Page Twenty Eight - Sgt TC's Story (Copcast #143)

Welcome to this special edition of George’s Pocketbook, where our colleagues around the world take time to share their experiences of what being a Law Enforcement Officer means to them, where they work. The incidents portrayed are real but where necessary, names and places have been changed in order to protect the innocent, the not so innocent and the plain stupid.

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Sergeant TC has a war story to tell that others may enjoy, I have my doubts however about the individual at the centre this story and suspect that the good Sergeant may be being a little modest about how deeply he is involved. Oh and Sarge, I know I should apologise for the theme song I gave you but I'm afraid I just couldn't resist.

Where Sergeant TC used to work as a despatcher they had a city councilman who was reputed to be, among other things, a drunk and he somehow always seemed to get on the police radio to report things as he was going home. He would report the most mundane things like a traffic light not working etc. All the councilman in that city had police radios in their cars and this particular councilman was given the callsign "Car Ocean 11" to use on the air.

He became a real pain for the dispatchers but like with many other things they just put up with him. As time went by however an anonymous cop on the radio began to pretend he was the councilman and get on the radio sounding like a drunk for fun. This was before the times that your radio ID could be identified.

The anonymous cop, sounding drunk would say things like, "Ocean 11", wait a few seconds and then say, "Oh never mind" (sounding rather intoxicated). The other officers would all get a laugh out of it.

One night our anonymous cop got on the air and said, "Ocean 11" and dispatch answered. A few seconds went by and he said, "Ocean 11 ah ... if youuu get aaaa ... callllll on aaa man down at 13th and Broadway ..." then there was silence for a few seconds. The dispatcher called over and over "Ocean 11, Ocean 11", with no answer. Then the prankster cop came back on the air and said, "Ooocean 11 ah ... neverrrr mind... I got up"

One cold winter night with almost no traffic on the radio the same cop came on the air and just said, "I'm going crazzzzyyyy!" The dispatcher answered back, "Car calling? Car calling?" There was silence for several minutes and then a repeat on the radio, "I'm going Craaaaazzzy!" and dispatcher answered again, "Car calling? Car calling? " with once again no answer.

After about the fourth time he yet again said "I'm going crazzzzyyyy!" and the dispatcher, sounding very mad, asked again, in a mean tone, "Car Calling identify yourself!" A few more seconds went by and the cop come back on the air and said "I'm not THAT crazy!"

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Page Twenty One - Sgt Pearson's Last Day (Copcast #136)

Welcome to this special edition of George’s Pocketbook, where our colleagues around the world take time to share their experiences of what being a Law Enforcement Officer means to them, where they work. The incidents portrayed are real but where necessary, names and places have been changed in order to protect the innocent, the not so innocent and the plain stupid.

~

Michael Pearson is retired living in Utah. He was a Sergeant on the Tacoma School Police force in Washington State and finished off his law enforcement career as a Lieutenant at the Utah State Penitentiary.

A recent story on Copcast about a stolen police car had this old cop reminiscing about the good old days, specifically his last day as an officer for the Tacoma School Police force back in the ‘70s.

Early that morning the radio began with reports of a Escaped Prisoner in Seattle who had managed to scale down from the roof of the King County Jail and find an unattended police cruiser with its engine running in the parking lot below. It later transpired that the Sheriff had left the car there for a moment as he dashed inside to grab his smokes. The suspect jumped into the police cruiser and began what turned into a high-speed pursuit down Interstate 5.

The continuing reports stated the fugitive had passed through the towns of Renton, Midway, Fife, and Lakewood and was nearing Tacoma. All the towns along the way had assisted in the chase. Sergeant Pearson, as he was then, and his partner listened with curiosity to the updates as they exited the Winchell's Donut Shop. To the surprise of the two men, they witnessed the suspect speed down the highway in front of them followed by the amazing sight of what looked like as many as 100 police vehicles in pursuit.

Getting caught up in the excitement of the moment they both jumped into their own Cheyenne pickup to join in on the fun. They managed to work their way through the line of pursuing vehicles although they had a couple of close calls on the way where they were almost sideswiped by other vehicles that were just as eager to be involved.

In the end they were close enough to witness the stolen cruiser finally get contained with a vehicle in front and another behind before being eased off the side of the road against a chain link fence. Unfortunately there was a third vehicle against the driver’s door, which meant there was a slight delay in getting to the occupant. Because there were so many vehicles stopped so close to each other, they all had to be patiently moved back one at a time before they finally managed to get access to the escaped prisoner.

Michael and his partner jumped out of the pickup and ran towards the Suspect and assisted in apprehending and securing, the kicking and screaming man then shoving him into the back of a squad car. It took six officers to finally subdue the escaped prisoner.

Once the Suspect was safely tucked away Michael took a gander at his surroundings. He’ll never forget the scene before him; the impressive display of cooperation between several jurisdictions was quite a sight to behold. There were Cops from different towns all mingling together laughing, shaking hands and patting each other on the back and talking excitedly. It made him proud to be a Police Officer that day.

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Page Seventeen - US Letter (Copcast #132)

George was flipping through the pages of a magazine a colleague had brought back from the US when a full page advert caught his eye, it was titled “Bathroom and Plumbing Services” and claimed to be everything you needed for the perfect bathrooom. The advert went on to explain that their craftsmen had years of experience and even knew all the rules of plumbing including hot on the left, cold on the right and shit flows down hill. At the bottom of the page was the banner “So don't delay, call Rich Schumaker now for all your plumbing needs”.

As he turned to the next page George found himself reading a letter that had him quickly engrossed, it was titled “The Police” and said:

Well, Mr. Citizen, it seems you've figured me out. I seem to fit neatly into the category where you've placed me. I'm stereotyped, standardized, characterized, classified, grouped, and always typical. Unfortunately, the reverse is true of you; I can never figure you out. From birth you teach your children that I'm the bogeyman, then you're shocked when they identify with my traditional enemy … the criminal!

You accuse me of coddling criminals ... until I catch your kids doing wrong. You may take an hour for lunch and several coffee breaks each day, but point me out as a loafer for having one cup. You pride yourself on your manners, but think nothing of disrupting my meals with your troubles.

You raise hell with the guy who cuts you off in traffic, but let me catch you doing the same thing and I'm picking on you. You know all the traffic laws … but you've never gotten a single ticket you deserve. You shout "foul" if you observe me driving fast to a call, but raise the roof if I take more than ten seconds to respond to your complaint.

You call it part of my job if someone strikes me, but call it police brutality if I strike back.

You wouldn't think of telling your dentist how to pull a tooth or your doctor how to take out an appendix, yet you are always willing to give me pointers on the law. You talk to me in a manner that would get you a bloody nose from anyone else, but expect me to take it without batting an eye. You yell something's got to be done to fight crime, but you can't be bothered to get involved.

You have no use for me at all, but of course it's OK if I change a flat for your wife, deliver your child in the back of the patrol car, or perhaps save your son's life with mouth to mouth breathing, or work many hours overtime looking for your lost daughter.

So, Mr. Citizen, you can stand there on your soapbox and rant and rave about the way I do my work, calling me every name in the book, but never stop to think that your property, family, or maybe even your life depends on me or one of my buddies.

Yes, Mr. Citizen, it's me … the lousy cop!

What caught George's attention most of all was the caption beneath the letter, it said:

The author of this article was claimed to be Trooper Mitchell Brown of the Virginia State Police who was alleged to have died in the line of duty two months after writing the article. It was later claimed however to be a fake but we agree so strongly with the sentiments it contains that we have reprinted it here as a salute to the millions of men and women police officers who put their lives on the line for us everyday.

George sat a moment staring at the page before grabbing a pair of scissors and neatly clipping the letter and the caption from the page then stepping over to the noticeboard and carefully pinning the article in a clear space near the middle.

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