Raindogblue

On 5th

 

Somebody won a foot pursuit with a 20 year old tonight, and he might be over 50!

 

 

An Elude

 

On 19th, prowler pointed southbound, I watch a shiny Mercedes blow the mid-light red from west to south two car lengths from my ram bar. I flip on the overheads and sirens. The red car takes the first left and accelerates.  As I follow, the car passes a pick-up stop at the stop sign. I kill the sirens, the lights, and announce the elude on the radio as the Mercedes brakes hard avoiding, t-boning a black car on 18th. As soon as black car clears, the Mercedes launches east and then south on 17th. 

By policy, I cannot purse. A few of us area check to no luck. 

The car is registered to a homeless man, who is an armed career criminal. 

I park, write up a report documenting the incident, and BOLO the car, before clearing for calls. 

 

 

 

 

Pursuits: 2014 Stats

 

 

For the City:

Average pursuit length:  2 minutes and 20 seconds

Times pursuits occurred: 11 PM to 3 AM.

Days most likely to have a pursuit: Tuesday, then Wednesday and Thursday.
(almost twice as many than during the weekend.)

70 percent of pursuits awere traffic related.
(As opposed to driving a stolen car, robbery, DUII, etc.)

37 percent were terminated.

 

 

North Of Serenity

 

Tonight, at Six, Scrapper Mike was spotted on a bike at 28th and Serenity. 

I point my prowler and began to drift among the side streets and alleys between the Breakers and the Rail yard. 

I find him in the Maze. 

He's riding east. I'm driving west. 

I try to low key it. 

Hey Mike, have a seat for a minute. 

It almost works. He slows. 

I exit the car. 

He blasts off. 

I pursue. 

Prowler beats bike. 

At 30th, north of Serenity, Mike dashes into a parking lot. He tries to dodge between buildings, but fails, crashing, falling head first over the bars, onto his back, on the ground, rolling into a somersault, and back onto his feet, running. 

I anchor the car and chase on foot

He rounds one corner and the next. 

I loose sight. I follow directives and stop, and hoof it back to the prowler. 

I call out Mike's description and set the perimeter. 

My wingman's close, but the rest of the world is a long ways out. 

East has a tactical, so there's no dogs. 

The dispatcher digs one up from another county. 

I hope Mike hunkered down. 

It's his style. He knows the terrain and there's many places to hide. 

The dog's a ten. She has Mike's scent, tracks him out of the Maze, across the church, and back into the Maze. She finds his coat, his hat, and his hoody.

She turns us south to Serenity and into a fenced construction yard. The lot's packed with black plastic pipes, fifty feet long, a foot in diameter, and stacked ten feet high.

The dog breaches the fence and circles the pipes. She finds Mike hiding inside.

 

 

 

At the Pumps

 

 

Tonight, I lost a foot pursuit.

 

At the pumps, at the end of shift, 

Kenny said, "You were in a foot pursuit tonight?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"What were you thinking?

You're too old.

You could get hurt."

 

 

 

The Name Game: The Running Edition

 

Shelly's a thief. 

 

I spot her hopping the jersey barrier dividing the north and south bound lanes of the state highway under Breaker's Bridge.

 

I stop her.

 

Have a seat.

 

She gives me a name. I chat her up. She can't tell me her high school or an old address. 

 

 I can smell the lie.

 

I pull up a photo, show her the box.

 

That ain't you.

 

She chimes in with her real name, claims the other one's her cousin,

says "I think I got a warrant." 

 

I pop her real name in.

She's hot.

 

She looks at me, says,  "Fuck it," and runs.

 

The streets are lined with warehouses and chain link fences. There's no where to run.

 

I follow her in the prower for three blocks and catch her before she can climb a fence.

 

 

 

Foot Pursuit

 

I chased down a gangster

with a want last week.

I am not proud of it.

 

He's thirteen.

He spat, cried, and raged

all the way to juvie.

 

 

Facts: Pursuits

For the department, for 2010:

61% of all pursuits are in East Precinct.

Half of all pursuits occur between 10 PM and 3 AM. 

42% of all pursuits start as attempted traffic stops. 

21% of all pursuits involve a stolen car. 

The average length of a pursuit is 1 minute,  40 seconds. 

The average length of a pursuit nationwide is 5.5 minutes. 

 

In Slow Pursuit

On 14th, in the West Village, two blocks from the school, I pass a driver, red faced and flushed, drinking from a can of Coors.

He’s drunk.

I flipped a U-ball  and accelerated, catching up to car in a couple of blocks. Behind the car, I hit the lights, the red and blue LEDs, and then the siren from Wail to Yelp and back again.

The drunk didn’t stop. The drunk didn’t slow.

I grab the mike.

7David4. I’ve got one not stopping. 13th and King.

The car continues six block south, past the empty parking spots and empty parking lots. It signals, turning left into the side streets.

7David4. Pursuit.

A slow pursuit with speeds never breaking twenty.

7David4. Permission to P.I.T.

At 15th, the drunk ignored the stop sign and drove through the intersection.

The sergeant chimed in, “P.I.T. authorized.”But there’s no room. 

Cars lines the narrow street on either side leaving twelve feet in between.

He signals, turns south, and slows.

7David4. Conditions dry. No traffic. He’s signaling. Speeds: Five miles per hour.

The drunk passes the next intersection and pulls into a driveway.

7David4. He’s stopping. York and 16th.

I box him in, toss the prowler in park, and boil out of the car.

Put your hands up. Put your hands your hands where I can see them.

My gun’s in my hand, finger out of the trigger guard, aimed at his center mass. 

His head swivels back. His hands are out of sight.

Do it. Put your hand up. Now! Where I can see them.

The third time I shout the command, he complies, placing his hands out the open window. Grabbing his left wrist with my left hand, I  reverse it into an arm bar levered against the doorjamb as his little, black dog barks in the backseat. I open the door and pull him out.

As I cuff and stuff him, the man says, “Sorry for eluding you, but I wanted to take my dog home before I went to jail.”

Darkness Deepened

The day diminished.

Dusk dwelled.

The darkness deepened.

It was a good night,
a quiet night.
I had two blue sheets 
in the sergeant's in-box.

I blacked out and sat
at an empty intersection
when a car blew through the stop.

I hit the overheads,
threw the prowler in gear.

The car did not stop.
It went faster.

I hit the sirens:
stepped on the gas.

It blew through the next stop, 
turned right and right again.

The radio was busy.
I was in pursuit. 

The car anchored it.
Driver's door opened.

I blocked in the car, 
PIT bumper to driver's side
passenger door 
as the bad guy bailed out.
I scrambled out to intercept him.

Pants pissed, shorts soiled, 
he decided he wanted to talk.
I let him
after he was cuffed and stuffed.