One of the precepts in America is: Innocent until proven guilty.

Eleven years of police work in Florida has left trails of policing experience embedded in me. Enough to understand that surrounding circumstances can change an innocent story into a criminal act.

Take for example someone strolling through a residential street with a screwdriver in their back pocket.
Innocent right?

That same scenery (irrelevant of race and gender), strolling through a residential street at 3:00 am takes on a whole different meaning; considering that screwdrivers have been used to break into cars and homes.

Imagine the day that a police officer can not stop someone to question what appears to be suspicious acts? Then we don’t need them. Just let them sit at the donut shops or at the police stations taking reports!!

Shame on you President Obama! You have a job to do and we expect you to do it in an impartial way.
Police Officers have a job to do also: to PROTECT AND SERVE. I’m sure if someone were breaking into his home…it would be a different story. Oh I forgot…he has the secret service (and we don’t).

I agree with James Preston’s comment (president of the Fraternal Order of Police Florida State Lodge): “By reducing all contact between law enforcement and the public to the color of their skin or ethnicity is, in fact, counterproductive to improving relationships,” Preston said. “To make such an offhanded comment about a subject without benefit of the facts, in such a public forum, hurts police/community relations and is a setback to all of the years of progress.”

Some people just enjoy listening to themselves, and to me (at this time) it appears that with the passing days of his election President Obama is enjoying listening to himself speak or he is being ballyhooed by talking heads– ergo: The Emperor’s New Clothes.

(claim at Technorati: 8zjnrq2dsi)

Daisy Says: Knowing when to speak is a great sign of leadership.

Eleven years of police work in one of America’s top crime stat cities will yield a story or two whether it be a high speed chase, a hostage, a suicide victim, a foot chase… you name it.

On this particular night I was assigned as a one man unit (meaning I did not have a partner in the car with me). Normally one man units get dispatched to standard incidents such as a burglary that took place hours before or an accident scene. Sometimes you may see two police cars at a location and that is most likely because the situation may have the potential of escalated danger.

Anyways, usually to “gun shots fired in the area” call requires a two man unit. This particular night the call had come in prior to my arrival on the shift. I was at that time working the midnight shift. It was my first assignment as I exited the police station; as I approached the area I asked the dispatcher to repeat the time that the call had been received, I made my notations that it had been over an hour and a half.

I arrived to the location where gunshots were heard. The streets were quiet and dark, I rolled down my windows and cruised my police car at the slow pace of 5 miles per hour. I reached over to my left to use my police spotlight to get a better look in between the houses so as to light up around the dark areas… the whole time, hoping not to find anything out of the ordinary.

It all appeared serene and nothing out of place, I paused at the end of the street and grabbed the police radio deciding to ask the dispatcher one more question: Does the caller want to be contacted? The dispatcher said: Negative, anonymous. Okay, too simple right? Anonymous caller, everything is quiet, the call almost two hours ago …probably some bozo testing their gun..right?

But something nudged at me to be more thorough, to get the job done right. I went around the block one more time, parked my police car and walked up to the first house on the corner. It’s almost 1:00 am, I ring the bell. I hear someone shuffling to the door… and a voice asking: Who is it? I respond: Metro-Police Open the Door. The homeowner opens the door… a bit ruffled but their dealing with it. I inform them that I am in the area investigating an incident and wanted to know if they heard any gunshots.

I knocked on about 3 homes, two said they had heard gunshots earlier and one had heard nothing at all. One of them had pointed at a neighbors house that had a school bus parked in the driveway, the mentioned that they had seen someone running from the bus and into the house right after they heard the gunshot.

I walked over to the house with the bus in the yard and noticed that the bus door was ajar, cautiously I opened the door and that is when things started to happen too fast for human comprehension. From the corner of my left eye I caught movement and to this day I still don’t know how I was able to run to that door and single handedly apprehend the man coming out through it. But I did, I knew I could not ask questions or my own life would depend on it. Swiftly seizing the moment and maneuvering hand cuffs in place, I quickly grabbed my police radio and called in for back: 1332 – send back up to my location, I have a dead person and one in custody.

This is the part where police officers must rely on the ‘animal’ instinct of being human. Sprawled on the stairs of the bus was a dead man… a bullet had been placed through his head. The rest is documented history.

Most times people look for short cuts in life, doing things half a.., yet expecting the world to yield to them. Be a person of integrity and do your best. No one can hold anything against you when you do your best.

Daisy Says: Do your best in all you do, your life does depend on it.. and believe it or not, the life of those around you too.

In my 11 years of tour as a police officer the most common police incident reported was ‘Domestic Violence’. When I was assigned the afternoon shift not a day went by without having to record 1-2 Domestic Violence reports on my tour.

There is an incident that I recall quite vividly: it was a typically hot summer Florida afternoon, the shift started rough, with accidents and emergency responses all over the district. I was riding as a two-man unit (two-man units are assigned all high priority calls), we received a high priority response on a Domestic Violence call due to possible weapons in the house.

It had already been a stressful shift, the sun had descended and we were in the dusk of day when we responded to the pleas of a battered Hispanic woman. When we drove up to the house a Latin woman ran up to our car screaming hysterically. I quickly exited my vehicle to render aid to the victim/wife who was still screaming and crying, while my partner attempted to make sure that there was no physical threat by the spouse.

It was really hard for me to make out her face in the dark and I had to hold back my own shock at my confusion. I could not make out her face. Her mouth was moving but it did not align with her nose…she had been punched so hard that her nose had shifted to her cheek bone; one eye had sealed shut and swollen to the size of a lemon it already started turning colors. It was like looking at quasi modo. I knew that she was beyond pain and probably didn’t even realize that her face had been re-designed; keeping my eyes on my partner inside the house and totally aware that the situation had not been totally diffused I requested the paramedics to respond and tend to the victim/wife.

The tension was still in the air, I looked back in the direction of my partner, who at this point attempted to calm down this 230 lb muscular testosteroned infused Latino male but it was clearly evident by the physical abuse to the wife that the home was not a safe environment for her – anything could trigger another act of violence. In my interview with her, she stated that she had confronted her husband about an affair he was having, I tried to calm her down and asked her politely to remain outside while I tried to get his side of the story.

For our own safety the silent communication between my police partner and I said one word: Arrest. The man was pacing like a caged lion between my partner and I, his chest was heaving while he was screaming over our shoulders directing obscenities towards his wife. With a nod from my partner I began reading the man his Miranda Rights – it happened too quickly within a blink of an eye the man began swinging blows at my partner, swiftly and decisively I reached for my handcuffs while trying to halt one of the blows directed towards me. During the struggle my partner grabbed his police radio and requested additional back up, we couldn’t over estimate the adrenalin driving the man, then… out of nowhere I felt a crashing pounce on my back. The victim/wife was swinging, punching and pulling at me – shouting: ‘let go of my husband, let go of my husband!’.

My brain was trying to make sense of all that was going on real time. Trying to make sure not to get hurt, trying to make sure that the man would not reach for a weapon in his house or for ours, and on top of that there was this maniac hysterical battered beaten up wife trying to hurt me and stopping me from protecting her from future harm – and now I’m trying to protect myself from her!

In the end we ended with two arrests.

In the state of Florida the laws of arrest on domestic violence fall under chapter 901.15 sec 7:

901.15 When arrest by officer without warrant is lawful.–A law enforcement officer may arrest a person without a warrant when:
(7) There is probable cause to believe that the person has committed an act of domestic violence, as defined in s. 741.28, or dating violence, as provided in s. 784.046. The decision to arrest shall not require consent of the victim.

Domestic violence should not happen to anybody. Ever. Period.

If you know of someone that may need help, they can reach out to the National Domestic Violence Hotline. http://www.ndvh.org/

Until the violence stops, the hotline will continue to answer…One Call at a Time. Help is available to callers 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Hotline advocates are available for victims and anyone calling on their behalf to provide crisis intervention, safety planning, information and referrals to agencies in all 50 states, Puerto Rico and the U.S. Virgin Islands. Assistance is available in English and Spanish with access to more than 170 languages through interpreter services. If you or someone you know is frightened about something in your relationship, please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or TTY 1-800-787-3224.

Daisy Says: It is a sign of restrain when men/women can argue and still be civil.

I was so excited, tonight would be the first night I’d ride solo.

After role call I had reviewed the ‘BOLO’ s (be on the look out) that were issued for the evening to make note of any stolen cars or high profile suspect; I then walked into the sergeants office to get the keys for my police car when I found him standing by the door with keys in hand and a smile on his face… he said: ‘you’re riding solo tonight’.

This meant my probation period was over, and I truly was a full pledged officer of the ‘brown gown’. As I stepped out through the back doors of the police station parking lot the warm midnight Florida air touched my face and I felt such a surge of excitement. I was on the 11pm midnight shift. The lighting in the police station parking lot gave the cars a surreal look, like something you’d see in a movie. I looked for my assigned police car among the row of cars in the lot; once I spotted the car I grabbed my flash light from my hip and inspected the car for any dents, I then opened up the back door and lifted the back seat to make sure that nothing was left behind from any arrests from the previous tour. The air in the car smell foul of armpit and other nasty smell… I looked at the dividing glass that partitions the back seat from the front and noticed what appeared as slimmy spit… I made a mental note (must bring glass cleaner next time), I knew that the spit slime would irritate my night peripheral vision – or it could have been just the thought of slime spit suspended on glass in the back of my head that was nasty.

I could hear my squad members beginning to check in with the dispatcher to let her know they were ready for tour. I hurried to load my police reports, law book and night stick. The police car was all mine for the very first time. I settled in and conducted a quick test of my overhead emergency lights to make sure they were working- the reflection of blue and red bounced back at me. Once settled in my seat I turned on the overhead interior light and positioned my clip board with activity log to the right of me that way I could jot things down easier. I reached for the police radio in the center console knowing that once I pressed the microphone it would officially be the first transmission in my non probation status. Even though I knew the routine and had been doing it for a year… it felt like the first time. I took a deep breath and queued the microphone: “1332 – 09″

The dispatcher came back with: “1332 – 26 to a vehicle”.

I wrote down the location and proceeded to drive into the ‘zone’. I was proud to wear the brown gown and serve my community, I was proud to wear the silver badge with the eagle, the five point star (indicating we were deputy sheriffs) and the state of Florida insignia. I had my hair up in a bun, my patent leather shoes were shiny from the buff I gave them, on my left ankle I had strapped a beautiful Colt Detective Special (38 six shooter), my 38 caliber Smith & Wesson on my right hip, hand cuffs on my back hip, extra ammunition on my front belt, my police whistle and hand cuff keys hung from my left on my police belt along with my flashlight and nightstick holder, my black notebook for taking notes on the scene was in my back right pocket, my Cross blackball pen in my left front shirt pocket, my bullet proof vest was snuggled to my chest… everything I needed to get the job done.

As I approached the address of dispatch I advised the dispatcher of my arrival, and requested a re-transmission of information. The street I came upon had poor lighting, but that was irrelevant I had a job to do. With my left hand I reached for the police car’s flashlight which is positioned next to the left rear view mirror. I flashed the light towards a parked car around the house of the caller/victim, and then I pointed it around the house to see if there was any movement beyond the yard where it was totally dark.

All excited on my first assignment I walked up to the door of the ‘victim’ to render my aid. A tall heavy set black woman in an oversized momma’s housedress opened the door. Those were not pretty words that came from her mouth as she waggled her finger and yelled at me at the top of her voice. She cursed me out along with all of my descendants! She sent me to the deep recesses of hell and she didn’t want me back, (you know how the say: to hell and back — there was no coming back from where this woman sent me). She than took her mighty big fat arm, took one step back and slammed the door as hard as she could as she continued to yell behind the closed door. I stood dumb founded listening to the muffled yelling for about 10 seconds before I headed back to my police car.

I sat in my police car, grabbed the police radio: “1332″ — I waited for acknowledgement of air space. “QSL. QSM QTR of original dispatch”. The dispatcher responded, “21:00″. ugh. No wonder the lady had an attitude! She had called the police reporting someone breaking into her car at 9:00pm —2 and 1/2 hours later the police show up at her door! But at 9:00pm her incident was not high priority — it did not involve a shooting or a domestic violence in progress. She did not know that the zone only had 8 police officers protecting it and there had been a couple shootings at 9 pm. She could never understand that, and there is no way to explain that to her – because it was her personal property that needed protecting. She could care less that the police assigned to her zone were busy on a perimeter trying to stop an armed suspect.

I just had to stand there and take her verbal abuse. I wore the ‘brown gown’ to dodge the verbal attacks, the anger, the hatred and the frustrations – not just the bullets. She could care less that I was a mother, a daughter, a sister or a friend to someone. I was not there when she needed me, I was not there when there was a suspect breaking into her car and taking the radio. I was not there to run him down and make him pay for stealing from her. Her insurance wasn’t going to cover the theft and vandalism, she couldn’t afford it; I wore the ‘brown gown’ and I was suppose to tolerate all the vulgarity, anger and resentment.

I shifted the police car from ‘park’ to ‘drive’ and grabbed the police radio one more time: “1332 report written – 09″ — I knew this would be a long night.

I will never forget my first day out of probation, and my first assignment… and that woman.. and that street. It’s surreal… but it’s there in my head. Some people see that on television… I lived it. I wore the brown gown.

Daisy Says: Never take anything personal.

If you are a police officer in one of the major metropolitan areas your first year will hold many ‘Firsts’.

It was policy back in those days with MDPD for a ‘rookie officer’ to work each shift three months with a different Field Training Officer (known as FTO’s). During my third month as a police officer I was assigned the morning shift. My FTO was a handsome dirty blond young man with a Brad Pitt smile and a charming personality to boot. Of course I was younger then and he was older than me. He was well liked by his peers especially by the ‘brass’ (brass is a term given to anyone in rank position).

The morning shift was a great ‘old-timer’ shift and it had its’ interesting routine incidents: accidents, (from people going to work in comatose stages), and seniors citizens that died in their sleep. I’m not saying that there weren’t any other incidents but because of the time of day those were the most common incidents that were handled in that shift.

This particular day no different than any other day, I walked into the police station, registered the police radio that I would use for the day and sat through roll call to listen to the sergeants report. I was still a ‘greeny’ trying to understand the culture and blend my academy training with life experience. After the roll-call I headed out to the parking lot with my FTO, we did our routine vehicle inspection; this procedure was a mandatory requirement, we had to check our assigned vehicle for any contraband or dents that could have been left behind from the previous officer’s tour. Giving the FTO a thumbs up we got in the car and checked in for service.

I grabbed the police radio and advised the dispatcher that our position was available for dispatch, she acknowledged our status. We waited to be assigned a call and realizing that the District was peaceful my FTO then decided we’d stop for a cup of coffee. We arrived at his favorite coffee shack and it seemed that our other squad buddies had the same task on their agenda.

As my fellow officers chatted about guy stuff, I scanned the interior of the restaurant making mental notes of the people in the room, I looked out the window losing myself for a minute in the peaceful appreciation of the rising sun as it welcomed the morning drivers. Traffic was flowing on the streets at its normal pace, as the men beside me kept talking I kept watching the intersection: the traffic light would turn red and the whole intersection would pack with cars, the light would turn green and all cars would flow on. I observed the bus stop and noticed a few people were already grouping awaiting the arrival of the bus; shortly after I heard the diesel sound of a bus approaching – when suddenly my ears tuned into the police dispatcher calling our unit number and assigning us a call.

My FTO looked over to see if I was responding from my quite space… and as a good trainer he pretended not to hear the dispatcher to see if I had caught the message. I pulled my black notebook from my back pocket and began writing the information, then took hold of my police radio and responded in police code letting the dispatcher know we were on the way. As we were standing to go my FTO looked at the other police officer sitting across from him and gave him an approving smile before taking a last sip of his coffee and heading out.

My field trainer was sharp, despite his uniform he was a gentleman and it seemed that he could resolve everything with a smile. He asked me to repeat what the dispatcher had said, and I looked at my notes to confirm… didn’t seem like a major incident, just a neighbor complaining about a rancid odor coming from his neighbors house.

We arrived at the scene of a typical lower middle class neighborhood. Approaching the front door I noticed this to be a traditional Florida home, still had the jalousie windows. My FTO knocked on the door, he tried several times but no one answered. He made a comment that we were going to check the perimeter of the home. As we started walking towards the side of the home the most rancid smell hit us.

We started looking around the yard as we were nearing the back of the house which was the Florida Room. Older Florida homes have this space which some call the patio, others the sun room, most people have it screened while others have it closed in with windows. This particular home had it closed in with jalousie windows. I look over at my FTO and he is now covering his nose, he stops me in my tracks pointing for me to look inside the window. He reaches for his police radio and asks for back up; proceeding with our perimeter check we continue to check all points of entry on the house.

As we are walking around the home I find myself covering my nose and taking in small sharp breaths, the rancid odor is just seeping from this house. It’s hot and muggy outside, after checking the house we noticed that all windows and doors were secured but we had to make our way in regardless. I looked through the dirty foggy jalousie windows to comprehend what it was that I was seeing.

I don’t know how I got in, everything was happening very fast, all within minutes our back up was there, our sergeant was there, the detectives were on their way and the coroners office was being notified.

Her body hung lifeless on a rope from a beam in the ceiling.

This body was way past rigor mortis. No air conditioning, the Florida sun was now making its way up in the sky and anyone could see that it didn’t take much for this body to decompose fast. 48 hours maximum. One of the other officers was kind enough to hand me a handkerchief with Vic’s Vapor rub, I had to take notes and establish the scene and motive. I walked around the rancid smelling home and there was clutter everywhere. I made a mental note that this person was overwhelmed with her life, the kitchen was disgusting with dirty dishes piled high, no organization, everything dirty … no purpose or “Will” to keep things neat. I looked over a nearby table and then I noticed a bunch of pills sprawled on the table and some had spilt onto the floor from the bottle. I wrote down my observations and then I glanced around the room a bit more and noticed a 2 page sheet with writing on a table. Using the tip of my pen I spread the sheet opened to scan over the writing. It seemed to ramble on, I called my FTO over and as we both read, it was clear that we were reading a ’suicide letter’.

My trainer than asked me to look at the body, he had placed a chair near the corpse so that I may step up and get a closer look at the knot on the rope. He asked me if I knew anything about knots… I made a comment that the only knot I knew was the one that I use to tie my patent leather shoes. I could see a smile over his nose covered face and he said, today I would learn about knots. It was an interesting lesson, as a self made knot would be different than one that someone does for you and in a crime scene those are the kind of details that help reveal the perpetrator of a crime.

Police Officers are usually the first on the scene and are the first to make the initial report that will then be passed on to a Detective. So it is crucial to take good notes. In a case such as this making notes of any forced entry, positioning of the body, describing how the knot was made, the suicide note, the pills left laying around, as well as every detail about the surrounding area is crucial in assisting the follow-up investigation. Preserving a scene (meaning, making sure that no one enters the area of the incident) is very important because anything moved from its original position can actually change the story of how the events unfolded.

It was already close to noon time, once the detectives arrived our job was done. I was so glad to step out of that house, I walked out to the front yard and took a deep breath and felt alive again.

Back in the police car, my FTO and I were lost in our thoughts, I continued to finish my report and he cruised the streets letting our presence bring comfort to the residents… all but for one young lady whose lights had gone out.

American Foundation for Suicidal Prevention : National Statistics

-Over 32,000 people in the United States die by suicide every year.
-In 2005 (latest available data), there were 32,637 reported suicide deaths.
-Suicide is fourth leading cause of death for adults between the ages of 18 and 65 years in the U.S., with approximately 26,500 suicides.
-Currently, suicide is the 11th leading cause of death in the United States.
-A person dies by suicide about every 16 minutes in the United States. An attempt is estimated to be made once every minute.
-Ninety percent of all people who die by suicide have a diagnosable psychiatric disorder at the time of their death.
-There are four male suicides for every female suicide, but twice as many females as males attempt suicide.
Every day, approximately 80 Americans take their own life, and 1,500 more attempt to do so.

What can you do to help someone that may be suicidal? CLICK HERE

Daisy Says: Don’t allow the shadow of your thoughts stop you from enjoying the sunshine of your life.