You gave your all to protect and serve us, and for that we are eternally grateful.
Sergeant Derek Johnson, 32
Draper Utah Police Department
September 1, 2013 – Sergeant Derek Johnson was shot and killed when he stopped to check a parked vehicle. Before Sgt. Johnson was able to get out of his patrol car, the suspect, a transient with an extensive criminal record, opened fire. Later, the suspect shot his female acquaintance and then shot himself. The two were living out of the vehicle.
Sgt. Johnson is survived by his wife and seven-year-old son.
Corporal Van Perry, 49
Carthage Mississippi Police Department
September 5, 2013 – Corporal Van Perry suffered a fatal heart attack soon after arresting a shoplifter. He is survived by his wife, daughter, and two sons.
Trooper Paul Butterfield, 43
Michigan State Police
September 9, 2013 – Trooper Paul Butterfield was shot and killed while conducting a traffic stop. The shooter was later wounded during a brief shootout with police officers. He and his wife were both taken into custody.
The shooter’s father, a former police officer, said his family is incredibly remorseful of the actions of his son. “The worst day of my life,” said the father of the cop killer.
Deputy Sheriff Michael Neil Freeman, 61
Harrison County Texas Sheriff’s Office
September 8, 2013 – Deputy Michael Neil Freeman succumbed to injuries received in an automobile crash during a pursuit in 2007. The suspect rammed Deputy Freeman’s patrol car from behind, pushing it into oncoming traffic where it was struck by two vehicles.
As time went by, Deputy Freeman’s condition had deteriorated to the point where he was totally bedridden and dependent on a ventilator.
He is survived by his wife and three children.
Deputy Sheriff David E. Allford, 37
Okfuskee County Oklahoma Sheriff’s Office
September 11, 2013 – Deputy Sheriff David Allford was killed in a single vehicle crash while responding to aid a trooper who was battling a combative suspect. He is survived by his wife and two children.
* * *
Dr. Richard Burkhardt
Those of you who attended our very first Writers’ Police Academy, held in conjunction with the Mad Anthony Writers Conference in Hamilton, Ohio, will remember Butler County Coroner Dr. Richard Burkhardt.
It’s not often that people enjoy a tour of a morgue, but we writers are a special bunch, and Dr. “B” knew what it is that writers need to bring life to stories about death. He generously took time from his extremely busy schedule to answer our wacky questions, and he always did so with a smile, and a twinkle in his eye.
Dr. B provided much of the information for the autopsy chapter in my book on police procedure. He was also instrumental in providing details for the true crime tale I published last year, a case that truly touched his heart.
He was my friend, and a darn good friend at that. After all, how many people would welcome a phone call at 5:30 AM from someone who says, “We had a murder last night and we’re starting the autopsy in a couple of hours. This one will be of interest to writers. You want to come over?”
Well, there’s nothing in this world can compare to watching an autopsy before having morning coffee or tea, but I’d never pass on an opportunity to learn from one of the best in the business.
The last time I saw Dr. Burkhardt was during breakfast at a little hole-in-wall diner in Hamilton.
The waitress knew to bring him his usual morning meal and before I had the chance to speak he told the young woman to bring me the same. Then he began my research with a “story.”
You see, Dr. B was never without a story to tell, and he shared those tales with the timing of a professional comic. He liked to make people laugh and he was good at it.
He was also good at finding a way to speak for the people who’d left this world at the hands of others. His cases were personal. He spoke of murder victims as if they were each one of his good friends. He never left a stone unturned. If he didn’t know the answers he’d call in an expert who did. Killers had to be caught, and if there was any way humanly possible Dr. B would see to it that they were.
Much of Dr. Burkhardt’s life was devoted to finding justice for those who could no longer speak for themselves. He was darn good at what he did, and he served his community as coroner for over three decades. He also served as chief of staff at two local hospitals.
Dr. Burkhardt left us a few days ago, and the world is now a little darker without that unforgettable twinkle in his eyes.
Both the law enforcement and writing communities have definitely lost one of the good guys.
Mass of Christian Burial and Entombment took place yesterday.
1938 – 2013
The empty apartment looks abandoned. It smells abandoned too, like dust and sunbleached carpet and old sawdust, like no one has ever lived here. And yet there you are, on orders from your SWAT team leader, at the head of the stack, shield in front of you, semi-automatic in hand. Your second is ready with a breaching round in her shotgun, and the officer behind her has his rifle poised, in case the door she’s about to blast open reveals a threat more imminent than your intel has foreseen.
You hold up three fingers. Your team knows what this means. On three. You can’t count out loud, not on a dynamic entry. You gotta shock and awe, surprise and dominate, and that means tiger-soft stealth at the door. So you count with your entire body, a slight bend in the knees for each tick of the countdown. Three . . . two . . . one . . .
And then you unleash the whirlwind.
Can you feel it? The twin currents of adrenalin and epinephrine smoking through your veins like a spark eating up a fuse? I could. Because the “you” in the above scenario was actually me (see the photo above for proof). And while the scenario itself was staged—with fake guns and fake intel—the physical response I described was very very real.
And so was the team leader. His name is Captain Randy Shepherd, and he works for the Guilford County Sheriff’s department. He was the instructor for the Building Searches workshop during my most recent Writers’ Police Academy. He’s awesome in many superhero SWAT-cop ways, but most striking to me is his good-natured generosity in sharing what he knows with a bunch of detail-hungry mystery writers who are more likely to drop their fake guns (oops) than demonstrate a proper clearance strategy.
Patient. Did I mention Captain Randy is patient?
So are all the other instructors. Writers’ Police Academy features a slate of professionals across several categories (law enforcement at local, state and federal levels; EMTs and emergency responders; firefighters; legal specialists) but they all share one common trait—they run toward danger. They confront the ruthless and the lawless. They stand up when ordinary citizens can’t. And for one weekend a year, they gather at Writer’s Police Academy to share what they know with a conference full of mystery writers.
Which is how I ended up with a bright orange fake assault rifle, barking orders at a bunch of complete strangers while they scoured closets and balconies and kitchen cabinets for bad guys. I posted up in the living room, alert for any danger. And wouldn’t you know it, but the baddest of the bad guys tried to sneak in behind my team—Captain Randy himself. I saw the doorknob turn, and I couldn’t help grinning as I raised my rifle and waited for him.
Our conversation went something like this:
Me: Gotcha!
Captain Randy: Did you think to check that closet behind you?
Me (whirling around): Oh crap! What closet?
Captain Randy: And you just turned your back on a threat. You are now dead.
Me: (smacks forehead and mutters curses)
Oh well. Guess I’ll be signed up for this workshop again next year. One more chance for me and my orange gun to save the day.
* * * * * *
Tina Whittle’s Tai Randolph/Trey Seaver series—featuring intrepid gunshop owner Tai and her corporate security agent partner Trey—has garnered starred reviews in Kirkus, Publisher’s Weekly, Booklist, and Library Journal. The third book—Blood, Ash and Bone—premiered March 2013 from Poisoned Pen Press.
You can find Tina online at her official website — www.tinawhittle.com.
As Denene and I took Kathy Reichs on a brief tour of the WPA facilities, we discussed what makes the WPA so darn popular. Sure, we put on a fine show, the best anywhere. And our instructors are the finest in the business, but here are the folks who really make us shine…
Well, there are a few other things that keep writers coming back for more, such as high-risk traffic stops, firearms, explosions, canines, undercover officers—street prostitution, narcotics, etc.
Will we see you in 2014?
Are you blogging about your experiences at the 2013 WPA? If so, why not do it here? Contact me for details at lofland32@msn.com.
* * *
In remembrance – September 11, 2001
The rules were simple—write a story featuring the image we provided. The catch—the story must be told in exactly 200 words.
As always, we received a mountain of entries. And, each story we received was a nicely-told tale. But there could be only one winner.
So, without further ado, let’s bring Joe Bonsall of the Oak Ridge Boys to center stage to announce the winner of the 2013 Golden Donut Short Story Contest.
The Echo
by Nancy Sweetland
I told my psychiatrist I was coming back here to banish my demons, stop the bad dreams.
He said he’d come along.
I wondered why he cared.
Mama’s long dead, an unsolved homicide. But if I remember anything to identify her killer even after all these years, I know I’ll end my misery.
Inside the rusted, screechy gate, my psychiatrist says, “There’s nothing here to help you remember.”
But he’s wrong! I catch my breath. In this dingy, unkempt area behind the abandoned building the haunting memory of a deep, coaxing voice echoes off the stark cement walls.
I shiver.
“Look under the stairs,” I say. Someone huddles there, shaking, tears rivering down his face.
Me.
Six years old.
Hiding from the man that hit my mama, bloodied her face, twisted her arm, made her scream. I hear the echo of his voice, wheedling, “Come on out, Kid. I won’t hurt you.”
I know that voice, so familiar to me now. Fury boiling up from years of lies, I step toward my psychiatrist.
I know now why he cares about my memories.
Know who he is.
Know how I can banish my demons, make the bad dreams stop.
Nancy Sweetland
* * *
Rounding out the top ten were (in no particular order):
That Little Voice by Dave Swords
Snapped by Rick McMahan
Agony by Lynette Eason
Perfect by Rabbi Irene Schneider
The Elephant Trap by Kathy Kingston
Reunion by Ann Kellett
Number Four by Andrew Italia
Only A Dream by Lynette Eason
Closure by Gary Kassay
Congratulations to each of you!
*The Golden Donut contest is judged blindly, meaning each story is assigned a number and then presented to the judges without any other identifying marker(s). At no time do judges know the identity of the authors.
Writers’ Police Academy recruits are required to attend Saturday morning announcements for important updates and safety briefings relating to the day’s activities. This year, thanks to beautiful blue skies, we held the meeting outside at the driving track.
The group of approximately 200 writers were still a bit dazed and sleep-deprived following a Friday that began with breakfast at 6 or 7am, and ended with sessions lasting well into the night—ride-alongs, tours of a local jail, orientation, the first workshop of the sexual assault investigation workshop, and a late night outdoors demonstration of high-risk traffic stops.
Instructors asked the group to move away from the center of the track, leaving a purple backpack behind, an item no one claimed. So, with everyone’s safety in mind, officers called in an explosives detection canine and its handler. WPA recruits were moved further away from the scene.
After a couple of sniffs the dog promptly and gently settled to the pavement next to the backpack, the “sign” that it had detected explosives of some kind. Explosive detection canines do NOT scratch, paw, or bite at the packages they inspect…for obvious reasons.
It was time for a Hazardous Material Team to take over, so the canine handler and her dog quickly moved out of harm’s way.
The nearest HDT unit was from the Greensboro North Carolina Police Department.
As soon as they were in position the HDT went into action, which is at a bit slower pace than, say, a SWAT team. A HDT must be certain that each detail of an operation is carried out safely. No exceptions.
The first orders of business are to activate the bomb robot and to have one member of the team “suit up” in protective gear.
Next, the robot begins its slow crawl toward the suspicious device.
Once there, the robot conducts a brief inspection, which is viewed in real time by officers inside the mobile command post.
With the inspection complete, the robot moves in to pick up the item and move it to a safe location for detonation.
The “suited-up” HDT member carefully attaches a “hot” charge to the backpack. The explosive material is placed inside a small balloon-like container which is then placed inside a plastic water-filled bottle. When the charge is detonated the blast propels the water outward, totally destroying the package and it’s contents, including bomb material, etc.
Once the officer is safely back to the command post, a team member alerts everyone around that an explosion is about to occur. He shouts, “Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole! Then, the charge is activated. The blast that follows is nothing short of deafening and bone jarring.
As you can see in the above photo, the backpack is no longer a threat to the WPA and the WPA recruits. When the smoke and dust settled, officers answered questions during a brief Q&A session.
That’s how we start the day at the Writers’ Police Academy. What do you do after having your Fruit Loops?
* * *
Thank you all for making the 2013 WPA such a huge success. As you can clearly see, the WPA is not a watered-down citizens police academy. Our event is the real deal. Writers’ Police Academy recruits receive actual police training in workshops and sessions taught by some of the best in the business. Besides, where else can you play cops and robbers with Lisa Gardner and Kathy Reichs…
Remember, please write Sisters in Crime and tell them how much you enjoyed the WPA and, how much you appreciate their support of the WPA!
Have you ever seen a happier group of people, knowing they’re on their way to jail? Well, yesterday at 6:00pm, Guilford County North Carolina Sheriff’s Deputies loaded over two dozen smiling WPA recruits into two sheriff’s office vans and whisked them away for a tour of one of the local county jails.
Then, with the jail tour group heading over to “the rock,” a parade of police cars from various departments began arriving at the WPA hotel. Their mission—to pick up a second wave of recruits for the start of four-hour ride-alongs.
When the final patrol car left the parking lot, keynote speaker Lisa Gardner took a seat behind the wheel of an unmarked Dodge Charger, a fancy police car specially designed and equipped for covert assignments.
Yes, I’d handed Lisa over to a multi-jurisdictional task force where she was to spend the next four hours with the “the boys in black.” Their mission was, of course, secret.
So, with the jail tour and ride-along participants off and away, it was time for my annual stress session to begin. I always know our WPA recruits are in good hands, but I still worry like a parent worries about their kids. Did they take a jacket in case it gets chilly? Did they take enough money in case the officers stop for refreshments, or a meal. Did they each wear their best underwear in case they’re in an accident. You parents all know the drill, right? It’s what we do.
But the worry would have to wait. We had other fish to fry. It was time to give the remaining recruits a taste of high-risk nighttime traffic stops. You know, where the suspects in the target vehicle are more than likely armed and you’ve stopped them someplace where backup is scarce and there’s nothing between you and the bad guys but space, blue lights, and a whole lot of hoping all goes well.
How the heck do cops handle those dangerous and scary situations? Well, WPA recruits were definitely in and up front on the action last night.
When the session was over there were many shocked and amazed people, and their comments reflected their sudden “enlightenment.” Comments such as, “I had no idea what police officers go through out there. What a dangerous job. Holy cow! I have a new-found respect for police officers. Now I understand why it sometimes takes five or six police officers to arrest one guy. All those police cars for one small SUV? Now I know why. Heck, after seeing this tonight, I’d think it would be safer to bring in more officers and patrol cars.”
I was on my way back inside the hotel when I took a glance at the time. Not good. Lisa Gardner was missing-in-action—MIA.
Our star speaker’s ride-along was scheduled to end at 10pm. At 10:00, though, Lisa Gardner was nowhere to be seen. Then came 10:15. Still no Lisa. That’s when the knot of worms in my gut woke up and began to squiggle and wiggle. Images passed through my mind of Lisa caught in a crossfire with dangerous gang members. What would I tell her husband and other family members? Suppose she’d injured her best and favorite typing fingers? How would I face her fans, knowing that it was I alone who’d placed their favorite author in harm’s way?
Then the worst thought of all struck. How in the world would I fill her empty slot at the Saturday night banquet? It was certainly too late to find another keynote speaker. I began to pace the hotel lobby, first to the bar, then to the front desk. Back to the bar and back to the front desk. Okay, so I worry about everyone. I admit it.
Suddenly my phone alerted me to an incoming text message. It was 10:30. Please let it be Lisa, and please let her be okay.
I opened the message….
“Lee, it’s Lisa. Making an arrest. Be back later. Best ride-along ever!”
WHEW!
*Thursday evening and night was exciting and a lot of fun for everyone. What the WPA recruits don’t know is that the real action and excitement starts tomorrow. Last night was a mere sip from an ocean. As the songs says…”You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet!”
We’re hours away from the start of the 2013 Writers’ Police Academy. It’s such an exciting and action-packed event that some people like Chris P. (above left) stand in line for up to a year, skipping sleep and meals, hoping to grab one of the coveted slots. Probably a wise move since we sold out in just under six days this year. Special events, such as FATS, were scooped up the first day.
Speaking of the firearms simulation training…it’s a very serious activity, where WPA recruits are faced with real-time shoot/don’t shoot scenarios. It’s intensive, heart-pounding, and to some, quite emotional. Yes, some experience hand tremors, stress-induced perspiration, and a few have even shed tears. And then there are those who never, ever crack under the pressure.
The staff of the WPA have the unique opportunity to observe personal things about our recruits, such as a look at how well they function behind the wheel of emergency vehicles.
Some do really well under pressure, expertly steering around obstacles, such as cars, trucks, and pedestrians. Others (I wont mention any names…Lee Child) should not be permitted to operate any contraption bearing wheels and an engine. Actually, I think I heard a collective sigh of relief from the citizens of North Carolina when Lee handed over control of his vehicle to Marcia Clark, deciding that being a passenger was in the best interest of mankind. Lee Child is a true hero.
WPA workshops are taught by some of the top experts in the country, which sometimes translates into hard-to-come-by seating.
Some WPA recruits grow weary of the race to grab the best seats, therefore, they often resort to extreme means to secure premium spots in the various classrooms.
But, the weapon-wielding seat hunters are sometimes met with violent resistance.
Fortunately, we have a well-trained emergency medical staff on hand at all times.
If things to rise to the point of “out-of-control” we simply bring everyone together and have a sheriff’s captain give them a stern talking-to.
Then we make them promise, under oath, to behave.
The powerful oath always works, returning everyone to their normal “lovey-dovey” state.
Still, some renegade recruits require a one-on-one discussion to prevent them from going rogue.
When all else fails, we turn the matter over to our “enforcers,” who know how to deal with special situations.
In the end, and everyone who’s attended will agree, the WPA is hands-down/hands-on one of the best doggone events anywhere in the country.
For me, it’s the smiles on the faces of our recruits that tells the WPA story, and that’s what makes the effort worthwhile.
I suppose today’s the day when I should start blogging about the 2013 Writers’ Police Academy. Therefore, since I’ve got nothing else up my sleeve…here you go.
We leave for North Carolina this afternoon and I’m nearly done packing for the trip. My load is light this year—a few books, some clothes, toiletries, the Golden Donut Trophy, and more medication this year than last. The latter is a depressing reality that emphasizes the fact that I’m getting older.
Another reality I face at the Writers’ Police Academy is the officers there who all look so young. In fact, some of them weren’t yet born when I first pinned a badge to my uniform shirt.
When I started out in the police business I carried a six-shooter. Now, the youngsters carry guns that hold nearly as many rounds as the number of pills I take in a 24-hour period.
Speaking of pill-taking…one of those dang things affects my liver, so I take two to counteract the potential damages inflicted by the first. Then there’s the triangular one, the one shaped like a football, and a big ugly brown one and squirts of liquid-fire drops to hopefully help repair the damage caused to my eyes during a recent surgery. Not much luck there, so far. Then there’s stuff I mix with juice, and the weekly injection that I’m still too chicken to do myself (I could never be a heroin user).
In a few hours, with my gut full of pills and my eyes swimming in what feels like molten lava, we’ll drive away from our house, heading to North Caro… Oh yeah, I already told you that. By the way, youngsters, the memory automatically begins to come and go the day immediately following delivery of your first letter of invitation to join AARP.
So we’ll be arriving at the event hotel late tonight. I plan to have a quick snack, go over my “To-Do” list to be everything is To-Done and then call it a night. I’ll need a few solid hours of sleep since Thursday is when the WPA wheels really begin to turn.
To those of you who weren’t able to attend this year (we sold out in just under six days after opening registration), I want to assure you that you won’t be missing much, and that the 200 + WPA recruits and over 100 experts and presenters will absolutely NOT be having fun. This event is off-the-charts boring. Why, there’s hardly anything to do. Don’t believe me? Well, here…see for yourself. This is just a small portion of the boring crap you’ll be missing. I’m already yawning…
And, of course, there’s…
and…
So I don’t blame you for not coming this year. It’s really going to be a real snooze-fest… NOT!
Police Procedure and Investigation: A Guide for Writers
