A swelling of pride

I don't know what is going on, what has changed, or what house the moon is in. But a few weeks ago, we were at lunch, J in uniform, me and little LT sitting with him. Two kids are getting their sodas, dad is grabbing napkins. Dad makes both kids say "thank you" to J, and then when he walks up he says a quick word of gratitude, shakes J's hand.

About a week after that, we're at a tattoo parlor, picking out the final design for J's ink. St Michael slaying the dragon. There's another guy shopping for inspiration, and Roy is finishing up on a client. Turns out the other guy shopping is also a LEO, and J went to the academy with another guy from his department. So naturally they strike up a conversation. Roy, the tattoo guy, happens to be a cop fan and is chatting them up as well. The guy who is just getting his tattoo aftercare instructions comes up and shakes both their hands, says thanks for all they do.

This type of thing has happened several times recently, and it catches me by surprise every single time. Being a cop family isn't like being a firefighter's family. I don't know if it's very common for other LEO families, but we don't advertise, especially living as close to the ghetto as we do. No FOP stickers on our plates. J doesn't mention it at movie theaters in the hopes of getting us a discount. We don't like the risk of inviting hatred. When he graduated from the academy, all the boys went out for wings and beer, and to the girly show. A waitress or hostess asked what they were celebrating, and they looked at each other and told her the fire academy.

At the time I thought he should be proud of who he was. Perhaps down the line he'll get a dose of fuckitall and won't care who knows. But for now we expect the "hairy eyeball" from John Q Public, so it's always really nice when someone goes out of their way to express appreciation. It's a bit corny, but it makes me so proud of him and all the boys in blue.

Life as we know it

It's been a hectic time in my house this last week. J has had 3 SWAT callouts. We've had two showings. A few appointments that had to be rescheduled or cancelled. Family visiting. Selling the old car. Purchasing a new car.

It's pretty unnerving when you're already feeling kind of frenetic, and the pager goes off. It's loud and persistent. It's not like a cell phone with a silly ring tone that you might not hear given the proper ambient noise. And the adrenaline level in the house goes up several levels. J, in classic sheepdog mode, gets antsy at the thought of doing what he loves best about his job. Me, in classic neurotic wife mode, worrying because I will not know what's going on, nor will we have contact until the situation is resolved.

People have asked, "aren't you worried?" when they learn he is on SWAT. And my response to them is typically along the lines of, "No, I know they're more prepared for the situations, the most dangerous situation a cop can get into is a traffic stop or a domestic, I know they're well trained" yadda yadda.

But every time the pager goes off, I get on edge. And yes, the what-if thoughts run through my mind. I finally succumb to curiosity and troll the local news sites for the latest updates. Often there are no stories until the situation is over and he's home, so it's a fruitless endeavor but almost every time I have done it anyway.

To add to it, the last two calls have been back to back, and both the night before we had showings scheduled during a time we were both out of the house. Which in theory would be fine, except we have two dogs. Now, neither of them has ever even bared their teeth at a human, let alone snapped or bit. They're labs. They love everybody. But one dog is part rottweiler, and he is territorial. What I'm getting at is the fact that when we have a showing during the work day, I have to run home to get the dogs. Just one more stress factor. If you've ever sold a home you were currently living in, you probably know how strenuous it is to keep your house CONSTANTLY in tip-top shape. Throw an almost-toddler and two large dogs into the mix, and it's an effort every night.

Now imagine trying to get ready for a showing, trying to get the baby down to bed, vacuuming the hair tumbleweeds, and mud that the dogs drag in because it's now springtime, do some more laundry, fit dinner in there somewhere, and ***BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP***.

Oy.

Public attention

There have been a couple stories I have wanted to share here, but haven't been able to because they have made it into the local news. And in the interest of protecting my family's privacy, I decided not to discuss them in the event some kook decided to go hunting and figure out who we are. It's not that we are completely anonymous. If you know us, and find this blog, chances are you can figure out pretty easily it's us. But I am always worried about the evil you don't know. And the internet facilitates that all too easily. I do know the articles are archived now.

But it was some really cool shit.

The first, and in my eyes bigger, story occurred last summer. Some of the details are a bit fuzzy but essentially a felon with six months left on probation escaped the halfway house he was at, broke into a home and tied up the occupants, stole a gun and their car (and asked them for DIRECTIONS), and left. An off-duty officer on her way home happened to see the vehicle, remembering the description from the end of her shift, followed him while calling it in. The deputies were able to catch up and a chase ensued. J used his stopsticks, successfully blowing out the tires, but the chase continued several more miles on the freeway. The traffic cameras on the interstate happened to catch one of the most exciting parts of the chase, and the operator must have known it was coming because the normally static camera follows as the chase passes the station. This part of the chase is very Hollywood style, as the guy is running into cars and causing multiple accidents.

Let me pause here and stop you if you're about to debate the pros and cons of a police chase. The suspect was recklessly driving before the deputies were on his tail. Had at least one weapon in the car. And I'm fairly certain that once stopsticks are used, they can't just let the person drive off. But I digress.

The suspect finally stops when the hood of the car flies up, blocking his view. Someone was looking down and stepped in, because he was exiting the freeway into a very busy area of town. Who knows how much worse it could have gotten then. The traffic camera also catches all the deputies go flying out of their cars, guns drawn, and the subsequent arrest. It was pretty cool to actually see J in action.

Turns out officers get a little uniform decoration when they use the stopsticks, too.

The second story is less severe in nature but equally dramatic and perhaps more debateable.

J is driving around on patrol one warm summer day, and is flagged down by a woman in a Lowe's parking lot. She tells him there are two children locked in this car, and she doesn't know how long they've been in there, at least a few minutes. No parent anywhere in sight. He looks in the windows to see two girls, 2 and 4 years old, unconscious in their seats. He immediately begins trying to unlock the car and wake the girls. The 4 year old finally wakes up, but can't get out of her seat or open the door. I perhaps should mention at this point it is a sports car, so not a large vehicle. Attempts to jimmy the lock are unsuccessful, and still no parent is around. If you are a reader of this blog you might recall our son was born last May, and so J is at this point a proud new father. And naturally even more worried about the safety of a child than he might have been before. He tells the little girl to cover her face, and breaks the window with his baton.

Naturally the father finally comes out of the store right about now, and begins his story about how he only ran in for a minute, they were fine, the car was cool, it was locked, they were asleep and he didn't want to wake them, etc. It wasn't the hottest day, probably about 75 or 80 degrees that afternoon, but any expert will tell you (and any person with half a brain will agree) that the inside of a car climbs in temperature rather rapidly in the sun on a summer afternoon, to easily 20 or 30 degrees warmer. And starts going on and on about how this is going to ruin his career. In the retelling I stopped J at this point to ask if he was even worried about his children. J says no, the guy is just worried about his career.

Ready for the kicker? He's a pediatric specialist.

So even if you buy that the car was cooled when he left, and that he really was only in there for a 'few minutes' (at least 5 had transpired after J got there), there's still a matter of leaving a two year old and a four year old unattended. Which is really the law he was breaking here. Technically there isn't a law about leaving your kids in a heated vehicle (although there ought to be, I know it's just Ohio but it gets hot and humid here too), I suppose if you were sitting *in* the car with your kids there wouldn't be much they could do. But it doesn't take a cop with a baton to break a window and take two kids out of a car. It's not unthinkable that one of them could pop the parking brake, put something in their mouth, hurt each other, etc. If you think it's improbable then you've clearly never been around a toddler. They do these sort of things in the blink of an eye when you're THERE.

I found some livid debate at the time about it, and really it should be a moot point. There should have been no question about an officer's actions in this situation. But there's always a question. Always. It still irritates me that John Q Public thinks they know how to do a cop's job better.

But it is what it is.

The Criminally Stupid

Really, sometimes it is criminal how stupid people can be. But it's funny how stupid criminals can be.

J gets a call to the Days Inn yesterday. Seems a guest had rockstar-style trashed the room. Light bulbs in the toilet. Furniture destroyed, up-ended, you name it. So J looks at the registration papers. Guy paid with cash, but left a valid phone number and they had copied his driver's license.

J calls the phone number.

"Uh....hello?"
"is this Robert Smith?"
"uh...no."
"Is he available?"
"Not right now."
"Do you know when he will be available?"
"Uh....who's this?"
"Deputy J*** ****, I need to speak with Robert Smith."
"uh....why?"

(at this point in the re-telling I am cracking up. It sounds to me like he's having a conversation with Bill & Ted, or Beavis)

"Is this Robert?"
"uh...no."
"What's your name?"
"Um. Rob?"
"Robert Smith?"
"yeah...."
"Why did you lie to me?"
"um...I was trying to figure out who you were."
"I told you who I was before you lied to me."
"Oh."
"Did you stay at Days Inn last night?"
"No?"
"You know they copied your drivers license when you checked in, right?"
"Shit."
"They want you to pay for all the damage you did to the room."
"I didn't do all that!"

Keep in mind that Robert is not looking at the room during this conversation, and has only his memory to remind him of what the damage is.

As I type this all out I realize it may not be nearly as funny written as it was in the telling. I assure you I was thoroughly amused, though. It helps if you hear the voice of this guy as Keanu Reeves in Bill & Ted.

Deputy injured in accident

This shit really pisses me off. Are people so blind that they can't see the vehicles on the side of the road? ESPECIALLY a vehicle with bright flashing lights?

I know a license is required to drive a vehicle, but seriously...maybe the requirements should be a little higher...

Here's your sign

Two idiot stories today...

Last week J is at SWAT training. They are at a police station that is going to be demolished and rebuilt anew, so they get to train in it and break whatever the hell they want. All driveways to the parking lot are blocked off. All the doorways to the building have giant signs on them that say 'SWAT TRAINING IN PROGRESS'. It is, from J's description, evident that the building is OBVIOUSLY not in use by the police department. Yet some bozo walks up to one of the team members who is standing guard at one of the doors. Team member turns around and aims semi-automatic rifle at his chest, yelling "CAN I HELP YOU?" Bozo responds, with arms in air, "I just wanted to pay a ticket!"

Sometimes the team leaders throw in a plant or something, to keep them on their toes. Not knowing whether or not this guy was truly a bozo or part of the scenario, of course they respond that way. I laughed thinking about this guy, trying not to pee his pants.

other story:

Part of J's jurisdiction is in one of those areas of town that I'm sure everybody is familiar with. You know, where all the best stores are, and the traffic patterns are just screwy enough to make it impossible to get a mile in less than 20 minutes. Everybody knows traffic there sucks, but nobody can resist going there. Well yesterday he is in that area, wondering why it's taken four cycles of the light to get through the intersection. He finally gets close enough to see that an elderly woman is in the left turn lane, with her car halfway in the intersection. But she is not in her car. She is out of her car, asking the man behind her for directions.

Why didn't she pull over and ask for directions? Why was the INTERSECTION the best place to ask? Because she needed to know how to get to the building, and dammit, NOW's as good a time as any.

If my eyes could roll any harder, they would fall out of my head.

SWAT story #1

So today J goes on his first SWAT call out. They're serving a warrant. He tells me they threw a flash bang in the door. It was so loud, it literally scared the shit out of the dogs. Dogs were dashing up the stairs, tails tucked between their legs, and pooping as they ran.

Yes, Virginia

Cop's wives DO get tickets.

*grumble*

In other news: J got on the SWAT team in his county. He couldn't be happier. His mother is still going on about how dangerous it is and how she doesn't want him to do it. I have given up trying to explain that the SWAT team is better equipped to deal with the situation because they know what they're going into most times. He's had the pager for about a week now, and keeps staring at it and asking me why it hasn't gone off yet. I don't know, darling, but I don't think they forgot you!

Badge Baby is doing well. He has had an ear infection for about a month now, so at the ripe old age of 7 mo we are discussing tubes already. Not entirely thrilled with the idea of anesthetizing my little boy, but I do like the idea of kicking the e/i in the ass!

In case you are one of my readers who has been faithful and checks in from time to time to see if I've updated any in the last 3 months, and in case you are one of those readers who doesn't have children...let me just say this. Sleep deprivation is used as torture for a very good reason.

One last thing that I think is a little odd...J tells me they are now getting fitted for hazmat suits to carry in their trunks. In addition to regular gear, riot gear, and his SWAT gear. I'm all for being prepared (yay boy scouts) but at what point do they start issuing grocery getters as standard vehicles?

Where the lines of justice are drawn

So about a week ago, J gets a theft report from a woman who says five sets of her Bengals tickets were stolen. He asks if she knows who could have taken them. Her daughter's ex-boyfriend was recently at the house, and he seems a likely candidate. So J calls this kid, asks if he's got the tickets. Naturally the kid says no. J asks if the kid knows what will happen to the people found in those seats. Between you and me, J working in a different county than Paul Brown Stadium, this is kind of an empty threat, but it scares the kid a bit. Unfortunately there's not much to go on suspecting the kid other than the woman's guess.

A few days later J gets a call from the woman. She says her daughter knows the night manager at the Frisch's where this kid works, and the night manager says the kid has been trying to hawk Bengals tickets. If J gets a statement from the manager, this could be enough for the prosecutor. Since 5 sets of Bengals tickets are worth more than $500, this is a felony theft charge.

Another few days go by, and J gets another call from the woman. She says she got an envelope in the mail with three sets of the tickets, and $300, along with a letter from the kid. He apologizes for taking the tickets, says he can't 'find' the other two sets (must have successfully sold them) but here's money to make up for it. Please don't report him to the cops, he doesn't want to go to jail. This is admission of guilt, and plenty of evidence to support charges. The woman wants to know what she's supposed to do with the money.

Simply enough, she didn't misrepresent herself to the kid by telling him to pay for the tickets. She just wanted her tickets back. By filing the theft report, the Bengals reissued her tickets, so she's not out any money. The kid didn't get away with it, and attempted to make it right.

Here's the question: The daughter's ex-boyfriend obviously made restitution for his crime. Do charges still need to be pressed against him? J tells the woman that technically, being felony theft, the responsibility falls on HIM to file the charges. However, if she wants, she can sign a drop-investigation form and it will all go away. He gives her a few days to think about it.

In my mind, why bog down the system with this case? The kid paid his debt, she got her tickets back, all's righted. J responds that the kid committed a crime and needs to pay. I respond that he did pay. He says, "but only because he thought he was going to jail, and not because he had a change of heart." So what? People don't have a change of heart by going to jail, either. In discussing it with others, I hear "Well maybe he'll think he can get away with it next time." Right, and people who go to jail never repeat their crimes either.

Did he pay his debt? Was justice served? Should he still go to jail? If so, why do we impose fines for lesser crimes too?

new vocab word

Felony forest: (n) a grouping of air freshener pine trees hanging from the rear view mirror in a car. Used to mask the odor of narcotic substances.