Cold Case In Ellyson

Police work is in my blood, genes, that is. My grandfather was Sheriff in Alabama for many years in the 50s. I imagine back then that law enforcement officers were treated with more respect than today, that crime wasn’t as rampant, that you only had to carry one weapon, and then, not always. My grandfather was 6’3″ or so, and I’m a whole foot shorter. I wonder what he would have thought – seeing his granddaughter in a gun belt – seeing a woman in a gun belt…

As a police officer, a call about a family disturbance can mean many things from a verbal argument to a homicide. That’s why they’re considered one of the most dangerous calls – police officers have to be prepared for anything. One of the few times I had to draw my gun was at a family disturbance call. After threatening my partner with a weapon, I had no choice but to up the ante. In those moments, police officers become judge, jury and sometimes executioner. It’s not an enviable position. Remember that next time you see a cop. Be polite. You don’t know the day they’ve had.

So I’ve talked about some of my police work that provides much of the detail in Cold Case in Ellyson, but there is another side to me, the girly girl, the debutante. Who cares? you must be asking yourself… But it is important to the story. I am more than one kind of person, and you are, too, whether or not you’ve given yourself permission to explore your different facets. No one should be pigeon-holed as one type of person. The nerd can be an athlete, too; the beauty, an intellect; the debutante, a police woman. Which facet of yourself have you ignored?

My partner (and by that I don’t mean someone who sits in the car with me – I mean someone who works the same shift as I do) was our K9 officer. His German Shepherd was like any other dog, lounged around the PD, carried a stuffed animal in his mouth, liked to be scratched behind the ears..until he was called to duty. One word uttered from my partner, and it was ears straight up, body rigid, ready to ride…I talk about in my book how it was training with him…when I was the “bad guy.” This 90 pound dog ran after me at full speed (I had a head start), leapped into the air, grabed my arm (covered in a burlap padded sleeve thank goodness) and yanked me to the ground. It didn’t take long….for that moment when I thought to myself what the heck am I doing, letting myself be chased by Cujo, hell, volunteering for the job. In all the tussle I was unharmed, but I did have Stephen King kind of nightmares for a long time.

When I decided to leave police work and get my master’s in English, I never dreamed I would have to read so much. Of course, most all of the books we studied were the classics written by authors such as Shakespeare, Plato, Steinbeck, Fitzgerald, Faulkner, Hemingway, Melville, just to name a few. I fell in love with their words and ways, absorbed every metaphor and trope they used…I treasured every paperback and kept them all, lined and stacked them on the bookshelves of my home to reread someday and share with my boys when they were older. But the winds blew. Hurricane Ivan flooded our home and along with everything else, destroyed every book I ever owned. I say that, never having seen one cover or one page – the books just melted into the bay water that took memories and mementos. In the years since, I’ve tried to rebuild that collection, and although we lost most everything we owned, it’s the books and pictures that I long for the most.

…a group of teenagers walked up the hill and right into the middle of our “takedown” complete with our drawn (but unloaded) firearms. In the instant they reached us, the teens screamed and ran full speed back down the hill. We never had a chance to explain what was going on. It was a scene fit for the big screen, maybe even Police Academy, the movie!

To work as a police officer, you have to go to the police academy first. My program was nearly nine months of nightly training in a variety of disciplines including legal, first responder, physical training, tactical training, firearms and other areas germaine to police work including driving…Our instructors were tough and smart, and the students, mostly scared, mostly smart, but some not so much. One of the women in the class thought miming was a form of communication that could be used on the job. She didn’t graduate, and justifyable so. There were many funny stories, but this one was the best. We were practicing felony takedowns in an empty parking lot at the top of a hill behind the school. Here’s the scene: A cadet was sitting in a parked car and two other cadets were practicing the takedown one holding an unloaded shotgun and the other holding an unloaded handgun. We were yelling at the “suspect” in the car to get out, put the keys on the roof, hands on your head, yadda yadda when all of the sudden… (read the rest of the story tomorrow)

I’ve pulled in behind him at a gas station, and asked him for his driver’s license and insurance. I walk slowly back to my police car, stalling for time. After a few moments, I return to his car to tell him I’m going to give him this cheesy ticket and return to my car to write it. I’m waiting and waiting for the sheriff’s department to show up, but nothing…I return to the suspect, apologize for taking so long, “I haven’t been doing this long, filled the first ticket out incorrectly, so sorry, so sorry…” trying to keep him from getting suspicious at the inordinate amount of time this is all taking…(we’re allowed to lie about certain things). Finally the deputies arrive, serve their warrant, cuff him and secure him in their car. They asked me to search his vehicle. There, beneath the driver’s seat, is a loaded hand gun. Like I said, guns and no roses.

You forget, just sometimes, that there’s a gun strapped to your side when your working the streets. You remember, immediately, when there’s a threat to your life. I was working one day when the sheriff’s department sent out a BOLO (be on the lookout) for a particular car with a certain plate. The department had a newly-issued warrant and wanted the suspect stopped and detained so they could serve him. Guess who found him? Yep. When I radioed into dispatch that I was about to pull him over, I was told to keep him there – the deputies would be there in 10 minutes or so. When I realized I was behind the car they wanted, I had to come up with a legal reason to stop him. It was a cheesy one, I admit – broken taillight or expired tag…but that’s all I needed. (tune in to tomorrow for the rest of the story)

There’s a misconception out there that all cops eat donuts, are overweight and out of shape. In my particular department, 90 percent of the officers were in shape and cared about their health and appearance. But for me, especially as a 5′ 4″ 120 pound woman, I wanted my fellow officers to know that I would be in the best shape I could be to be a help to them and our community. I applaud all departments that establish officer guidelines for speed and strength. Too often it’s only the SWAT team members who are prepared to deal with the people and obstacles that the police face every day. Clearly police work is physical. And the officers who are on the job should be too.