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Tom's
Page > Writing > Degrees & Inches -
Chapter Five
| This is an exert from Chapter Five of Degrees
and Inches. Please note that these works must be considered only as 'in progress'. Most of it is in a raw, unedited form. It contains numerous misspellings, grammatical errors, run-ons, fragments and every other possible error. including personal judgement, opinion and stereotyping. But I've found that when the mood to write strikes me I better get my thoughts down on paper. The editing will also take place here so there will be constant changes. |
"Control, three-eleven." "Three-one-one." "Control, repeat the vehicle description reference the armed robbery at the Taco Bell at 71st and 37." The Control operator, Paula Goldman, was also the person who answered the 911 call calming the screaming cashier at Taco Bell. Paula had more time in Communications than 311 had been a deputy. The caller, hysterical and hyperventilating, was carefully and quickly coached into giving a complete and accurate description. The information was quickly re-ordered to make sense and broadcast both by radio and computer. Two units were on the scene, taking the report and waiting for the Homicide and Robbery detective. "Cars northeast and three-eleven. Wanted for the armed robbery of the Taco Bell at 71st and State Road 37 is a black male, mid-twenties, 5' 11", 165 to 175 lbs. Subject was wearing a red baseball cap, glasses, a dark colored shirt, a black Chicago Bull’s jacket, dark pants and white tennis shoes. Subject was armed with a large caliber stainless steel or chrome plated revolver. Last seen south bound on State Road 37 in a red 1997 or 1998 Hyundai 4 door with gold rims bearing Indiana 2003 plate, 49P8169 approximately," she glanced at the clock on her console, "13 minutes ago." Everyone on the channel waited for a moment. MCSD car 311, Mike Smith, was a long-time East Side district car. He was a well known to the point where the burglars and thieves called him by name when he arrested them. It was significant that he was asking for a repeat description of a suspect in an incident that was two jurisdictions and five miles from his district. Paula wanted to ask 311 his location but knew better than to say anything lest she cover his traffic. “Control, three-eleven.” “Three-one-one.” “Control I am following a vehicle south-bound on Shadeland avenue from 30th Street that matches that description except the last three digits on the plate are two-ninety-nine. I'm gonna stop it. I'd like another car over here.” The control operator relaxed slightly. There is no easy way to get from 71st Street and State Road 37 to 30th and Shadeland on the Eastside of Indianapolis. It could be done in thirteen minutes but you had to wind through the jurisdictions of two other police departments and know exactly where you were going. A red Hyundai? Yeah, one or two of them out there- with a different plate number. Still, he was asking for another car… "Three-eleven advise where you're going to make the stop." Paula gently chided the unit to look where he was going to stop the suspect vehicle. Too often officers made stops without thinking. They didn’t always think about where they actually were or relate the fact to the people in Communications. The deputy made a quick glance around looking for landmarks. 311 made it official. "Three-eleven, Signal 27. Southbound Shadeland Avenue. We’ll make it just north of I-70. A red Hyundai 4-door, Indiana plate 49P8299.” "Three-one-one. Unit east to backup three-eleven, Signal 27 southbound Shadeland, north of seventy. “Five-forty-one is close.” “Five-forty-one location?” “21st and Kitley.” “Five-forty-one. Three-one-one your backup is at 21st and Kitley.” "Three-eleven." Mike Smith was starting to feel foolish. He’d gone one the air and asked for a backup. Now everyone was waiting to see what he was going to do. I-70 and Shadeland from 71st and Road 37 in thirteen minutes. “Boy, that’s a reach. 'SOB is probably black and he’ll make a complaint I’m profiling him. Shit!” Traffic stops produce too many dead cops- sometimes because the officer didn’t use his common sense. This deputy took a moment going through his mental checklist before he turned on his lights. "Look for a good place to make the stop." A place with some cover in case he had to abandon his car. The responses to the license plate on his computer inquiry were returning. The license plate was not wanted- the vehicle registration matched the vehicle description. Hmmm, not good. Satisfied, Smith made the stop. Continuing to watch the red car he felt on the console for the slide switch built into the siren box. He pushed the switch past the first two stops- all the way to the right. This is known as “full bozo mode” because it looks like the circus coming to town. The commission's light bar, a Code 3 model 7000 equipped with four strobes, four halogen lights and two led panels capable of over two thousand red and blue flashes per minute came to life. Full Bozo mode turned on more than just the light bar. Not content with simple headlight flashers Deputy Smith installed his own strobes in each headlight housing. The taillight housings contained two more. Even in bright day light the strobes commanded attention. The grille mounted two red and blue seal beam strobes. Two more red and blue strobes were attached to the front of his side-view mirror. A set of led panels were flashing in front of his rear-view mirror. Even the brake and backup lights flashed on and off. Immediately the Hyundai’s brake lights came on, following by the right turn signal- not the normal actions of an armed robbery suspect. The car pulled to the side of the road and stopped. As the police car parked behind the red car Mike hit the switch for the takedown lights (he had four of the usual two) and turned his spot light and placed the beam aircraft landing through the rear window and into the drivers eyes in rear view mirror. He thought about what he would do if the guy in the Hyundai really was a hold-up man and came out with a freakin’ bazooka. He hit the shotgun lock and pulled the Remington 870P from the rack in the roof onto the passenger seat. With the extra white light from his takedowns and the spotlight the deputy noted the two CLERGY stickers in each corner of the rear window. “Wonderful, just fucking wonderful...” he said to himself. “Son of a bitch! Yeah it’s the fucking Concerned Ministers. Probably eleven of them in it. Oh this is going to be lots of fun.” Opening his drive’s door and getting out of his commission the officer also noted the lack of gold rims on his ‘suspect’ vehicle. Reaching for the microphone velcro’ed to his chest, he keyed it, “Control, three-eleven. I don’t think this will be the vehicle. Have five-forty-one disregard.” The dispatcher relaxed- along with everyone on the East Side of Marion County. “Five-forty-one disregard your run.” “Five-forty-one, at 21st and Shadeland”. “Three-eleven do you need anything else there?” “Negative, Dispatch. I’ll be in service in a minute.” Having now let everyone know he didn’t have anything Deputy Smith grabbed his uniform hat and put it on. Normally he wouldn’t even think of putting on his Smokey-the-Bear hat (no one ever does- except maybe the Sheriff) but he reached back into the car for it. “I may get a complaint about stopping this guy”, he thought, “ but at least I’ll have my hat on!” He closed his car door and got out and carefully adjusted the wide brim- just like in his official departmental picture. The driver’s side window on the red car was half way down. The driver, turning his head as far to the left as he could to watch the officer. He tried to look but he was blinded, his eyes squinting at the bright light. The deputy realized that not only were his takedowns and spotlight were still on he now had a flashlight aimed directly into the man’s eyes. As he moved the flashlight’s beam off the driver’s eyes he thought, “well, good. Here’s something else he can complain about.” “Good evening, sir. I, ...”Mike stopped. The flashlight now illuminated a large hole in the open window. More accurately the light focused on a large hole at the end a large handgun. His brain was already saying, “oh, shit!” before his body could respond. The flashlight had blinded the guy who was now he trying to aim the handgun out the window at the source of the light. The deputy shoved the flashlight hard into the suspect’s face with his left hand. The right hand was on his service weapon flipping off the thumb break and other simultaneously pulling back and withdrawing the weapon from the holster. The weapon inside the car fired once missing Smith who jumped to the rear corner of the car for cover. The driver had now extended his entire arm out of the window shooting. A second round blew out the left passenger side window and holed the back window. Two more shots blew through the police car’s windshield. Deputy Smith crouched behind the car reaching for his microphone. Dangerously off balance- his .40 caliber automatic in his right hand- holding the bumper with his left, he decided against trying to talk on the radio. Instead, he released the bumper and pushed the panic button on the top of his radio. With the push of the button on the radio the black border of the dispatcher’s CRT turned red and beeped sharply. Two new windows opened on the control operator’s monitor. The officers personal data flashed in one small box on the screen, another box showed a quarter mile map the center of which the center was the officer’s last known location. “Marion County units we show three-eleven in emergency status, last known location was south-bound Shadeland Avenue just north of I-70. Three-eleven are you okay?” Everyone heard and everyone waited. False alarms are common- the panic button is next to the radio's channel control. It's very easy to accidentally push the button while changing talkgroups. But everyone still listened. The distant district cars were already moving that way- no red lights yet but they were not paying attention to the speed limit, either. “Five-forty-one?” “Five-Forty-one enroute.” Paul Jett acknowledged- wishing he had gone in anyway after 311 disregarded him. He had driven east on 21st Street and was almost to Franklin Road. Now he was blasting though a convenience store parking lot turning back around. He had his own version of Full Bozo Mode and it was operating in high gear as he went west. The scene was repeated by two other district cars leaving the Osco at 11th and Arlington. “Four-seventy-two, Four-sixty-eight?” “We’re both enroute!” barely understood over the noise of the sirens. “Three-eleven?” again inquired the dispatcher. Another dispatcher yelled, “Paula, I got a guy on a car phone that says that there’s a guy shooting up a sheriff’s car at Shadeland and I-70." It was time to send the world. “Code one, shots fired. Shadeland at I-70. Three-eleven is marked out on a traffic stop- a red Hyundai 4-door, 49P8299. Five-forty-one step it up!” Simultaneously other dispatchers were already calling every other agency they could think in the remote possibility they weren’t already monitoring. Code one or signal zero or whatever it is called in jurisdictions across the United States has a single meaning. It does not mean ‘need assistance’ or ‘send back up’. It means simply ‘I’m getting my ass kicked and I need help now!’ Police officers will move heaven and earth to get there and God protect any mere civilian who gets in the way. Police Officers all realize that when everything is going to shit that it won’t be the ACLU who come to help them. It won’t be the TV stations, or the newspapers the county prosecutors. It will be the people who realize how easily it could have been them. The fact that the words ‘shots fired’ were added to ‘code one’ kicked the intensity from a seven to a nine. There were now 23 different police cars from eleven different agencies enroute to Shadeland and Avenue I-70. All of the working east-side Marion County district cars were coming- along with three off-duty units who heard the dispatch. The Indianapolis Police Department, the Lawrence Police, Beech Grove, Warren Park, Cumberland, Warren Township Schools, Indianapolis Park Rangers were all doing there own versions of full bozo mode. State troopers were inbound from Hancock County on I-70 and northbound on I-465 from Emerson Avenue. The dispatcher yelled again, “the guy on the cell phone says the deputy got shot!” “Units enroute to Shadeland and I-70. We have a report of an officer down.” The intensity was now 10. EMS also listened. Two basic life support ambulance and three advanced life support units were dispatched before the police dispatchers could ask. The medical services dispatchers began their own response alerting the two closest trauma centers of a possible inbound gunshot wound. But the trauma centers were listening, too. They were already paging their own personnel when the calls started. Deputy Mike Smith was on his back. For just an instant the driver stopped shooting and he had his automatic up over his head, parallel to the trunk loosening several rounds- shooting blind. He remembered trying to get to the microphone to tell someone to help him. But now he just wanted to close his eyes and rest. © Thomas N. Wood, 2002-2004 All Rights Reserved This work, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written consent of the author. |
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