The Erosion of the Thin Blue Line: Memoirs of My Life As a Washington, D. C. Police Officer

By Joseph Lee Massey Jr.

Sgt. Joe Massey (Retired) shuns the idea of being politically correct with this insider’s account of what it’s like to be a Washington, D.C. police officer.

He leads readers on a series of adventures that span thirty years in law enforcement, beginning as a police rookie in 1983, to his days with the force’s elite SWAT team, to his days with the force’s Harbor Patrol Branch, and right up to his retirement in 2012.

He learned early on that being a police officer is like being an artist: It’s open to interpretation. You must make nonbelievers believe and crush anyone who challenges your authority.

Over time, his fellow officers became family, and they supported each other through good times and bad. They did their jobs no matter how dangerous the situation—and concerns about public perception rarely entered the equation.

Develop a newfound respect for the dangers that police officers face on a daily basis, as well as changes that are leading to “The Erosion of the Thin Blue Line.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Sep 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483436364

Book preview

(Retired)

My Early Years

Inspiration

As a child I was fortunate to be the son of a middle class family whose father was a career enlisted man in the United States Army. My mother, a young German woman, met my father while he was stationed in her home country, and was, for most of my young life, a housewife. As a child I didn’t realize the blessing I was being given by living in various locations throughout the United States. During the 1960s racial tensions were high and the civil rights movement was changing life in America as the country knew it. As a child, however, I do not recall the turmoil of racial division at my level. As a children on military posts, we moved every two years or so. As a kid I was just happy to make friends with someone my age regardless of their race, a sort of forced diversity class, if you would. We kids all knew that one of us would be moving before long so race didn’t seemed to matter to us. We grew to realize that we were all the same and any differences we did have were not anything that we could not overcome. This early part of my life would help develop me into the person that I grew into. Throughout my many relocation, I had the experience of living in West Berlin, East Germany. This was during the height of the Cold War and the Berlin Wall was still a prevalent part of the once divided city. While we were stationed in Berlin, we lived in military housing that was just down the road from an armored division. We would be awoken by the ground shaking rumbles of tanks moving to training sites and in the evening watch as these enormous machines would return to the motor pool. Like many young boys of this era, my parents had gotten me a Daisy BB gun rifle for Christmas, and like many young boys, trouble grew out of such a gift. My only real interaction with law enforcement, at least with me being the target of a police matter, was because of this air rifle. I have no recollection of who came up with the idea or why we thought that it was a good idea in the first place, but a childhood friend of mine, Jody Dotson, and I decided that we would take on these large tanks with my Daisy BB gun. One summer afternoon, after climbing into a tree and finding a good spot that provided support for both us and the BB gun, we waited. We waited in the tree line until the evening hours, waiting for the tanks to return to their motor pool. As the ground rumbled beneath us, we grew excited then as we heard the large motors moving these pieces of heavy machinery towards us, we began to take aim at the soldiers sitting out of the hatches atop of the tanks. As the tanks began to pass, we began to fire shots at the tank commanders, striking them as they passed. We may have struck three or four of the tank commanders when suddenly the post Military Police began arriving. Here they came, police lights, sirens, the works. It was at this point we decided to make a break for it. Like many of the kids whom I have dealt with over the years, we had no idea what we were doing or how much trouble we were getting into. After fleeing from the tree line, my friend and I sought refuge in the basement area of the apartment building where we lived. We locked the doors to the laundry room and climbed on top of the washing machines and began to peer out the vent windows which were at ground level. The MPs were now in the parking lot of our apartment building and looking for us. If shooting at tank commanders wasn’t a dumb enough idea, the idea to shoot out the windows of the Military Police cars was just stupid, but that’s what we did. I think in all we took out four MP car windows before the MPs came into the laundry room and grabbed us up. We weren’t placed in handcuffs, but I do remember all the large MPs with their shiny belts and pistols, placing my friend and myself in the back of the police car then transporting us to the MP station. Looking back, the large, mean looking MPs were most likely no more than nineteen to twenty year old boys themselves. They treated us very respectfully and I remember joking around with them. The professionalism that these young MP’s displayed made an impression on me that eventually led me into a career in law enforcement. There were no criminal charges placed against us, but my father, he almost lost a stripe over my actions. I think my father was so mad at me he was scared to physically punish me. I knew I was getting the belt when I got home but once we got home my dad sent me to my room and I stayed there for what seemed like a year. That was the catalos that started of it all.

U.S. Army Military Police

I always knew that I wanted to be like my father and follow in his footsteps. Enlisting in the United States Army was never a question for me and ever since my first exposure with the Military Police, I knew what I would aspire to become. I enlisted in the Army right after completing high school and was sent to Ft. McClellan, Alabama, for basic training and Military Police School. Basic training was much like older military movies depicted it. There is lots of yelling and lots of scared young men. Only by this time, the Army had a co-ed basic training program. The Army had just implemented two new concepts. One was called one-stop training, where new recruits would receive both basic and advanced individual training (AIT) at the same location. Also in an effort to become more inclusive, the Army had begun co-ed training. Men and women were housed in separate quarters but every other facet of our life was a joint operation. Don’t let anyone tell you that January in Alabama isn’t cold; we froze our butts off. PT at zero dark thirty, that’s real early for you nonmilitary types. A quick change of uniforms, then 5 minutes for breakfast and then left face, right face, forward march….more basic training. We were taught military rank structure, basic marksmanship, how to properly wear a gas mask, and how to make a bed as well as clean a latrine. Once basic training was completed, we began AIT. This was my beginning to becoming a police officer. In 1980 the Military Police still performed what was considered garrison law enforcement duties, which is basic police work on military installations. So I began to learn the basic fundamentals of handcuffing, self-defense, and handgun marksmanship. I also discovered that I couldn’t hit the side of a barn with a government issued Colt .45. This early experience with handguns impacted my judgment about my capabilities with a pistol. It wasn’t until much later that I became comfortable with handguns and became a respectable marksman. I was taught the basics of how to handcuff a person, how to do your basic traffic stops, and how to take down suspect in a manner that if you used them today, you would most likely go to jail. The most outrageous takedown, but very effective, that I was taught was a takedown with the use of a night stick. You would execute this takedown by coming up behind a suspect, holding the stick in your right hand, you would bring the stick across the suspect’s neck from the left side. With your left hand you would reach to the suspect’s other side of the neck and in a scissors fashion pull the night stick back, across the suspect’s windpipe, chocking the suspect unconscious. It was very effective but you could never do that today. Times have changed and so have policy and procedures. Law Enforcement is always evolving, making their tactics better and more responsive to the public. In 1980, law enforcement was a far cry from where it has evolved today and I was about to ride this evolution over the next 32 years.

Fort Bragg, North Carolina

After completing my advanced individual training I was stationed at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. Ft. Bragg is one of our country’s largest military posts in the U.S. I was assigned to 108th Military Police Company and assigned to patrol duties. I don’t recall being assigned to the unit very long when one morning during formation, the First Sergeant belted out, I need four soldiers for K-9 duties. I thought that sounded very interesting and I raised my hand. Next thing I knew I was attached to the K-9 unit. The K-9 kennels at Fort Bragg were the largest Military Police working dog kennels in the United States outside of the training facility at Lackland Air Force base which is located in San Antonio, Texas. The working police dog kennel, as it was called, was on Ft. Bragg, next to Pope Air Force Base. This kennel housed 56 of the meanest, nastiest dogs that I have ever met. As the new guy I had to pay my dues and this was done by arriving early, washing the dog runs/kennels out (yes, cleaning the dog shit), allowing any working K-9 whose handler wouldn’t be in for work some time to run in the yard, then trying to get the dog back into his run without getting bit. After that it was assist in the training of the dogs. As the newest guy in the unit I would have to put on a complete burlap attack suit that weighed several pounds. Even as a young, tough 18 year old that suit was very heavy, not to mention it would not breath, so you heated up very quickly. So there you were in a circle of 15 dogs at a time, all of their handlers getting their dogs excited and all of the dogs just waiting to attack. One by one a k-9 handler would release his dog and you would have to fight the dog for a minute or so, then the handler would call the K-9 off. As soon as the dog returned to the handler, another handler would release his dog and attack you again, and this was usually from your blind side. At times two dogs would be released together and you would have to take on both dogs at once. I remember the senior guys telling me time and time again, Whatever you do don’t fall down, if you do, try to cover your face if you can. Boy this scared me no end. The thought of one of those German Sheppard’s biting into your face was enough to put the fright into any grown man. The full burlap suits did not expose your fingers, there were handles at the bottom of the sleeves that you could grab to prevent the burlap suit from being torn off your arm. It was large and cumbersome. To put this suit on, you needed help pulling on, strapping the straps and tighten all the points that held the suit together. It wasn’t easy putting this on and you needed assistance taking it off, too. I recall a rather hot summer morning when we were training the police dogs. I was the man in the burlap suit and the other guys were giving me a really hard work out with the K-9s those days. Once all the dogs had practiced attacking and biting, their respective handlers returned the dogs to each of their runs, just prior to this the more senior soldiers, a few of them decided that more hazing was needed and they pushed me over, causing me to fall to the ground. I laid there for a few moments then realized that everyone was gone. There was no one there, just me, a full burlap suit, and temperatures that in the high 90s. As I said earlier, that suit was heavy and you needed help with getting it on as well as taking it off. I laid there in the sun for what seemed like hours but in reality was only 10-15 minutes. Soon someone came back and freed me from the burlap hotbox, everyone had a good laugh at my expense. I was upset at the time but, looking back I was paying my dues and enjoyed every minute of it. At this time in history, the Cuban Boat Crisis was occurring and several hundred Cuban immigrants were arriving on the shores of southern Florida. While the Department of Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) was trying to decide how to handle this mass flood of illegal immigrants, it was decided that that many of them would be sent to Ft. Indian Town Gap, in Pennsylvania. Several member of the military police unit that I was assigned to were deployed there to provide security and this included a full K-9 deployment. As luck would have it one of my friends started dating a girl there and once he returned to Ft. Bragg his girlfriend came to visit him. Along with her came a friend and I got stuck on a blind date. To make a long story short, this lady became my first wife and the mother of my first two children, but more about them later. I continued to help in training the K-9s and was soon assigned Charlie as my K-9 partner. Little did I know that Charlie was training me more than I was training him. Charlie was a seasoned K-9 who was let’s say less than aggressive. The kind of dog that made a great dog and pony show He knew what to do, even if the handler didn’t. He knew how to attack a rap (a burlap sleeve) and make it look like he could tear some ones arm off. So I worked with Charlie until I knew what I was doing. After I demonstrated that I could perform the job of a canine handler, I was reassigned to a very large German Sheppard named Hunz. Hunz was a great dog, he had been a Military working dog for two years and his previous handler had separated from the Army. Hunz and I developed a good relationship and began working together as a team. Once I got to the point where I could prove that I could handle Hunz, the Army sent me to Lackland Air force Base for advanced K-9 training and certification.

Another solider in the unit and I drove from Ft. Bragg, North Carolina to Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. The K-9s we were training with got to fly and they met us there. Don’t let anyone ever tell you that the military does not take great care of their dogs. Once we were there, the K-9s received a medical check by the base veterinarian. Then for the next 8 weeks, we worked with other members of various armed forces and their working police dogs to train both man and animal into becoming a professional Military Working Dog Handler. Upon the completion of the school, the dogs flew back and we drove back across country to Ft. Bragg.

Once back at Ft. Bragg, I began patrol duties as a working dog handler. Patrol functions for K-9 patrol were conducted in single seat hard top CJ-5’s. The K-9s were allowed to walk around in the cab while the handler patrolman performed law enforcement duties. There was nothing more impressive or motivating as having your dog leap from the jeep window and seat himself on your right side, as he stared up at a suspect that was attempting to intimidate you by size or attitude. The presence of a working police dog would always change a bad attitude: if not change, at least you would have the suspect see your point of view very quickly.

Seasoned Boston Police Officer

Ft. Bragg is one of the largest military post in the United States. As such, there were several NCO (noncommissioned officers) clubs. A NCO club for the non-military types is an Army bar, some are fancy, some were not; in fact, most were not. However, Ft. Bragg had several NCO clubs throughout the post. The largest was called the Gagging Dragon, in recognition of the 118th Airborne Corps insignia patch. This club was located next door to the Provost Marshalls office (again for nonmilitary type that’s a police station). These two buildings were only separated by a tree line and one hundred yards. Like many older military movies the MPs would routinely be called to the NCO clubs to break up fights. The working dog section would respond and support the other MPs with crowd control and if needed, the dogs would be deployed to help break up fights. I recall one night when one of our dogs somehow got out of the patrol jeep and ran over to the NCO club on his own. This dog then found several soliders to attack. Well this led into a great big brawl and what seemed like one hundred soldiers fighting. The standard garrison MPs as well as the K-9 units responded to the scene and it seemed as if everyone was fighting everyone. We had recently gotten a new K-9 handler who had been a Boston City Police Officer but left that job and joined the Army in order to become a K-9 handler. He had completed his training at Lackland prior to being stationed at Ft. Bragg so he was new and unknown to any of us. Well on this night everyone got to know him very well. Before this night I had never seen how well or effective a large metal flashlight could be in a crowd. I seem to recall, as he approached the fighting crowd, he had his dog on a short lead (leash) in his left hand, and his 6 D-cell battery flashlight in his right. He would give an order to stop fighting along with a sudden jab to the ribs, causing most people to go down to the ground. Well most people would then turn and kick or swing at the officer, at which time he would give his K-9 enough lead to tear into the fighting party, only to bring the flashlight around again, normally to the side of their head. As a young MP, myself as well as many others young soldiers looked up to this guy: hell, he was maybe twenty-four or twenty-five years old and most of us were just eighteen. After that night, I don’t believe any K-9 handler ever did anything without a dog in one hand and a flash light in the other, and to all you officers out here, yes, I know that this occupies your gun hand, but that’s how we did it and it was very effective.

Sergeant of the Guard

One morning in 1981 I reported to the working dog kennel and was given a set of orders, not for me but for my K-9, Hunz. Hunz received a set of military orders transferring him to Ft. McNair in Washington, DC. My job was to clear him for his transfer. Clearing involves reporting to various stations and having each station sign off and clearing you ensuring that you have returned all items signed for or you owed the U. S. Army. Last on Hunz’s list was a medical clearance by the vet. After a clean bill of health, Hunz was shipped to Washington, DC. While I was waiting to be reassigned a new K-9 partner, I had do some garrison patrol duties. The Army had just developed the Black Hawk helicopter and security around this new technology was set very high. Inside Ft. Bragg was a separate Army Air Field, Simmons Army Air Field which was surrounded by fencing topped with concertina wire. Around this field was a dirt road which encircled the air field and every 500 to 600 yards was a small guard shack with a landline (telephone) for notifications, long before cell phones. Mostly newer soldiers assigned to garrison duties drew this assignment as it was a long, boring detail. I was working with the Sergeant of the Guard (SOG)(the guy who is in charge of placing sentries) and as we posted the young MPs the SOG advised each of them that a telephone crew would be working on live phone wires that day and whatever they do, DO NOT ANSWER THE TELEPHONE. We advised the each sentry MP every time we saw them not to answer the phone. This information was used to set up our prank. After every MP had been made aware of what was going on with the telephone lines we started ringing the phone to one sentry post again and again and again, we knew after a while the young MP would give in to temptation. After about an hour of off and on phone ringing we called once more time and the young MP in the sentry booth answered the telephone. As soon as the MP voiced his name, the SOG gave out a high-pitched long scream the type identified with a scream of pain. Then just as quick as the MP had picked up the phone, it got slammed back on the receiver. After about 45 minutes the SOG and I arrived at the guard post that answered the phone and the SOG was great. He started yelling about a telephone linesman being electrocuted to death and that he thought it was one of two guard posts. The SOG went on telling the MP how one of them was going to Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas, the U.S. Military’s prison. Soon the young MP was so scared that a tear started to build up in the corner of his eye and that’s when we lost it. Both the SOG and I busted out laughing so hard we were almost on the ground rolling around. Well the young MP didn’t see it as funny as we did but let me tell you, he was sure happy that it was a joke. Bet he still thinks about that every time a phone rings.

Sabor

For a few weeks I was without a partner and I had thoughts about who my new K-9 partner would be. There was a vicious K-9 named Sabor and his old handler had left the Army a few months earlier. All the handlers had a lot of respect for Sabor, see Sabor was special, very special. Sabor was a very aggressive K-9 and would attack anything or anybody that was not his handler. This was very prevalent when we trained. To make bad matters worse, Sabor had a tumor on his brain and the angrier he got the more aggressive he got. This cycle would gain momentum until the handler would release Sabor and allow him to attack the training suspect. A related problem with this was Sabor would not release from his bit on command. The handler would actually have to choke him by grasping the dog’s windpipe and squeezing it until the dog would almost pass out, releasing the bite just prior to losing consciousness. Well my fears came true, I was assigned as Sabor’s handler. For the next few days I just sat at the end of Sabor’s run and talked with him, trying to build some rapport, myself on one side of a fence and Sabor on the other. Once Sabor got used to me, I started taking him out of his run on a controlled walk, keeping the dog on lead (leash). Over the next few weeks I gained more and more control over Sabor. Sabor was following my commands, all except commands to release once he attacked. I must admit that I had to suppress my fears and show total confidence when it came to Sabor, in order to control that K-9, I had to. I guess that the confidence Sabor displayed towards me also helped me believe in myself more too. Soon I had total control over Sabor and I had trust in him. Although Hunz was a great partner, Sabor was all that Hunz was but with more teeth. Soon we took to the streets on patrol. In the early 1980’s, Ft. Bragg was the second largest Army post in the continental U.S., second only to Ft. Hood Texas. In fact the post was so large that one patrol beat which looped around the drop zones (the area that the airborne units would jump and do heavy drops into) one would lose all radio communications with the dispatcher. An MP would have to radio the station at a certain point before he left radio communication and he was allotted a certain amount of time before he was expected to raise the provost marshal again. If you failed to raise the dispatcher then a search party would be sent out looking for the missing MP. Most of K-9 patrols were during the late and overnight hours and as you might imagine, you were out there alone. As long as I was with Sabor, I wasn’t worried at all. I recall one night on patrol, around 2 in the morning, Sabor and I were out of radio communications when we came upon a small brush fire. This brush fire was just off the roadway, there was no moon this night and the tall North Carolina pines loomed overhead with only the flames from the fire providing any light. I stopped our patrol vehicle and removed the fire extinguisher from the CJ5 and both Sabor and I set out to play fire fighter. While I was extinguishing the fire and Sabor was running around, he alerted me that there was something in the woods. As I looked towards the wood line, I noticed the brush at the base of the trees start to move. Before I could identify who or what was coming out of the dark, I called Sabor to my side for my own safety as well as control of my partner. As the darkened objects came closer and closer I could not identify what or who they were. Too much relief, and from out of nowhere, several Special Forces members emerged from the darkened pine forest. The Special Forces members helped me put out the fire and as quickly as they appeared, they dissolved back into the wood line. This was the only time that I can recall that I was really scared about being by myself, not so much at the time of the fire but afterwards when I had time to think about it. If those soldiers really wanted to do harm to me the only thing that could have stopped them was the presence of Sabor. From that moment on I didn’t go on any patrols or anywhere without Sabor. If I was going to have to take on someone while out of radio contact he would have to take on us both. I was just hoping if that happened, that Sabor would remember who I was and not make a bad situation worse by biting me too. Over time we completed several more patrols and as time passed we added a lot more stories of our adventures to our list. One summer day while on patrol, Sabor and I were patrolling in our CJ5 when suddenly Sabor saw a cat. Like any dog, cats and dogs don’t agree and Sabor wanted him some cat. Sabor jumped towards the driver’s side window, blocking my view as I was driving down the road. I pushed Sabor back from the open driver’s window and onto the floor, only to have Sabor jump back up and try to go out the window again. Again I pushed him back and again he tried to exit. After the 3rd or 4th time the excited Sabor kicked in and his mean streak struck. While I was pushing Sabor back with my right hand and steering with my left, Sabor decided to turn on me and bit my right hand directly on the 3rd knuckle, and the pain was sudden and severe. I ordered Sabor to release but remember that tumor I said spoke of earlier. Well, he just got more aggressive and started shaking me with all his anger and aggression. There I was inside a small CJ5, driving down the road, being attacked by a police K-9 and trying to regain control. Well the only thing I could do was slam on the brakes, which threw Sabor into the dash. Once stopped, I took my driving hand and grabbed my metal flashlight that I mentioned earlier and I commenced to beat the hell out of that dog. After a few well-placed blows to Sabor’ head he released my hand. I went to sick call and got my hand wrapped up then completed my patrol. Sabor and I never had any more issues and I don’t know who really won that one, guess it’s all in your point of view, but I do think we both had enough of each other and we continued to work together until I left the Army.

Airborne K-9s

The Sergeant First Class that was in charge of the working dog kennels had received directives or came up with the great idea of having all K-9 handlers receive airborne training to include the K-9s. Yes, that’s right, jumping out of an airplane with the dog. The system was relatively easy. Soldiers who made combat jumps (parachuting with all your equipment to include rifle and backpack) would attach their backpacks to the lower midsection of their front side, just under their reserve chute. Once an airborne trooper exited the aircraft and the primary chute had deployed, that soldier would release their equipment on a 25 foot tether below them. Their equipment would land securely on the ground and then the soldier right behind it.

To implement this, our unit made use of the current practices and we relocated our equipment packs from the fronts to our lower back side. This allowed us room to place the K-9 in the front as if the dog was the front mounted equipment. Then using the same concept, we were to drop the K-9s on a tether and release our backpacks on a separate tether. We added a muzzle on the dogs due to the fact that a K-9 could easily land near another solider and we wanted to prevent any friendly bites. Well, the theory worked well; the Army redeveloped a harness that would securely hold a 125lbs. plus German Shepherd and provide for what was supposed to be safe landing. All that was left was the training, then a jump.

Basic jump school for the U.S. Army is located at Ft. Benning Ga. As Ft. Bragg was an airborne military installation; all the same training equipment was located at Ft. Bragg. All except for a 200 ft. training tower. The Ft. Benning School is typically a three week school. Our unit turned it into a one week school. Those who were not in a airborne unit, like me, were taught the basics of how to stand up, hook up, and shuffle to the door. We were taught the proper way to land and roll, what is called a PLF. Next we started training the dogs, who were really just along for the ride. To simulate exiting the aircraft, we had a 4 foot platform and a 32 foot tower. Once you simulated jumping from the aircraft, you were on a zip line that controlled your landing. We trained and trained and felt very comfortable with what we were doing. Well, finally the big day came; those of us who were not airborne certified did our 3 jumps then were considered paratroopers. The next day we had 12 handlers and the K-9 partners loaded into a C-130 aircraft and took flight. Soon we were over the drop zone. The jumpmaster gave us orders to stand up. Then we hooked up our static lines (that pull the parachute cord so the solider doesn’t have to). As the light turned green, indicating we were over the drop zone, one by one we exited the aircraft. The dogs didn’t like it from the beginning and we all felt how uncomfortable they were. I could only imagine what the dogs were thinking once they we exited the aircraft. After the short feeling of falling, the chutes deployed. Sabor seemed to calm down, but this was short lived because I would have to drop him again on the tether line which I did. The one factor that the Army did not think of was how the tether line and the dog would interact once we were airborne and in route to a landing. Well, we discovered that most dogs, including Sabor, just spun wildly. We were under the impression that the dogs could be walked in and we would land right there with them. Well, that wasn’t the case. Many K-9s landed at different angles to include backwards and upside down. This great plan to quickly introduce working military dogs into a battlefield quickly became a major catastrophe. Several dogs were seriously injured, two were injured so bad that they had to be destroyed. A few more suffered leg injuries and I believe all suffered some mental setbacks; hell, wouldn’t you if the person you trusted suddenly strapped you down, then threw you out of an airplane? Well, thank goodness that this was the only time we attempted that harebrained idea. 30 years later I saw where special operations teams were now jumping with their K-9 partners, glad to think I was part of the cutting edge of this process.

Fire drills

Another job associated with our duties as a working military police dog handler were drug sweeps with our dogs that were trained to sniff out dangerous drugs. Typically a First Sergeant would make arrangements ahead of time with the Provost Marshall to have the working military police dogs arrive at a battalion parking lot around 3 in the morning. Once we were there, the company fire alarm would be activated and any particular company would be evacuated from the their barrack. Once every one was standing in formation, the First Sergeant would signal to us and the K-9 units would emerge from a location that had been blocking site of us. I can’t begin to tell you the number of times I heard cursing coming from the formations of men standing in their underwear outside of a barrack once they saw the police dogs. We all knew that that night was the end of someone’s career, we just needed to find the dope, and we always did.

High Beams

I recall a traffic stop that I had conducted on a car that was traveling in the opposite direction that I was traveling, the reason for the traffic stop was the operator of the car failed to reduce his high beams to oncoming traffic. Once the car passed me I immediately swung around and pull the car over for the traffic infraction. I recall that the operator, a young soldier, knew exactly why I had stopped him. The young solider told me that the car did not have a dimmer switch for the head lights. Not believing him, he allowed me to look in the car and together we searched the floor board for the dimmer switch. As we scratched our heads, I radioed for another unit to respond to the scene. Now there were several MPs and the operator of the car I had stopped all looking for the dimmer switch. No one being able to find it then one of us had the bright idea of looking in the owner’s manual. To all our surprise, the dimmer switch was located on the column with the turn signals. Now to all of you too young to remember, all dimmer switches were a push buttons on the left side of the floor board, it wasn’t until 1980 that the use of the column mounted dimmer switch were used. You would have thought that we had made a scientific discovery when we figured this out. Just one of the dumb things I recall in my law enforcement career, and no, I didn’t give him a ticket for the violation, either.

Preparing for my future

In 1980, college for law enforcement was practically unheard of but I had enough sense to know that I needed to have more to bring to the table if I wanted to become a police officer in the civilian world. I took some correspondence courses through the military covering such things as accident investigation and crime scene processing but wanted to learn more. I have never been a fan of firemen but I decided that I would join a local volunteer fire department in an attempt to broaden my knowledge as a first responder. Along with practical training from being on the scene of actual situations which required a fire/rescue response, I was able to attend several firefighting classes and received several college credit hours for this training. All this information and training was to be used towards my future law enforcement career. After a few years of patrol duties as well as serving in the volunteer fire department, my ETS (Ending Time in Service) was approaching. I had to decide if I wanted to reenlist in the Army or seek a job with a civilian police department. I have never made a move in life without some safety net and by this time I was married and had a child so I needed to think of them as well. I took some time off and tested/interviewed at about 26 police departments between Philadelphia, Pa. and San Antonio, Texas. I was lucky enough to be offered a job at a few of the different Police Departments and I had to make a decision on which one I wanted to go to. When all was said and done it came down to money. I went to the best paying police department on the east coast, The Metropolitan Police Department in Washington, D.C. and what was the starting pay? Well when the reenlistment sergeant tried to talk me into staying in the Army he asked me to give him one good reason why I shouldn’t stay in the Army. Well I looked at him long and hard, then I proudly told him I was starting a job that pays $16,000.00 a year. Without any further comment the reenlistment NCO said good luck and shook my hand. WOW, here I was, almost 21 years old and getting a job with a major police department as a police officer that paid 16 thousand a year. So in December of 1982 I took terminal leave from the U.S. Army and received an honorable discharge. My wife and son moved to Pennsylvania and lived with her parents for about a month. On January 10th, 1983, I reported to Police Headquarters for the Metropolitan Police Department in Washington, DC and took my oath of office. This was on a Friday, and the academy was starting the following Monday. Next I needed to find housing for my family and the city had a residency requirement at that time. After asking several of the detectives and officials that swore us in about any housing possibilities, we were able to locate a place called Naylor Gardens. This is an apartment complex that was an oasis in the middle of some of the worst neighborhoods in the city. The reason it was an oasis is that mostly police and firefighters lived there. I went there with little money, a wife, child and U-Haul and somehow got an apartment. My first address in Washington, DC was 2900 Naylor Rd. I remember that it was near 70 degrees when we unloaded the U-Haul. We set up our new apartment and settled in for the beginning of what I consider the greatest job that anyone could ever hold and the transformation of an innocent, naïve country boy who just landed in the big city.

THE ACADEMY

METROPOLITAN POLICE DEPARTMENT

WASHINGTON, D.C.

1983

Day One

Somehow I found where the police academy was located and arrived there Monday morning at 0630 hours. I recall the thirty or so recruits standing in a very loose formation in the gym. My academy class consisted of all sorts of people. Large and small, black and white, male and female. Most of us were young, but I was the youngest, just turning 21 fifteen days prior to raising my hand at the swearing in ceremony. I believe the oldest was 26. There were a lot of new names and faces that I had to learn and I didn’t want to offend anyone by getting their name wrong. Up to this date I had always been called by my middle name of Lee, but once here every one began calling me by my first name, Joseph or Joe for short, and that’s what I have been called since. I recall trying to have people use my middle name but there were too many and it seemed that I was fighting an uphill battle so I just went with the flow. After getting to know one another a little, the academy staff introduced us to our class Sergeant, Sgt. F. Pinot if I recall correctly, and he was assisted by an Officer who I can no longer recall her name. We were MPD academy class 83-1. I recall we went to a classroom which would serve as our class headquarters while we were at the academy, took a seat, and one by one we stood, introduced ourselves and told everyone a little about our background and why we wanted to become a police officer. Looking back, I suppose we all really believed that we could change the world and do it better than the last guys did. Little did we know that the world would change us. As a supervisor during my final year on the department, I would ask young rookies that came from the academy about their past and why they want to become an officer and smile at the innocence that these young men and women brought with them, all the time thinking how this job will change them. Anyway, back at the academy we selected a class leader from amongst our group, and then started making friends. Many of my class mates were DC residents but the vast majority was from outside DC and had no knowledge of the city. After a morning of learning some of the dos and don’ts of the police department, we were ordered to fall in. We were advised that we would be responding to the police and fire clinic for a urine test. The random urine test was a staple with MPD and this was the first of many. As a person who has never used or smoked any drugs I have never been concerned about taking a drug screening test nor did it seem like anyone else was concerned. Our class marched over to the clinic and every one took their turn filling a bottle. Once we were done we returned to the academy and given our projected itinerary for the next six months. By the end of our first day I was loaded down with new rules, schedules, people’s names and places to be. I also had made some new friends and discovered that some of them also lived in Naylor Gardens. After talking with two others about carpooling for a while we decided to ride to work together. None of us knew anything about the city so if we got lost, we got lost together. We spent the next few days filling out administrative paperwork for life insurance, health insurance, next of kin and the likes. After about two days at the academy the class Sergeant and officer request our class leader respond to the administrative office in the academy. After a short time with the class sergeant, we noticed that our class leader had gathered his belongings and he was escorted out of the academy. We later learned that he failed the urine test and he was kicked out of the Police Academy. We remained in plain clothes for the next few and without uniforms, the only time we would not be in what was considered court attire, a suit and tie, was when we would have physical training. We had to run every day, do a number of pushups, sit-ups and other exercises. This never bothered me as I had just left the Army and was in really good shape for a 21 year old. Back in the class room every day we would receive more information and more directives that we had to follow, discovering that these rules included our time off duty and personal time.

I also discovered that I had to learn the local vocabulary and be very mindful of what I said. Once while speaking with one of the officer instructors, I asked if there were any good places to coon hunt. Coming from Georgia, coon hunting was common terminology, as well as a common pastime. That’s when the instructor seemed to get mad and leave I had no idea of what had happened. Well, the instructor was a lifelong Washingtonian and immediately took my comment, probably combined with my southern accent, as a racial slur. The instructor filed a complaint on me with the academy staff and it became a very big issue very quickly. I was so scared that I was about to lose my job and lose it for something that I didn’t even mean to imply. Well, the very next day I had to meet with the academy director and discuss with him the merits of my comments and to identify what was said and what was meant. My classmates spoke up for me and this matter was laid to rest without further incident. I did learn a lot from that, however; always think about what you say and how can what you say be taken out of context, a concept I still try to practice today

Essential employees and Snow

I thought I was in good shape until February 11 and 12 of 1983 when Washington, DC, had one of its largest snows on record. We soon discovered the meaning of essential employee as we were all told that we could not call out due to snow. Calling out was not an option on this job. Once we all made it to the academy we sat in our classroom overlooking the parking lot just watching our cars becoming encased in the mounds of drifting snow. Soon Sgt. Pinot came to our classroom and advised us that we had to clear the parking lots of the snow and he issued us several snow shovels. Like a bunch of fools we all went out to the parking lot and began shoveling snow. We were assisting staff members in digging out their cars (what we later would call POVs: privately owned vehicles). One by one a staff member at the academy would come out we would dig them out and watch them as they left the parking lot. Once all the academy staff was gone except for the one or two officers who manned the academy, Sgt. Pinot informed us that we were excused for the day. This was at about 11:30. One by one we dug each other out and after about 2 hours, my carpool friends and I had made the 3 mile trip to our apartment. This was my first experience as an adult with any major snow. Boy, was I impressed. Just a few weeks ago it was in the low 70’s and today, maybe one month later, we had over 24 inches of snow.

Issued the basics

Over the course of the next few weeks we were issued and signed for more things than I care to remember. The one thing I do recall signing for was our General Orders. The rules and guidelines that would bite all of us at some point in our career. There were two large blue binders and stacks and stacks of papers that had a numeral order on them but were not in any order. It was up to us to place our orders and directives in order and then place them in the binders that were given to us to collectively hold them. Had I been a little older and wiser at the time, I think I would have realized then that a department that cannot keep its own orders in order has serious issue. (HINT HINT) Over time we learned the various orders and directives, the police manual, which is no longer issued, and the DC Criminal laws and procedures. Once we obtained a little knowledge, which is a very dangerous thing might I add, we were directed to property division to receive our uniforms. Property Division; everything you needed to look like a police officer with the exception of a black leather 2-inch trouser belt, one brass Sam Brown belt buckle, and a pair of black leather shoes with black socks. These items we had to buy at our expense. When we arrived at property division it felt like we were kids who had just arrived at a field trip. There we were, all excited about being issued our uniforms and amazed at the fact that a building that appeared to be an abandon warehouse held all of our equipment. One by one we filed into property division and that’s where we all met Mr. Floyd, the grumpiest old black man that I ever met. It was like he was giving you his personal property every time he handed you some equipment and don’t dare ask him for another piece other than the piece he had given you. By the end of several hours, we all had our uniforms, Sam Brown belts, jackets, coats, rain gear, traffic control gear, and we had heard that we would be issued badges back at the academy. Everyone took their equipment and made their way back to the academy. Once in our classroom we were all waiting and anticipating the issuance of our badges and cap plates. Cap plates are much like badges, they have your badge number on it but it is worn solely on the police 8-point hat. The police hat was very much a part of the uniform and you had better not be caught without it on your head back then. I can recall being in foot chases of suspects and after they were caught, having an official ask me why I didn’t have my hat on. In the mid-2000s the department began issuing cap plates that only identified you as OFFICER instead of your badge number. I recall that cold winter afternoon when the young class officer brought the large box that contained our badges, cap plates and ID folders. One by one we were issued our badge numbers, mine was Badge 3335. I wore that badge for 19 years after that day, surrendering it only for a promotion to sergeant in 2001. At least I surrendered a very good copy of that badge; the original is on display with my other MPD mementoes. After the issuance of our ID folders and badges, we were all told to bring all our uniforms back the next day. The next day everyone showed up and we were on another field trip. This time we were off to down town DC, to Jimmy Muscotello’s, a uniform shop that had a contract with the city for uniform alterations as well as uniform supply. One by one we would put on our uniforms, the tailors would take their chalk and mark off the pants, then throw all your stuff in a bag, throw you a receipt and tell you to come back in a week. While you waited, the staff at Muscotello’s had employees that would help you find the newest and most up to date law enforcement equipment on the market. Most of it we could not use but he sold it to us anyway. One thing that everyone did buy was a new slap jack. A slap jack is a flat piece of lead with a flat metal handle all covered in a leather sheathing. A slap jack was used as a self-defense weapon when in close with a suspect. Well that’s what they said it was for, self-defense. The truth is that this was an offensive weapon that police used almost daily to knock some sense into or the crap out of some one, just depends on how bad the suspect pissed you off. Well a week or so later we were all at Muscotello’s picking up our new uniforms. Now we had our badges, nametags, our uniforms, and the word finally came that the following Monday, we would begin wearing our uniforms. We were told to bring our uniforms and change at the academy, as the department did not want us wearing uniforms outside the Academy without completing and receiving firearms training.

Canvassing for homicide

The first time I can recall wearing my uniform in public was while we were in the academy to a crime scene. During high-profile crimes, most police departments allocate manpower from anywhere it can, and if a large group of officers are needed then as most police departments do, they look to the academy and pull recruits to assist on crime scenes. This was the case when our class was called upon to help canvass a neighborhood in Northeast, DC. There was a homicide of a merchant who had just completed a transaction at the American Security Bank which was located at 722 H Street NE. As this merchant was returning to his car, an unknown suspect(s) approached him from behind, shot him numerous times and fled the scene with a satchel that contained $25,000.00 cash. Our class all climbed aboard an old grey Police bus and responded to the scene. We were placed side by side and walked an entire block looking for any piece of evidence we could find. Afterwards we were told to move in pairs and to knock on every house in the neighborhood, interview every person we came across and write down who they were, what they knew, and when we could contact them, regardless of whether they knew anything or not. At the time that seemed like a waste of manpower, but with the knowledge of years of experience, this is how cases are made when there is little to go on. We later learned that one of the persons we interviewed, later called our homicide department back and provided vital information which led to the arrest of two brothers who lived directly across the street from the bank parking lot. Little did I know at that time that bank would become a major part of my life, but more on that later on.

The Pistol Range

Monday morning came, as always we started with PT, then classroom instruction. This week we began range training. The academy housed its indoor range in the basement of the academy. It was a 30-stall, 25-yard range. We were taught the nomenclature of the Smith and Wesson Model 10 .38 caliber handgun, how to handle the weapon and how to clean the weapon. The training we received was NRA (National Rifle Association) approved training which covered the fundamentals of shooting which included sight alignment and trigger control. We had several days of practice fire; then at the end of the week we had to qualify with our weapon. At that time you had to score a 450 out of a possible 600 score. Your score was based on 60 shots fired at different distances and where each shot impacted your target. To simplify this, it was what ring you hit on the target, with the X being center of mass and a 10, 9 ring next, 8 ring after that and so on. The further you hit the target from the X ring the lower your score would be. So if you hit the 8 ring ten times you would earn 80 points.

Well, the setback I had in the Army still remained fresh in my mind. I wasn’t that great a shot then and I sort of psyched myself out thinking about that. I passed without incident, but if I recall, I didn’t leave myself much more room for any poor shots. I improved over time but never got to the point where I was really satisfied with my shooting abilities. Once we all completed the firearms/range training we were allowed to take our service weapons home. Of course, the instructors at the academy warned us about going out with our weapons and getting involved in incidents, and to the best of my recollection I don’t believe that any of us did. I do remember hearing about other officers who did in fact get involved in incidents and pulled out their service weapons. Of course, incidents like those were few and far between, but it had happened enough that the department was very concerned about this and did not want it to happen again.

The Donkey Kong King

In 1983 video games were just becoming big and in the lunch room of the academy there were 2 full size arcade games, Space Invaders and Donkey Kong. I was never one for video games but I do remember watching one of our classmates playing Donkey Kong every chance he got. His name was David Duke and his father was a crime scene search officer in the Second District. David seemed to be in love with that arcade game and must have spent the equivalent of a month’s pay check in quarters into it. Every break we had he would drop more and more quarters into it, playing until break was over and we would all have to hurry back to the class room. Not long after we had been issued our service weapons David was at home with his live in girlfriend. He and she had gotten into an argument over David’s drinking habits. In the midst of their argument, David pulled out his service revolver, yelled at her about wanting something to remember, and then shot himself in the head, killing himself instantly. This was the first of several Law Enforcement Funerals that I would attend over the course of my career. Looking back it seems such a shame that a bright young life was lost in a matter of a few seconds.

Final days in the Academy

Over the course of six months our class spent as much time in the classroom studying policy and procedures as we did wasting time. Seems that the academy could have been reduced to 3 or 4 months with as much down time as we had but I would soon find out that the District Government wasn’t known for running efficiently. The District Government just ran, and ran, and ran. One of the many down times we had was in the midst of our class being taught how to fill out a PD form 163, an arrest report. It may seem odd to you younger folks but then we had to write everything by hand. There were no word processors or spell check for that matter. A spell