Two Decades Behind the Badge: One Man's Journey in Law Enforcement

By Kurt Geisinger

"Now I've seen it all!"

This is an expression frequently used in the English lexicon.

Based on Kurt Geisinger's experience as a police officer, you have never actually seen it all; nobody has. Over the years, his friends, family, and even random people frequently asked, "What's the craziest t

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tempus Vernum Publishing
• Release date: Aug 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9798986436807

Kurt Geisinger

In 1996 Kurt Geisinger began his career as a police officer in New Jersey. Throughout his twenty-one-year career, he had the opportunity to work in the patrol division, the traffic bureau, the motorcycle squad, and as an instructor for his department and the police academy.

Book preview

2022_KG_BTB_Cover_Front-Only_FINAL.jpg

Two Decades Behind the Badge: One Man’s Journey in Law Enforcement

Copyright © 2022 Kurt Geisinger

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact Kurt Geisinger at [e-mail] or www.kurtgeisinger.com

This work depicts actual events in the life of the author as truthfully as recollection permits. While all persons within are actual individuals, names and identifying characteristics have been omitted to respect their privacy.

ISBN: 979-8-9864368-1-4 (Trade Paperback)

ISBN: 979-8-9864368-0-7 (eBook)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022911016

Printed in USA

Editor: Melissa Stevens, Purple Ninja Editorial, purpleninjaeditorial.com

Cover Design and Interior Layout: Becky’s Graphic Design®, LLC

BeckysGraphicDesign.com

Dedicated to the memory of William Dean Bill Tsigaras

Table of Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

Part One

The Early Years

Working in New York City

One Phone Call Changed It All

The Academy

Day One: I Actually Signed Up for This?

Day Two: It Doesn’t Get Any Easier

It Takes Teamwork to Succeed

Combat Training

Range Week

I Don’t Like Mondays

Graduation

My First Week as a Police Officer

Day One: Go Get Some Lunch

Day Two: Know Your Place

Day Three: It’s All Your Fault

Day Four: You’re on Your Own

Not Your Typical Nine-to-Five

What Happens on the Night Shift

Radio Discipline

Part Two

There’s a Report for Everything

Facts Not Fiction

Domestic Disputes

Missing Persons Reports

Death Notifications

Jail Runs

Pros & Cons

Road Jobs

Never Stop Learning

Crash Investigation

HIDTA

West Point Military Academy

SWAT Training

Polygraphs & Lie Detection

Traffic Division

Police Motorcycles

CPR & First Aid

Radar & Laser

Part Three

Crazy Calls

The People You Meet

The Marble Box

Taking a Stab at Some Overtime

That’s Not a Hailstorm

Does Anyone Have a Saw?

Memorable Medical Calls

Has Anyone Seen a Finger?

What’s All the Buzz About?

More Than Road Rules

Grandma’s in the Backyard

High as a Kite

Royal Flush

The Places You Go

Nursing Home from Hell

Just Hanging Out

Uninvited Visitors

Ashes to Ashes

Phantom Pains

Strange Calls & Requests

Ready for Combat

Can You Hold My Cash?

911 Concierge Service, How May I Help You?

Can You Hear Me Now?

Dialing India

Personal No Parking Zone

We’re Not Here to Raise Your Kids

I’m a Cop, Not a Doorman

I’m a Cop, Not a Plumber

I’m a Cop, Not a Mechanic

How Do You Spell Exterminator?

Can I Have a Second Opinion?

Flat Stanley

Fighting a Losing Battle

Greetings, Earthlings

A New Roof Over His Head

It’s Just Human Nature

Dumpster Diver

Bullets & BBQ Grills

Are We There Yet?

I’m a Cop, Not a Travel Agent

License Plates

That New Car Smell

Don’t Park in the Landing Zone

An Abundance of Badge Bunnies

Stop By and See Me Sometime

These Boots Are Made for Riding

Welcome to My Lair

All God’s Creatures, Great & Small

Don’t Bite the Hand That Feeds You

What a Fair-Weather Friend

Forlorn Felines

Capture That Kangaroo

Problematic Peacock

The Trouble with Turkeys

The Three Bears

Surprised by a Serpent

Not Exactly the Garden of Eden

Why Did the Turtle Cross the Road?

The Curse of the Ominous Crow

The Zebra Earned Its Stripes

Part Four

Drugs, Dead Bodies & Suicides

Drug-Related Deaths

He Checked In, but Never Checked Out

Silence from Her Bedroom

Surfing the Darkest Web of All

That’s Messed Up, Man

Six Feet of Earth Makes Us All One Size

Law & Order Is a Good Show

She Died Alone

Gone Too Soon

Suicides & Attempted Suicides

Hitting the Wall

The Door Will Be Open

On Her Own Terms

It Was Just Too Much

Please Reach Out for Help

Motor Vehicle Accidents

Trucks

Truck Versus Car

Truck Versus Pole

Truck Versus Tire

Motorcycles

Motorcycle Versus Car

Motorcycle Versus Tree

Cars & Planes

Blinded by the Light

The Secret Life of Parked Cars

That’s Quite a Christmas Tree Ornament

Luck Be a Lady

What Goes Up, Must Come Down

All It Takes Is a Little Ingenuity

Lawn Damage Has Never Looked So Good

Hit-and-Run Investigations

Car Versus Signpost

That’s Not My Plate

Picking Up the Pieces

Unexpected Package Delivery

Bad Weather, Chaos & Confusion

Hurricane Irene

Hurricane Sandy

Driving in a Snowstorm

A Sinking Feeling

There’s No Such Thing as a Routine Traffic Stop

Cops Don’t Start Car Chases

An A for Effort, but an F for Common Sense

Nothing Good Happens After Midnight

Overzealous Security Guards

Part Five

Common Misconceptions About Police Work

Don’t Believe Everything You See on TV

Cops and Lawyers Don’t All Hate Each Other

Stop Playing Detective

Unfamiliarity Breeds Contempt

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Cell Phone Cops

We Have a Key to Unlock the Door

Neighbor Disputes

I’m a Cop, Not a Bill Collector

I’m a Cop, Not a Locksmith

What’s Inside a Police Car?

Every Excuse in the Book

No One Likes a Traffic Ticket

Renew Those Inspection Stickers

No One Likes a Parking Ticket

Hang Up and Drive

What Not to Say to the Police

A Concert Ticket Would Have Been Less Expensive

Let’s Agree to Disagree

Not Guilty by Association

Save the Confetti for a Parade

One Foot Away from Disaster

How Low Will They Go?

Part Six

Protect Your Property

Lock Your Doors

Hide Your Spare Key in a Secure Location

Hide Your Valuables

Have a Trusted Neighbor

Lock Your Vehicle

Driving Advice

Park the Car Yourself

Clear Your Windshield

Maintain Your Vehicle

Clean Out Your Glove Box

Change Your Oil

Check Your Tire Pressure

Fill Your Tank

Beware of Scams

Scam #1: We’ll Make You the King of Kingston

Scam #2: The IRS Will Never Call You

Scam #3: Microsoft and Apple—You Call Them, They Won’t Call You

Protect Yourself

Practice Safety at Home

Be Aware of Your Surroundings

Number Your Mailbox

The 411 on 911

Learn CPR

Protect Your Passwords

Appreciate Life

Final Thoughts

Resources

About the Author

Leave a Review!

Preface

Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty. Anyone who keeps learning stays young.

–Henry Ford

For as long as I can remember, I always wanted to be a cop. Fighting crime, catching criminals, and helping people in need were always appealing. I thought it would be the coolest job in the world, and I was certainly correct in my assumption. The best part of the job was making a difference in someone else’s life and having a chance to make this world a better place during my lifetime.

I lived in Virginia as a child and spent my summers in Alburtis, Pennsylvania. When my father retired from the Marine Corps, he was offered a job in Brooklyn, New York, with the Department of the Navy. Our family moved to a small town in New Jersey, where I still reside to this day. As the saying goes, the rest is history.

One of the reasons I’ve decided to write a book is to entertain, engage, and educate. Throughout this book, I’ll cover topics ranging from how I was hired as a police officer to my experiences during my career. I’ll discuss the education requirements involved with police work and some of the amusing calls I’ve handled, ranging from the sublime to the downright ridiculous.

During and after my career, people would ask me numerous questions about the interesting things I’ve seen and done. After telling somebody about my adventures and experiences, the person would often say, Wow. You should write a book. Well, folks, that’s exactly what I’ve finally decided to do. I assure you that all of the stories in this book are true, and I’ve written them to the best of my recollection. However, I’ve decided not to include the names of the people involved in a deliberate effort to respect their privacy. I’ve also elected not to mention the name of the town where I worked. I felt it would be prudent to avoid doing so to maintain anonymity for the township and its residents.

Several years ago, I gave a speech about police work to my son’s fourth-grade class. I explained what police do during the day, and they all seemed enamored by what I had to say. The funny part was that after my presentation, even the teachers in the classroom wanted to hear more stories.

Here’s my point of view on obtaining the goal of becoming a police officer. Imagine seeing an advertisement in the newspaper’s classified section that reads:

HELP WANTED:

Motivated individual with highly effective people skills willing to work various day and night shifts. Applicant must possess above-average problem-solving skills and basic common sense. No experience is necessary other than working hard and making a positive difference in the community. Promotional opportunities are available.

Benefits include healthcare, a generous salary, a company car, free guns, a uniform allowance, and respect from most of the general public, friends, and family members. When operating the company car, drivers around you will usually be on their best behavior. In addition to union protection, a comfortable pension is available after retirement.

Those with criminal records need not apply.

How could you not want to apply for a job like this? A good salary, making an impact in people’s lives, and a feeling of accomplishment. At the end of the day, you know a vast majority of people appreciate what you do for the community. At least that’s the way I always viewed it.

Acknowledgments

I want to express my utmost appreciation to my wife, Michelle, for dealing with two decades of long days and nights alone while I was at work. I was serving the public and trying to make this world a better place. I express the same gratitude to my children, Christina and Eric, who also had to deal with their dad working unusually long hours and many missed holidays and birthdays. You’ve made me very proud as a father. I always tried to make it up to you and your mom on my days off. A heartfelt thank you to my mother, Nancy, and my father, Donald, who supported me over the years and made me the man I am today. I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank my younger sister Mary, who (hopefully) always looked up to me.

I’d also like to thank my teachers and college professors who sent me out into the world with an enthusiastic interest in continuing to learn, not just from books but from life experiences as well. They always encouraged me to ask questions if I didn’t understand something. They taught me how to rely on my due diligence when nobody seemed to have the answer. As one of my college professors once said, The more you learn, the more you realize how little you actually know.

An additional thank you to the following people who have been instrumental in sharing their knowledge and wisdom or have simply been fun to hang around:

Carl E. Lewis, a wise man and dear friend.

Ronald C. Bednarz, for being the best man at my wedding and one of the finest men I know.

Kenneth Clune, scientist extraordinaire.

Sylvester G. Voigt, you never cease to amaze me with your humor, antics, and general observations about life.

David J. Nelson, Jr., for always being the voice of reason.

Jack Norgard, a true American and good friend.

Tommy and Paul Christman, too much insanity to list.

And last but certainly not least, my fourth-grade teacher Paula Springer. I hope this book substitutes for all the book reports I never turned in.

There are simply too many others to list; apologies if you aren’t mentioned here, but you’ll always remain in my heart and mind.

Part One

Growing Up Quickly

Chapter ONE

The Early Years

Don’t let schooling interfere with your education.

–Mark Twain

I grew up in a small suburban town in the northeast region of New Jersey. I was a quiet child who enjoyed exploring what the world had to offer, and I got along well with my schoolmates. Being perpetually curious about how things worked and fascinated by any form of technology, I loved to tinker with household items. I’d dismantle them and put them back together out of unquenchable curiosity. I wondered how the summation of parts enabled a toaster to turn a slice of bread into a crunchy piece of toast, so I took one apart. I wondered how a simple fuselage with an engine and wings gave humans the ability to fly amongst the birds, so I went to the school library and checked out a book about the Wright Brothers to determine the answer. I spent most of my time in class daydreaming about motorcycles, inventions, or simply a life where I didn’t have to show up for school.

I loved to read about world travelers and inventors such as Thomas Edison and entrepreneurs like John Rockefeller and Andrew Carnegie. I spent most of my time during class reading about anything that interested me when I was supposed to be studying something else. Beyond that, I kept to myself and paid attention during my favorite classes—history, math, and science. As far as I can remember, my happiest moment in grade school was when I graduated and never had to return.

In middle school I immediately developed a friendship with the proverbial class clown. He was my polar opposite personality- wise. He was loud and boisterous for the entirety of the day, as I sat there laughing in a deliberate effort to encourage his behavior. As a result, he and I were constantly in trouble. My teachers and classmates told me to stop enabling his inappropriate conduct. The two of us thrived on playing pranks on each other. Over forty years later, we remain friends and haven’t changed one bit.

I never particularly liked high school either. I made many new friends but never enjoyed being there. It wasn’t until my senior year that I ultimately had to decide what I wanted to do with my life. I worked in a factory that manufactured plastic bags and materials for tire retreads. Realizing there was no future in my current occupation, I enrolled at a local community college.

Despite my dislike for all my previous years of school, I loved college. I finally put all my effort into learning and focused on obtaining a higher education. I took a mandatory physical fitness elective and impressed my teacher and the other students, as I could run around the outdoor track like a gazelle. The only class that challenged me in community college was the foreign language elective. I took Spanish, and no matter how hard I studied, I couldn’t grasp the concept of speaking a foreign language. To this day, the only Spanish words I know are hola and adios.

In 1991, I graduated from County College of Morris with an associate degree in business management and went on to my final two years of college at William Paterson University. I had many great professors and enjoyed most of my classes. A job with a well-known package delivery company helped me fund my tuition and the overpriced textbooks. I often rode to class on my motorcycle to save money on fuel, but I didn’t mind as long as it wasn’t raining. I briefly studied computer programming but quickly lost interest as I despised my computer science professors. I decided to focus on business, mathematics, and history and eventually earned a bachelor’s degree in business management with a minor in accounting.

I had a friend who worked on the other side of town as a petroleum transfer technician (gas pumper). When I mentioned that the New Jersey State Police offered an entrance exam at my college for a state trooper position, he told me to pay the fee and see where it would take me. I agreed with his logic and decided to spend the five bucks to see what the test was like.

I showed up for the state police entrance exam at around eight thirty in the morning, parked my motorcycle in the lot, showed my identification, and was granted access to the building. The test was rather elementary. It involved simple logic questions, grammar, and basic math questions. Several weeks later I received my test score in the mail; I aced it. I eagerly awaited further correspondence advising me when and where to report for training. However, academy recruits were already selected for the next training session. I’d have to retake the test in the future.

Working in New York City

In order to write about life, first you must live it.

–Ernest Hemingway

When I graduated college in August of 1993, I asked the university to send my degree in the mail. I would have been proud to walk onto the stage to accept my degree in person, but I’ve never been very enthusiastic about pomp and circumstance. I was already working for a computer retailer that went out of business several years later. While working there, I became good friends with a fellow employee named Bill Tsigaras, who was in charge of the customer training department. Bill was instrumental in assisting me with securing a position at the New York County District Attorney’s Office in lower Manhattan.

I vividly remember the man who interviewed me for the job. He mentioned that he planned to make the DA’s office available on the Internet. Keep in mind it was 1994, two years before the introduction of the DVD. My first thought was what the hell is the Internet? After the interview was over, I charged out of the office to the nearest payphone, dialed my friend Bill, and inquired, What’s the Internet? He briefly educated me before my fifty cents expired on the payphone. From there, my brief career as an information technology expert was born.

The job entailed performing background checks on defendants and expert witnesses to ensure the successful prosecution of defendants. My department was called User Services, so I was also responsible for helping the assistant district attorneys with any computer-related questions that arose.

I didn’t just like the job; I loved it! I had a nice office in an historic building with a partial view of the Manhattan Supreme Court and the Brooklyn Bridge. I loved that building. I could take my lunch break whenever it was convenient for me. Who could ask for more? Food was always plentiful since I worked just one block south of China Town. There was a pizzeria just two blocks west of my office operated by a couple of friendly New Yorkers who made some of the best pizza in town. I was in their pizzeria a couple of times a week. Upon returning to my office, I’d go about my day pretending to know what I was doing until it was time to call it quits and return home.

The only unpleasant thing about that job was the two-hour commute each way, which meant rolling out of bed around five o’clock every morning to examine my travel options from my small New Jersey town to my cozy office in lower Manhattan. I needed to be in the office by eight o’clock in the morning to check my email and begin researching expert witnesses and defendants. The information I discovered about the individuals provided the assistant district attorneys with detailed information to ensure a successful prosecution. Occasionally traveling to various areas of Manhattan, I’d attend trade shows, luncheons, and pick up subpoenas for telephone records. There was something special about getting lost in the organized chaos of New York City before reporting back to work.

Because the commute was so daunting, I often mixed it up to keep things interesting. My first option was to drive my car or ride my motorcycle to the neighboring town. After parking at the train station, I’d board the NJ Transit commuter train to Hoboken, New Jersey, and catch the PATH train (Port Authority Trans-Hudson) from Hoboken into lower Manhattan. Finally, I’d take the escalator into the original World Trade Center and walk a mile northeast toward my office.

If I were tasked with picking up a subpoena on my way to work, I’d take the PATH train to Thirty-Third Street, board an uptown subway to Forty-Second Street, and walk from the NYC Port Authority terminal to the Verizon building at the corner of Forty-Second Street and Sixth Avenue. Once I picked up the subpoena, I’d get on a southbound subway train to the City Hall Station in lower Manhattan and walk to work from there. It was all fun and games unless it was raining or NYC cold.

My second option was to ask my father to drop me off at the bus stop in the lower part of our town before he went to work. I’d ride the bus to Port Authority and take a long walk to the underground shuttle, which transferred weary passengers like me to Grand Central Station. Then I’d board the southbound subway to the City Hall station. Looking back on my time working in NYC, I’d estimate that at least ten percent of my weekly salary was spent merely to cover my travel costs. As exhausting and expensive as the commute sounds, I can honestly say I loved every minute of it. I was single back then and always thought of it as a daily adventure.

Getting back home was another adventure in and of itself. It was the exact opposite of how I arrived at work. If I’d taken the train, I’d travel back to Hoboken on the PATH train and take a NJ Transit train back to the station in my town. If I’d elected to take the bus that morning, I’d carry my briefcase on the one-mile walk home from the bus stop. It didn’t matter to me. For as long as I live, I will never forget those moments.

One evening while I was dozing off on the train, it stopped at a station along the way as we neared the terminal in Hackettstown, New Jersey. Partially awake, I looked out the window and said to myself, Wow! Someone has a Mustang that looks exactly like mine. It turns out it was mine, and I managed to get off the train just in time. I made it my mantra to not fall asleep on the train or bus when traveling home from that point on. If you fell asleep on the way to work, it wasn’t a big deal. Whether it was the train or bus, NYC was the final stop for the morning commuters. Out of solidarity, other commuters would take a moment to let you know it was time to wake up and head to work.

On another occasion, the conductor walked through the passenger car validating the commuters’ daily or monthly passes. I had a monthly pass and reached for my wallet, which typically held my railway ticket. Horrified, I realized that I’d left the wallet on my dresser, along with my spending money for the day. The conductor recognized me from previous commutes, and I apologetically explained my dilemma. Not only did he allow me to remain on the train, but he also loaned me twenty dollars so I’d have money for lunch and a return ticket home. To this day, I remember his last name was Kuiper. (This is one of the few occasions I will ever use a person’s actual name in this book.) The following day I had my monthly pass in my possession and reimbursed him the twenty dollars he loaned me. It’s people like him who helped me keep my faith in humanity.

One Phone Call Changed It All

Never let the fear of striking out keep you