A Cop Can Chase The Bad Guys, Good

Unless he runs into another cop, chasing the bad guys, bad.

Every cop hates pursuits, or not. It’s a love/hate relationship. Either way, they are a wreck waiting to happen. The risk for injury to pedestrians is huge, as is the danger of running into someone, or causing the car you’re chasing to do either.

Sometimes, cops even run into EACH OTHER. Which is exactly what happened to mine. (cop that is.) I was a young new mother, and had settled into late evenings at home alone. I had learned to enjoy the hours spent rocking my baby, planning meals, decorating the house, reading and watching movies.

I was low maintenance. Give me a book, a baby, cookies in the oven, it was so 1960. (Actually, 1977, but you get the idea.)

One night, around 2:00a.m. (why is it always 2:00a.m.? Is there something deadly about that hour in the universe?), I got the dreaded knock on the door.

It’s never good when that happens. It was a cop, and I nearly slid to the floor, thinking the worst. Immediately, I needed to throw up. Gagging, I pressed my hand to the mouth, my eyes pleading what my voice could not.

The cop’s first words were “He’s alive.” Wise man, to say that first.

I swallowed, fighting the strong urge to vomit. Adrenalin hit my stomach like a ton of bricks. I nodded, tears flowing already. I’m so strong. “Stop it!” I yelled at myself silently.

“Come with me, I’ll take you to the hospital, his car collided with a deputy’s car. He’s conscious, it looks like a head wound, not sure what else.” He was moving me around the house, letting me calm down. I grabbed some clothes and ran to the bathroom. We gathered the baby up and I said “Take me to my mother-in-laws.”

I pounded on her door, knowing she was not going to understand and would also feel like vomiting. “Lynn’s been hurt but he’s ok. I’ll call you from the hospital, I promise. Here’s the baby.”

I was back in the police car and we took off, red lights blinking into the darkness. No siren, thank God. I hate those things.

I was silent, the cop, one of Lynn’s men, was talking softly. “He was in pursuit, going North. The deputy was in pursuit of another guy, going West. The deputy did not stop at the intersection. Lynn saw it coming, you know him, he’s never speeding that fast since he’s a dad now, and so he was able to slam on the brakes. He still hit at an impact of 30 miles an hour we think, and he must’ve hung on the steering wheel with everything he’s got because it’s bent in half. It started about 8pm, this yellow GTO was buzzin’ through town running lights and floorin’ turning corners on two wheels. We’ve chased him all night. We just knew he was going to take out another car. We don’t know who he is, but we’ve seen him before. He’s good. Bad, but a good driver. Fast, daredevil, probably 17 or 18, he’s had some experience behind the wheel. Other departments in nearby counties have had trouble with him, no one can catch the guy. He’s run lots of people off the road. Lynn said none of us were to press him, just try to head him off, keep our distance, this guy would go the distance, he’s no green horn. By midnight, we were all gettin’ pissed. He had disappeared and we were drivin’ the alleys. Couldn’t find the creep. All of a sudden, he screams around the Sonic and heads north outta town, Lynn’s right behind him but slows down and drops back, hoping to decrease the guy in the GTO’s speed.

We didn’t know the deputy was anywhere around, he wasn’t on the radio. Outta nowhere, the deputy is crossing the intersection right at the fkkkiiiin highway!! If Lynn had been going full speed like he was earlier in the evening, well.. I don’t have to tell you…

When we got there, Lynn was out of the car, and fightin’ us because he didn’t know anything. He’s got a head wound. Since he was standing, we assume his legs are ok, but he collapsed to the ground so we don’t know……Marisue. Are you about to throw up? Please don’t throw up in my fkkkkin’ car….oh maannn!”

The cop knew me, and he knew I’d want the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. It was a pact we had all made. Give it to me straight.

Then help me throw up.

Miraculously, I had pity on the cop and did not throw up in his car. I waited until he opened the side car door for me and then I threw up on his shoe. Sorry. I ran into the emergency room of the small town hospital, and saw Lynn lying on the narrow hard table, with his eyes closed and blood everywhere. The doctor looked up. He was sewing Lynn’s scalp back together.

Matter of factly, the doctor began to talk “Hi Marisue, nothing like a midnight stroll to get us all going, eh? He’s going to be ok, if you don’t mind a few more lines in his face. I thought cops knew to stop at intersections. You might have an argument with the deputy who didn’t. I’m cutting his uniform off, and he’s going to xray, make sure he doesn’t have any broken bones. He’s going to have a major headache. but since he complains all the time anyway, you probably won’t notice the difference.”

I did giggle, but almost too much. Hysteria was pouring through my system, mixing with the adrenalin and coming up in my mouth. Everyone was a comedian.

Lynn, disturbed by the voices, tried to open his eyes and turn towards me. Those baby blues were gray and glassy. He did not recognize me. I looked up at the doctor, who shrugged and said “Well, for the next hour or two, you could play the other woman.” I was not amused.

The doctor cleared his throat and said “Most head wounds like this leave you foggy. He’s got a concussion. He’ll be confused for a few hours or maybe a day. ” The doctor told Lynn to be still, and he seemed to go back to sleep, as he muttered, “What happened?”

The doctor grinned and said “I wish I had a nickel for every time someone says that.”

I must have looked pale and weak, the nurse pushed me into a chair in the hall and gave me some water. My face began to feel warm again, and my stomach settled down. I jumped up, startling everyone and ran to the pay phone to call Lynn’s mother. “He’s ok, a nasty cut to the head, you wont be able to see it when his hair grows back. They don’t think anything else is broken, we’ll know soon, he was talking but he’s sleeping a little, they can’t sedate him due to the concussion…”

I stopped talking and willed myself to slow down and breathe.

His mother asked if I was sure he was ok. I said “not completely but probably.” Neither of us felt much better. It was too soon and we didn’t have enough information.

More cops arrived, checking on Lynn. I overheard pieces of their conversations. It seemed they were more angry at the hecklers that had driven by honking and being obnoxious about the two wrecked police cars, than they were at the deputy. That would come later.

One of Lynn’s childhood friends, who was also on the force, was in hot pursuit of a heckler. The friend, Jim, was in his own car, and the police were trying to find him to calm him down before the whole situation exploded. Cops do not like it when “drive by’s” heckle.

Neither do cop’s wives. Speaking of which, they began to arrive by twos – to see if I needed something. I did, company. I didn’t want to talk, I just didn’t want to be alone. In fact, tho’ I know it’s hard to believe, I had little to say. I murmured, nodded and listened, saying “huh?” to everyone who spoke to me.

I was ravenous, and couldn’t eat when food appeared. I was thirsty, and threw up the liquid. I was calm, as tears slid continually down my cheeks.

Finally, Lynn was in a room and did recognize me when I entered. He asked “Is the scar bad?” I said, “What scar?” We both laughed as I cried.

Within seconds, the room was full of cops, cop’s wives, and noise. The nurses were having none of that and rushed in to scoot us out. Lynn slept, I returned to his mother’s house and we all waited for the sun to come up.

The kid that Lynn was attempting to pull over, was later found at home, in a nearby town. As word spread that a cop had been hit, regardless of how or why, all departments were on hot alert to get the speeder, who was causing all this trouble. The 17 year old received his ticket and was no worse for the wear, nor did he express regret. Grrrr. Thankfully, Lynn had not been speeding, just following behind with his lights flashing. Lynn had a dread of causing a teen to panic and get seriously hurt, because a cop was chasing him. It was ironic, that Lynn got hurt instead.

They never found the hecklers, which was a good thing. The cops talked for years about the “dukes of hazard” colliding; it made for great exaggerated tales.

Lynn’s scar is one of distinction, but has faded with time. The deputy who ran into him was not injured and personally apologized, but was taken off duty for a period of time, just for precaution. City cops and deputy cops compete, no one knows why, but it’s tradition.

It was just an accident, and part of a cop’s life.

-I’m Marisue, telling the tales, of a cop and his wife.

A Cop With A Heart & Common Sense

“…telling the story of  a cop with a heart and common sense is going to take awhile…so come back often.  Let’s begin.” -Lynn

There are more of us than you think.  It’s just that cops with hearts and brains don’t normally shout about it.  The only reason I can now, is that me and my badge are retired.

And, boy, am I going to talk.  After thirty years behind the badge, it’s about time to let it out.

There’s more to being a cop than being tough and pushing people around.  We’re supposed to protect and serve! 

A cop with a heart understands the book, and doesn’t break the rules, but bends them on occasion.  We’re all human, and just because we’re wearing a uniform doesn’t mean we have to be jerks.

On a dark rainy night, many years ago, one of my men stopped a car because the tag was out of date.  The driver was going home from her night shift.  She had 3 kids home alone, from 13 down to 2.  She told the officer she was getting paid in 2 days and would bring her receipt for the tag to him at the office.   She was nearly in tears, exhausted and on her last dime, just wanting to get home to sleep.  She’d been driving the dark streets, hoping to not be stopped as she drove with her expired tag.

He called in for a tow truck, and was going to arrest her being disrespectful to an officer.  I heard him on the radio and I broke in telling him to hold his position, I was on my way.

When I got there, he was pacing and the young woman was crying softly with her head buried in her hands.

I pulled the officer aside and asked him a question.  ”Doug (name changed to protect the guilty) do you remember me stopping you for driving like an ass when you were a teen?”

“Yessir,” said Doug, “You were good to me.”

I continued, “Remember the time you had the pot in the car?”

Doug gulped. “Yes.”

“Remember me calling your parents and keeping my eye on you for the next year telling you I was going to kick your ass if you did anything stupid again?”

“Yes. You gave me a break.  I was just 16 and that’s why I’m a cop today.”

“You grateful, Doug?”

“You know I am.”  Doug was hanging his head and looking over at the woman nervously.

“Then show it.  Pass the breaks on to those who deserve it.  What is it going to hurt you to follow her home so she gets there safely, and let her get her tag.  Show some courage.  Anyone can write a damn ticket.   You gonna  arrest her for cryin’ and raisin’ her voice?? Christ!  What are you gonna do when someone spits in your face? Shoot ‘em?  If you don’t want to babysit her kids all night, let her go home.”

Doug looked at me.  He was silent, then nodded.  ”I get ya, sir. I get ya.”

He motioned for the young woman to come over to the cop car.  Tearing up her ticket, he wrote her a warning, and said “You go on home, now.  Payday, you get that tag and bring the receipt in to me.  This is just a warning.  Have a nice night.”

I play-punched him on the shoulder, got back in my car…and continued the beat.  Doug was going to be a good cop when he learned that there was strength in letting some people have a break.

—I’m Lynn, the man who drove the beat, behind the badge, for thirty years.

A Cop’s Wife Tangles With Twisters

A cop’s wife needs to be strong and able to make quick decisions, without calling her cop.  Oklahoma twisters were pretty hard and a daily scare in the stormy season.  We lived in a small town, and the townsfolk expected their cops to keep them safe, even from tornadoes. 

You learned to live with the weather channel and local news in your ear during the Spring and early Summer, especially. 

 Though I am a woman of few phobias, I hate cellars.

Still, only a fool would avoid one when it’s time to go.   The local cops, during a stormy day or night, were often out on the highways and country road, storm watching. 

In the days before everyone had a cell phone, Lynn would try to make a quick run home with stern warnings to get to the cellar the moment it was necessary and to stay alert. 

He knew that my fear of dark and spiders, would make me hesitate.  You don’t want to wait ’til you hear the roar to go to the cellar.  Not only could the cellar door be deadly and ripped out of your hands,  if you’re also holding kids, the door and pets…well, you get the picture.

One word of caution.  Forget the umbrella, get wet.  Keep towels in the cellar, fresh water, fresh batteries for radio and light, snacks for comfort, even a game or two for the kids.  Did I say Lights, lots of lights???

I went to the cellar many nights with just me and the kids, hating every second, worried about my husband, and he worrying about us.  It was the way we lived but I will tell you a secret.

When people griped about cops, thought we were well paid (HA!), thought we had perks, I was so tempted to get into their face.  

However, not only does a cop’s wife have to go to the cellar alone, she frequently has to keep her mouth shut.

-I am Marisue, telling the stories of a cop’s wife’s life.

A Question A Cop’s Wife Asks Before Panicking

Cop’s forget the shock effect of their job.  They walk around in sticky, oozy smelly things all the time.  Thankfully, I didn’t have to clean the uniforms, we sent them out.

It’s amazing what comes home from the police department.  My cop always left clean, he smelled good, looked good, my man, Lynn.  What walked back in the door was anyone’s guess.

I’m a strong woman, one of few phobias, not prone to panic.  I thought. Twenty-five and pregnant, I still had a lot to learn. 

As a young married couple, and really even now, we have a lot to talk about.  Then, life was full of adventure, and we would give up sleep to talk about it.  Can you imagine?  Now, it’s “Honey could you tell me in the morning, I’m dead.” 

Lynn worked the night shift for years and years.  He wasn’t really a night owl, but that’s where the excitement is if you’re a cop, even in a small town. 

One night, he came home about 2:00a.m. and unfortunately he was locked out.  He pounded on the door, and of course, I went to the door, belly first as I was 6 months pregnant. 

You’re about to ask “What was he thinking!!”

I opened the door and screamed.  His shirt and part of his face was covered in blood.  My hand flew to my mouth, my eyes to his face and back to his chest.  He looked like he’d been shot.  He froze, I froze, we were both a sight.

I guess he saw my eyes try to roll back into my head so he jumped through the door saying “I’m alright, I’m alright, most of it’s not my blood.” 

MOST OF IT??

Yeah, that was my question too, only I couldn’t speak on account of I was about to throw up.  I didn’t know blood stunk.  It’s a sharp metallic smell that burns the nose and throat. 

I backed up to the couch and dropped like a heavy rock.  Lynn was talking, repeating over and over “I was in pursuit and when he stopped, as I was telling him to put his hands behind his back he turned and came at me with his fist, he was holding a tire iron,  but all I saw was motion so I drew my baton, rather quickly I might add, and hit him.  He hit me first, and I hit him a second later.  See?  This is his blood and this part’s mine.  See my eye?  It’s turning black, I think.  That’s what bled, head wounds bleed a lot, see he hit me here on the temple. Man, I’m pretty lucky, he had to have stitches from the baton.”

“Lynn!, Lynn!, please, stop, don’t tell me anymore, take your shirt off, I can’t stand to look at it!!”

Cops!!   They’re so in awe of their job. 

After this eventful night of fright, he learned to change clothes before he came home,  and I ask “Whose Blood is it?” before I faint.

It worked, we’ve been together going on 32 years, so all you young cop wives, learn from me.  Ask questions first, faint later.

by: Marisue, talking about the cop’s wife’s life.

A Little Blood, A Lot of Brains, Some Bravery & Boredom Too

Hi. My name is Johnny Law. Just kidding, my real name is Lynn and I was a cop. I’m retired now, but for over 30 years, I wore a badge. I like to think I was a cop with a heart. I wish we saw more of that now, but I’m sure there are many cops out there, both on the force and retired, that also used their heart as well as their head when they were working the streets.

Chasing bad guys is more than running after them. It’s out-thinking them. Many of the ones running were a lot faster than I was. They usually found me waiting for them where they least expected it. They could run, but they couldn’t hide. You’ve heard that one before. It didn’t always work out the right way. Law and justice are sometimes in opposite corners. We’ll talk about that along the way.

[audio:Bad_Boys.mp3|autostart=no|loop=yes] Press arrow to play “Bad Boys” theme from Cops! performed ny InnerCircle Reggae

We’ll ride the police beat together, both in the car and on the street. It’s real, it’s exciting, and some days were beyond quiet. So quiet it was creepy. Stay tuned, we’re putting them to the press, now. Come Back Soon…and wear your vest.

—I’m Lynn, the man who drove the beat, behind the badge, for thirty years.

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