Rocks and Bottles

By E. S. Tasker

When the author sat down and began writing Rocks and Bottles, his thoughts centered around the problems facing our society today. He recognized that there were many within the society who had a tendency to blame one particular segment, our law enforcement, for much of what was going on. Nothing could be further from reality than that belief. Truth be known, our law enforcement, much like our society, isn’t perfect. But without our law enforcement, there would be no society worth having.

The demands placed on our police officers today are, at times, excruciating. Theirs is a tough job. It always has been. Yes, occasionally mistakes are made. There is no excuse for those. They are human beings, just like you and me, but with one exception: they are each willing to sacrifice what some refer to as a normal life to protect the lives of others.

When reading the various chapters within Rocks and Bottles, it is hoped that you, the reader, will gain a better perspective as to the type of person many officers are and that you will conclude that they are very much like yourself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662445286

Book preview

Chapter 1

Police Academy

Those individuals entering the field of law enforcement must first meet what is referred to as minimum standards. In order to receive those standards, the candidate must first successfully complete the required number of hours of study in an accredited and recognized training academy. The hours required in achieving those minimum standards vary from state to state. There is no established national standard. The total number of hours is mandated differently from department to department, so long as those hours received meet each state’s minimum. The venues for conducting the academies also vary from community to community. Many are conducted at local community colleges. Some utilize already-existing state police academies, while others have established their own academies, which you’ll find, in most cases, are the larger departments throughout the country. No matter the environment, the trend not only today but also in years past have been to provide not only the required minimum standards but also as many hours beyond the set standards as financially possible.

The education received by the new candidates doesn’t stop after graduation. Throughout the years an officer is employed, they will be summoned back to their training facilities for updates and in-service training on areas of concern, as required by their departments and or the state they’re working in. This additional training, in most cases, must be attended if the officers are to maintain their state-standards mandates as well as their individual state certifications. The educational material an officer receives never stops; it is ongoing on a constant basis and continues throughout their careers.

The course of study mandated for each new candidate will vary from state to state, but it is safe to say that the curriculum in each of the institutions is much the same, with only a few exceptions. Local ordinances and state laws will vary in each of the jurisdictions as well as each department’s radio signals and their usage. To further illustrate the demands faced by each new police candidate during their training, a partial list of courses is provided in the following table.

The courses indicated are by no means a complete list of the courses required. It is merely a partial list, at best. It is this writer’s hope that by reading the courses provided and understanding there are numerous others not included, a better appreciation will be had for the requirements placed on each new recruit.

Keep in mind that in order to acquire the minimum standards required by each individual state, the new recruit must also satisfy the requirements of his or her own department or jurisdiction. Once each of these standards is met, the new officers will graduate from their respective institutions and hit the streets. They’ve received an abundance of information and are better prepared to understand what is going to be thrown at them once they report to their first assignment, but their graduation is merely the beginning. Now they’ll be assigned to a seasoned officer, a field-training officer, who will take them by the hand and translate everything learned at the academy into how it is all to be used on the street. When combining the classroom education with what is learned from their FTOs, their new lessons learned will be indelibly etched into their minds forever.

There is one constant in all this, regardless of where the law-enforcement training was received and regardless of where the new officer is sworn to enforce the law: it’s called the Law Enforcement Code of Ethics. It states as follows:

As alaw enforcement officer, my fundamental duty is to serve mankind, to safeguard lives and property; to protect the innocent against deception, the weak against oppression or intimidation, and the peaceful against violence or disorder; and to respect the constitutional rights of all persons to liberty, equality and justice.

I will keep my private life unsullied as an example to all; maintain courageous calm in the face of danger, scorn, or ridicule; develop self-restraint; and be constantly mindful of the welfare of others. Honest in thought and deed in both my personal and official life, I will be exemplary in obeying the laws of the land and the regulations of my department. Whatever I see or hear of a confidential nature or that is confided to me in my official capacity will be kept secret unless revelation is necessary in the performance of my duty.

I will never act officiously or permit personal feelings, prejudices, animosities, or friendships to influence my decisions. With no compromise for crime and with relentless prosecution of criminals, I will enforce the law courteously and appropriately without fear or favor, malice or ill will, never employing unnecessary force or violence, and never accepting gratuities.

I recognize the badge of my office as a symbol of public faith, and I accept it as a public trust to be held so long as I am true the ethics of police service. I will constantly strive to achieve these objectives and ideals, dedicating myself before God to my chosen profession—Law Enforcement.

During my career, I met many different types of people, but the one I probably respected the most was a local Catholic priest. He and I had many conversations during the years I knew him not because of my religious affiliation, I’m not Catholic, but because we were just friends.

One particular day, we were standing outside the church, simply enjoying the heat of the day and exchanging war stories. We were both about the same age, and his roots were from mid-America as mine were. I suppose that was one of factors that served as a means of creating our friendship.

Our conversation bounced from one subject to the other as they always did. It wasn’t unusual. We simply liked sharing our individual thoughts on different subjects. I wish to share his thoughts with each of you at this moment because I feel that what he said to me that day was not only profound but also heartfelt. To this very day, I remember each and every word he said, and I’ll never forget his sincerity. If any of you reading this text is involved in the field of law enforcement in any way, remember his words.

At one point in our conversation, he reached over and placed his hand on my shoulder in order to stress what he was about to say to me. He looked directly into my eyes, and with a firmness I hadn’t seen him in before, he questioned, You do know that we’re very much alike, you and I?

I stood perfectly still and knew that the look of bewilderment was clearly being displayed, and then I questioned him in return, Father, how in the world could I ever be compared with you?

He gazed at me with a look of peace and confidence, like he always did, and added, Think about it. Society treats you and I much in the same manner, don’t they?

I chuckled a little with what he had just said, and while shaking my head, I replied, Father, people don’t treat me like they treat you, trust me.

He squeezed the top of my shoulder in order to enforce what he was about to say in response, What I mean is that society has the same expectations for the both of us. We’re both revered in the public eye and expected to walk a perfect path, right?

I was beginning to agree with what he was saying, and I responded, Yes, I’ll agree with that.

He paused momentarily, then added, But let us stumble, you or I, and we’d both receive a world’s worth of condemnation.

He was absolutely right. I had never thought about it along those lines before. Both the cop and the priest were revered by the public and placed on a high plateau within their communities. Both are expected to live by a higher degree of moral and ethical standards. They were very much alike after all.

Chapter 2

A New Beginning

The feeling of satisfaction was nearly overwhelming after graduation. The three and half months seemed to have flown by, but the memories of the past weeks would last forever. It was truly a miracle that anyone of us in the class finished at all. What was really miraculous was that we did it with little to no sleep at all. During the first couple of days, we had a lot of orientation, but after that, the s—— hit the fan!

Every course of study, with no exceptions, required hours and hours of research and study, not during class hours but in the time afterward—on our own time, during each and every evening until the wee hours of every morning, and that included the weekends as well. There were thirty of us in the recruit class, and we found that in order to handle the material covered, it was more beneficial for many of us in the class to break up into various study groups. We rotated our locations for study from one home to the other. The study sessions stretched sometimes into the early-morning hours, which provided little time to sleep. We would get what rest we could, then get up appropriately so we could be standing on the grinder first thing in the mornings at 0730 hours. We would stand for inspection, and then begin our daily routine of classes. Each day of class ended at 1630 hours, then we would head to our respected homes. The days continued in that format for a little over three and half months. The schedule was grueling.

The memories of the past weeks were now exactly that, only memories. What lay ahead of each of us was an unknown future, one that would be molded by the department and the new jobs we were being expected to do.

Six of us had been assigned to the evening shift (1500 to 2300) from our class. The other twenty-four were scattered between days and midnights. The six of us had arrived at the parking lot at about the same time, and one by one, each of us, after gathering our equipment from our vehicles, managed to converge at the same corner just across the street from the headquarters building. There we stood, six young men, well-groomed and attired in brand-new dark-blue uniforms. Anything and everything being worn that was metallic shone like a brilliant star. The leather items of our uniforms, the utility belts, the holsters, and the shoes each glistened in the afternoon sun. Our appearance while standing together must have created quite a spectacle because, very quickly, we noticed that we were the subject of attention by every officer passing us by. Not one of those officers said a word to us as they passed. They simply stared and continued on their way. We just couldn’t understand why we were attracting so much attention. After all, we were dressed exactly the same as they were. None of the six of us understood the stares. We just couldn’t figure it out, not yet anyway, but we would very shortly.

The traffic using the roadway between the parking lot and headquarters was stopping for the light at the nearby intersection, and with that, we hefted our equipment bags and crossed the street. Once across, we utilized the sidewalk for only a short distance before finally ending up at the bottom of a large flight of concrete steps. We followed the flow of others entering the building and began our climbing of the steps until reaching the top.

Our climb to the top of the steps finally delivered us in front of two huge wooden doors. One of the guys grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, and as soon as space was created, several officers scurried on in. The six of us just stood there and waited our turn. At one point, I nodded toward one of the passing officers and offered him a friendly Afternoon but received nothing in return, not a return nod of the head or even a kiss my ass. What the hell was wrong with us anyway? We were one of them, weren’t we? No one warned us about being confronted with such a reception.

Finally, we managed to enter through the doors and found ourselves standing inside a lobby the size of a mammoth cavern. The place was a beehive of activity, with officers and civilians alike rushing in every direction. The appearance of mass chaos existed, but those inside seemed to know where they were going and how to get there. The same couldn’t be said for the six of us. We were like a herd of sheep without a clue. And to those around us, I’m sure we had the appearance of deer caught in a set of headlights because we just stood there, trying to figure out where we had to go. Then it happened. A lull settled over the lobby for just a moment, but it was enough that finally we were able to spot our possible salvation, the information desk. Like a swarm of little kids playing soccer for the first time, we utilized our magnet-ball maneuvers, and together we made a dash for the desk.

The information desk was manned by two uniformed officers and one sergeant. To say it was busy would be an understatement. The phones were ringing constantly. One phone would get answered by an officer. And another would ring, then another, and it would get answered. The cycle went on and on continually. How those two officers got assigned to the desk was anyone’s guess, but I would like to know because that was one duty I surely didn’t want to ever get. The phones weren’t their only responsibility. Now and then, a citizen would approach the window for the purpose of making a complaint or requesting some sort of information. Sometimes you would see one of the officers, with a phone stuck in one of his ears, taking what information he could from a complaining citizen. The six of us just stood there and waited. It was 1420 hours, so we couldn’t wait too long. We had to report in by 1430 hours, and being late on our first day wasn’t how we wished to begin our new careers. The entire time we stood there, the sergeant sat in a large wooden swivel chair faced away from us, always busy on the other side of the desk. But suddenly the noise of phones and the chatter of everyone on the desk were drowned out by the annoying loud screech of his chair as he began turning around. He had turned all the way around and was now facing us directly as if he had known we were there all along. The chair continued to crack and squeak as he began scooting it closer to our side of the desk. Finally, he stopped moving, and he stared at the six of us as if to say, What the hell do you want? Due to the desk being elevated and his being seated in that chair, we found ourselves on an even plane visually. He hadn’t said a word. He appeared to be assessing who we were and why we were there. He leaned forward with both hands on the counter and strained his head closer to the window’s opening. He began clearing his throat as if preparing to speak, but nothing was said, not yet anyway.

The desk sergeant wasn’t a young man. As a matter of fact, he had to be one of the oldest cops I had ever seen. His complexion was ruddy, and his skin was deeply tanned. He hadn’t shaved in the last twenty-four hours because he was carrying at least a day’s worth of thick stubble. In the corner of his mouth, he held a short stub of a once-huge cigar. It wasn’t lit, and it appeared to be permanently affixed. His overall appearance was rugged, like that of the ancient mariner. He wore a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, which sat at the end of his nose, and how they stayed where they were was anyone’s guess. I glanced at his sergeant’s badge being worn and understood then that we were facing probably one the most senior sergeants on the department. His badge displayed the number 002.

He cleared his throat for the second time but, this time, for a reason. He asked, What’s your business?

The nearest one of the six responded, Sir, we need to report to our zones. It’s our first day here.

The sergeant stiffened in his chair and sneered at the young officer and replied, Sir, sir, who the hell do you think you’re speaking to? Do you see any damn gold on my collars? I’m a sergeant, son. I’m the sergeant of the desk. Call me sergeant!

The poor young officer was afraid to say anything else, so he moved slightly to the side, permitting another one of the six to get some help. I was next in line, and I measured every word I used. Sergeant, we need to report to our zones by 1430. All we need are directions in where those offices are located.

The sergeant leaned back in his chair and questioned, Who’s going where?

I answered in detail, We have two of us reporting to zone 4, two to zone 2, and two to zone 3.

The sergeant continued leaning back in his chair and responded, Now was that so hard? Rookies, huh? He reached forward and grabbed a microphone, which had been sitting just left of the window. With the microphone grasped firmly in his hand, he pulled it close to his mouth and announced, Attention, attention, could we please have representatives from zones two, three, and four report to the front desk to pick up their new rookies? He repeated the same message again over the speaker system with a wide grin stretching from cheek to cheek. The announcement was heard throughout the building, even the lobby we were standing in, and was surely heard by everyone present in the lobby. The stares intensified.

At precisely 1425 hours, the representatives from each of the three zones arrived at the desk. The officers introduced themselves and advised us to follow them. The six of us wished one another good luck and began our trek up another flight of stairs. As we departed the desk area, the sergeant offered us his version of a goodbye, You boys keep your heads down out there on the street… Oh, and welcome to the zoo.

We followed our zone representatives up the stairs, and with each step taken, we put our pasts further and further behind. Our lives would never be the same again after today, and who we were to become would be based solely on what we would endure.

Chapter 3

A Look Back

The steps we were climbing were constructed from stone, not concrete, and they seemed as old as the pyramids of Egypt. They didn’t rise straight up, but instead, they followed a graceful curve like the grand stairway in a plantation mansion. We continued following the zone reps one step at a time, and as we continued our climb, my mind began to wander. Just briefly, my thoughts strayed, and I gave thought to the events that led me to where I presently was.

* * *

I was living in a very modest, low-income neighborhood. The residences were closely spaced to one another, so knowing your neighbor was a given. Fortunately, one of my neighbors was a family much like my own—about the same age as well. The man of the house and I frequently found ourselves discussing the news of the day over the backyard fence, and it was during one of those conversations that I revealed to him that I was having some difficulty in finding substantial employment. I explained to him that I had dabbled in some retail for a while, then some restaurant work, but nothing seemed to fit. At one point, I really opened up to him and explained that, to my wife’s chagrin, I was even contemplating returning to the military.

A couple of days had passed since our last conversation when I received a phone call. It was my neighbor. He simply had called and asked if I wanted to talk. Of course, I said yes, and in a few minutes, the two of us were alongside the backyard fence again. The second we converged on the fence, he questioned, Well, did you find anything yet? The negative shaking of my head was joined with a matching answer. You do know that I’m a deputy with the County Sheriff’s Office, don’t you? After asking me, he just stood there and waited for me to answer.

You know, I wondered what you did, but I wasn’t quite sure. All I knew was that you seemed to work some crazy hours, I replied to his inquiry as truthfully as I could because I truly didn’t know what he did.

He stood directly in front of me with both his hands resting on the top of the chain-link and asked, Have you ever thought about going into law enforcement?

I lightly began to chuckle at the thought and caught myself looking down at the ground as I replied, No, I never gave that a thought.

He looked at me in a strange sort of way and offered, Well, why not? You’re a US citizen, you have a military background, you’re over twenty-one, you’re a high-school graduate, and you’ve never been arrested, right?

I, no doubt, had a dumbfounded look on my face as I replied, No.

He began to laugh and asked, No, to what?

I quickly snapped, No, I’ve never been arrested.

He continued in his delivery, Listen, I’ll tell you what, the department has a Ride Along Program. Would you be interested in riding along with me a couple evenings?

My mind raced with the thought for only a couple of seconds before answering, Sure, I’d like that. It all sounds interesting. What do I have to do?

He told me to follow him into his house so he could get some information from me, because the department would have to perform a background check before okaying my participation. After waiting for a couple of days, my approval came through, and we sat up a couple of dates for the Ride Along.

I rode with Roy, my neighbor, on two separate occasions on the evening shift, which was (3:00 p.m. to 11:00 p.m.), during the same week. The first of the two was on a Tuesday evening, and the second was on a Friday evening. Tuesday was a little slow, but on Friday, wow, we never found a lull in the activity. During the two shifts, I merely stood by and watched his every move. I never got involved; I was only an observer. I watched as he conducted several traffic stops, handled a couple of domestics, investigated various complaints from local citizens, and wrote quite a few reports. What I was most impressed with was the comradery between the officers. It reminded me of the kinship that existed when I was in the service.

After the shift was over on Friday evening, he and I conversed with a couple of the other officers before leaving the station. After being around them only those couple of times, they apparently began feeling more comfortable with my presence and actually included me in the mix, which made me feel really good.

The two of us had driven into the station together on that Friday evening, so riding back home that evening together afforded us the time to just chat. We hadn’t driven maybe five or ten minutes away from the station when Roy asked, Well, tonight was your second night out. What’d you think?

I muddled his question around in my head for just a few seconds, then replied, Piece of cake.

He didn’t say a word. He just stared straight ahead and continued driving, then he turned slightly in my direction and uttered, What do mean by ‘piece of cake’?

I suddenly realized that I had, no doubt, stepped on his toes, so I attempted to smooth the waters. What I mean was that I didn’t see anything that I couldn’t have handled myself with the proper tools.

Without realizing it, my last statement only intensified his wrath that was building, and then he blurted, Well, I never figured you as being a Mr. know-it-all. Okay, wise guy, if you’re so damn smart, let’s put your money where your mouths at. The department is in the process of accepting new applications next week for the next upcoming academy class. Why don’t you apply, and then we’ll see how smart you really are? I didn’t say another word in response to his suggestion. I merely sat there and thought about what he had just said. The remainder of the trip home was fairly quiet.

The following week, I did submit an application; and shortly thereafter, I found myself being tested by the department. The holidays came and went, and only a couple of days after Christmas, I received word that I had been accepted and was being placed in the first academy class in January. With letter in hand, I walked next door, knocked on Roy’s front door, and handed him my letter as he opened the door. I was smiling from ear to ear as he read over the letter, and when he finally looked up at me, I thankfully said, Thank you, Roy!

He handed me back the letter and offered, Don’t thank me now. You haven’t finished the academy yet. You’ve got a long hard three and half months ahead of you.

I continued smiling and answered, Without your suggesting it, I wouldn’t have made the effort, so thanks.

I began turning away from the door when he uttered, Oh, and by the way, congratulations!

* * *

After climbing for what seemed an eternity, we finally reached the top of the stairway, and I mumbled under my breath, Because of a dare…

One of the guys walking alongside glanced toward me and asked, Did you say something?

I returned his glance and quickly responded, Not really, I was just thinking about something that occurred sometime back. After climbing all those stairs and carrying our equipment bags, we were each about spent, but not one word was uttered, indicating a hint of exhaustion. We simply followed our zone reps and never said a word.

Once at the top of the stairs, a long corridor stretched out in front of us, and over the entrance of the hallway was a placard stating, PATROL DIVISION. There were four doors spaced out evenly along the corridor, two on each sides, with a fifth door centered on the wall at the end of the hall. The door at the end of the hallway was labeled, Patrol Division Chief, and the other four were labeled Zone 1, Zone 2, Zone 3, and Zone 4. We had finally reached our destination.

The officers who had served as the representatives from our new zone assignments pointed out the individual zone offices and stated, Well, here you are. The six of us said our farewells to one another and proceeded to our designated offices. I grabbed the handle of the door leading into the zone-4 office, pulled it opened, permitted my classmate to enter first, and then entered right behind him.

Once inside the office, I found myself in the company of a group of other officers. The second we had entered the office, the eyes of those already inside trained on our presence. Some were gathered into smaller groups, merely chewing the fat, while others seemed to be just hanging out. Some were busy gathering paperwork from a nearby wall-mounted bin. Not one of the officers approached the two of us or offered to say a word. It was as if we were infected with the plague.

The interior of the zone office was one large lobby-sized space. Its walls were lined with wooden chairs and several tables. At the back of the room was another door, and mounted above it was a placard stating, Zone Captain. One of the walls inside the space had two large maps displayed; one was a map of the entire county, and the other was a map of the zone (district).

The two of us walked over to the map of the zone and began studying its details. One of the officers already in the space and studying the map looked at the two of us as we approached and walked away. I swear, I felt as if I wanted to shout out, What the hell’s wrong with everybody? Do we stink or something? It was a classic case of ostracism, if I had ever seen one.

We remained near the map only momentarily when an officer exited the captain’s office and approached the two of us. He immediately questioned, Officer Anderson?

My classmate responded, That’s me.

The officer replied, I’m your FTO. Please come with me.

I remained alone. I was standing near the map for only a couple of minutes when another officer exited the captain’s office and approached me. You must be Officer Edwards?

I replied, Yes, sir. I am.

The officer extended a handshake and offered, I’m Officer Fox. I’m your FTO. Welcome to zone 4. Oh, and don’t call me sir.

I responded, Just a habit, sorry.

Chapter 4

The Training Officer

Much of the impact received in training comes from the police academy and rightfully so. No matter where a new recruit receives his or her basic training, it is exactly that—basic training. It is the means by which each new recruit receives the basic fundamentals to do the job. However, by itself, it is not enough. All that newly acquired education has to be sorted and interpreted in such a way that the new officer not only understands its application but also is capable of assessing the elements of any particular circumstance and come to a reasonable solution. Then and only then will the new officer ever be able to sometimes make those split-second decisions. There is one means that is utilized across the nation by the majority of departments in providing such a transition,