10 Things You Shouldn’t Say To The Police

Cops are often the target for some pretty nasty verbal ammunition. In fact, they endure some things that would make the average person explode into a fit of rage. But police officers have to stand there and take it. It’s part of the job, unfortunately.

And always, without fail, officers should keep their anger in check, even when people say things like …

1. “I pay your salary, Barney Fife. So do your job and find the crook who stole the three dollars from the purse I left lying on the seat of my unlocked car.”

These types of comments often spill and flow freely from the lips of unemployed crackheads and other folks who often do not pay taxes.

 

2. “I called twenty minutes ago. Where’ve you been, eating donuts?”

Normally said to cops by 325 lb. unemployed geeky guys who’re standing hiding in the foyer behind a locked screen door.

 

3. “I play golf with the chief and he’s going to hear about this tomorrow.”

Words spoken by a great number of people who’ve been arrested for DUI on Friday night.

 

4. “I’ll slap you if I want to because I’m a woman and you can’t fight back. That’s the law.”

Said the sobbing female who struck the police officer’s face and quickly found herself cuffed and stuffed. “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t take me to jail. Pleeeeeeezze!” she said from the rear compartment of the officer’s patrol car.

 

5. “What’cha gonna do, tough guy? There’s six of us and one of you.”

Of course, the other five are standing behind this nutcase, shaking their heads from side-to-side, indicating they don’t wish to support their friend during his sudden and foolish moment of stupidity, a time that often precedes pain compliance and the word “ouch” shouted repeatedly by the “brave” guy as the officer “gently” applies handcuffs to his wrists. The others usually and wisely go on their way.

 

6. “That badge don’t mean nuttin’ to me. Come and get me.”

It’s at this point that, and I’ve never figured out why, the guy starts backing away while forcefully removing his gravy-stained t-shirt, typically exposing one of two classic body types—that of a beanpole with xylophone-like ribs, or a belly that resembles a sideways beer keg encased in flabby and sweaty ,undulating, hairy skin.

Personally, I’ll take the blubbery obese guy any day over the wiry one because they’re slower and easier to handle. The skinny ones, well, you have to use an extra amount of caution when arresting them because when riled they’ll climb you like a squirrel, punching, clawing, gouging, biting, and kicking, up one side and down the other.

 

7. “Umm … there’s no need to tell my wife(husband) about this, is there?”

Spoken by most of the naked people who’ve been caught in the backseats of cars on deserted dead-end roads.

 

8. “I’m gonna %$^# your mama/wife/children/mother-in-law/family dog when I get out.”

Cops hear this, and other combinations of the same thing, all the time. Spoken by every drunk in town.

 

9. “You no-neck son-of-a-bit**. Take off these cuffs and I’ll kick your ass!”

Again, spoken by everyone who blows over a .12 on the Breathalyzer. And who, by the way, had every opportunity to open their cans of “whup ass” prior to the cuffs going on. It always amazed me how the application of handcuffs saved the lives of so many officers who arrest people, especially the people who couldn’t fight their way out of a one-man boxing match.

 

10. “You and who else is taking me to jail? ‘Cause you ain’t man enough to arrest me.”

These unfortunate words normally come from the smallest guy in the room, the guy who’s trying to impress his friends. And this is the guy who, when you make the move to handcuff him, flails his arms like a windmill, with fists balled up. He sometimes breaks down into some sort of martial arts stance. And, he often reaches into his pocket, pretending to go for a weapon that isn’t there. Luckily for these guys, the hospital and excellent ER physicians are often standing by between the point of arrest and the county jail.

 

And, as a bonus, the ever popular … “I know my rights, Kojak. My uncle’s barber’s sister’s husband’s third cousin on my mama’s daddy’s side of the family used to clean the floors at a law school. So I’m suing your ass. Yeah, that’s right. Things about to get real up in here.”

See everyone in the list above.

 

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5 Dumb Crooks of the Day

Most cops have dealt with a few criminals who aren’t, well, you know, playing with a full deck. They’re not the sharpest knives in the drawers. One donut short of a full dozen.

Some of these intelligence-challenged folks, bless their hearts, go the extra mile on the dummy scale. For example:

Dumb Crooks of the Day

  • Douglas Kelly, a Florida resident, purchased and consumed what he believed to be methamphetamine, an illegal drug. Then, after consuming the meth he felt as if the drugs didn’t quite meet his expectations—didn’t deliver the high he’d hoped to achieve.

So he did what any level-headed person would do when they believe they’ve been cheated in a business deal—he called the local sheriff’s office to file a formal complaint. He asked to have the ILLEGAL meth tested for purity so he could file appropriate charges against the person who sold the drugs. Of course, deputies from the Putnam County Sheriff’s Office were more than happy to oblige.

They politely asked Mr. Kelly to bring the substance to the sheriff’s office, and he did, and the deputies there did indeed test the drug which, by the way, field-tested positive for methamphetamine. Therefore, Dumb Crook Number 1, Douglas Kelly, was arrested for possession of methamphetamine.

  • The title of Dumb Crook Number 2 goes to 25-year-old Ruddy Rodriguez, who was operating his ATV illegally and extremely recklessly on city streets. While driving at dangerously high speeds he maneuvered in and out of and around traffic. He even zipped through intersections when the lights were red.

To top off his careless behavior, this dummy of the day pulled up next to responding officers and actually laughed at them, then said, “You’ll never catch me or stop me!” Then he revved up his engine and took off, driving straight onto the sidewalk where he immediately crashed into a large concrete planter box. Karma…

  • Cops often throw a nice party when one of their fellow officers is about to retire. They’re lively affairs that often take place in a local bar or pub. Such was the case when a Baltimore County PD sergeant’s retirement party was held in a back room at Monaghan’s Pub in Baltimore which, by the way, is across the street from a police station.

Enter Dumb Crooks Number 3 and 4 who picked the absolute worst time in the world to rob Monaghan’s cashier at gunpoint. Both men were instantly placed under arrest, the hard way, as evidenced by the black eyes and bumps and bruises prominently displayed in their mugshots.

  • Dumb Crook Number 5 is one of my arrests. It started with a silent alarm triggered by a clerk working in a local convenience store. When I arrived the doors were locked and the clerk who’d set off the alarm turned the key to let me inside. She was shaken to core. He hands trembled, tears spilled down her cheeks, and words rolled off her tongue at 100 mph.

After a few minutes of “Officer Friendly” smooth-talking, her anxiety eased enough to allow her to describe what had taken place. She said a man entered the store and very slowly walked up and down each aisle while nervously glancing around the place. His gaze met hers a few times and once in a while locked in on the security cameras.

Finally, the man walked to the rear of the store where he opened a cooler door and withdrew a can of beer. Then he approached the counter. The clerk said she asked to see his ID, which he produced. She studied the driver’s license and saw that his date of birthplace indicated that his age as well above the legal limit to purchase alcohol. She also confirmed that the face in the ID photo matched that of her customer. She rang up the sale and he paid in cash. The clerk then placed the man’s ID on the counter and slid it toward him.

It was then when the man pulled a pistol from his jacket pocket and demanded that she give him all the money in the register. Well, apparently she wasn’t moving quickly enough so he grabbed the entire machine, snatching it free from its cables and mount, and ran out the door.

When she’d finished her narrative I started to go outside to grab my handy-dandy Sirchie fingerprint kit. On the way out I stopped to have a quick look at the countertop, and there it was, the robber’s driver’s license.

He’d not only shown the license to the clerk, providing her the opportunity to later identify him, he’d given me his name, date of birth, address, a nice photo of his face, and his social security number (Back in those days, Virginia used a person’s social security number as their driver’s license number. That is no longer the case).

So I hopped in my car, called for backup, and drove to the suspect’s home where we found both him and the stolen cash register. Oh, the gun was a pistol that had been stolen a few months prior to the robbery. And, we found crack cocaine on the stack of wooden pallets he used as a coffee table. I don’t believe he’d ever watched HGTV.

Believe it or not, this, the driver’s license thing at a convenience store robbery, also happened a second time but with a different dumb crook.

In another instance I found a driver’s license at the scene of an arson. Somehow the fire-starter dropped it on the ground. I found the ID while poking around the area as firefighters battled the blaze. He was from out of town so I enlisted the assistance of the local cops in that city to help me with the arrest. The firebug confessed to the arson after a lengthy interrogation session.

 

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Cooking With Cops: Sweet Potato Biscuits

Okay, folks, the weekend’s here so it’s time to step outside the crime scene tape, put away the fingerprint powders and brushes, and relax. And what better way to kick back than to whip up something tasty in the kitchen? So here’s one of my favorites—sweet potato biscuits—all the way from the good people of Bridgeville, Delaware. As Sheriff Andy Taylor would say, “They’re some kinda’ good!”

Sweet Potato Biscuits

Ingredients

– 2 cups warm, mashed, boiled sweet potatoes

– 1/2 cup melted butter

– 2 tsp. baking powder

– 3 cups sifted flour

– 3/4 cup sugar

– 1 tsp. salt

The Process

Pre-heat oven to 425.

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Sift flour and baking powder. Mix warm sweet potatoes with sugar, salt, and butter. Add flour to potato mixture and mix thoroughly.

Roll on slightly-floured bread board until approximately 1/2 inch thick.

Cut with biscuit cutter (or inverted juice glass, water glass, etc.) and place on baking sheet.

Bake at 425 degrees for 15-20 minutes, or until nicely browned and done.

Brush melted butter across the top of each biscuit.

Makes approximately 2 1/2 to 3 dozen mouth-watering biscuits.

Enjoy!

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Adrenaline: A Cop’s Friend or Foe?

The pursuit ended when the fleeing felon crashed his car in a roadside ditch. Both he and a passenger hopped out and began running toward an open field. The passenger turned right at a stand of maple trees. The driver hooked left, aiming for the rear of an elementary school. He carried a pistol in his left hand.

The dispatcher called to the officer to report that the driver was wanted for killing two police officers in a nearby town. The pursuing officer, D.O. Nut, chased the suspect, picking up speed and gaining on the armed man. His partner ran after the passenger.

Officer D.O. Nut felt his heart pounding against the inside of his ribs, its intensity mirroring the rapid rat-tat-tatting of a Thompson Sub-Machine gun. He felt his muscles quivering and he sensed a sudden burst of energy (no way he could run this fast and this far on a typical day).

In spite of his wide open mouth that sucked air as hard as his lungs would allow, he seemed fine, as if he could keep up the pace all day long. His vision was sharper than usual and his mind processed information at lightning speeds. He was invincible.

He caught up to the the cop-killer, an extremely large, muscular man the size of a pro wrestler, and quickly took him to the ground where he aptly placed cuffs around his massive wrists and then pulled the struggling behemoth to his feet for the long walk back to the patrol car. Piece of cake.

Adrenaline is definitely bad to the bone!

The officer suddenly felt a bit dizzy due to the change in blood circulation and oxygen. The temperature was a bit cool out, yet he felt somewhat warm and was perspiring far more than normal.. It was nearly an hour later before the odd feelings subsided.

That’s how it is for a police officer, the rollercoaster ride of adrenaline rushes and crashes/dumps, over and over again throughout a typical shift. From 0-100, time and time again. Guns, knives, fists, pursuits, yelling, screaming, crying, hostages, suicides, murders … STRESS!

The Adrenal Gland

Adrenaline, a simple stress hormone, aka epinephrine, is produced within the adrenal gland, a small gland that’s perched on the tops of our two kidneys. But as tiny as it is, the gland is the powerhouse behind our incredible “fight or flight” responses to fear, panic, and/or perceived threats.

Adrenaline is produced by a very specific layer of tissue within the adrenal gland—the medulla (the middle tissue). The gland also synthesizes many other hormones but that’s for another day, possibly. For now, let’s maintain our focus on adrenaline and how it’s so very important to police officers, victims of violent crimes, and the everyday Joe or Jane.

The Adrenaline “Rush”

An “adrenaline rush” occurs when the Sympathetic Nervous System is involuntarily activated by the brain when it detects that we’re involved in a high stress event, such as imminent physical danger.

When we’re frightened by a life-threatening situation such as an armed robber or serial-killer-maniac, the brain senses the danger and immediately sends an instant message to the adrenal glands. When the adrenal gland receives the alarm, and it’s an instantaneous reaction, it leaps into action and quickly dumps a massive surge of adrenaline into the bloodstream.

Once adrenaline is released and snakes its way throughout the body, it begins to work its magic—releasing glucose into the bloodstream to generate extra energy, speeds up our heart rates and increases the thumping power of the heart’s contractions, and it dilates the blood vessels.

To increase our intake and exchange of oxygen, adrenaline also widens the bronchioles, the smaller airways in the respiratory tract that lead to the alveolar ducts and finally to the extra-tiny alveoli (in the lungs) where gases are exchanged with blood.

Alveoli, by the way, are tiny air sacs located in the lungs at the end of the bronchioles. The alveoli are where the lungs and the bloodstream exchange carbon dioxide and oxygen.

Speaking of Alveoli

I apologize for rambling but, since we’ve brought up the alveoli I’d like to take a brief moment to mention their part in breathalyzer testing. I know, it has absolutely nothing to do with the topic of the day but it’s cool information that could someday be needed in a work of fiction, so here you go.

As blood is pumped throughout the body it passes through the lungs where it is is oxygenated. As a result, when a person consumes alcoholic beverages some of the alcohol eventually crosses the air sacs (alveoli). When it reaches those sacs alcohol is released into the air. This occurs because because alcohol evaporates from a solution because oxygen is volatile.

Therefore the concentration of the alcohol in the alveolar air corresponds to the concentration of the alcohol in the blood. When the alcohol in the alveolar air is exhaled (deep lung air), it can be detected and accurately measured by breathalyzers and other breath alcohol testing devices such as those used by police officers.

The ratio of breath alcohol to blood alcohol is 2,100:1, meaning that 2,100 milliliters (ml) of alveolar air contains the same amount of alcohol as 1 ml of blood.

Whew! That Was Confusing, Right? And I had to endure a week of classroom training about this stuff back during Breathalyzer certification training. Fun times!

Okay, Now Back to Adrenaline

We’ve all experienced an adrenaline rush at some point during our lives. Like when the car nearly crashed into you on the freeway, or during your PIT maneuver training at the Writers’ Police Academy as your car was struck by one driven by Tami Hoag or Craig Johnson, a controlled collision that caused your vehicle to wildly spin out of control.

Fight or Flight

Now, with our bloodstream loaded with adrenaline, we’re ready to either stand and fight or put our feet in action to make a speedy retreat. Fortunately, we don’t have to develop this plan before we act because our autonomic nervous system does it for us. It’s this automated control center of our nervous systems the start the process for us. All we need to do react in whichever method—to run away or stand and fight—our bodies tell us.

If we’re forced to fight during the time when adrenaline is surging through our blood vessels, well, Mr. Bad Guy had better prepare for a wild ride because fear can bring out the grizzly bear in each of us. It is this physical response that can aid in fending off those who mean to do us harm.

Adrenaline is indeed a remarkable thing. Once it’s sent on its way through the bloodstream, it can turn the meek and mild into supercharged versions of themselves.

The Tractor and a Child’s Superhuman Strength

An uncle of mine lost his legs after a farming accident when a tractor he was driving slipped on a hillside and overturned, pinning him beneath it. His young son, just a small boy, witnessed the accident and miraculously lifted the tractor from his father who then managed to pull himself away. The boy then released his hold on the tractor and it fell to the ground. Unfortunately, both of my uncles legs were crushed and had to be removed.

He went on to live a productive and active life, though, and never let his handicap slow him in any way. He even enjoyed joining in a game of softball once in a while. He was a killer with  bat and could easily slam a ball into deep center field. Then he’d “run” the bases by using his hands to thrust his torso forward and back much like the movements of a chimpanzee scampering along the ground. My goodness, my uncle was fast, too. He’s gone now, but his story and love of life and family left a lasting impression on many people.

But, my uncle would have succumbed to his injuries had it not been for his son’s quick thinking and and adrenaline-charged super strength. And it is that same “rush” that helps cops survive each and every day.

But those ups and downs can take a toll on the body.

Short term, immediate post adrenaline “dumps” often result in:

  • Nausea
  • Mild to Extreme Muscle Soreness
  • Urge/Desire to have sex. Hypersexual.
  • Winding Down Process – hyper activity such as extreme pacing,  jitteriness, shouting, and incessant babbling.
  • Exhaustion
  • Nightmares and Loss of or Restless/Tossing and turning during sleep
  • Sporadic Adrenaline Rush brought on by a minor incident or thoughts

Long term effects include:

  • weakened immune system
  • ulcers
  • cardiovascular troubles
  • Stress-induced DNA damage that can lead to premature aging, promotion of tumor growth, miscarriages in women
  • depression
  • exacerbated anxiety

 

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Blood, and It’s Mine!

Blood, and it's mine

Busy night.

Long night.

Tired.

Robbery.

Domestic.

Juveniles.

Drunk driver.

Break time.

Coffee.

Sounds good.

Window,

Down.

Night air,

Cool,

Damp.

Traffic light.

Winking,

Red.

Right turn.

Skinny dog,

In alley,

Limping.

Wino,

In doorway.

Smile,

No teeth.

Car.

Two teens,

Nervous glance.

Speed limit,

Exactly.

Glance,

In mirror.

Tail lights.

Brake lights.

Signal light.

Left turn.

Disappear,

Around corner.

Storm drain,

Steamy,

Wispy tendrils.

Melting,

Into black sky.

Radio,

Crackle.

Then …

“Fight-in-progress.”

“Tip-Top Bar.”

“Weapons involved.”

“Knives.”

“10-4,

Enroute.”

Blue lights,

Siren.

Gravel,

Crunches.

Siren,

Stops.

“Hurry, Officer!”

Crowd,

Circles.

Men,

Two.

Metal,

Reflection,

Flashes.

Step.

Grab.

Wrist turn-out.

Take-down.

Knife,

In hand.

Suspect,

On floor,

Handcuffed.

Blood,

Everywhere …

Mine.

Hospital.

Stitches.

Gun hand,

Again.

Should’ve been a writer.

Safer.

Much safer.

 

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