Cop :: The Attitude

Did you ever wonder why cops seem to have that “Attitude”?   You know……. the skeptical, cynical, impatient,  cocky,  arrogant,  swaggering,  standoffish,  don’t bother me,  I’ve heard it all before kind of attitude that most cops are accused of having.  

The impression that civilians have that cops are rude, crass, gross, unfeeling, unmerciful pricks that would arrest their own grandmother for spitting on the sidewalk.  How did we get such a reputation as this?   Why aren’t we seen as kind, caring, patient, jolly, good natured, fun loving, and gentle? That is the way we start out our careers, but something happens to us along the way that changes our nature.  It makes pessimists and cynics out of innocent normal human beings.  

I have pondered the change that comes over us after a few years of police work.  It is like a having a fun loving mischievous puppy that matures into a mean snarling, growling dog that should be kept on a short leash lest he hurt someone. What happens to this pup that turns him into a sullen, fearful growling old dog?   It comes from having to defend himself everyday against the unexpected, the profane, the confusing,  unsightly, and ungodly things that he has to deal with on patrol.

I believe that every human being is created with a certain amount of compassion that will last him years into his life, maybe even all the way to the end.  A cop’s storehouse of compassion is quickly used up and after a couple of years, the cupboard is bare, and so like Mother Hubbard’s poor dog he had “None”.   

     When compassion for other humans in their misery and need dries up and is gone,  then the cop attitude begins to assert itself as a matter of psychological self defense.  

Cops are described as being cynical.  I looked in Websters dictionary to see exactly what Cynic/cynical really mean.  It was very interesting.   The word cynic comes from the Greek kynikos which  literally means doglike.   Cynic: one who believes that human conduct is motivated by self-interest.  Cynical: 1 Captious, Peevish  2: having the attitude or temper of a cynic; esp: contemptuously distrustful of human nature and motives.

     I couldn’t have described it better myself. (Thanks Mr. Webster)  Yes, that is it because cops continuously see human beings at their worst behavior, and hear their poorest excuses for it. Not only for speeding, but also for child abuse and murder. 

Human beings need to rationalize their poor behavior to themselves  so they can still believe that they are decent and normal.   No one likes to think of himself as a pervert, or a thief, or a cheat and a liar.  But cops can see thru all the excuses and rationalizations, and a cop more than any other person knows what deception and evil lies behind the human heart,  and we come to believe that there is no one who is decent and normal. 

So when we get that “I’ve heard it all before look on our face,  and lose our patience, and seem rude and uncaring,  that’s because we have lost our trust and compassion for people.  We have learned that we can only trust ourselves and our partners, because we have learned the secret of human behavior (it is always motivated by self-interest).       

Bear Sh** On the Appalachian Trail

I have barely been able to keep up with the blog,  so I hope you will bear with me as I tell you this short bear story.   

For the last 8 days I have been walking with two buddies on the Appalachian Trail in Tennessee and N. Carolina.   This is a hobby of mine that started a few years ago when I ran into one of my high school classmates.  Buzz talked me into going with him on a short hike on the AT in northeast Pa and since then I have been “hooked” on backpacking.  Buzz has thru-hiked the AT in 2006 and is writing a book about his experience on the trail.

 

 Dave Crowe, me, Buzz Wykoff

 

 
This past week,  Buzz and Crowe and I hiked about 100 miles from I-40 in Tennessee to Erwin, Tn.   The weather was good,  the scenery was fantastic, and the mountains were never ending.  We always tease people about the bears on the trail, but in reality they are very shy and seldom seen. 

This trip however we did have a close encounter.  

 

 

We had hiked all day to a shelter called the Walnut Mountain Shelter.  It looked like it was home to squirrels, rats and mice, so we found a knoll to set our tents up on instead of staying in the shelter.    Shortly afterward there were two brothers who showed up in the area and they set up hammocks to sleep in off to the east of us a few yards.  

 

 

 
We had noticed bear sign in the trail all the way up to the shelter,  (bear tracks and poop).  The tracks looked like it was a big one, (so did the poop),  and we heard that there was a troublesome bear in the area who had damaged a table and tore up an unoccupied tent at the previous shelter.  There were cables near our tent site where we could run our food bags up out of reach of the bears, but one cable was snapped off as though some great force of weight (and possibly teeth) had been used on it.  

Nevertheless at dusk we were resting comfortably in our tents when we heard shouts from the two brothers who were building a fire near the shelter.  Curiosity brought Buzz and I our of our tents to see what the shouting was about.  The “troublesome” bear had apparently showed up on Walnut Mountain and was attacking the empty hammock of one of the brothers,  taking his sleeping bag out and covering it with teeth marks  and bear slobber. 

The shouting and hollering got his attention and he ambled off to circle around where he could see better, which was up on the knob where we had our tents pitched.   He didn’t get too close to us, which was good.  He was the biggest black bear I had ever seen in the wild.  His head looked the size of a  bushel basket, and he kind of just wandered off till a more opportune time.  He had that attitude that he was in charge of the situation.

     The opportune time came a few hours later as we heard the bear cables twanging about 50 feet away from our tent site. I got out and shined a light toward the noise, but saw nothing.  He didn’t get our food,  and he didn’t come back that we knew of.  But it’s hard to sleep when your ears are tuned to hear noises of hungry bears. 

     We left the next morning without incident.  The brothers kept their fire going all night and stayed in the shelter. 

We learned the truth of the riddle.  

Q: Where do bears s_ _ t?

A: Anywhere they want to.  

Suicides: PG-13 Read with Caution

 Every cop has to investigate suicides, and each one is different. 

Different methods, different reasons.  Some leave letters or notes, some do not.  One suicide I investigated was a college kid who was dumped by his girlfriend.  As a suicide note,  he wrote a check out of his checkbook.  It was payable to his girlfriend,  the amount was  written “all my love”  and in the $ block was written $MY LIFE.00.  and he signed his name at the bottom. 
 
     There are as many ways to end your life as there are to live your life.  Guns are the preferred method for men, women prefer to take poison or overdose on medication.  Guns usually leave a big mess, which apparently men don’t care about making.  Women are more fastidious and neat, even putting on nice clothes or makeup. 

Hanging or strangulation seems not to be gender specific.   One victim tried to use a power drill on his head,  but the holes were too neat to cause a quick death, so he tried a skill-saw to the abdomen.    

Some suicides show a lack of planning,  as though it was done on a quick impulse.   One 25 year old girl took a long orange extension chord and wrapped it quickly around a deck railing and around her neck and jumped off.  She was still warm when we took her down.  Another man had been drinking with his girlfriend and listening to music.  He was preparing for work the next morning and set his alarm clock.  After his girlfriend went to bed,  he took a sheet wrapped one end around a door knob threw the sheet over the door and tied the other end around his neck and just slumped down until he suffocated.  Senseless.   I did notice during the investigation that the record player was still turning with the arm bouncing at the end of the record, which was the AC/DC album “Highway to Hell”.  I had read that a song on that album had been blamed for other suicides, maybe it was just a coincidence.  

I try not to remember all the suicide investigations I’ve done,  

but some I can’t forget. 

One of the most memorable suicides I investigated was of a 40 year old homeless man who was living in a garage.  He had lain down on a mattress on the garage floor and put a double barreled shotgun  to his chin and pulled the trigger. We did not find him until about ten days later when the owner of the garage complained about a strong smell in the garage.  The door was locked.  I took a flashlight and climbed up over a partition from the adjoining garage and found what was left of him.  His whole head looked like a bowl of wiggling rice. (maggots)  I removed the shotgun from his hand,  careful not to trip the trigger on the other barrel.  Even the body removal team gagged their way to the morgue.

     I really do hate to dwell on these things, but the images of death,  once imprinted on the mind do not go away.  I can still clearly see the scenes,  smell the smells, feel the tense emptiness inside.  I think it helps to talk about it,  and the feelings become dull with time, but the images never go away.        

***  I have been out on the Appalachian Trail this past week and have returned with some stories for you...  including one about a bear....   check back soon! ***

Chariots of Fire: Chasing Cali Through Wal-Mart

Here is a little break away from police stories of the past, to a more recent event ...

     A couple weeks ago my wife Rose and I went to Tennessee to visit our daughter Jess, her husband Dave, and our granddaughter Cali.  We always like to go to Tennessee because the weather is usually a lot better than in Meadville.  The sun actually shines there, sometimes all day. 

Cali is just shy of two years old and runs everywhere she needs to go,  just because she can.  We went to Wal Mart in Franklin one evening and took Cali with us while her parents were having some time to themselves.  She didn’t want to ride in the shopping cart, which really is kind of boring if you think about it,  so I let her down on the floor. 

As soon as her feet hit the tile, she was off on a dead run to explore everything in the store.  

She first ran down the aisle beside the frozen meats past the produce.  I thought I would be able to keep up with her because heck, she isn’t even 2 yet and she’s only covering about 8 inches per stride.  I didn’t want to look like an old fool running after a baby, so I tried to walk fast and keep track of her, but I wasn’t fast enough.  Luckily she was distracted  and stopped briefly to check things out before tearing off in another direction, giving me a chance to make up some ground and anticipate where she might go next. 

I know,  I know,  kids should be kept under control and not allowed to run around in a big store,  but she looked like she was having so much fun and so free that I didn’t want to stop her.   As I watched her run,  I thought of the movie, “Chariots of Fire”  I could almost see her running and laughing in slow motion while the music played,  and hear her saying,  “When I run,  I feel His pleasure.”  


     She made it into the women’s clothing and was just short enough that she could run under the blouses and skirts without slowing down. 

This is where I lost track of her. 

I would have to make it to the end of the aisle, or crawl full speed on my hands and knees after her.  Each time I tried to head her off in an aisle, she would see me and laugh like we were playing hide and seek and take off again.  I had almost caught up when she darted out of the last rack of sweaters out into the main thruway of the store.

She ran in front of an obese woman on one of those battery powered shopping carts.  The woman hit the brakes with a surprised look, and it’s a good thing she did or she would have run me down as I was in hot pursuit.  Another mother pushing a shopping cart with two kids of her own in tow was in the southbound lane, and Cali weaved around them waving as she went by,  looking around to see if I was catching up.   She finally stopped near the checkout lines to get her bearings and started to accelerate toward the produce section again,  but I swooped down and picked  her up while her little legs were in full motion and the race was over. 

     I carried her over to where Rose was checking out and we soon exited to the parking lot. Rose gave Cali a little lecture (and me a dirty look) about how bad it is to be running around in the store, and that when she was in the store with mommy she should sit in the cart and be good.  She looked serious for a second, then looked at me and her smiling face said….yeah, right.    We left a couple days later to come home and didn’t get to see if the lecture did any good.   My guess is, her mom and dad  are chasing her around somewhere near the housewares.     

 

 

"Now I've Seen It All" - Suicide

     A policeman never says “now I’ve seen it all”  because we’ve learned there is always something coming up that will make us want to say “now I’ve seen it all.”  

Every cop who has worked a few years whether it is in a big city,  or a small town comes across things and events that are so strange and unexpected that he just comes to expect strange and unexpected things as routine events.   Suicides and attempted suicides are examples of events that make little sense and cause cops to wonder what goes on in people’s minds. Sadly,  depression and suicide are all too common among policemen themselves.   Maybe it’s more contagious that we realize. 

     My partner JQ and I were on patrol one night and we received a call from dispatch that someone had called,  given an address and the rest was pretty much intelligible except for the hysteria and pain in the voice.   We arrived at the address prepared for anything.  

JQ got out of the car and was walking up the sidewalk toward the house with his nightstick in his hand.  I exited the car from the drivers side and was coming up behind him when suddenly the front door opened and a woman came running out toward us screaming something we couldn’t understand.

As she got closer we could see her mouth was all black and foaming,  JQ raised his stick out of fear as though he was ready to knock her down, and she was saying  "Uh,  wak  wayne  ohh.   Uh, wak wayne ohh."

  We couldn’t make it out as she was in obvious agony and spitting foam and debris from her mouth.  Suddenly JQ got it….She said she drank  Drain-O.  

We put her in the car and rushed her to the emergency room.  When we got there,  surprisingly there was no body there; it was an otherwise quiet night.  We sat her on a gurney and I ran down the hallway to find a nurse or doctor.  I ran into a nurse around the corner and told her what we had just brought in, and the ER came alive with  nurses, aides and a doctor. 

The Drain-o was doing what it was made to do.  It was eating up the organic material that was clogging drains,  however this drain,  the woman’s esophagus,  was made of organic material and it was eating her away from her mouth down to her stomach.   The ER staff was able to save her (although she died a few months later).  The doctor told us afterward that she was in great pain now,  but nothing like the pain in a few days when they would have to put a device down her throat and break all the scabs to re-open her esophagus.  

JQ and I left the ER that morning thinking if we ever wanted to commit suicide,  it sure wouldn’t be by drinking Drain-o.

Has The Church Fallen Asleep on Duty ?

Sometimes I wonder if the church has also fallen asleep on duty.    

The church is supposed to be alert and on guard against evil and corruption just like the police department.  How then have strange and unorthodox practices and  doctrines slipped past the gate and into the sheepfold?  

     The church was supposed to be the watchman for our society, but it looks like he has gone to sleep, or is absent without leave.   American society has changed a lot since I started on the police department in 1974,  but it was in the process of slipping backward long before that.  

We have come to tolerate things that never would have been allowed in years gone by.  In 1974 there were still criminal laws on the books  regarding Adultery,  Abortion,  and Sodomy.    No hue and cry came from the church when the laws were changed,  and these things became common practice for consenting adults.  (And abortion sometimes without adult’s consent.)   How did homosexual practice become so accepted that churches are now conducting marriage ceremonies for them,  and how are ordaining avowed, practicing gays and lesbians to be leaders in the church?  How did so many priests get away with abusing altar boys, girls, and children in their parishes for so long without the watchman sounding the alarm?  


Was the watchman asleep when soft-core pornography appeared on TV?  Was he asleep when partial birth abortions were sneaking into acceptance?  Where was he when the state of Pennsylvania  and many other states legalized casino gambling?  Oh,  I guess he was roused a couple of times and put up some feeble protests,  but the gate was wide open and it couldn’t be shut.   

The church has truly become like a night watchman.  We expect him to be awake and alert when in effect he is drowsy and powerless against the evil that has invaded our culture.   He is like a lion without teeth who can only roar weakly, hoping to scare evil away with noise and bluster.  How can the church regain it’s respect and authority in a culture that has begun to ignore the commandments of God?

Jesus,  come again and be our chief.  Show us the way to stand firm for truth.  Expose those within the church that have infiltrated and corrupted us. Lead us back out into the streets to reclaim territory lost to the gangs and mobsters of evil which have taken license by our inactivity and tolerance.  

Sorry,  I didn’t mean to be so preachy. 

Sleeping on Duty

Habitually sleeping on duty is something that is not condoned,  not allowed, not ethical,  not recommended,  and not talked about,  but at times many cops on night shift get to the point where they become more dangerous to themselves and their partners by trying to stay awake on patrol, than if they  just stopped and rested their eyes for a while.   

Many cruisers have been unintentionally wrecked by a driver who wouldn’t give in to the natural desire of the body and brain to go on “pause”  for a while.    Most experienced cops recognize the attack of the “sand monkeys” as one officer called them.  The only defense against them is to park the car in a dark,  secluded spot, and shut the eyes to keep them out.  After about twenty minutes or half an hour they start to slink away, and it’s safe again to drive over to the donut shop for breakfast.  

     Officers usually respect other officers who are fighting the “sand monkeys”  but sometimes the opportunity arises to practice another specialty that cops are noted for,  the practical joke.  Officers have awakened to find their cruisers stuffed with leaves, or objects like discarded toilets on the hood.    Officers who have fallen asleep in the “shotgun seat” have been awakened in the middle of the cemetery by a “ghoul” pounding on the passenger window.  

I was driving one evening as my partner had fallen asleep after eating two Big Mac’s  (they have a tendency to cause drowsiness if eaten in mass quantities).   I received a radio call to proceed to a jewelry store alarm 5 or 6 blocks away.  I turned on the red lights and siren,  which woke my partner up,  and he realized we must be going somewhere important. As I would come to an intersection he would check the traffic and say GO.   After about 3 intersections where he said GO,  the next intersection I slowed and waited for his instruction but nothing came.   I looked over and he was sleeping again,  in the middle of a code three with siren and lights flashing,  he had fallen asleep.   To his credit,  he was having serious personal problems at this time and was spending much of his daylight sleeping time trying to hold his life together. 


      Falling asleep on duty is something that happens to almost every officer on night shift at one time or another,  no matter how virtuous and zealous the officer is.  One officer was “cured” of this bad habit by a knock on his window.  When he opened his eyes, he saw that it was broad daylight and the manager of the bank asked him if he could sleep somewhere else as the customers would like to use the drive-thru window.