On Patrol

On Patrol

It was a warm night. The West Texas sun was brutal and unforgiving throughout the day and as night fell, the air remained heavy and unmoving. As I drove past the Bank of America on Bryant Blvd, the digital clock under the bank’s logo flashed between 9:47 and 92 degrees.

I’d been on patrol for almost 4 hours tonight and was bored shitless! I hated working the mid-shifts and the lack of calls tonight made me regret covering the last four hours of my ex-partners shift. I normally worked the 10 P.M. to 6 A.M. shift but had started at 6 P.M. tonight so Denny could attend his daughter’s jazz concert at the high school.

Having been on the force for over 17 years, I could have moved to the day shift at any time. All I needed to do was put in the request. However, I enjoyed working nights. All of the exciting calls happened during the nights and I was hooked on the adrenaline high.

Other than a four year stint as a narcotics detective, I had spent my entire career working the street. During my first years on the force, I started taking college classes and eventually earned my Bachelor’s Degree in Criminal Justice. I was promoted to Sergeant at age 29. Now, at 38 and having completed a Master’s Degree last year, I was recently promoted to Lieutenant. Other than the shift commander, I was the ranking officer on duty most nights.

As I reminisced about my career, I listened to the dispatch center as they relayed information to other units throughout the city. Most of them were routine calls; a couple minor domestic disturbances, a shoplifting at the HEB, a possible drunk driver involved in a minor traffic accident. The radio chatter was busy but nothing that warranted my involvement.

Normally on slow nights like these, I’d work my way to the local college campus and embark on a foot patrol. As a police officer, these “walks” created opportunities to engage in community policing; a term developed by some fat-ass bureaucratic politician that basically amounted to “kissing ass” with civilians. As a divorced 38 year old male, it gave me the opportunity to check out the young college girls.

I’d learned early in my career getting laid was simple for a cop. Even the ugliest cops on the force were able to land some young piece of ass that were enamored by the badge and the authority.

I considered myself fairly attractive for my age. At 38, I stood 5’ 6” tall and weighed 195lbs. I kept in shape by running at least 20 miles per week and lifted weights religiously. I started shaving my head completely bald about 5 years ago and loved the look and the convenience.

I considered heading to the university but really didn’t feel like walking tonight. It was too damned hot.

I continued to drive around town with no particular destination in mind. It was Thursday night and nothing was going on. “Maybe I’ll head back to my office and work on a few of the annual personnel evaluation that are due” I thought to myself. To be honest, I didn’t feel like sitting in front of a computer all nigh either.

Bored shitless and it was only going on 10 P.M. I still had eight hours to go.

As my mind wandered, I soon found myself on the outskirts of town. I decided to drive up the highway and check on the park and recreation area. All the local teens loved to use this area as a party location since it was somewhat secluded. After making the 5 minute drive, I spotted the turn-off ahead and began to slow down. As I made the left turn into the road to the park entry, I killed my headlights, driving with my amber lights only.

Even though I didn’t expect to find much, tactically it was always smart to maintain the advantage; as a cop alone in a park at night, my tactical advantage was the element of surprise. I slowed my Crown Victoria to 4 or 5 M.P.H. and allowed the engine’s idle to slowly pull the vehicle along. As I scanned the area, I allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I continued down the winding road and surveyed each picnic pavilion as I passed. Dead. Nothing. Nobody. The park was vacant.

“Shit!” I said aloud to myself. Not even a young couple making out; a common occurrence and always an opportunity for some humor. As I completed the park loop and reached for the headlight switch, I caught a glimpse of a reflection from my left side. I slowly applied the parking brake, a common technique used to stop a police car without illuminating the brake lights and allowing an officer to maintain stealth and surprise. As the vehicle halted, I opened the door and exited. Our department’s vehicle maintenance shop disabled the interior light switch that turned on the dome light when the doors were opened. I gently closed the door and withdrew my large Mag-Lite.

As I walked through the dry, brittle grass, I discovered the reflection belonged to a newer model vehicle parked on the grass behind a picnic pavilion. Whoever parked there did so with the intent on not being seen from the driveway. Had I not looked back for a moment when I was coasting through the park, I would have missed it. Instinctively, my right hand unsnapped the thumb-break of my holster and assumed a strong grip on the pistol grip of my Beretta 9mm service pistol. Cautiously, I approached the vehicle. As I did, I realized I recognized it. It was Denny’s 1999 Chevy Tahoe. I immediately recognized the “48” Jimmy Johnson sticker in the back window and the “Fraternal Order of Police” sticker on the bumper.

“That bastard!” I thought to myself. “I’m working for him tonight and he’s out here getting a piece of ass!”

I laughed to myself as I decided to pull a prank on my former patrol partner of 6 years. I reached down to my service belt a withdrew my department cell phone. As I slowly approached his truck, I intended to take a picture of Denny in a “compromising position” with the cell phone camera. I knew Denny and I knew he was NOT at this park fucking his wife of nearly 20 years. He had to be hitting some sweet little cutie from the college.