Memoirs of a Playground Cop: A Day in the Life of a School Police Officer

By Rene Ortega

Most students lack any form of discipline or restraint in the classroom. Parents condone their childrens behavior. School administrators exhibit a god complex, and school police officers are caught in between the web of school politics that often interferes in enforcing the law equally to all.

Today, students adverse behavior in the classroom no longer constitutes a delinquent conduct as per classroom discipline management rules, but rather, an act that has manifests itself into a criminal offense. Students are empowered to act bad when their own parents themselves refuse to correct their childrens maladaptive behavior by blaming others for their short comings. And this problem is further exasperated by school administrators who either use a strong arm tactic to curtail the problem or a too soft a hand to make an impression to get a child to exhibit positive behavior in the classroom. School administrators have a God complex where they walk around their campus expecting everyone, including school police officers, to do their biting. School administrators try to instill their own brand of justice by picking and choosing which students are to be charged with a criminal offense while others are allowed to continue their maladaptive behaviors. School police officers find themselves in a very precarious situation where they must wear different hats to address different issues that arise in the classroom. School police officers are like band-aides that are place on a wound, it is a cure all fix all approach to making problems go away, unfortunately, when dealing with the school community school police officers, and law enforcement in general, cannot use a band-aide to make things better as police work in a school setting is a web of complex issues that fosters misunderstanding among members of the school and law enforcement communities.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 20, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452087436

Rene Ortega

Rene Ortega is a police sergeant with El Paso Independent School District Police Department. Sergeant Rene Ortega graduated from Eastwood High School in 1986, and went on to attend and graduate from the University of Texas at El Paso in 1991 with a bachelors Degree in Criminal Justice. Some years later Sergeant Rene Ortega attended graduate school at the University of Texas at El Paso where he completed his Masters Degree program in Educational Administration in 2004. Sergeant Rene Ortega also teaches freshmen and sophomore College Level Reading courses at El Paso Community College. Sergeant Rene Ortega, a native of East Los Angeles, currently lives and works in El Paso, Texas.

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Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

One

Police work? You are probably asking yourself, Why would anyone consider law enforcement a career? As you know, police work is not for everyone; however, I do believe that police work is a very noble profession that requires the officer to be beyond reproach from any negative influence, to in-still peace that promotes better living conditions that fosters learning and a healthy lifestyle. For me, I would have never considered police work as a career had it not been for substantial events in my life that altered my way of viewing life in its present form.

I remember growing up in the mean streets of East Los Angeles by way of Whittier, California. My siblings and I had to learn quickly to be street smart in order to survive the unpredictability of violence living in communities where violence was a way of life. I know I was exposed to crime and violence at a very young age. I remember waking up from an afternoon nap, walking to the front door to go outside when I ran into a Los Angeles County deputy sheriff. I saw members of the SWAT team squatting in front of my porch holding a long rifle and pointing it across the street. As I stood there watching the commotion, my mom, who was already hiding behind the wall of her bedroom, saw and pulled me out of the doorway like a rag doll. I do not quite remember what my mother was telling me at the time, but I know that she was cussing me out in Spanish. I did not know any better. What do you expect from a five year old? I do not remember who else was home at the time of the SWAT stand off. It seemed hours before it was okay to come out of hiding to resume the living duties. I remember hearing one of the sheriff deputies telling my mom that there was a man, our neighbor across the street, who had taken his wife or girlfriend hostage over a domestic dispute. I believe they were able to coach the man out of his home and arrested him. Another of our neighbors, who belonged to a car club of low riders, was often involved in gang fights with rival gang members from across the 605 freeway. However, for the most part, our neighborhood was pretty quiet. Our neighborhood was not run down or in a dilapidated condition; rather, the houses well kept, the people that lived in the neighborhood consisted of a working middle class.

My first experience with law enforcement as a child was when my distant cousin came over to the house one day in her police cruiser. At first, I did not know what to make of her. I saw that she was wearing the light tan and green uniform worn by the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Office. My cousin patrolled East Los Angeles, and one of her duty Stations was Whittier. My cousin stopped by our house regularly to see how we were doing or sometimes just to visit. There were times when her police cruiser was parked in front of the house. I would sometimes try to climb in to see what her police cruiser looked like from the inside. Sometimes I would tell my friends, that my cousin was the sheriff of Los Angeles County, not realizing what I was saying nor did it make sense to my friend; I didn’t care, it all sounded good to me. I enjoyed watching her police cruiser and fantasizing that I was behind the wheel of the police cruiser on patrol. I did not realize it at first, but I do believe that this was the beginning of my attraction to law enforcement. I often found myself daydreaming of the day that I would become a police officer. I thought that driving a police cruiser and wearing a uniform was cool. At times, I would sit with my only friend on the sidewalk in front of my house hoping to see a police cruiser, an ambulance, or a fire truck drive by. When I heard a siren coming down the street, I would quickly come running out of my house to see the commotion and then run to where the ambulance, police, or the fire truck had stopped just to say that I was there and was part of something.

I remember an incident in which a vehicle driving down my street had somehow lost control and struck a parked vehicle in front of my neighbor’s house. Like most kids my age, we ran out to see what was going on. I was taken in by the excitement of seeing a police officer and the fire fighters and by what they did. Therefore, I guess I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up from a very young age.

However, my life drastically changed when I heard that an unknown assailant shot my cousin during a traffic stop. Surprisingly, she survived the ordeal. I remember my parents, siblings, and me going over to her apartment to visit with her after the incident. I remember seeing her sitting in her easy chair and grasping in pain. She would make a painful sigh every time she would move her shattered body. As I recall, she was shot at least once in the chest area; I do believe that an injury such as that is nothing short of agonizing pain. As I saw her, I tried to take in what I was seeing. I tried to place myself in her place. I can tell you that, based on her facial expression and discomfort, I would have had a difficult time dealing with such pain, partly because I have a very shallow, threshold for pain, and I must admit that women are far more able to ingest pain better than their male counterparts.

After nursing her wounds, she was able to return to duty. Soon after that I do believe that she was promoted to detective. This experience taught me a valuable lesson about police work; police work is a dangerous profession that requires individuals to be true to their badge. They need to understand that their primary goal is to serve and protect and to get home at the end of their shift. However, like all other things in life, nothing is a sure thing, and sometimes officers do not make it home at the end of their shift. I understood this concept from the get go, but nothing prepared me for what was to happen next.

To the best of my memory, my older brother Hugo was a victim of a kidnap. He was picked up by an unknown male subject with the understanding that he was going to take him home; however, somehow, that did not happen. My brother was taken far from the neighborhood to another area of Los Angeles County and dropped off to fend for himself. Now, I do not know the reasons why my brother would get into a vehicle without knowing the person behind the wheel. In addition, why would he allow this person to take him away to an area not familiar to my brother? I do not know how it came about or how my parents found out that Hugo was kidnapped; however, I do remember looking out the window, seeing a half dozen Los Angeles County Sheriff Deputies and Police cruisers parked up and down the sidewalk in front of our house. I did not realize what was happening at first, but at the time, I figured it had to do with the neighbor in front of the house once again. As time went on, I was watching the commotion intently to see what was going on and to make sense of the overwhelmingly large police presence. At the corner of my eye, I see my brother Hugo talking to a sheriff deputy and my dad was standing right next to him listening intently to what Hugo was saying. As far as I can tell, Hugo was shown a map and he was pointing at the area where he was taken by the unknown or known subject(s). I can recall the noise that night when I heard a Los Angeles County Sheriff Helicopter flying overhead with its big bright floodlight illuminating my house and the police cruisers that had taken up the station go up and down the neighborhood. Again, as I was looking out the window, I was pulled away by one of my siblings as to shield me from the negative influences of the routine dangers in the neighborhood.

I do not believe that they ever captured and arrested the individual that took Hugo for a ride that evening.

If life for my family and me could not have gotten any worse, it did. On March 22, 1975, my brothers Hugo and Ruben, along with a childhood friend, had been walking down our street that afternoon after hearing about a fight between two rival gangs in the area, and they wanted to go see what was going on. I was at home watching TV. My older sister, Nora, was watching me. Both my parents and my younger sister Linda were at the grocery store. All I remember is watching the window, hearing a commotion and screeching tires of a car that had braked down the street. I remember the car being a blue station wagon, or something similar to it. Suddenly I heard what sounded like a firecracker being exploded; off in the distance I saw blue smoke pluming up in the air. The smoke was not coming from the backfire of a car, but rather from a gun that had just been fired. I distinctively remember two white and bluish smoke plums in the area floating upward about two to three houses down from mine. That was when I started to hear screaming and yelling and people running for cover. I did not know what to expect, nor did I realize that someone had fired a gun indiscriminately. I ran out of the house and made my way down the end of the street, where I found a large group of people hovering over a person lying on the ground, and I could not make out who it was. As I got closer, I see that the person lying on the ground was Hugo, his white t-shirt covered in blood. Everything seemed to be surreal, as if everyone was in slow motion. We made eye contact; I could see that he raised his left arm towards me. As I slowly moved around him, afraid of what was happening, I could hear Hugo trying to speak. There was a man kneeling right next to him; he looked down at Hugo and asked him, What is it that you are trying to say? Suddenly, I felt my arm being pulled by someone; someone was leading me away from my dying brother. As I was being dragged away hurriedly, I could hear the man telling Hugo, Hold on, everything is going to be okay. That was the last time I saw Hugo alive. It was not until sometime later that evening that the news revealed that Hugo had died. I saw and heard everyone crying and wondering how this could have happened. I was too young to understand human emotions as I was in shock and partly in bewilderment taking in what had occurred. I tried crying, but for some reason or another, I was not able to. My parents brought Hugo back to El Paso, Texas, to be buried in the same cemetery as my grandfather.

As I got older, I tried to relive that day in my mind so I could bring closure to my life and beg for Hugo’s forgiveness for not going to him when he called for me. I know now that my young age and lack of affection towards him at the time of his death is inexcusable and I hope and pray that he finds it in his heart to forgive me for my inactions.

When Hugo died, a part of me died. I know that his death affected everyone in my family in some way or another. I believe that my dad took Hugo’s death the hardest. My dad was never the same again. He began to drink more and did not value life as much as we did. I knew that my dad had changed for the worse. Arguments between my mom and dad were more frequent and more intense as the years went on.

In 1982, my parents divorced. Considering what we all had been through, this was for the best. I know my older sister Nora was not happy having to move back to El Paso before starting her senior year and leaving all of her friends behind. It was a bad time for all of us in many aspects. Life was never the same again.

What could we have done to avoid such tragedy? I guess it was meant to be. We picked up the pieces and moved on. What else could we have done?

My dreams of being a police officer were almost diminished because of these events. For a long time, I felt that my family and I were being punished for something we did. I cannot explain my feelings at that time when so much turmoil was occurring at home. After my parents divorced, I had a difficult time growing up, especially attending high school. At one point, I even contemplated dropping out of high school because I was at a point where I did not care. What was the point of living when so much had been taken away from you?

Surely, I do not blame my parents for divorcing, nor do I blame them for Hugo’s death. It was fate that over took my family and me. The consequences were great.

Then one day, after I had graduated from high school in 1986, an epiphany struck me. Somehow, I saw my life pass before me and through the images, I saw a glimpse of my childhood past; I was daydreaming as I once did as a child. It came back to me, that inner feeling, the desire to make something of myself. I do believe that day I was assisted by Hugo in making a decision about my life on what I wanted to be. I realized then with certainty that law enforcement was my chosen profession. It is what I wanted to be, and I guess after the tragedy that my family and I had endured I had suppressed those feelings.

After seeing this vision, I got my ass in gear and started to live again. I went back to school and graduated from the University of Texas at El Paso in 1991 with a degree in Criminal Justice. Never in my life had I devoted so much time to attend and complete school much less becoming serious student.

Many years would pass before I got the opportunity to become a police officer, but not before I was able to gain the knowledge and experience needed to become successful today.

During my post-college years, I worked as a probation officer and counselor with the El Paso County Adult Probation Department and as a schoolteacher. I taught public and private, sixth, seventh, and eighth grade reading. I also worked as a Texas State Investigator with Child Protective Services before landing my first job with a police agency. I am currently a police sergeant in the El Paso Independent School Police Department. During this time, I was able to complete my master’s degree in Education Administration at the University of Texas at El Paso in 2004.

I also taught college-level reading at El Paso Community College on a part time basis. As you can see, I really do believe that all that I have acquired and accomplished the latter part of my years can be contributed to the epiphany I experienced.

As a child, I never knew what the future held for me. I was somebody who simply liked to dream of being someone. Like action hero’s you see on TV, you tell yourself, man, I wish I was like them, but when you think about all of the things that one must go through to achieve that desire goal, you tell yourself, forget this, there is too much work involved.

I often tell people that dreamers make the world go around. I