Stories from the Squad Car: A Day in the Life

I wake up two hours before my shift. I’m exhausted. It’s day three of four straight on the graveyard shift. I ended my tour that morning at 8 a.m. but stayed around until 10 a.m. for court. It was waived when the defense attorney saw the officer and victim showed up so I had time to scurry home and sleep for a couple of hours before the next court appearance at 2 p.m. Shortly after settling under the covers, I received good news that I wouldn’t be needed for court again. I drifted back to sleep until I partake in dad duties when my son gets home from school. Six hours of broken sleep for the day. “That was enough,” I tell myself.

Preparing for My Shift

I start my evening routine. The kids run wild in the house while my wife plays the role of single parent so I could sleep. She deals with the chaos at home so I can be rested for the chaos at work. She makes it work — somehow. Everything is charged: radio, flashlight, backup flashlight, shoulder flashlight, and pistol and rifle weapon lights. My boots get a once over with polish as I wipe bits of grass and seeds out of the laces from the foot pursuit the night before.

Dinner is already out and the kids are somewhat calm now that they have food. We finish dinner and I try to get them settled for bed. I’m not always the best at this. I’m their wrestling mate, rodeo partner, or Nerf Gun opponent a little too close to bed too often. My poor spouse.

I finally don my gear. I remember wearing it for the first time. The pinpricks on my back and the itchiness of the Kevlar was uncomfortable but oddly comforting. Twenty-eight pounds — the daily weight of a full-duty belt, backup pistol, vest, uniform, and boots. I cinch the belt down to a comfortable level. Too tight or too loose and my back will hurt midway through the shift. It’s a careful balance.

I walk towards the door and load my car up. I kiss my wife and kids goodnight. It’s an unspoken rule in our household. My son gives me a quick kiss and hugs before I leave while my daughter, too young to know otherwise, makes a game of it. I walk out the door after saying, “I love you.”

The drive into work varies but I have 20 minutes to put myself into that mindset. I alter the person I am as a husband and a father and get my mind ready for the unpredictable nature of the profession. I must be calm, collected, fair, and level-headed to succeed on the job.

Briefing

I step into briefing. Mostly our squad talks shop about the latest gossip within the department or the doings of our customers. We laugh and joke for the most part. A natural part of the profession is the unrequited trash-talking of your peers. If they say it to your face, you’re probably well-liked.

The overnight watch commander steps in and begins briefing. She gives the latest rundown of new wanted subjects, problem areas, and “problem children.” The temperatures have jumped as we enter summer. This means more shootings, robberies, vehicle break-ins, and general stupidity. No one likes the cold weather — even criminals. As odd as it may seem, crime has seasons. Domestic assaults are more common in the colder months as everyone is cooped up inside. More cars are left running unattended to warm up and get stolen. To every season there is a crime.

cop holding a racoon
Some calls are more memorable than others – like getting to hold a live raccoon you wrangled out of someone’s house.

Night Shift

As the briefing ends, I step into the warm humid air of the night. I get logged in for my assigned zone. It’s a beat in the northeast side of town with a mixture of hotels, businesses, and homes. Working this area offers a variety of calls — both proactive (the crimes I find) and reactive (the possible crimes reported to 911). The motels attract legitimate travelers and those sordid individuals seeking to conduct their illicit business activities from the cover of a shady motel room.

I check my CAD (computer-aided dispatch) and see no calls pending for my area. I start checking my problem addresses. These are the hot spots for drugs, stolen vehicles, and warrants. They’re oddly quiet for this time of night. If you hunt a spot too much, you’re bound to scare away the game for some time. I move on. My CAD suddenly dings and dispatch calls out my radio number. It’s an alarm at a business. I look at the call history and it has multiple prior calls for alarms. I park out of sight. Even with numerous prior false alarms, there’s always the prospect that this is “the one.” I check the doors and peek into windows. Nothing is out of place, broken, or forced. There are no vehicles in the lot. False alarm it is then.

My night progresses as the calls trickle in. Someone heard a couple of gunshots near their house. I make my way there, ever observant to vehicles driving away from where the call is. Foot traffic gets just as much attention. No one seems to be in a rush to get away. I stop and ask a woman a block away if she heard anything. She looks at me puzzled, says no, and continues trudging along to her destination.

I approach the area and see nothing. No damage. No people. No shell casings. Nothing to lead me to where the shots came from. I’m acutely aware of my surroundings. There is always the likelihood of an ambush. For many cops, this is what they’re told in the academy. For me, my first shots call ended with my partner and I shot at. It was no longer theory for me, it was experience. I clear this call “GOA” (gone on arrival).

Arrest

As I drive along, a flashlight shimmers from behind a closed strip mall. I park my car, blacked out, down the street and asked for another unit. I see a male behind the strip mall with a bag open and his belongings strewn across the ground. A flashlight is in his mouth as he digs through the bag. I announce myself and he startles at my sudden appearance. Nervously looking around and breathing heavily, he stutters that he stopped to get something from his bag.

I see a methamphetamine pipe amongst his belongings on the ground. He doesn’t see my glance at it and I don’t confront him. If I confront him, he may run, fight, or attempt to do something else stupid. He’s in fight or flight mode. I’ve seen this behavior before. I chat with him while getting his name and casually walk to his side. Before he can turn, I have hold of one of his arms and tell him to put his hands behind his back. He complies. Most folks do and luckily he wasn’t the exception. As my backup arrives, the hum of dispatch keys up in my ear that the male has a warrant for burglary. Off to jail we go.

Casual conversation ensues with my customer on our way to jail. Most folks who fall on the wrong side of the law aren’t necessarily bad people. They undoubtedly have poor judgment. They know what they’re doing is wrong but do it anyways. I book my latest customer into jail and move on to the next call.

Social Mediator

Alarms, suspicious persons, and so on continue to flow in throughout the night. I backup another officer at a domestic disturbance. The argument? She hid his bottle of vodka and he’s pissed about it. After several minutes of circular conversation that can only be expected from a drunk, he finally agrees she didn’t hide it and the bottle at his feet is the one he couldn’t find. With no crime, we leave him to sleep in the doghouse for the night.

The night progresses like the job normally is 90% of the time. Law enforcement plays the role of society’s mediator. Our job is predominantly to mediate conflict. The local gas station wants an urban outdoorsman moved along, so we politely tell him to do so. We’re on a first-name basis from running into him so much and have a polite conversation before he moves on. I undoubtedly know we’ll deal with him again and pray he isn’t drunk or high. My last encounter with him was memorable. He was in a heated argument with a potted plant on the porch of a house when I arrived and said aliens were hiding bodies in the attic. Perfectly reasonable from his perspective. The ensuing foot pursuit and struggle were less than enjoyable for both of us.

cop covered in mud after wrestling with a suspect
Not all calls are “routine”. This photo was after the author and several other officers wrestled with a suspect high on a cocktail of drugs.

Finishing the Shift

As we enter the twilight hours, I catch up on reports. Law enforcement is about documentation. I write a report on my warrant arrest. I write a report on the alarm from earlier. Those are simple and take a few minutes. The burglary and domestic assault reports from the night before are several pages long and stand as a narrative of humanity’s inability to leave other people’s things alone and keep their hands to themselves.

As the morning light and shift change approaches, I’m sent to assist another officer with removing an unwanted guest at a duplex. We’re greeted by the homeowner who “out of the goodness of his heart” let one of our local prostitutes stay at his residence for the night. Conveniently, she doesn’t want to leave. Our dear lady of the night is eventually convinced to move along, but not before she has some choice words for us. Always a joy dealing with her. We certainly won’t be friending each other on social media anytime soon.

The remaining hour of our tour is unremarkable as we await day shift’s arrival. Last night wasn’t too bad — 20 calls. This night will be largely unremarkable. Most unremarkable and unmemorable nights are good nights. This profession makes for entertaining stories but it makes for unimaginable heartbreak. The memorable nights are often not good nights.

A Day in the Life

Dead children, mangled bodies in car wrecks, and brutal assaults are just the beginning of the nights many of us in the profession would prefer to forget. There are nights when I’ve come home and cried. There are the ones where I hug my family a little tighter because of the loss seen. I’ve had several nights where I was grateful I came home. The worst nights have been the ones when those we trusted our lives alongside didn’t come home or were injured doing the same job we do.

I’m not the only one to share these experiences. This profession is very unforgiving and a single day on the job can have lifelong consequences. Nevertheless, some days are better than others. For me, I was grateful this day was not a memorable one for the bad things. It was memorable because it wasn’t.

Tom Stilson began his firearms career in 2012 working a gun store counter. He progressed to conducting appraisals for fine and collectible firearms before working as the firearms compliance merchant for a major outdoor retailer. In 2015, he entered public service and began his law enforcement career. Tom has a range of experience working for big and small as well as urban and rural agencies. Among his qualifications, Tom is certified as a firearms instructor, field trainer, and in special weapons and tactics. If not on his backyard range, he spends his time with family or spreading his passion for firearms and law enforcement.

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