I know, talking shop with cops can be confusing. So here’s a handy Cop-To-English guide for writers.

  • AKA – Also Known As
  • APB -All Points Bulletin. STOP using this one. It went out with the T-Rex, sometime around the time when Betty White was born.
  • ATL – Attempt to Locate. “ATL for Betty White’s birth certificate was negative. No paper back then.”
  • B&E – Break and Enter
  • BOLO – Be On The Lookout – Replaced APB the day Betty White first walked among the dinosuars.
  • Civies – Non-uniform clothing, such as jeans and t-shirt, a coat and tie and, well, anything other than a police uniform.
  • CHP – California Highway Patrol (No, they aren’t called CHIPS. You watch too much classic TV. The locals say C.H.P., as in, “Did you notify C.H.P.?”).
  • DB – Dead Body
  • DL – Drivers License
  • DOA – Dead on Arrival (Not to be confused with the idea of a season 9 of Castle).
  • DOB – Date of Birth. “What’s Betty White’s DOB? Give me a hint. Are the numbers followed by BC or AD?”
  • DOC – Department of Corrections
  • DOJ – Department of Justice
  • DV – Domestic Violence
  • DIP – Drunk in Public. “I aressted Betty White for DIP. Yeah, Mary Tyler Moore called it in. Said she was swinging from the chandelier.”
  • EC – Emergency Contact. “Yes, the boat is sinking and the animals are bailing out. Who’s the EC, Betty White, or Noah?
  • FTA – Failure to Appear (in court)
  • FTO – Field Training Officer
  • GSW – Gunshot Wound (for more on gunshot wounds go here).
  • HBO – Handled by Officer (There is no reference to Showtime, sorry).
  • HP – Highway Patrol
  • KA – Known Associate
  • MDT – Mobile Date Terminal – In-car computer
  • MUTT – A shady bad guy. “Did you see the mutt hanging out behind the Pebbly Wiggly? I’ll bet he’s going to hit it tonight. Let’s go have a chat with him.”
  • Narc – Officer working a narcotics assignment. “Looks like heroin. Call the narcs and see if they want to talk to this guy.”
  • NCIC – National Crime Information Center. “I think he stole the boat. Run it through NCIC and let’s see what comes back.”
  • NOK – Next of Kin. “Who’s…never mind. Betty White has no living relatives.”
  • OL – Operators License (AKA = Drivers License)
  • PC – Probable Cause

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  • PD – Police Department
  • POV – Privately Owned Vehicle. “Yes, I checked. The brontosaurus actually IS Betty White’s POV.”
  • Social – Social Security Number. Yep, hers is…1.
  • Station – Police Department
  • Unauthorized Use – Using/driving/borrowing a vehicle without permission. A charge that’s typically associated with someone who took a vehicle but knows the owner and would most likely bring it back. The probability of bringing it back is what separates this violation from it’s cousin…THEFT.

In Virginia, unauthorized use also extends to aircraft, boats, and even animals. Therefore, if you plan travel to Richmond for the purpose of borrowing someone’s $300 chicken, well, you should consider doing your poultry-borrowing in a different state. The Richmond city jail is no joke.

§ 18.2-102Unauthorized use of animal, aircraft, vehicle or boat; consent; accessories or accomplices.

Any person who shall take, drive or use any animal, aircraft, vehicle, boat or vessel, not his own, without the consent of the owner thereof and in the absence of the owner, and with intent temporarily to deprive the owner thereof of his possession thereof, without intent to steal the same, shall be guilty of a Class 6 felony; provided, however, that if the value of such animal, aircraft, vehicle, boat or vessel shall be less than $200, such person shall be guilty of a Class 1 misdemeanor. The consent of the owner of an animal, aircraft, vehicle, boat or vessel to its taking, driving or using shall not in any case be presumed or implied because of such owner’s consent on a previous occasion to the taking, driving or using of such animal, aircraft, vehicle, boat or vessel by the same or a different person. Any person who assists in, or is a party or accessory to, or an accomplice in, any such unauthorized taking, driving or using shall be subject to the same punishment as if he were the principal offender.
  • UNSUB – Unidentified Subject/Suspect
  • UTL – Unable to Locate
  • VIN – Vehicle Identification Number. VIN’s are located in a few places throughout a vehicle. The one most obvious is on the driver’s side where the windshield meets the dashboard, in front of the steering wheel. Other locations may include the front of the engine block (you should be able to see the plate by opening the hood and having a peek among all the goodies packed in there), front of the car frame, and inside the driver’s door jamb.
  • WMI – World-Make Identifier – The first three characters of a VIN number that tell us the where the vehicle was assembled, manufacturer, and make (Ford, Chevrolet, etc.). The characters that follow provide more details about the vehicle such as engine size, safety features, and more.

To help you better understand VIN numbers, here’s a brief video.

*Remember, as always, terms, slang, procedure, etc. may vary from one location to another. And, the above could have different meanings in other lines of work, other agencies, etc. These, however, are related to law enforcement. Still, no matter where you go, Betty White is a hoot…

 

Wiretaps require authorization from the courts. Therefore, without a warrant officers may not listen to our phone calls. However, there are other ways to use basic telephone information—information that doesn’t require a warrant—to conduct telephone surveillance. And what’s available can reveal enough sensitive and private information to enable law enforcement to “track” you and your associates.

My telephone metadata (the numbers I call, the length of those calls, etc.) could tell investigators quite a bit about me.  Keep in mind, this is not listening to my actual conversations. Instead, it is an examination of records.

By searching my phone records they’d quickly learn that I frequently call and/or text:

  • hotels
  • police academies
  • DA investigators
  • retired and active-duty police officers
  • medical examiners and corners
  • defense attorneys
  • bus companies
  • caterers
  • publishers
  • agents
  • authors
  • police supply companies
  • trophy companies
  • book stores
  • writer organizations
  • publicists
  • writer magazines
  • prosecutors
  • people in the film and TV business

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that I’m more than likely involved in an event that involves writers, entertainment, and law enforcement. The event is associated with hotels and police academies. I advertise. Someone will win an award. And, since many of the numbers—hotel, academies, book stores, bus companies, etc. are located in or near Green Bay, Wi., the event is probably located there.

The calls lasting the longest are to a particular hotel and a specific police academy. Bingo! Those are the key locations.

This, the examination of numbers I call, is called a Hop. Person X calls Person Y = One Hop.

With those details nailed down it’s time expand the search by conducting a Two Hop. Person Y calls Person Z = Two Hop.

The example above, of my involvement with Writers’ Police Academy, was sort of basic and simple, but it was to provide an idea as to how a single hop works. So let’s go a bit further and look at a two hop.

Police want to learn the habits of a suspect, Ms. Susie Fancypants. They also want to know the identities of the people in her circle of associates, so they start with the numbers she calls on a regular basis, the one hops. Such as:

  • 234-432-2423 is the number belonging to Johnny Hunkalicious, who is not her spouse. She calls the number 872 times each day. All calls are during normal business hours when her spouse should/could be at work.
  • 654-456-6546 – She started calling this number one month after the calls to Hunkalicious began to show up on her phone record. It is the number to an obstetrician.
  • 935-539-9359 – An attorney who specializes in divorce. These calls start soon after the calls to the doctor began.

It’s pretty clear what’s going on, right? Hunkalicious is a lover. Ms. Fancypants is most likely pregnant. And, since she contacted a divorce attorney, well, she is probably planning to leave her husband.

Next, police put in motion the “two hop” by checking the phone records of Johnny Hunkalicious.

  • 909-099-9099 – Hunkilicious calls this number 872 times each day. It is the phone number of Susie Fancypants’s husband, Ralph Fancypants.
  • 444-555-6666 – Several calls are made to this number. It’s the office of Dr. I. Changeurequipment, a surgeon who specializes in gender reassignment surgery.
  • 272-727-7227 – The number for “It’s All Mine Cabaret”, a nightclub featuring drag queen singers.
  • 888-999-1010 – A wig store that caters to drag queens.

Moving on to the phone records of Mr. Fancypants. This is also a two-hop search.

  • 234-432-2423 – The number belonging to Johnny Hunkalicious, suspected lover of Ms. Fancypants. Ralph Fancypants calls Hunkalicious 924 times each day.
  • 272-727-7227 – The same drag queen club called by Hunkalicious.
  • 744-477-4747 – A florist who delivers only to the drag queen club.
  • 444-555-6666 – Several calls are made to this number. It’s the office of Dr. I. Changeurequipment, the surgeon who specializes in gender reassignment surgery.
  • 935-539-9359 – The attorney who specializes in divorce.
  • 333-333-3333 – A travel agency catering only to people with surgically reassigned genders.
  • 011-52-888-888-8888 – Realtor in Mexico.

What could investigators learn from these phone records?

  1. Johnny Hunkilicious is a very busy person who may be planning to have gender reassignment surgery.
  2. Mr. Fancypants is more than likely having an affair with Hunkilicious and plans to divorce his wife and run away to Mexico with him after one or both have gender reassignment surgery.
  3. Ms. Fancypants is in for a big surprise.

I know this was an oversimplified example, but you should now have an idea as to the sort of information that’s readily available to law enforcement, without a warrant. Actually, they would need a subpoena, but they’re easy to get.

Officials, starting with a single phone number, could continue to “hop” until they reach the desired results. Searches originating from a single number could encompass thousands of individuals and millions of phone records.

Okay, writers, this information could add a nice twist to a new story, so “hop” to it.

 

 

“I don’t care if it’s protected by The Hulk, we’re going to tear this place apart.” ~ Esposito

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Melanie Atkins

Well, I didn’t watch Castle live last night because I preferred to follow along on Twitter and gauge fan reaction first, but I did watch the ending later and the rest of it today (Tuesday) after the fact… mainly out of respect for Stana Katic, whom ABC fired before making the decision to cancel the series. The episode as a whole irritated me, because it was so dark and painful and dealt with tying up the awful LokSat storyline. Kate and Rick were only on screen together for a few fleeting moments, usually while in danger, and then at the end during the ten-second “button” the showrunners tacked on once they got the cancellation notice to give us our happy ending. At least they threw us that one last bone, but still… the way they handled the show all season (really ever since the wedding that didn’t happen at the end of season six) was just all wrong. No continuity, too many painful, contrived storylines, and a complete disregard for the fans who signed on to watch a love story and had to endure them tearing Caskett apart.

After watching that quick, chopped up last scene, I’m thinking they probably shot it on two different days and that Nathan and Stana were never in the same room. Check it out. They’re never on screen together until they’re sitting at the table, and then we see her face and the back of his head — or rather, his stand-in’s head. So tacky. I’m betting the rumors about Nathan being behind all the upheaval are true, and that makes me mad all over again. To sacrifice a wonderful love story over ego and petty jealousy is just ridiculous. Does he not realize that if they hadn’t ruined a good thing they could’ve gone on for years with plenty of fan support?

I’m still heartsick over the dismemberment and death of my favorite show, but I’m immensely proud of the fans for standing up to ABC after they fired Stana and Tamala. They never expected such a backlash, of that you can be sure. Social media tirades, petitions begging them to cancel the show instead of continuing without half of Caskett, and just general fury. I was part of that wave, and now that they’ve canceled the show I feel vindicated. Take that, Nathan and ABC.

I might go back and watch the three episodes I missed at some point, but then again I may not. I have not enjoyed season 8 and do not plan to purchase the DVDs even to complete the set. The powers-that-be/ABC should’ve ended the show last season and let it go out on a high note rather than destroying the relationship our dynamic duo worked so hard to forge. I’m still angry about the season eight storyline and whoever was responsible for it, be it Nathan, ABC, the showrunners, the writers (who were obviously on crack), or an alien from outer space.

Doesn’t really matter now, though, does it? Because Castle is done. I only hope I can find another show someday that will entrance me like it did from the beginning.

Only time will tell if that will be the case.

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Lee Lofland

I did watch the show and it was a convoluted mess.

Of course, Lanie didn’t disappoint. “Victim was bound and gagged and very much alive when the killer lit the fire.” No way she could’ve known this by merely glancing at the crispy remains discovered inside a burned-out car trunk. But, at least the writers kept her character true to form…eight years of ridiculousness.

Ryan and I are on the same page regarding victims who’ve been burned to death. I found myself nodding in agreement when he said, “No matter how long I’ve been on the job, burned ones always get me.”

How about the entry team storming the house of Loksat’s right-hand man? Yep, every single officer entered through the front door. No one covered the sides or the back. If the bad guy had’ve been at home he could have simply gathered his belongings and calmly left through the backdoor. Duh.

Other dumb things to ponder…

  • Castle knocking a hole in the wall to escape the villain’s lair. Duh.
  • Ryan intentionally shooting the hand of the bad guy. Duh.
  • The gun-attracting ceiling magnet. Duh
  • Why didn’t Beckett grab Loksat’s plastic gun instead of kicking it away? Wouldn’t even a plastic gun be better than no gun at all?
  • Loksat was found and killed within a matter of minutes, yet he couldn’t be located for an entire season, or so. Duh.
  • Vikram working at the precinct. Duh.
  • Castle and Beckett are pounded by heavy gunfire coming from nearly all angles, yet they weren’t hit. Duh.
  • Gerald McRaney as Loksat. Duh.

Finally, the cheesy afterthought ending to a show so many people followed adored for eight long years. Duh, duh, and double DUH.

So that’s it, folks. Thank you all for following our reviews for the past eight years. It’s been fun and hopefully a bit informative.

So…”based on lividity,” I’d say this show is indeed dead and our job is done.

Melanie, I need to go home to rest. I’m feeling a bit under the weather. Would you please turn out the light and lock the door when you leave. Be careful when you step outside, though. I heard Lanie’s still carrying a slight grudge because of a few of the comments I made about her over the years.

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By the way, do you think there’s a chance that she really does possess some of those voodoo skills I’ve been harping on for so long?

Even so, I don’t think she’d do anything to me. Do you?

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Television and film has ruined humans. Totally destroyed them. Hollywood turned what used to be upright-walking mammals with keen minds into people who believe cops can look at a bullet wound and immediately know what the shooter had for breakfast last Thursday. TV has turned our brains into boiling and roiling and festering soups of forensic mush.

Please, allow me to explain… Cops don’t taste suspected drugs. CSI folks do not rappel from skyscrapers to chase down a suspected serial killer (they collect evidence, not create it by falling 80 stories to the pavement below). And no, writers should never, ever use TV as a catchall research source. NOT EVER.

I know, TV portrays the job of CSI’s and forensic scientists as extremely glamorous and exciting. They show these characters driving cool cars and conducting fancy tests in darkened rooms, producing instant “aha” moments that lead to the immediate arrest of the dreaded three-headed-destroy-the-world boogeyman du jour.

Well, the reality is…and this is between us…that’s NOT reality. In fact, forensic scientists work in brightly lit labs and offices where they do this…

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Laboratory Testing of Suspected Blood Sample

  1. Moisten a cotton swab with distilled water and use it to gently rub suspected stain.
  2. Add one drop of ethanol.
  3. Add one drop of 1:5 dilution of phenolphthalein.
  4. Add one drop of 3% hydrogen peroxide.
  5. Note any color change. An immediate pink color is expected if blood is present.
  6. Add one drop of tetramethylbenzidine stock solution.
  7. Note any color change. An immediate blue-green color is expected if blood is present.

Time to interpret the results:

Positive for blood = Immediate pink color at step 5 followed by an immediate bluish-green color at step 7.

Negative results = no color change at steps 5 and 7.

Inconclusive = any results other than the above.

Laboratory Testing for Blood Using Luminol and/or BlueStar

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  1. In darkened conditions, spray suspected bloodstain with Luminol or Bluestar
  2. Areas containing blood will luminesce immediately. If not, the test result is negative. Weak luminescence is an inconclusive result that could be caused by the chemical contacting  copper, some bleaches and paints, plant matter (carrots for one) and even horseradish, all of which cause a reaction when exposed to luminal or BlueStar.

Toxicology

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A common misconception that’s often found in books and on TV and film is that toxicology tests return results for every known chemical, poison, and drug known to man. Not so. Testing is specific. For example, here are the more commonly “tested for” drugs based on a predetermined panel. Anything else is extra and must be specified. Otherwise it will remain as unknown. (Panels may vary depending upon laboratory policy).

Postmortem Tox Panel

Barbiturates Benzodiazepines Carisoprodol
Cocaine metabolite Fentanyl
Methadone Methamphetamine/MDMA

Uncontrolled

Opiates

Oxycodone/Oxymorphone

PCP

Zolpidem

Extra Panel

Amphetamine
Acetaminophen
Acetylsalicylic acid (salicylate)

Analytes run individually by request

Buprenorphine

Fun Forensics Facts

  1. Prior to testing material for the presence of semen, spermatozoa  must be extracted from the substrate. The process involves a spatula, a bit of teasing and soaking, a pair of tweezers, and a dissecting needle. You are free to use your imaginations.
  2. Tools used in the lab to detect the presence of urine – tweezers, litmus paper, scissors, a scalpel, and some corks. Again, let your imaginations take it from here.

 

 

Everybody has “one of those days,” right? Well, suppose your “days” were like these…

  1. While working an undercover assignment that spilled over to another state, I was with two informants who’d introduced me to a drug supplier. At the time of the meeting where we were to purchase a quantity of cocaine, I was unarmed with no radio and no phone. Well, as bad luck would have it, a guy walked up and I immediately recognized him as someone I’d once arrested for selling crack. I continued with the transaction, keeping my cool, but on the inside my heart was pounding like a bass drum in a high school marching band. Apparently the thug didn’t recognize me and the deal went through as planned. Afterward, the three of us returned to our car and we’re preparing to leave when “my friend” walked up and tapped on my window. This is it, I thought. He’s going to shoot us. But he stood there and motioned for me to roll down the glass. When I did he leaned over and whispered, “You owe me one. Big time.” Then he gave me a slight wink and walked back inside. Talk about a pucker factor times ten!
  2. Subsequent to serving a search warrant on the home and property of a drug dealer, one of the officers assigned to search the vehicles called me on the radio and said, “You need to see something out here.” I stepped outside and found him standing behind a car with the trunk open. When I walked over he pointed inside at a couple of silhouette targets, each with multiple bullet holes punched through the paper. My name was written at the top, just above the heads. This was the second time I’d seen my name on a target such as these. Very creepy, to say the least.
  3. I’ve performed CPR a few of times over the years. Once was on a drug addict who’d overdosed. Before he consumed the drug, though, he’d eaten a can of sardines, with mustard, and he’d filled his gut with a rather large amount of beer and liquor. Unfortunately, I received a big taste of each as I blew much-needed O2 into his lungs. After this incident I purchased a CPR pocket mask. No more mouth-to-mouth for me. I also made a promise to my stomach that I would never allow another sardine to pass my lips. I don’t even like seeing the tiny fish at aquariums. Yuck!
  4. One Saturday morning an elderly lady called dispatch to report a fire in her kitchen. I was nearby and responded to see if I could help. The woman met me on her front porch wearing a robe and slippers and a massive amount of curlers in her hair. She was visibly upset. I rushed inside and found the burnt contents of a frying pan on fire. I dumped a bunch of salt into the pan and covered it with a lid. She told me she’d been cooking fish, but the charred stuff was totally unrecognizable. So I opened the windows and doors and used a dishtowel to force some of the thick smoke outside. After things calmed down I noticed several full and stinky garbage bags sitting on the back porch. She explained that her grandson used to come by to haul the garbage to a nearby dumpster, but he’d gotten into a bit of trouble and was currently in jail. So I loaded the bags into the trunk of my patrol car and told her I’d take them away for her. She grabbed my arms and pulled me down to her level so she could kiss my cheek. She then called me her “white knight.” Well, long story short…I stopped by on a regular basis to take away her trash, fix a broken cabinet drawer, lift and tote things, run to the grocery store for this and that, listen to stories about her family, her deceased husband, and about her church—she dearly loved attending church, and, well, I even found myself mowing her lawn after work. Sadly, my elderly friend died six months after the morning of her fish fire. I was the only white person who attended the funeral. Her family thanked me for being her friend, and for being her white knight.
  5. I responded to a shots-fired call at a crowded nightclub. My backup was a rookie officer who was so new, in fact, his uniform still smelled like its packaging. Now that’s a rookie. We pulled into the parking lot and were met by several dozen people running from the club. We’d parked and taken a few steps toward the building when a man stepped outside and began firing an Uzi into the lot. I’ll never forget seeing the spatter of muzzle flashes. I’ll also never forget seeing my “partner” tucking tail and running back to his car. He’d left his door open and when he came with a few feet of the vehicle he practically dove inside where he frantically grabbed the radio mic and began shouting “Incoming! Incoming! Incoming!” He was subsequently assigned the nickname “Klinger,” after Cpl Max Klinger on MASH. Klinger was one of the characters on the show who announced “Incoming wounded!”
  6. It was early one Sunday morning, about 3 a.m., or so, when I received a call about a fight in progress at a club, with weapons involved. As my luck would have it I was nearby. When I pulled up I saw a group of people, men and women who were in the process of yelling and screaming and pushing and swinging. One shirtless young man held a knife in his right hand and used the left to cover his very bloody neck. I hopped out of my car and ran over to him. He made a couple of swipes at me with the knife and it was then that I saw blood spurting from between his fingers. The thin streams of blood looked like they were being shot from a high-end water pistol. I called for EMS and then wrestled the knife from him. One of the men in the crowd gave me his t-shirt and I used it to apply pressure to the wound until the ambulance arrived. An ER doctor told me the man had suffered a stab wound that nicked his carotid artery. The wounded man survived. I was covered in blood and had to go home to shower and change.
  7. I responded to an “escaped prisoner” call at a local jail. A newly hired corrections officer/jailer processed a prisoner and was taking him to his cell when the bad guy got away from the officer. The two were running around in the lockup area, and during the melee the inmate had somehow taken the keys from the jailer. When I arrived the prisoner was holding the officer away by bombarding him with rolls of toilet tissue, bars of soap, and whatever items he could find to throw. The other prisoners joined in and were also lobbing things at the officer. We quickly got things under control, took the keys from him, and then discovered a small pistol in the pocket of his jumpsuit. The jailer had not found it during the pre-lockup STRIP SEARCH! How in the heck do you miss seeing a gun on someone who’s totally nude. Turns out the new jailer was too shy to ask prisoners to strip so he skipped that so very important step of the process. He was fired. The officer who brought the armed man to the jail was also in a heap of trouble.
  8. A man wearing a corrections uniform was driving a car late at night on a deserted stretch of interstate. He was speeding and weaving a bit between the lanes, so I stopped him. His passenger was totally nude (male), handcuffed to the car door, and beads of sweat the size of gumdrops dripped from his face onto his pasty-white, beluga-whalish body. The driver wore only his Department of Corrections shirt. He was nude from the waist down. No shoes or socks. When he rolled down his window the two looked at me as if to say, “Is there something wrong, officer?”

So, how’s your day going so far?

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The year is 1988 and I’m assigned to patrol duty in a town called Soft Kitty, Ca. We’re bordered by the towns Warm Fur Baby and Sweet Puppy. All three are located in Squeezemtodeath County. Soft Kitty, where I work, is the county seat.

My name is Officer Usta Luvmyjob, III, and I work the graveyard shift. I carry a gun and wear a badge. It’s my job to protect and serve.

Soft Kitty is a peaceful place with very little crime. The streets are lined with green, leafy trees and flowers of every color imaginable. The walks are clean and the air is fresh. People smile and say howdy, even to strangers who pass through. The coffee is hot and soft drinks are cold. No one curses and no one argues. Kids are polite and respectful. Their parents attend school functions, and families enjoy meals together. Schools are for learning and children love their teachers. The lake is full of sparkling water, and fish are seen each morning jumping as high as three or four feet into the air to catch a bug or two. The skies are blue and grass is soft and velvety.

Everyone in the area works hard to earn a living. The local university produces top-notch graduates with many who move on to become doctors, lawyers, engineers, teachers, and other such careers. Some attend the technical school where they learn to cook, build, and drive big rigs. The dropout rate is low. Teen pregnancies are low. And drunk driving charges are few. Soft Kitty is a nice town.

Sure, Billy Buck “Bubba” Johnson occasionally goes off the deep end and tears up one of the local bars, and once in a while somebody catches his wife in bed with a neighbor and subsequently uses his trusty 12 gauge to generously aerate her lover’s nude body. Once, the president of the bank ran off with with one of the tellers, a big-haired woman who, at the time, was married to a local farmer. They took few thousand dollars from the vault and hit the road. They didn’t get far, though, before the Highway Patrol caught up with the adulterous couple in Happytown, near the Oregon state line.

For the most part, though, we answer barking dog and peeping Tom complaints. We write a few traffic tickets and keep the undesirables outside the city limits (those Sweet Puppy folks can be downright ornery, especially so on Saturday nights).

Pot smokers and growers were once a bit of a concern for us. After all, the government was spraying marijuana crops with Paraquat, a chemical linked to cancer, and President Reagan and his wife Nancy were leading the anti-pot crusade. Next came George Bush, Sr. and Desert Storm, a war that sent a lot of police officers back into active military duty. Some never came home.

Anyway, we kept a close eye on the long-hairs and the people they hung out with, making sure to snag them if we saw them driving or smoking weed in public. Our narcs where forever finding  and destroying grow operations, but they always popped back up in new locations.

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Then, seemingly all at once, crack cocaine entered the picture and things really went downhill. That’s also the time when bad guys started carrying semi-automatic pistols instead of cheap pawn shop revolvers. We, however, still had six-shooters in our holsters, which meant the crooks were far better outfitted than the police. So, to “keep up with the Joneses” we started making the switch as well. What a learning curve that was to go from carrying 18 rounds (6 in the gun and 12 in speed loaders) to 16 in the pistol and an extra 30 in spare magazines worn on our gun belts. The training was a bit intimidating at first, but we got the hang of it. Still, a few of the old-timers opted to keep their old wheel guns in lieu of the semi-autos. Change is tough, especially when it comes to a tool that could save your life.

With the influx of crack came an increase of criminal activity. Property crimes increased enormously. Assaults were up. Murders and other shootings became commonplace. Shots-fired calls became a regular thing. Stabbings increased. Robberies. Rapes. Car thefts. Break-ins. They all topped the stat charts.

Drug dealers hung out on street corners and in front of “drug houses,” selling to people as they drove up. Curbside service was the way to go, too, because the dealers/runners only held a small amount of crack that could easily be swallowed or dropped if they saw us coming. Or, they could simply run away before we pulled up. The main stash was inside one the nearby houses, but pinpointing which one required significant surveillance and manpower. Unfortunately, all our manpower was more usually tied up working on keeping the ever-growing crime rate at a manageable level. But we were simply outnumbered. Crack was ruining our beloved Soft Kitty.

Not long after crack took hold, criminals began to resist our attempts to arrest them. Prior to crack, it was almost a rarity to encounter someone who seriously fought with police officers. Yes, there were some, but not every Bill, Chuck, and Susie. Then they started shooting and lashing out at us with knives. They punched, kicked, and bit. They tried to hit us with cars as they made their escapes. Then they killed an officer. And then another.

Crime grew worse over the years and citizens grew weirder with each passing week. Smiles morphed into frowns. Everyone began to use the “F” word at least once per conversation, and it appears numerous times on internet correspondence and social media (social media is a topic for another day). People said things and were forced to apologize just mere minutes later. If not, a backlash would follow that could instantly ruin their careers. Politicians stole and cheated and lied. Police chiefs and sheriffs were arrested for corruption. Infrastructure started to fail. Kids were texting and driving and crashing their cars. Children were abducted, raped, and killed. Both male and female teachers were caught having sex with students.

Next came the time when people were suddenly afraid and offended by and of everything, including words. “It hurts my feelings when you say that word.” “You offended me when you raised your hand to ask a question.” “We want you to resign because you said what I said offended you.” “Your hair offends me.” Your clothing offends me.” “I’m scared to go to class because someone there might say something that hurts my feelings.” We can’t study history because it’s spooky. Make it go away!”

Things became so bad, actually, that in the year 2016 citizens voted to change the name of our once fair city to Scaredtown, and the name, as I understand it, has remained the same since.

Soon after the name change, city workers began erecting new signs at each of the roads leading into Soft Kitty/Scaredtown. Now when you drive in the first thing you see are those colorful advertisements that read:

“Welcome to Scaredtown, Ca.

Home of the Fighting Spineless Chickens Football Team,

Where Everybody Gets a Trophy!”

Long gone are the days when I could pull up beside the Billy Buck “Bubba” Johnsons of the world and tell them to get inside my car because they’re under arrest for a crime they’ve committed. Nowadays we need to roll out a dozen officers and a camera crew for every arrest. We can’t speak without someone twisting our words and making them some sort of social issue. We can’t look at people because it offends them. And, well…this new breed of “I’m Scared and Offended By Everything” people are driving the world down the toilet and they’re taking us with them. And don’t get me started on politicians and terrorism.

Man, I long for the days when policing was about protecting and serving our communities. Now, well, we’re heading toward a time where officers will be forced to spend more half of their time defending every single move they make.

You know, somebody ought to write a book about this stuff. I’d bet a dollar to donut that it would sell.

Donuts…I’d also wager that somebody somewhere is offended by the mere sight and/or smell of them, or even seeing or hearing the word. Well, I’m not apologizing. I said “donuts,” and I’m not taking it back. And yes, I do know the proper spelling is doughnut, but I favor Dunkin’s spelling choice. Don’t like it? I hear there are donut safe spaces in the back rooms of some bagel outlets. In the meantime,

Donuts, donuts, DONUTS!

Grr…

 

Part of a police officer’s duty is to question suspects about their involvement in criminal activity. Of course, we’ve all seen TV shows and films where detectives rough up the person in question, hoping a few gentle love taps to the head will convince their prisoner to tell them where they’ve hidden their latest kidnap victim or the weapon they used to kill their cheating spouse.

But that’s not the way it’s done in real life. Well, it’s not supposed to work that way and there are laws against those sorts of tactics. Instead, interrogators must work within the confines of humane methods of eliciting information, and there is a bit of science behind good interrogation methods.

First, the basics. Human intelligence (HUMINT) collecting is nothing more than the gathering of information during the interaction of two or more people. Simple, yes? Well, it is simple, unless the only person willing to talk is the investigator. It’s when the others refuse to open up that things become a bit frustrating and less-than-fruitful, and that’s where skill and technique come into play. And, as they say, that’s when it’s time to “let the games begin.”

One extremely effective method of eliciting information is the Scharff method, and the secret to eliciting information using this tactic is twofold.

  1. The suspect must remain unaware of the investigator’s core objective and the detective must never reveal the information he/she actually knows and possesses, or does not know, about the details of the case.
  2. The suspect must, at best, underestimate or think very little of their own contributions of new evidence. They must not realize that what they’re saying is helping to piece together the crime-solving puzzle.

In other words, suspects must not suspect they’re supplying new information to the conversation, and one key to success in this scenario, I believe, is to try to think like the suspect. Place yourself in their position. What would they think in response to certain questions? Actually, there’s a psychological concept called perceptive taking that directly addresses considering the viewpoints of others.

Good investigators, while placing themselves in the shoes of their suspects, will know they must overcome the defenses already on the minds of many criminals, and they are:

  1. Don’t deny what the police already know. Instead, explain those things in a manner that excuses them or makes them seem reasonable, but not incriminating.
  2. Figure out what they want and do not give it to them.
  3. Do not say too much, but say just enough to sound as if you’re cooperative.

Armed with the above, investigators should begin the interview/interrogation knowing that suspects are wondering exactly how much police know about their involvement in the crime and, how confident the investigator is with his position/knowledge of specific facts.

The friendly approach to an interrogation works incredibly well, even for the most hardened (or so they appear at first) criminal. Sure, some are too tough to crack, but not most. Anyway, a relaxed, comfortable, and easy-going atmosphere helps set the stage. The suspect is far more apt to let down his guard when he’s at ease rather than having a large, red-faced, heavily-armed and sweaty cop thumping his chest and pounding his fists on the table.

Friendly, but not overly friendly to the point where actions and words are not believable. And definitely not the psychopathic faux friendliness as discussed in yesterday’s post. If so, a seasoned crook, who could very well be a psychopath himself, would see right through the act.

No, the friendliness I’m speaking of must come across as genuine. To put it another way, be a real person.

The officer must also give the impression he knows far more than he does and that he merely needs to hear those same details directly from the “horse’s” mouth. During this extremely productive and successful process of playing the role of Detective Nice Guy, the investigator should NEVER press for details by asking point-blank questions, such as “Did you do it?”

Interrogators should present the “I know everything about what you did” illusion with extreme confidence, much like David Copperfield convinced his audience that the Statue of Liberty disappeared, investigators  must convince suspects they know more than they’re telling. But it’s a trick that takes a bit of practice studying seasoned experts to perfect.

Interestingly, and most helpful to police, is the fact that many criminal suspects, when exposed to the above method of interrogation, are somewhat quick to disclose and verify information they believe officers already know. And, once this information is revealed detectives may use it to embellish upon other areas of their pretend knowledge of details. It truly becomes a snowball rolling downhill once the first few truthful details are exposed.

Having a suspect repeat what he’s said several times throughout the interrogation helps the detective pinpoint inaccuracies and inconsistencies that will need to be addressed at a later point in the interview. Soon, though, it all comes together and the suspect will never know what hit them until it’s too late. Actually, many times they don’t have a clue that they’ve revealed intricate details about their activities and crimes.

This Detective Sweet N. Sugar method of interrogation was definitely my favorite method of eliciting confessions and other information from suspects. I studied it and used it more often than not, and it’s extremely effective.

But the tactic is not new. Not even close. In fact, it was used and developed by Hanns Joachim Scharff, a German Luftwaffe interrogator during the Second World War.

Much of the success of Scharff’s technique is attributed to his personality, a trait that cannot be taught. However, much about the tactic can be passed on to interrogators. In fact, the method I so often used is currently being presented to government agents with the hope that the method will help to reveal terrorism plots.

 

‘‘What did he get out of me? There is no doubt in my mind that he did extract something, but I haven’t the slightest idea what.’’ ~ Hubert Zemke

 

This little piggy went to rob him,
This little piggy stabbed him,
This little piggy had a gun,
This little piggy had none.
Those little piggies ran … wee, wee, wee, all the way home!

Footprints have been a part of crook-catching and crime-solving for a long, long time. Investigators have used them track bad guys from point A to point B, and beyond, if needed. They’ve also used footprints to match shoes to print found at crime scenes.

Detectives have matched material(s) found lodged in shoe soles to identical material(s) found at crime scenes (broken glass, soil, blood, carpet fibers, etc.). And they’ve even used them to make a decent scientific guess at the height and weight of a suspect.

Now, however, scientists have developed a new and better method of identifying footwear—Frustrated Total Internal Reflection (FTIR) imaging—that could link a specific person to a shoe. Well, sort of.

The new method of footwear ID creates a digital picture of the footprints in question.

Here’s how it works. First, though, it might be a good idea to brush up on your science and math skills, or, at least dust off the calculators and slide rules. I’ll show you why in a moment.

We each have our very own footprint, but I’m not speaking of the ridges on our toes and heels, etc. No, this is about the individual ridges and wear patterns on the soles of our shoes, and the marks they leave behind as we walk. I know, this sort of thing (wear patterns, etc.) have been considered in the past, but this new method goes far beyond the former technique of investigators collecting the footprint using various manual techniques, such as ink pads and specially sensitized papers, or using electrostatic dust print lifters as many of you had the opportunity to experience first-hand at the Writers’ Police Academy.

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Author Donna Andrews photographing electrostatic footwear prints at the Writers’ Police Academy. This is Donna, like the thousands of other writers who’ve attended the WPA, going the extra mile for her fans and readers. 

It’s extremely time-consuming to have investigators collect prints and then turn them over to examiners who painstakingly scrutinize them for abnormalities and then search a suspect’s shoes, looking for those same identifying marks. Then, when all is said and done, the examiners say yay or nay (the eyeball technique is a bit more accurate than that, but you get the idea).

Even the method of using electrostatic dust print lifters, although a bit less time-consuming and messy (no metal molds or goop to mix and pour, etc.), still requires eyeballing to compare to a suspect’s shoes.

FTIR, in short, eliminates the hours of hand examination by digitally detecting and recording the amount of and distribution of pressure applied to each area of the footprint (specific weight distribution). Thus, matching a print to suspect’s shoe is far a more accurate process than merely comparing a photograph to a shoe sole. The new technique could also tell scientists and investigators precisely how much pressure was generated when a crook kicked in a door during a home invasion or B&E. It can even tell investigators the extent of a person’s gait.

Okay, so here’s where your calculator comes in handy, and I’m only going to bore you with a tiny bit of the math involved, but it will give you an idea as to how this works.

Draw three circles. Look at the moon. Add three squares. Two bananas and four tornadoes. The tree is green. And add an X. How many cows are driving in the carpool lane?

Sorry, wrong equation. That was a math homework assignment for one of our neighbor’s kids.

FTIR is a bit less complicated than elementary school homework. Such as: “…many shoes are typically made from polymeric materials, they will have a higher refractive index than air. This change in refractive index results in a change in the critical angle required for light to be totally internally reflected at this interface which is now given by the equation , where nshoe is the refractive index of the shoe material.”

And… “is achieved by ensuring that the light is always incident on the glass(plastic)/air interface at an angle that is larger than the critical angle, ?c. This angle can easily be determined from the formula , where n is the refractive index of the sheet material. For glass, which has a refractive index of ~1.5 at visible wavelengths, the critical angle is ~42°.”

Obviously, this stuff is a bit above the pay grade of the average detective. Thankfully, the scientists who devised this new method of accurately measuring and gauging footwear evidence have done all of the hard work. For me, well, as fond as I am of science (I have to be, I’m married to a successful scientist), sometimes the old fashioned methods are still the best. Such as the time when…

One morning, immediately after downing a cup of coffee made in the pot in my office, I responded to investigate a burglary. Riding with me was a brand new detective. His first day in plainclothes. We arrived at the scene and it was quite obvious the point of entry was a side door complete with a clear dusty footprint next the brass knob. The jamb was shattered and splintered. The kick had been a nice one.

I spoke with the manager who told me the burglar had taken only cash, and that she’d hidden the money inside a secret location known only to her. I asked her a couple of times if she was certain that only she knew about the hiding spot. “Wait,” she said. “The other day a guy I know was here when I closed up, but he’d stepped outside just before I hid the money. He could’ve been at the window, looking in.”

I asked for his name, made a mental note of it, and then walked over to where my rookie partner was busy collecting all sorts of meaningless evidence and taking dozens of photographs of the footprint on the door. I let him finish, told him to clean the fingerprint powder from his face, hands, arms, and, what was a few minutes earlier, a freshly pressed and bright white shirt.

Once he’d properly stowed his evidence collection kit, camera, and goodness knows what else, I drove out of the lot. I knew the guy the manager mentioned and that he lived nearby. He was a crackhead known for stealing to support his $1,000 per day habit.

I was heading down Main Street when lo and behold the little dirtbag passed us going in the opposite direction, toward the scene of the crime. I was quite familiar with this guy, having arrested him many times over the years. I also knew his driver’s license had been suspended for DUI, a couple of them., my PC (probable cause) for a traffic stop.

I made a U-turn and rushed to catch up to the car. When I did, I hit the blue lights and burped the siren once. My stunned partner had no clue what I doing, and said so. “What’s going on,” he asked. Watch and learn, rookie, I thought as I stepped out of the car and hitched up pants on the side where my SIG Sauer 9mm rested.

I walked up to the driver’s window, which Carl Crackhead (not his real name, duh) had already rolled down. “Did I do something wrong,” he asked.

“You know your license is suspended.”

“I know,” he said, “but I needed a pack of cigarettes. I was only going to the store. Give me a break.”

“Step out of the car,” I said.

He did, but moaned and complained the entire time.

“Let me see the bottom of your right shoe,” I said.

He held it up.

I took a chance. “Anything you want to tell me before I take you to jail?”

He looked down and then back up. “How’d you know it was me? How’d you know I broke in the store? Aw, man, my shoe print…”

He confessed to everything. Watching the manager hide the money. Going there at night to kick in the door. Taking the money and then using it buy crack.

I handcuffed him and had him sit in the front passenger seat of my car. My rookie partner rode in the back with a confused look on his face.

After we’d processed Carl and he was safely tucked away inside a cell, my partner said, “How’d you do that? I mean, all you did was look at a footprint. How?”

I’d heard him tell the story of my “amazing” detecting skills to other officers over the years, and he’d often revisit the scenario with me. As far as I know he may still think my abilities to solve crimes were of the supernatural. Perhaps that’s why I so often call BS on Lividity Lanie’s voodoo crime scene skills. Because I know that’s not how it works in real life.

However, an investigator’s gut feelings are no joke. They’re as real as, well, adding tornadoes and boxes to learn the sum of apples and hermit crabs equals 9 to the circle of hummingbird power.

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* Actual scientific math equations above – Scientific Reports/Watch Your Step.

Goofy math equations – Potentially any school in the U.S. (I’m kidding, of course. We all know I’m only referring to those schools that teach Common core math. I’m still kidding, or am I? 🙂

 

What’s it like to work undercover? Well, there’s this…

1. No longer having to schedule time for haircuts.

2. Devoting time to maintaining the proper amount and length of facial hair.

3. Your uniform du jour is a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, old jeans, and tennis shoes.

4. Getting to drive cool cars, such as a rusty and dented Ford Pinto.

5. Having a two-beer limit on allowable consumption of alcohol while working.

6. The joy of hanging out/socializing with drug dealers, gang members, and killers.

7. Playing dress-up for a living.

8. Not having to wear a hot, smelly Kevlar vest but sometimes wishing you could wear a hot smelly Kevlar vest.

9. Not having to carry a heavy gun on your side but really, really missing the familiar comfort associated with the weight.

10. Working your own hours as the need dictates (drug deals, gun shipments, etc.).

11. Tattoos are part of your uniform.

12. Drinking beer from a can still wrapped in a paper bag, even when you don’t like the taste of beer.

13. Remembering not to wave and smile when you see one of your cop co-workers, and hope they’ll remember to do the same in return.

And, when the assignment ends…

1. You have to shave and cut your hair.

2. Shaving for the first time in many months causes your face and neck to burn…intensely.

3. The feeling of stepping outside after getting that haircut. The world looks brighter and fresher. Skies are bluer. The air feels crisp and clean when it first brushes against your exposed neck. But you feel totally naked and exposed to the world.

4. It feels great to be back at work, but you sort of miss not wearing that clunky, stinky vest and that heavy gun. And you actually kind of miss being out at night, hanging out in the streets while sipping beer from cans concealed inside paper bags.

5. You sometimes catch yourself attempting to push your non-existent hair away from eyes.

6. You have a better understanding of what it’s like to be on the other side of the badge, and you’re extremely happy to be carrying handcuffs instead of wearing them.

* Yes, that’s me in the top photo. The hair disappeared a few days later.

 

The Writers’ Police Academy is pleased to continue the Golden Donut short story contest in 2016. The rules are simple—write a story about the photograph above using exactly 200 words, including the title (each story must include an original title). The image in the photograph MUST be the main subject of the story. We will not provide clues as to the subject matter of the image, or where the shot was taken. That is for you and your imagination to decide. Remember, though, what you see in the image absolutely MUST be the MAIN subject of your tale.

*Again, the photo above absolutely MUST be the main focus of the story, not just a mere mention within the text. 

All stories are to be polished and complete, meaning they must have a beginning, middle, and a twisted surprise ending. Again, all stories must be exactly 200 words. Not 201 or 199! So read the word count rules carefully. Over the years, we’ve seen some excellent tales disqualified due to an incorrect word count.

The Golden Donut contest is judged blindly, meaning each entry is assigned a number prior to sending it to the judges. Therefore, judges do not see the writers’ names.

All entries will be screened by a panel of readers who will select their twelve favorite stories and then forward their picks to the contest judge (To Be Announced). All decisions are final and may not be contested or appealed. After reviewing each of the entries, the judge will notify the Writers’ Police Academy of the winning entry. While the winner will be announced at the WPA banquet, the winner need not be present to win. The contest is open to everyone, not just WPA attendees.

The contest winner receives the prestigious Golden Donut Award AND and free registration to any 2017 WPA-hosted event!

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Submission Guidelines:

Please read carefully!

All submissions MUST be submitted electronically via email to 2016goldendonut@gmail.com. Write Golden Donut 2016 in the subject line.

 Click the link below to enter!

Golden Donut Short Story Contest

Please include your story within the body of the email. Attachments will not be opened.

 Additionally, a twenty-five dollar ($25) entry fee must be submitted via Paypal PRIOR TO emailing the entry. In other words, click the link to register your entry and then follow the directions listed. Next, submit your payment (Paypal link is on the entry form), and THEN email your story(s). You do not need a Paypal account to enter.

Submission Deadline: July 1, 2016

– Any entry not meeting the exact 200 word requirement will be disqualified. You will not receive notice of disqualification. Please be sure your word count is accurate and that all words are counted.

– Hyphenated words, for the purpose of this contest, will be counted as two words, or three, etc., depending upon how many words make up the hyphenated phrase/word. Contractions will be counted as two words (it’s, don’t, etc.).

– Every single word will be counted as a word. This includes: “a,” “and,” and “the.” To be very clear…if it’s a word, count it. If it’s part of dialog and you think it may be a word, count it. If it’s a stand-alone letter or group of letters, count it as a word. If it’s a number, count it as a word. If the number would include a hyphen if written out as a word, then count it as a hyphenated word. Social media and texting abbreviations will be counted as individual words. For example: OMG = three words. LMAO = four words. 2Nite = one word (tonight). AIAMU = five words (Am I a monkeys uncle). TCIC = 4 words (This contest is cool).

– Entries submitted after the July 1, 2016 deadline will NOT be judged.

– Any entry not meeting the exact 200 word requirement will be disqualified.

No refunds for any reason!

Again, all entry fees and stories must be received on or prior to July 1, 2016. No exceptions. There is normally a mountain of entries, therefore, it is a time-consuming process for the judges. We need time to process the entries and to have the award properly engraved and shipped to the WPA.

– Be sure to include your name, address, email address, telephone number(s), and title of your story in an opening paragraph above your story. Then, please include your story, headed by the title.

– There is a $25 entry fee, payable via Paypal. Entries received without the appropriate entry fee will be excluded from the contest. No refunds.

– Each author may submit up to three entries. Each entry must be accompanied by the corresponding entry fee ($25 per story).

– Each author can enter up to three stories. But each individual entry must be accompanied by its own $25 entry fee. (One entry = $25. Three entries = $75, etc.) You must indicate how many stories you plan to submit when you register.

– By submitting an entry to this contest authors agree to allow The Graveyard Shift/Lee Lofland, the Writers’ Police Academy, Sisters in Crime, and affiliates to publish/reprint the story as a part of The Graveyard Shift blog and/or as advertisement for the Writers’ Police Academy or Sisters in Crime, or in other publications and media, including, but not limited to, Writers’ Police Academy books, magazines, newspaper, blogs, ebooks, online outlets, etc.

*Sisters in Crime is not a part of the Writers’ Police Academy.

*All rights to all work/short story shall remain the property of the author. The Writers’ Police Academy reserves the right to exclude or delete any entry without cause, reason, or explanation.

– ABSOLUTELY NO profanity or erotica.

Please send questions to Lee Lofland at lofland32@msn(dot)com

So there you have it. Now get busy and take us on a journey that’d scare the pants off Poe himself.

Good luck!