Why such Assholes?

So, they want to know why police are so mean. Why they're such assholes. Why they're, basically the boogeyman.

Far be it from me to say that cops aren't assholes. Cops can be pretty mean. Cops can even "overreact". But I also know something else. I know why. I sat down with a number of officers, and we melded this story, based upon facts and circumstances surrounding a number of cases. This story is not intended to be historical fact. This is intended to explain a mindset. Specifics have been modified or removed to protect the sources and subjects.

Here's why police are such assholes:

I don't know about you, but everyone is a dick at 3 AM after their third naked guy of the night, and things don't get better from there. There is a certain dark side to the job that changes the people who have to deal with it. If you have a loved one who works in police, EMS, Fire or any job where their day to day life is stepping into everyone else's worst-day-ever, you've probably already picked up on some of the darker stories. If the officer is lucky, he'll share them with his incredibly understanding and supportive spouse. If he's smart, he'll share them with a counselor or trusted friend. More likely he'll keep them inside, in the dark, where they can hurt him in oh so many ways. 

This is a difficult story, and I heavily suggest having adorable animals nearby. Possibly a unicorn. But there was a girl, and her father hurt her. Her mother took her to the hospital, and tried to lie about what happened. The doctor, being a professional, was suspicious and called the police. A uniformed officer took an initial statement and contacted a detective whose division was focused on sexual abuse of minors.

I don't know how those detectives function. I only ever did initial statements and tangential work on these cases, as in this story, and that led to my rapid discovery that you cannot, in fact, drink to forget. Now I can't drink without remembering. Needless to say, they don't hang out in public with other cops much, and they definitely don't joke about work. But back to the story.

This detective did his work, talked to the little girl and the mother and nurses and decided to call out my unit's Lt. The Lt called my sergeant, who brought me along since I was the "safety" guy. My only role was to observe, make sure the detective got a valid warrant, and basically get details that would get us a safe arrest. And it went just like that, my bosses got briefed by the detective, and then that little girl asked from her hospital bed if she was going to be okay.

I need to point out that lying to people is part of policing. I've told folks with active warrants that they weren't under arrest, that I was a special escort for a meeting with an elected judge, and that they only had to wear handcuffs because it is department policy. It's far easier to lie someone into cuffs and jail than it is to fight them or chase them, no matter how funny some chases get. But that little girl was the only one I felt bad lying to. I told her she'd be just fine. You can find a psychology expert to validate this, but it's my understanding that that much trauma that early in a child's life is a life altering event. "Okay" is extremely relative in those cases.

As far as I know, she asked everyone who went in and out of that room the same question. But right then, in there, a little bit of my soul died answering her. I really don't know how people who work in child abuse do it.

We briefed my team, my only part in this was pointing out that since mom drove the girl to the hospital the dad, our suspect, probably knew we were coming. This means that dynamic entry was our best choice. I won't deny that I was angry, but the decision to enter "hard" was still valid, given the information.

So we went in. Our designated knocker broke down the door, I entered with the other 18 officers and I found our guy sitting on the corner of his bed. Slacks, button down shirt mostly unbuttoned. He looked like any other guy back from work. There was literally nothing to distinguish him from any other guy on the street. No way to look at him and see a monster who put a little girl in the hospital.

This is why academies stress that there's no such thing as a routine stop. The officer might stop a guy for a bad taillight. The guy might think he's being stopped because the officer somehow knows he just strangled his wife and drowned the cat. That's why Ferguson police released the video of Mike Brown stealing cigarettes. It wasn't to speak to the frame of mind of Wilson, but to the frame of mind of Brown. One guy thought he was witnessing jaywalking. The other may have thought a robbery was catching up to him.

It's very important to remain professional, especially when working with hyped up men carrying rifles. And the thing that most people don't understand is that it can be so incredibly hard to remain professional in the face of some things. Having an outlet for rage is a must. Some work out obsessively. Some play video games. Everyone has a different outlet, some healthier than others. I tried to put mine into my work. My team knows when I'm upset because the door usually leaves the hinges when I'm cross. And I was very upset with this father. I still had that cold clarity that training and adrenaline give you, but when I found the dad, and restrained him on the ground, I wanted to kill him. Because I saw that little girl, and I had seen what horrific trauma does to people as they grow up. I knew that shooting this man was the right thing to do. I still feel that way sometimes. That's easily the scariest thing I've ever encountered in my life, that certainty. Obviously, I didn't shoot the guy. I was, and hope I still am, a professional at the end of the day. But I also actively avoided following up on that case. Because I'm still scared that I will find out something to make me regret not pulling that trigger. That's a line that can't be uncrossed. I don't know that every, or even many, other officers deal with similar things, but I'm certain that more do than let on. Because those stories aren't funny, and they're not something you talk about with people, and expect to get a laugh.

After this is said and done, you have to put it away. There are six more hours left in your shift. There will be more arrests, more citizen interactions, and none of them can be made to bear the brunt of the horror you have to witness because they likely know nothing of it, and it certainly isn't their fault. You have to be a professional, and be courteous, and a counselor, and a hundred other things over the course of your shift that have nothing to do with a little girl in a hospital bed with an uncertain future. It's a rare person that can dissociate themselves from the reality that they have to tread in all day, and not be an asshole at least part of the time.

The weirdest part is, they'll be back tomorrow. They'll do this all again. It's hard to belong in other people's pain, and yet we have an entire profession of emergency responders who will accept that burden, wander into human misery and do what they can, every time. And some will be assholes. Many, in fact. Though I don't wonder why anymore. 

Long Absence and Explanation

So, I've been gone for a while. They say a picture is worth a thousand words so I'll be brief. This is why:

I won't go into what happened, other than a "client" decided that the physical relocation service I provided was not to his liking. For obvious reasons I can't go into the background regarding this particular shit stain upon the adult diaper that passes for my particular clientele, nor the consequences of his.... lack of impulse control, but needless to say he regrets his decision.

For stuff I can discuss, the leg should heal. There is a tear in the right lateral mensicus, with a possibility for another tear to form in there. The swords in the background are a gift from a good friend of mine who is currently stationed in Okinawa. I think they add a bit of class to the look of the room.

Since my injury I've been stuck on desk duty. Mostly it's been boring until I got reassigned back to my substation desk, where I get to deal with people too neurotic for 911 to deal with, and those are some jaded people. There has been a never ending waterfall of failed parenthood cascading upon my desk and one gentlemen even called to request a "surprise officer" so that he could make a man implicate himself in a crime, and then (I can't make this up) have the officer "spring out" and arrest the man for being involved in a crime. I can't wait to get out into the field again.

The Death of Pookie

There are certain cliche's you hear whenever dead people are involved. For example, we'll use a dead 20 year old high school drop out. He was trying to sell drugs when a rival dealer shot him. It didn't come as a surprise to the deceased, as he had his own loaded .45 in his hand upon death. His family will invariably say something along the lines of:

"He was turning his life around, going back to school and making something of himself."
or the more bald faced lie:
"He was a straight A student with his whole life ahead of him."

Credit for below goes to Garey McKee of Police Limit Comic Strip (hosted on policeone.com)

The truth is that in most cases the guy who got shot pretty much deserved getting shot. For the most part criminals don't spend money on ammunition going around and shooting random citizens. Granted, there are exceptions who are few and far between so naturally they get media coverage far over representing their frequency. In most of the cases where the person shot didn't deserve it, he was standing near someone who did. This accounts for drive by shooting victims most of the time. Gangbangers really need to work on their aim.

And lastly, the logical conclusion of the above comic strip, thanks again to Garey McKee:

How to get away with shooting someone

This is a step by step instructional guide on how to shoot someone and get away with it. Scot free. No consequence. Honest. 

1.) First, obviously, you need to shoot someone. Grab two of your closest friends, pile up into your personal vehicle and drive over to the targets (preferably someone who knows you and your car very well) house (preferably within several hundred yards of your home and surrounded by witnesses) and unload a few rounds. Try to make sure you get as many shell casings as you can to land inside the vehicle, and maybe let a few token ones land outside for the CSI guys to compare. 

2.) As you drive away, be sure to take several pictures with your camera phone of you and your friends holding the guns. Captions reading "Take that sucka" or similar sentiments are encouraged. 

3.) As the sounds of sirens get closer be sure to start texting all of your friends asking how the police could have possibly found out about the shooting, and asking for advice on how to hide the guns. For greater effect, attach full names, birthdays from facebook, and addresses to the contact info on your cell phone. 

4.) Ask your friends on facebook how to evade the police and hide incriminating evidence. Do not use private messaging. This will not work and your friends will think you have no balls. Only use public posts. Preferably searchable through Google. 

Following these simple steps will ensure that you will never be found by police and are free to continue your vendetta against random teenagers. 

I Ams What I Ams

There are some things I just won't believe, like the status of Wyoming's statehood, or the existence of intelligent life in Oklahoma. So when a girl who's obviously no older than 26 tells me that she's a 40 year old who'd undergone some massive plastic surgery for her face, and ran 80 lbs of fat worth (if there some kind of fat to miles conversion please email it to me) off and somehow has no scars or stretchmarks anywhere I'm gonna be somewhat incredulous. I've been around long enough to know that 99% of everything I hear is a lie and 80% of everything I see is a lie and 100% of everything in Australia wants to kill you or can. Shockingly, giving me ID didn't settle things because the photograph and the person standing there are obviously two different things. Surgery can fix many things, and alter a great many more. What it's not going to change is your ears, if what you had was a chin tuck. I have no idea what a forehead lift is, but I doubt the surgeon is going to dent your teeth in getting in done without letting you know. Further, what kind of quack plastic surgeon would "fix" your face but mess up your teeth and then not tell you about it? That goes beyond malpractice to saturday morning cartoon villain levels. I was unaware the reincarnated ghost of Josef Mengele was a plastic surgeon in "Cali".

On the other side, if you want to give a more believable alternate identity, at least someone who looks like you (like a brother), you should probably check out why they suddenly fled the US before just dropping their name as your own, lest you get caught up in a murder investigation trying to dodge your probation violation. That's not out of the frying pan into the fire. That's frying pan to putting your nuts in a C clamp and slapping piranha with it.

Stealth Mode Error

If, someday, you find yourself in the position of being wanted for some felony that you may or may not have committed and you wish to avoid capture by the police your best strategy is to go home, or go to your girlfriend/baby momma/mother's house, and stay there. Going out in public, where the police are, is not conducive to your staying under the radar. However, if you suddenly develop a craving for cheap tacos that, somehow, overrides your desire to avoid capture by police your best strategy is to be inconspicuous. Even in the largest police departments, patrol officers are regularly outnumbered by citizens anywhere from 100s:1 to 1000s:1. You actually have a pretty decent chance to head out, grab food, and make it home all without even seeing police, let alone having an encounter with one. So, if you're getting your cheap tacos in a relatively crowded cheap taco place, and you see a squad car pull up, the last thing you want to do is draw any sort of attention to yourself. You're like the Predator (tm I'm sure) blending in with the surrounding branches and stuff. Immediately flipping out and running away screaming is like water and/or Arnold Schwarzenegger to your Predator cloak. Suddenly you have the attention of the staff, the officer (who probably just wanted a cheap taco and five minutes of peace with which to eat it) and every officer within a few blocks who just heard that first guy say "Some chump just tore out of here when he saw me. He just might be wanted."

So, to recap:

Don't commit felonies.
If you do, and you become wanted, stay home.
If you can't, be inconspicuous or get someone else to get you tacos.
If you are some kind of friendless hermit who's also wanted, act like everyone else in the taco place.
If you can't follow these simple steps, just turn your self in and save everyone else the drama.

Predator is probably copyrighted by the copyright owner. Arnold is just Arnold.