOT BITCH! I HEARD YOU TALKING SHIT ABOUT ME BEHIND THE CAR YOU THINK I'M STUPID I CAN'T HEAR YOUR FAGGOT ASS TALKIN' ABOUT ME THROUGH THE TRUNK YOU WANT TO TAKE ME TO JAIL VIOLATE MY PROBATION FUCK YOU DO IT THEN YOU PUNK AS BITCH!
"Ma'am, I have barely said two words to you...why don't you try to calm down."
"DON'T FUCKIN' TALK TO ME YOU UNDERCOVER FAGGOT! I SEE THAT RING ON YOUR FINGER! YOUR WIFE KNOW YOU A UNDERCOVER FAG!?! THAT YOU TAKE IT UP YOUR ASS? STOP TRYING TO TALK TO ME YOU PUNK ASS FAGGOT! YOU LIKE PEOPLE TO PACK YOUR FUDGE! I'M A BITCH AND I GOT A BIGGER DICK THAN YOU! I'LL PACK YOUR SHIT NIGGA! YOU AIN'T SHIT, YOU COPS AIN'T SHIT YOU AND NOTHIN' BUT A UNDERCOVER FAGGOT YOU PUNK ASS BITCH!"
"Ma'am, you don't hear me yelling at you. Why don't you calm down for a minute and I could tell you what's going on with -"
She cuts me off, sweating like a pig, sitting in the back of my police car, yelling and ranting loud enough for the whole fucking world to hear it...
"FUCK YOU MOTHAFUCKA YOU-AIN'T-SHIT AND I'LL PACK YOUR SHIT YOU UNDACOVA FAGGOT ASS PUNK BITCH YOU AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A BITCH DO ALL THE OTHER PUNK ASS COPS KNOW YOUSE A FAGGOT YOU BITCH. DOES YOUR MOMMA KNOW SHE GAVE BIRTH TO A BITCH YOU FAGGOT PUNK I'LL FUCK YOU UP! I'LL PACK YOUR FUDGE NIGGA YOU AIN'T SHIT!"
Now, allow me to pause here for a moment. I was trained by several OLD-timers. When I came on these guys already had 35 years and told me how it was, how it used to be, and don't put up with this shit. LAPD doesn't take shit from NOBODY. Standby for the ass-kicking lady! But they also understood that the reality now is, since RAMPART and since RODNEY-FUCKING-KING and since every other stupid thing that people are willing to believe, we have a Consent Decree and that means we have to think. We need to play it cool sometimes and be the police professionals we know ourselves to be.
But let's not kid ourselves....nothing would have been as much fun as to pull this idiot out of the car and get in some baton therapy. But I digress. I was, at that time, working with a probationary officer, a rookie. I have to set a good example so this person doesn't get herself fired someday.
So I told the lady, "Ma'am I am done talking to you."
But she went on and on for at least three more hours. All the way to the station, out of the car, into the station, sitting in the holding tank, back out to the car, all the way to Van Nuys Jail IN HEAVY TRAFFIC, all the way out of the car, into the Valley Jail, onto the bench outside the dispensary.
THREE HOURS OF THIS BITCH. I even recorded her on my cell phone. It was nuts. I really started to feel sorry for her because her life is FUCKED.
And after three hours of her trying to goad me into something stupid so she could hit the LAPD Use of Force lottery, I waited until about ten minutes before she got booked...
"Miss, you know why I haven't talked to you? Why I choose to ignore all the things you say?"
"CUZ, YOU AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A FAGGOT BITCH. DO ALL THESE JAIL PEOPLE KNOW YOU A FAG?"
"Shhh. Be quiet. You're in my house now. Show some respect for these people, even if you don't like me."
"FUCK YOU FAGGOT."
"Ma'am, the reason I don't talk to you is because it is obvious to me and everyone here that you are MENTALLY ILL. You obviously hate yourself and you're crazy so you don't know what to do. I have no reason to waste my time on such and unreasonable person."
"FUCK YOU I AIN'T CRAZY, YOU THE CRAZY ONE YOU UNDACOVA FAG!"
"Shutup. You don't understand the forces at work against you. You see, for you THIS is it. This right here is the rest of your life....getting locked up and going to jail. You're what? Twenty-five right now? I imagine that you keep going like this you'll be lucky if they don't scrape you off the street at thirty years old. You can pop off to me all day, but do that in the street and it will get you capped (Euphemism for getting shot). Good luck with your life because this is just the beginning of how screwed up it will get..."
"FUCK YOU! I AIN'T CRAZY. YOU AIN'T SHIT AND YOU AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A FAGGOT! FUCK YOU."
"Good luck to you. You're gonna need it."
And they say we don't earn our pay....hahaha. I love this job.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
The Wheelchair Rodeo
In homage to Seth and Amy from Saturday Night Live....this is a little segment I call:
REALLY?!? With Inside the Black and Whites.
Two days in a row my probationary officer and I had to transport stinky, filthy, dirty, smelly, disgusting transient (SEE homeless person OR f#$%ing bum) across the wide expanse of the City of Angels. Why? Because someone (not me) arrested them and we need to get them to jail/court/county lockup/jail dispensary. Oh and both times they were in wheelchairs.
REALLY?!?
What the f#$% are the jailers doing? We do have jailers, don't we? I mean, REALLY, the city would rather pay two officers making base pay between $65-100k a year to NOT patrol the streets but instead to be HOMELESS ARRESTEE TAXI SERVICE?
And REALLY!?! The car is black and white not YELLOW!
And REALLY!?! It took no less than 5 (YEAH F-I-V-E!) hours both times we did it. Almost half the day gone...
And REALLY!?! People wonder why it takes so long to get the LAPD to your house? Averaging four cars on a weekday, on day shift, to cover no less than 24 square miles and the best policy we can come up with is "Let the officer drive this jackass to jail."
And REALLY!?! Do you think there is anything I can teach a rookie on such a run other than, "Hey, it's the LAPD, we do more with less." or "Hey, don't feel bad, we've always been this fucking inefficient, and nobody cares. Enjoy it. We get paid the same whether we drink coffee or shoot at bad guys."
And REALLY!?! If you're a criminal in a wheelchair you should...wait. REALLY!?! You're in a friggin' wheelchair! Why are you even trying to commit crimes you dimwit?
And REALLY!?! You can always tell how important the officer's time is by how the department treats them. Look around at your police station. Really. If you don't see a paddywagon to transport these idiots criminals from the field to the jail, the department is wasting the officers time.
And REALLY!?! As funny and tragic as it sounds, you really have to admire my fellow officers for doing as much as we do under this kind of nonsensical, ridiculous system. The way Federal, State and local governments run their operations, they wouldn't survive a year in the private sector. And Los Angeles is about as corrupt as it gets.
REALLY! If you don't believe me, take a day off and go to a Los Angeles City Council Meeting. Goat Rodeo to the Nth degree and I am not kidding. Like herding cats. Be happy the whole damn city is not on fire or under water right now...
And REALLY!? We do appreciate it when people tell us thanks...even when we're in traffic or the middle of our lunch. We do this job for the people and it is fun. Dangerous but fun.
And REALLY!?! They pay me pretty well, so I can't always bitch, but it's funny :-)
REALLY?!? With Inside the Black and Whites.
Two days in a row my probationary officer and I had to transport stinky, filthy, dirty, smelly, disgusting transient (SEE homeless person OR f#$%ing bum) across the wide expanse of the City of Angels. Why? Because someone (not me) arrested them and we need to get them to jail/court/county lockup/jail dispensary. Oh and both times they were in wheelchairs.
REALLY?!?
What the f#$% are the jailers doing? We do have jailers, don't we? I mean, REALLY, the city would rather pay two officers making base pay between $65-100k a year to NOT patrol the streets but instead to be HOMELESS ARRESTEE TAXI SERVICE?
And REALLY!?! The car is black and white not YELLOW!
And REALLY!?! It took no less than 5 (YEAH F-I-V-E!) hours both times we did it. Almost half the day gone...
And REALLY!?! People wonder why it takes so long to get the LAPD to your house? Averaging four cars on a weekday, on day shift, to cover no less than 24 square miles and the best policy we can come up with is "Let the officer drive this jackass to jail."
And REALLY!?! Do you think there is anything I can teach a rookie on such a run other than, "Hey, it's the LAPD, we do more with less." or "Hey, don't feel bad, we've always been this fucking inefficient, and nobody cares. Enjoy it. We get paid the same whether we drink coffee or shoot at bad guys."
And REALLY!?! If you're a criminal in a wheelchair you should...wait. REALLY!?! You're in a friggin' wheelchair! Why are you even trying to commit crimes you dimwit?
And REALLY!?! You can always tell how important the officer's time is by how the department treats them. Look around at your police station. Really. If you don't see a paddywagon to transport these idiots criminals from the field to the jail, the department is wasting the officers time.
And REALLY!?! As funny and tragic as it sounds, you really have to admire my fellow officers for doing as much as we do under this kind of nonsensical, ridiculous system. The way Federal, State and local governments run their operations, they wouldn't survive a year in the private sector. And Los Angeles is about as corrupt as it gets.
REALLY! If you don't believe me, take a day off and go to a Los Angeles City Council Meeting. Goat Rodeo to the Nth degree and I am not kidding. Like herding cats. Be happy the whole damn city is not on fire or under water right now...
And REALLY!? We do appreciate it when people tell us thanks...even when we're in traffic or the middle of our lunch. We do this job for the people and it is fun. Dangerous but fun.
And REALLY!?! They pay me pretty well, so I can't always bitch, but it's funny :-)
Thursday, May 21, 2009
I'm Not An Actor, I Play A Cop In Real Life
Can you imagine if police officers, firefighters, paramedics, teachers were the "pros" we admired instead of some dumbass, under-educated actor? Or instead of some of the half-wit, shoe-endorsing sports morons we so look up to? Try this one on for size...
"Hi, I'm Officer Danny Deanza of the Los Angeles Police Department. As a traffic officer, I talk to lots of people. So my breath has to be MINTY FRESH! That's why I use Extra gum."
or
Show a scene of a cop changing at his locker:
"After I hard day at work, I like to take the edge off with a few buddies." CUT TO A VIDEO ARCADE SETTING "That's why 4 out of 5 cops prefer Dave & Buster's for a great meal, cool beer and fun games...."
Probably what we should do is keep stats like baseball players. If people started to understand all the paperwork and nonsense we go through, the stats would sound pretty significant. We count felonies, misdemeanors, traffic citations, parking cites, even assists. Some days a guy could be well on his way to a hat trick or triple double!
In a 12 hours/ 28-day deployment period, an officer works 13 days with 15 off. Now it might sound like a lot of days off, but we have court dates, traffic court and other important nonsense to contend with. For goodness sake, 15 days off a month...I don't know how people do it with just Saturday and Sunday off. God bless you all.
Anywho, I am all for seeing this commercial:
"I'm not an actor, I'm a cop. But I've done some moonlighting as an actor to put my kid through USC. That's why I drink Starbucks Coffee! Starbucks is the fresh pick-me-up I need to finish a 12-hour shift, sleep in my car for 2 hours then sit on set someplace in the Valley on my Harley-Davidson working a sweet security job for 10 hours to pay off that house in Big Bear. Starbucks. The coffee that keeps you going."
"Hi, I'm Officer Danny Deanza of the Los Angeles Police Department. As a traffic officer, I talk to lots of people. So my breath has to be MINTY FRESH! That's why I use Extra gum."
or
Show a scene of a cop changing at his locker:
"After I hard day at work, I like to take the edge off with a few buddies." CUT TO A VIDEO ARCADE SETTING "That's why 4 out of 5 cops prefer Dave & Buster's for a great meal, cool beer and fun games...."
Probably what we should do is keep stats like baseball players. If people started to understand all the paperwork and nonsense we go through, the stats would sound pretty significant. We count felonies, misdemeanors, traffic citations, parking cites, even assists. Some days a guy could be well on his way to a hat trick or triple double!
In a 12 hours/ 28-day deployment period, an officer works 13 days with 15 off. Now it might sound like a lot of days off, but we have court dates, traffic court and other important nonsense to contend with. For goodness sake, 15 days off a month...I don't know how people do it with just Saturday and Sunday off. God bless you all.
Anywho, I am all for seeing this commercial:
"I'm not an actor, I'm a cop. But I've done some moonlighting as an actor to put my kid through USC. That's why I drink Starbucks Coffee! Starbucks is the fresh pick-me-up I need to finish a 12-hour shift, sleep in my car for 2 hours then sit on set someplace in the Valley on my Harley-Davidson working a sweet security job for 10 hours to pay off that house in Big Bear. Starbucks. The coffee that keeps you going."
Homicide With A Side of Suicide, Anyone?
Soooo.....yesterdays roll call started out great and then....the Watch Commander said "I need a unit to go right now to relieve the unit at a homicide scene." My hand shot up. I have a new officer I'm training and they need the exposure. Crime scene logs, maintaining crime scene security, seeing and speaking with detectives...the whole green grocer.
On the way out the door, one of my past probationary officers sees me and tells me that the homicide is strange one...the victim is buried in the backyard. I get to the scene and sure enough, victim is partially sticking out of the backyard. No, no kidding, I see an arm and a leg. Welcome to the City of Angels.
Lots of pictures of the deceased in the house - this was a good person whose family loved them - but the body is just a shell now. It has become THE grass-and-dirt covered destination for the single-file column of ants arriving from parts unknown. The rest comes later. The coroner team has to meticulously unearth the body, we have to keep a few family members away. Detectives have to gather leads, info, evidence from the body and the dirt. Luckily this all happens on a quiet street so we avoid any media.
LAPD makes great detectives. You work for years in patrol, narcotics, gang unit, what have you and then turn that bachelors or masters degree to work at detectives. And they bring all that experience to bear, with respect and dignity for the victim, and the mission is to get that suspect. But most of us, patrol, gangs, detectives, we're used to the gangster shot dead in the street. POW! Shooting call comes out, victim down, we show up and "Li'l Boo Boo" is shot dead in the street. Some freakin' street lizard admitted gangmember that you stopped a bunch of times, that you arrested for robbery, that was still out on the street, honestly - fuck that guy. He had to know that Heaven was never going to be a destination on his bus pass. And the trip wasn't coming easy. I'm more worried that a stray bullet from that fool's shooting might hit the mother of three, playing with her kids two blocks over.
But the dead victim in the backyard. We give her the respect. She didn't deserve what she got. Everyone I saw come by their house was crying...crying like they lost everything. Men and women. This person was taking care of people. And how they ended up? Just not right. Not right. Yeah, we can be cynical, clinical, professional. But you know we do this because we want to help people and we can't help this one.
And as I drive away from that one, late in the afternoon, about three hours left to go home, two shooting calls come out. Because a bunch of guys who tried to rob a marijuana store botch it. And the security guard gets one of the suspects in cuffs and Suspect-2 tries to free his homeboy, but guess what, the guard shoots his ass. Good for you, guard. And they both flee but get caught in their car. And this generates about 10 radio calls! So when I go to help the units out sitting on the abandoned suspect car, I think "Man, great training for the new kid!" And I'm telling them all about tactics and crime broadcasts and preserving the scene and How-a-victim-could-really-be-the-suspect.
So as we are standing by, the officers at scene open the suspect vehicle and it is full of blood in the backseat-Bingo! "See here, kid, this is how we preserve evidence. Get some photos in place. Get some paper bags so the bloody shirt can be recovered...." The radio cuts in, BEEP-BEEP-BEEP (Code 3 call coming) "(Insert Division Here) Units, handle the ambulance suicide just occurred, 1234 Blank Ave" I gotta buy that call. We're two blocks away. It's my assigned car area! What the hell? The day started on death, let's end it on death and go home with some balance. We got a few hours left. Put that call in my Stack. "Show me handling, responding Code 3 from the corner of Walk and Don't Walk Streets." Yeah, this day will be good training for the rookie.
On the way out the door, one of my past probationary officers sees me and tells me that the homicide is strange one...the victim is buried in the backyard. I get to the scene and sure enough, victim is partially sticking out of the backyard. No, no kidding, I see an arm and a leg. Welcome to the City of Angels.
Lots of pictures of the deceased in the house - this was a good person whose family loved them - but the body is just a shell now. It has become THE grass-and-dirt covered destination for the single-file column of ants arriving from parts unknown. The rest comes later. The coroner team has to meticulously unearth the body, we have to keep a few family members away. Detectives have to gather leads, info, evidence from the body and the dirt. Luckily this all happens on a quiet street so we avoid any media.
LAPD makes great detectives. You work for years in patrol, narcotics, gang unit, what have you and then turn that bachelors or masters degree to work at detectives. And they bring all that experience to bear, with respect and dignity for the victim, and the mission is to get that suspect. But most of us, patrol, gangs, detectives, we're used to the gangster shot dead in the street. POW! Shooting call comes out, victim down, we show up and "Li'l Boo Boo" is shot dead in the street. Some freakin' street lizard admitted gangmember that you stopped a bunch of times, that you arrested for robbery, that was still out on the street, honestly - fuck that guy. He had to know that Heaven was never going to be a destination on his bus pass. And the trip wasn't coming easy. I'm more worried that a stray bullet from that fool's shooting might hit the mother of three, playing with her kids two blocks over.
But the dead victim in the backyard. We give her the respect. She didn't deserve what she got. Everyone I saw come by their house was crying...crying like they lost everything. Men and women. This person was taking care of people. And how they ended up? Just not right. Not right. Yeah, we can be cynical, clinical, professional. But you know we do this because we want to help people and we can't help this one.
And as I drive away from that one, late in the afternoon, about three hours left to go home, two shooting calls come out. Because a bunch of guys who tried to rob a marijuana store botch it. And the security guard gets one of the suspects in cuffs and Suspect-2 tries to free his homeboy, but guess what, the guard shoots his ass. Good for you, guard. And they both flee but get caught in their car. And this generates about 10 radio calls! So when I go to help the units out sitting on the abandoned suspect car, I think "Man, great training for the new kid!" And I'm telling them all about tactics and crime broadcasts and preserving the scene and How-a-victim-could-really-be-the-suspect.
So as we are standing by, the officers at scene open the suspect vehicle and it is full of blood in the backseat-Bingo! "See here, kid, this is how we preserve evidence. Get some photos in place. Get some paper bags so the bloody shirt can be recovered...." The radio cuts in, BEEP-BEEP-BEEP (Code 3 call coming) "(Insert Division Here) Units, handle the ambulance suicide just occurred, 1234 Blank Ave" I gotta buy that call. We're two blocks away. It's my assigned car area! What the hell? The day started on death, let's end it on death and go home with some balance. We got a few hours left. Put that call in my Stack. "Show me handling, responding Code 3 from the corner of Walk and Don't Walk Streets." Yeah, this day will be good training for the rookie.
Friday, May 8, 2009
More Action, More Fun, Morbid Humor
While it goes without saying that death can be a hell of a way to end the day, you have to find humor in it. This job ensure one thing; death, injuries, pain and lots of laughs! Step right up folks and you shall see! People hanging themselves, violent traffic collisions! Battery suspects who got pretty well-battered themselves :-)
The rumor is true! Coppers have a morbid sense of humor. As a gangster once told me, "You gotta balance your smiles and cries." True, true. Yes, we are the folks dressed in blue, standing by the roadside, apparently chuckling at some poor citizen's misfortune. Do we laugh at death? Yeah, you have to laugh at death. Sometimes its random and sometimes it seems soooo directed. How can you help but laugh at the gangmember that robbed so many people and got away with it, only to die being ejected from his vehicle driving too fast without a seatbelt? We see the dumbest stuff, and tragic stuff too. We make corny jokes (at scene on a traffic collision with a man's severed arm, officers saying "give that guy a hand" type of humor). We judge ( "Ma'am, do you really think driving with both earphones in is legal or are you just crazy?") But we do so many of these things as a defense and sanity mechanism to keep us from going nuts.
Because we do see some sad and crazy things. Would you ever think to dress up a beached sea lion with a wig and clothing then call the cops about a dead body? It happens. And strangely enough, sea lion can look like a badly decomposed body! Would you ever call 9-1-1 for directions to Staples Center? Or to find out if an officer (of the nearly 10,000 we have!) is single? It happens. And sometimes it is just plain funny. We have fun at work just like everyone else. We just have some strange duties to attend to.
As a young officer I worked in one are where I had all the senior homes and nursing homes memorized. Why? Because a death investigation at a nursing home is a guaranteed easy one. There is already a doctor there to sign off on the death certificate! Does that sound terrible? I guess it might, but everyone knows the easy tasks at their job. Ours is no different it just deals with a little blood and guts.
Oh and driving fast.
Oh and telling people things to help them prevent being a victim.
Oh and asking me for directions to Disneyland in the middle of me eating lunch.
Oh and telling me how many of their 2nd cousin's uncles are cops.
Oh and telling me how much they appreciate you.
Oh and they also say thanks!
It is a cool job.
The rumor is true! Coppers have a morbid sense of humor. As a gangster once told me, "You gotta balance your smiles and cries." True, true. Yes, we are the folks dressed in blue, standing by the roadside, apparently chuckling at some poor citizen's misfortune. Do we laugh at death? Yeah, you have to laugh at death. Sometimes its random and sometimes it seems soooo directed. How can you help but laugh at the gangmember that robbed so many people and got away with it, only to die being ejected from his vehicle driving too fast without a seatbelt? We see the dumbest stuff, and tragic stuff too. We make corny jokes (at scene on a traffic collision with a man's severed arm, officers saying "give that guy a hand" type of humor). We judge ( "Ma'am, do you really think driving with both earphones in is legal or are you just crazy?") But we do so many of these things as a defense and sanity mechanism to keep us from going nuts.
Because we do see some sad and crazy things. Would you ever think to dress up a beached sea lion with a wig and clothing then call the cops about a dead body? It happens. And strangely enough, sea lion can look like a badly decomposed body! Would you ever call 9-1-1 for directions to Staples Center? Or to find out if an officer (of the nearly 10,000 we have!) is single? It happens. And sometimes it is just plain funny. We have fun at work just like everyone else. We just have some strange duties to attend to.
As a young officer I worked in one are where I had all the senior homes and nursing homes memorized. Why? Because a death investigation at a nursing home is a guaranteed easy one. There is already a doctor there to sign off on the death certificate! Does that sound terrible? I guess it might, but everyone knows the easy tasks at their job. Ours is no different it just deals with a little blood and guts.
Oh and driving fast.
Oh and telling people things to help them prevent being a victim.
Oh and asking me for directions to Disneyland in the middle of me eating lunch.
Oh and telling me how many of their 2nd cousin's uncles are cops.
Oh and telling me how much they appreciate you.
Oh and they also say thanks!
It is a cool job.
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