Cold Case In Ellyson

I don’t know how football players do it…of course, I’ve never played the sport, but donning those pads on their shoulders and thighs, and wearing the helmet must make running fast a little more challenging.

That’s what I learned the first time I ran after a suspect wearing my gun belt. The gun belt isn’t just a belt; it has compartments for all the little goodies you’re toting like a Glock .40, pepper spray, radio, baton, and handcuffs (two pair). I felt like I was running in place. I forgot to mention the bulletproof vest – no dainty thing either. Like a football player, we have to protect ourselves (and others) from the offender, sacrificing speed for our safety.

Okay, not exactly. But she did spy on people by using approved methods like the ever-present, ever-on scanner. Why she originally got one I’ll never know. But she loved listening to the police and emergency personnel over the airways to find out where the action was. That’s how she found out my Dad was about to be arrested. A hurricane was threatening in the 1970s. We lived on a bay, and my father was in the process of raising up what he could off the ground and moving the rest to the second story. My mom had the scanner on upstairs as she packed. She happened to hear a call go out about a stubborn homeowner who refused to evacuate until everything was ready. They called out the address and the dispatcher relayed a message that the sheriff wanted him brought in for his own safety. Mom flew down the stairs and warned my Dad. She assured the police we were leaving within minutes, and we did. I come from a family of spies and law enforcement officers…maybe I’m watching you;)

Our local paper recently reported on an arrest of one of its own for domestic violence. But police officers should know better, you’re thinking. You’re right, of course. We expect them to abide by the same laws that they are required to enforce. But like all humans, we make mistakes, sometimes huge ones. Take Tiger Woods. Great golfer, nice looking – a gentleman playing a gentleman’s sport. That is, until he’s not. We have certain expectations – that police officers shouldn’t commit crimes, that legends and heros should never fail. Is that fair? I’d like to know what you think…

I visited Brewton, Alabama earlier this week to introduce myself to their newspaper staff. Just like you would expect, I was greeted with Southern hospitality. Even though my family from there has long-since died or moved away, they were interested in hearing my legacy of law enforcement that began with my grandfather who served as sheriff of their county seat. Although the “town square” I describe in my book is more from my imagination than from Brewton, the feel I tried to recreate is set deep in the town’s heart. Have you visited a small, Southern town lately? If not, you’re missing something..

Someone asked me if the character “Joe” was based on a real person. He is. Today my former partner “Joe” is employed by the FBI still based in the South. We still keep in touch; he came over for dessert last Christmas. “Joe” is not only a good friend, but he is also an excellent law enforcement agent. I was lucky to work with and learn from him. For him, though, I was often his comic relief. More to come on that later, maybe….

When you work for a small department like I did, most of the time there are only two patrol officers on duty. I was fortunate to have a like-minded partner. Neither one of us cared much about minor speeding violations or blinker usage. Our interest was in finding bad guys – users, dealers, felons. And working with those kinds of criminals, it’s better to work in tandum. But one time I didn’t.

If you’ve read my book, Cold Case in Ellyson, you’ll remember the 4th of July celebration. It was one of the most frightening moments I had as a police officer. But, as the ad says, I never let them see me sweat. Trust me, there were puddles at my feet. On the job or in life, no one should take either road alone.

I’m not a big person – I know that. I’m rather short, not fat – just proportional. I guess that’s why so many people are shocked that I used to be a police officer. I had tools, of course, to level the playing field on the job, but most often my words were able to control most situations. I was only injured once, and not badly, but a big guy just mowed me down as he ran away from my partner and me. Of course I popped up and gave chase, and we eventually caught him (with more help), but it was a reminder that not all people will responsibly respond to verbal commands.

I think of this only because of the recent movie The Blind Side. The Tuohy family, namely Leigh Anne, the matriach, was able to change the course of Michael Oher’s life with her words. A tiny woman, Leigh Anne used her words and compassion to take a young man off the streets and allow him to reach his potential both in school and off the football field.

What does that have to do with police work? Never underestimate the power of small women with big words…

Someone asked me if the scene of the chase through the woods with the K9 was true or not. You bet. It was a surreal night, almost exactly as I wrote it. I consider myself an adrenaline junky, and that search met all my heart-racing needs…

Did you know that to carry pepper spray in Florida as a police office, you must first be sprayed with it? When I joined my department, two men and I met in street clothes and old T-shirts for the “blessing.” Each of us had a bucket of cold water with which to rinse. We each took a shot straight to the eyes (which were closed) and had to wait a second or two before dunking our heads into the water for a little relief. The thing with pepper spray is, just lilke a burn to your hand, it feels okay when it’s submerged, but not so hot when it’s out of the water. So the longer I could hold my breath, the more relief I could feel. Everytime I brought my head up from the water, I could hear the two other guys screaming and cussing. I realized they had never been through childbirth.

At some point, you have to give up on the dunking and move on with your life. Keeping my head out of the water was challenging. I used a towel to wipe off what I could. The burning eased up until I took a shower, and no matter how cold the water, just like with a sunburn, it still stung.

Pepper spray is tough stuff. In the right situation, it’s a powerful tool. Trust me, I know.

Well, I am. And I have  a book to prove it.  It’s called Cold Case in Ellyson.  Why “Cold Case?” In my varied life’s experiences, I was a cop in a small town. Why “Ellyson?” It’s an area near where I grew up in the South.  And what makes me a writer?  I’ve always had a love for the written word and followed that up with an education to help me do it well. 

This blog will serve as my tool to write about whatever strikes me, be it police related, book related or something else that moves me…

I hope you’ll want to be a part of this ride. There’s one thing you need to know before we take off together, however…expect the unexpected.