Police Ride Along

Hello All,

As most of you know I am currently in law school, and am seriously considering specializing in criminal defense. At present I am in a clinic where I represent the accused. I just settled my first case this Friday, which was both exciting and empowering. The following post is quite long, and I don't expect that most of you will read the whole thing, but it is the first draft of an observation report that I am required to do as part of my criminal defense clinic. It details not only the experience I had riding with a police officer during his midnight shift, but also some general thoughts about criminal defense work, and why I am drawn to it. Please feel free to comment.

Ride Along Observation Report

Being a defense attorney requires a view towards humanity that sees people not as simply falling into either one of two categories; criminal or non-criminal, but rather having an understanding that life is unexplainably complex, and society is best served by standing up for those who have made poor choices, helping them take a realistic look at their behavior, determining an appropriate sanction for their culpable actions, and in a perfect world, assisting the individual in heading down a path that leads towards redemption, rather than persecution (and subsequent prosecution.) Because one of a defense attorney’s primary goals is getting his client out of jail as soon as possible, and striving for either a not-guilty verdict, or a just plea agreement, this world view is necessary. A police officer on the other hand has the difficult task of answering not to the needs of the detained individual, but rather to the community that wants retribution, his colleagues who take pleasure out of mocking people’s stupidity, and his superiors who expect the case to stick. If there is one motto at the Longmont police department it is this; CYA, “cover your ass.” Riding along with officer Pollock of the Longmont Police Department gave me incredible insight into the duties, struggles, and strategies of at least one officer set with the daily task of keeping the streets safe, and cracking down on the drug, prostitution and gang problems that the city faces.
Pollock’s first impression of me, and perhaps his last, was skeptical. As an individual in my eighth year of post high school education, there were several assumptions that Pollock maintained:
“You smoke weed man.”
“No.”
“Not even a little, c’mon.”
I laughed uncomfortably. “Nah, not even a little.”
As a trained investigator, Pollock was good at being my buddy, and made me feel both comfortable and at ease. I’m sure that lots of individuals he asks this question to have no problem admitting to getting high every now and again. No big deal, right. I have no idea how Pollock would have responded if I told him that I get high on occasion, nor do I want to know.
I did ask him however what the drug testing policy was at the department. They are subject to drug testing, although in practice it only happens after an accident involving an officer. If they have any alcohol or drugs in their system then good bye workers comp. Apparently medical marijuana has thrown a wrench into the works, so to speak. Because of HIPPA laws, it is conceivable that an officer might legally be entitled to smoke pot on occasion without alerting his superiors (obviously not while on duty.) However, Pollock maintained that this is not likely the case due to the fact that in order to obtain a medical marijuana card you have to show some disability, which would likely preclude an officer from passing their physical exam. The real problem, he told me, is when they find somebody with plants in their house. The department policy is to destroy them, however, an individual with a medical marijuana card is allowed to grow a set number. The primary issue is one of proof: does the homeowner have a legitimate card? If not, but they claim to, is the officer putting himself at risk by destroying the plants when they are potentially legal? CYA in this instance means erring on the side of caution and assuming the role of caretaker rather than destroyer.
The next assumption was, predictably, politics:
“You watch the debates?” he asked me.
“Yea.”
“Well, who do you think won?”
“Hmm….It’s hard to say I guess. I felt like Obama was more articulate, and was better able to address the questions and give specific examples of solutions to problems.”
“A couple of guys on the force that I talked to thought McCain was better. Who are you voting for?”
“Probably Obama” (the probably stemmed from an awkwardness arising out of this reprehensible quality of mine where I care way too much about what other people think about me.)
“They probably make you say that though, don’t they?”
“No. Obama is a really intelligent guy. He graduated from Harvard Law, and was president of the Law review”
“McCain flew a jet. You have to be smart to do that.”
There is certainly truth to that. Pollock had countless number of controls at his disposal, and was continuously entering information into his computer while driving (and also chatting via computer with other officers.) Pollock had also spent several years “in the desert” before he came to the force, and I’m sure that he operated some heavy machinery there as well. While this capacity isn’t my gauge of ones’ intelligence, it certainly can be another’s, and that is where our conversation on politics ended.
Pollock’s beat was in my neighborhood, which he informed me was shit. Truth be told, the bulk of the action that we saw occurred within a five block radius of my home. At about two in the morning we got a call from dispatch saying that there was a loud verbal dispute in my neck of the woods, and responded immediately. Pollock didn’t like dealing with domestic disputes, he preferred to focus on areas where there was known drug dealing. In fact he seemed quite annoyed whenever dispatch would call, often complaining that the location was outside of his beat, or that the dispute would be over by the time we got there, and finally that it would ultimately result in a drug dealer or user getting out of his sights and getting away. Pollock had what he called his “pet project” behind a used car lot, adjacent to both storage units and a trailer park. We drove through this area at least five times during the shift, locating a potential drug dealer there at least once. As we were waiting across the street for the suspected dealer to drive away we were dispatched to a complaint of kids across town playing kick ball and keeping the neighbors up. Understandably, Pollock was upset.
When we arrived at the domestic dispute we could hear a woman yelling at the top of her lungs at a man. She sounded drunk at least. We parked a block away and approached without flashlights. When we were within her sights she immediately got quiet and casually walked off of her front porch and into her house. Pollock turned his flashlight on and shone it into the alley behind the house. She was running. He gave her chase, and I jogged slightly behind wondering what the appropriate thing to do in this situation was. Within a matter of seconds she stopped and put her hands above her head, and officer Pollock was questioning her. Why were you running? Was there any physical contact? Have you been arrested for domestic violence before? Do you have any drugs or weapons on you? And more of the same. After a short while Pollock remembered this individual: “you’re ‘Peppe’ right?” She was. Furthermore, officer Pollock had arrested her several years ago for possession of 1.2 grams of either meth or coke. We never did get that straight. She got a two year bid, and had just gotten out in January of this year. She didn’t forget officer Pollock either.
“You put me away for two years for less than a fucking gram man. Two fucking years.”
Throughout the morning she kept reminding Pollock that he had put her away for two years for less than a gram. I asked her how 1.2 grams is less than a gram, and she shook her head at me, as if I just didn’t get it. Pollock explained the reasoning for the sentence. Apparently Peppe used to be a good informant back in the 1980’s. When she was arrested a few years ago she gave the police a lot of information on this guy Donald in order to mitigate her situation. The swat force had gotten all dressed up and ready for a big bust, only to find out that Donald was in detox. The detectives were so pissed that they asked Pollock to charge her with everything conceivable. He did, and she paid the price. Lesson: keep your mouth shut and lawyer up.
Pollock asked Peppe if she had any warrants out for her arrest, and she responded that she wasn’t aware of any. Pollock made a call, and sure enough she had a warrant. She thought it had to do with restitution, but that didn’t make much sense if her former charge had to do with drugs. All we knew was that the warrant had to do with failing to meet some requirement of the court, and that she had to come with us to the station. Pollock asked her again if she had any drugs. Her mantra then became: “I am so fucking clean it is UNREAL.” Over and over and over again.
Back at the police station Pollock filled out all the necessary paperwork, which was considerable. Peppe’s warrant was for a felony, so her bond was set at $10,000. There was an extended conversation about whether it was a felony misdemeanor or misdemeanor felony, neither of which exist, but which Peppe was convinced would somehow lessen the bond amount. Pollock was quite amused, and made sure to share the story with his colleagues. He was not amused, however, at the amount of paperwork that even a relatively minor incident such as this entailed. There was the requisite narrative that had to describe the entire event in detail, as well as entering loads of information into several databases. All told there were at least three reports that had to go out; one for the jail, one for the DA, and one for his superiors. Pollock found this to be somewhat burdensome and absurd. Although Pollock could have charged Peppe for obstruction of justice because she ran from us he did not choose to do so. The paperwork would have been the same, but he simply made a judgment call, which seemed in my mind to be the right one.
The other act of kindness was letting an underage kid that had obviously been drinking and driving off the hook (relatively). At four in the morning we were called to the park that my wife and I take our daughter to at least once a week to play on the swings and with other neighborhood kids her age. Somebody had driven their car into the river that runs through the park. Nobody was hurt, but the car was at a 45 degree angle, partially submerged, and not going anywhere. There were tracks throughout the park, indicating that the driver was going for ride, and must not have been too familiar with that fact that there was a river running through the park. He told the other officer on the scene that he was driving fast through the neighborhood and lost control. After performing well on a field sobriety test he was arrested and taken to the precinct.
The individual that Pollock dealt with was the arestee’s friend who drove his parents heavy duty truck to the scene in an attempt to pull his friends car out of the river (with a light duty rope no less). Fortunately for him the police showed up before he could attempt to pull the car out of the river. The rigging was in place, and the truck was on the grass. Throughout the shift Pollock had been telling me about random arrests he had made, and some of the stupider behaviors he had observed. At the scene Pollock whispered to me, remember that kid that I told you I arrested in the park for selling weed; that’s him. Pollock obtained consent to search the truck, and there was nothing inside. He could smell alcohol on the kid’s breath, and got him to admit to having a couple beers earlier in the evening. Because this kid was only 19, he could have arrested him then and there for a DUI. However, because he was helping a friend out (even though the more responsible thing to do was call the police), he let the kid call his parents to come pick up the truck. The other officer on the scene wrote a ticket for curfew violation in the park, and after the kid’s parents arrived he was able to go home.
A large amount of discretion comes with being a police officer, and it is through this discretion that a majority of moral dilemmas are encountered. Were I in Pollock’s situation, I think I too would have let the Good Samaritan friend go. However, he had a bruise on his forehead, which he alleged was from a different incident, but surely could have been an indication that he was driving with his friend, and after exiting the crashed vehicle ran home to get his parent’s truck to remedy the situation. After locating a known prostitute enter into a vehicle and engaging in pursuit, we were faced with the decision of whether or not to pull the car over. We hadn’t seen any solicitation, so we were looking for the driver to do something wrong. Pollock cursed the fact that the driver wasn’t changing lanes. He told me that the easiest way to pull someone over was if they didn’t signal for 100 yards before making a turn. After following this car for at least a mile the driver signaled and changed lanes. Everything seemed kosher to me, but Pollock turned to me and said “that wasn’t 100 yards was it?” I gave him a skeptical look and we turned around. At other times in the evening we waited near a parking lot outside of the local bars. Whenever somebody would leave we would follow them for a while waiting for them to make a mistake. Pollock asked if I had a problem with this practice, and I told him as long as somebody made an actual traffic violation, and any subsequent search of their car was either consensual or limited to an area where a weapon might be hidden I thought it was okay. He told me that some people thought it was entrapment, and also that more times than not he would find drugs during these stops. Another point in the evening we were dispatched to a young man who called the police because a woman was chasing him down the street. The officers had a field day with this. “Man up,” “are you kidding me,” “you know he committed a crime, and she responded to that.” Pollock told me when he started the job he was way more of an idealist. Now he had come to the conclusion that victims are hardly ever innocent. One officer told me he was glad that us defense attorneys had an opportunity to see the criminals as they actually were, not the way they appeared before a judge. We located the individual with the complaint but didn’t do any follow up.
Although police officers wield a hefty amount of power, I do not envy their position. Would Pollock have pulled over the alleged prostitute, knowing the high probability of finding drugs in the vehicle, if I weren’t there to question the validity of the stop? Would a defense attorney have been able to suppress anything found during the search as fruit from the poisonous tree? Would the driver have been able to obtain a competent attorney willing to advance such a theory? Would the officer change his testimony to cover his ass if such a suppression hearing took place? I do not want to pass judgment on Pollock, and cannot say for certain how he would have responded to different events had I not been there. I do know that he took the job with an eye for keeping the public safe. The disdain that he carries for certain judges that “may as well be defense attorneys” seems somewhat more understandable to me now than it did before. My responsibility, however, is a different one than Pollock’s. With great power comes the potential for abuse. My job is to make sure that power is not abused, and that everybody is granted the rights vested by our constitution. In this sense I too am keeping the public safe, albeit in a different context.