Speed Trap

CHAPTER 1

What is Justice?

What you are about to experience is not just another conspiracy theory tale. It is a true story that I will relate to you first hand. And, if you have some doubts about the criminal justice system in the United States, you may be surprised at what you hear from me. But, keep in mind, this story that I am relating to you is part of the American culture and has been for many years.

The things I will tell you are stories and experiences that are shared with big city police officers all over the United States. Once you begin telling war stories—well, there is no end to them! I’ve included a few of mine to impress upon you the sometimes strange nature of police work in a big city. When a person begins a career in police work, they are filled with visions of a superman, dressed in a uniform and gun, flying around the city, righting the wrongs done to the weak, defenseless, law abiding citizens in the community he is sworn to protect.

Perhaps you have had some contact with the justice system in the United States. Maybe you were a jury person who listened to a case, then had to decide what to do about the accused persons criminal actions. Or, perhaps you were a witness to some crime that happened either to you or some other citizen. In any case, your exposure to the criminal justice system probably raised more questions in your curious mind than the experience answered. My life’s experiences are very rare. I feel that once you have listened to all that I am going to share with you, you will definitely have a new outlook on the justice system in the good ’ol USA! I am going to skip most of the detail stuff about my growing up, my parents, my family, and my first loves, and all that baloney. My tale begins with my calling as a cop in a big city. And if, in your life’s experiences, your life has put you close to a big city police officer and his life, you will be able to relate to some of the truths that I will share with you about being a lawman in a big city.

Back to the subject at hand—what is your opinion—is justice in the U S of A a good thing or not? It is just not that simple is it? What happens when we support the system with our tax dollars and sacrifices and some monster slips through the process and harms someone we know or perhaps even love? Is that because some part of the system has broken down, and we are just a victim of these errors? So, who pays the price for this breakdown of blind madam justice . . . ??? Perhaps, after hearing the story of my career in law enforcement, you may have a different viewpoint of what justice really is. Is it protected by the United States Constitution and rare in its function, compared to other nations on this planet. Or is it controlled by judges who study case law and then give their liberal, egotistical opinion of the case in front of them? Then we, as citizens, reap the alleged wisdom of their decisions?

My hope is that you will find this tale of mine enlightening.—That you will realize what our justice system really means to the average citizen. I have never thought that our justice system needed to be replaced—it only needs modifying… We must hold our judges accountable—do their decisions turn monsters loose amongst us, or do they have a consistent pursuit of protection of the American citizens?

Or, is their protection of the justice system based on their selfish ego? My story relates to you some of the real truths of the justice system. Then, you can make up your own mind about what needs to be improved in the justice system in the United States.

In putting my story in print, I hope you will be prompted to get involved in what is really going on in our beloved country. The stuff I’m going to tell you about just relates to my personal career as a law enforcement officer in a big city.

Lots of my own war stories—to illustrate some of the truths about the trials of the modern day big city law men . . . .

CHAPTER 2

The Houston Police Academy

So, there I was, a long time ago, sitting in a Houston police academy classroom, dressed in the only suit I had, wondering what was about to happen to me… . As I began my career as a cadet in the infamous Houston Police Department!

My class was an all male class. Back then, only the even-numbered cadet classes had a few (two or three) women in them. Why any woman would have wanted to become a Houston Police Officer is beyond me. In the first place, when they graduated, they were sent to work in the women’s jail, not to the street like the guys. Then, after a couple of years, a female officer would be assigned to the Juvenile Division, not to the street. Back then, female officers did not work the street in uniform. And, working in the jail is a rotten assignment. No one wanted that job, but, occasionally, male officers just off probation would be rotated in to cover the necessary men’s jail assignments. It would be the guys who were not doing very well in a patrol assignment, or they were not well thought of.

The few officers who got assigned to a traffic type function assignment right out of the academy did not have to be subject to a jail rotation job. Well, I am getting ahead of myself, I’ve got four and a half months of the police academy to get through first. When I started, you could be dismissed from the academy for just about any reason they wanted to come up with. It was not an easy road, by any stretch of the mind. I’m going to relate some war stories in my police career that will help you understand my development into today’s world of reality, not the wishes and dreams of a young man starting out on a new career! . . .

Back then, the minimum age requirement was nineteen, although the average age of a police cadet was twenty-three. You had to have graduated from high school and have never used any dope of any kind. For, back in the 1960s, the mere possession of any amount of marijuana was a felony in the State of Texas. But, I was lucky, I had never had the money or the inclination to try any illegal substances when I was growing up or in my first few years of college. And, further, I have never been interested in consuming any drugs at any time in my life. First, there was the money issue, then, later, in my police career, was the horrible reality of seeing what drug use brings to a person’s life… . Always remember, Hollywood does not deal very well with reality! . . . . Entertainment is what they do, not truth!

So, there I was, sitting in a classroom with sixty or so other guys, wondering what was going to be in our future? Back then, the academic part of the academy was the first focus. If you failed the first two tests (given on Friday of each week), and then failed the first major test at the end of the third week, you were fired by high noon on Friday of the third week. There were no make up tests, no grading curve, and 80% was the passing grade.

The only extra help was a study group called the notebook squad. Anyone who made less than an eighty on any test, was assigned to this group. They met for an hour before each day started for extra study time which was watched over by the academy staff. The academy staff officers were Houston Police officers. Once you got your average above eighty, you were off the notebook squad. Having spent three years sitting around the University of Houston, I found the academy testing not very difficult. Also, I was very interested in what was being offered in each class. I was a visual, auditory learner, who took interest in and enjoyed most of the classes.

In the academy, the staff required that you take lots of notes during each class, then reproduce them or take them (depending on your note-taking skills) in a neat, block—printed form. Remember,—back in that time in history was B C—before computers. It was required that at the end of each class period, your notes were to be placed at the upper right-hand corner of your desk for any possible random inspection by the staff.

I had recently flunked out of the University of Houston for a world record third time, so, I was at least familiar with how to take notes quickly. That part of the academy routine was not difficult for me. The academy staff wanted us to be successful, and they quickly identified the guys who were going to make it through the academic parts of the police academy work, and they attempted to help the slower learning cadets.

The police academy learning experience was fine with me. In high school, I just listened real close and could reproduce enough information to pass whatever test they put in front of me. Unless, it was some subject like Algebra II, or Latin, or some science where the instructor had to depend on the students actually opening their textbooks and learning what was inside the book. That was not a skill I ever developed. Yeah, tell me something, show me something, show me a film about it, act it out; whatever I could observe and listen to I could learn. Put it in a textbook and expect me to learn it by a self—disciplined study of a complicated textbook,—well, that just was not my thing.

My strong desire to become a police officer goes back to watching 1-Adam-12 on TV. And, of course, Dragnet had a great influence. I wanted to do something with my life that would be of benefit to the world. Plus, I could have a job that was protected by strict big-city civil service laws. I had seen my dad suffer with trying to earn a living with the corporate world. His background was that of a poor kid who got caught up in going off to World War II after he graduated from high school. He was the youngest of twelve kids, born to a family in rural Tennessee. And, for some unknown reason, he always disliked uniformed police persons. Therefore, I liked that part, knowing he did not support my decision to pursue a career as a law man…

I grew up playing stick and ball sports: baseball and tennis. So, when I got to high school, I found myself on the high school tennis team. I was always the best player, and tennis seemed to fit my personality: you rise and fall on your own efforts. I found myself going to the University of Houston on a tennis scholarship. My family was poor, so that was going to be the only thing that would open the door to any higher education for me and my future. The tennis skills I developed had led me to a lucrative, easy, summer part—time job of being a tennis instructor at a very fancy country club in Houston.

Talk about a life contrast,—here I was in the day-to-day atmosphere with some of the wealthiest people in the United States. And, further, I was there as an assistant tennis professional. So, I was not a golf caddy or a groundskeeper or a waiter, I got to tell these rich people and their kids how to do something! My special skills were wanted by these special wealthy folks!

I followed this world for several summers, and I continued to attend the University of Houston for about three of those years on a part-time basis. Eventually, I could not stand both school and work. I could not keep up with attending University of Houston,—as I said earlier, flunking out a world record of three times! I had gotten back in school twice because of my part on the tennis team, and the tennis team coach was a professor of great tenure at U. of H. Another part of trying to con the University was that my presence there kept me from going to Vietnam. The professor, of course, finally gave up on me. So, after about three years of this, I went to work full-time as an assistant tennis pro. And, besides, I was making good money doing what was easy for me. I was out-of-doors, no text books to read, and just enjoying the people I taught and played with. What a deal, right… .??

So, how in the world did I think that a 50% cut in money, joining a semi-military organization, and then plunging into a job with a future that was actually unknown to me was such a good idea?—But, again, there was this deep seated desire within me,—for some unknown reason,—to become a cop! So, I went down to the City of Houston police employment office, I applied, I took the polygraph test, and stood in line with about two thousand other young people who applied for the 60-70 seats in a police cadet class.

Back then, competition for a seat in the police academy was tough. At least, that is what they told us. Of course, of the two thousand applicants for each class, most of them were wanted by the police for some reason, or they had just gotten out of jail or had recently smoked dope!

In the early 1970s, there was no psychological testing/evaluation as part of the process. It was more what color you were, what sex you were, if you showed any criminal behavior in your past, and, most important, if you were related to or knew someone already in the police department. So, during the first few days of the academy, we were told of how special we all were, having been selected over so many other applicants.

We, of course, with our young male egos, wanted to believe what we were told. Each cadet had their strengths and weaknesses; it was just whether or not the staff officers wanted to keep you. Back then, there were about four or five cadet classes a year, and that did not cover the attrition rate within the HPD. All of this didn’t make a hill of beans difference to me. I was happy that I had somehow been selected, and, now I could move towards being just like my heroes: Reid and Malloy—on the famous 1-Adam-12 . . . Now, I could be just like those guys! . . . . Wow! . . . . It was really happening!.

The police academy was the beginning of our training and exposure to what