Allegedly True Police Stories – Series
The Traffic Stop
At 2:53 am on a winter’s morning, there was not much going on; Route 1 was deserted. The sky was clear, given it was a metropolitan area, the stars were bright, an ever so slight breeze made it a little colder than the posted temperature of twenty-six degrees Fahrenheit, and there was a peaceful silence. Officer Robert Bruce, IV, a veteran of the Department, was working his second straight midnight shift. He was transferred right after he completed a midnight tour to another squad just beginning one. As a career patrol officer in the nine hundred-man Department, he was used to getting shafted. Nothing new.
IV had started his career with a bang. On his first two promotional tests, he scored number 2, made Patrol Officer First Class a year ahead of schedule, and number 5 on the Corporal’s test; he was a Corporal in four years. It took the average patrol officer 5 to 7 years to make Corporal. He had visions of least becoming a Captain, if not a Deputy-Chief before he retired. All that was before he and his partner answered a Domestic call on a beautiful, bright spring Sunday morning.
IV and his partner, going as A-9, were parked in the Riggs Bowling Alley parking lot reading the Washington POST; IV scanned the Editorial page and his partner Mike Oberlies the Funnies when they received a call for a Domestic in the Stanton apartments. The apartments were in beat A-3, but the A-3 car was out of service for some reason, so they were it. Oberlies was driving; IV hadn’t driven since he made Corporal. Oberlies gently folded his section of the paper and then tossed it in the back seat, started the engine, pressed the gas pedal, and headed towards the domestic. Bruce continued reading the Editorial Page; as a former Marine and once stationed at the American Embassy in Viet Name, he was very interested in the POST’s editorial on thousands of civilian refugees fleeing Quang Ngai Province in front of advancing North Vietnamese troops. He would let Oberlies handle the Domestic; how bad could it be on a very early Sunday morning? He was sure it was just a couple of drunks as usual.
On the way to the call, just a couple blocks away, a gold Cadillac came blowing by them, going in the opposite direction. Before Oberlies could react, another car, a brown Plymouth, blew by them. Oberlies slammed on the brakes, not knowing what to do: go to the Domestic or follow the speeding vehicles. Bruce instantly yelled, “It’s a Detective’s car, follow them.”
The chase lasted under three minutes and two miles. The detective’s car stopped directly behind as the gold Cadillac stopped at the intersection of Toledo Terrace and North-South Streets. Its driver, Sergeant Samuel Young, jumped out of his car with a shotgun and fired two shots into the rear of the Caddy, blowing out the trunk lid and window. As the shots were fired, A-2 pulled up to the rear of the brown Plymouth. Neither Bruce nor Oberlies could not believe what they were seeing. As the shots were fired, the gold Caddy pulled off into the straight through three traffic lanes, and the chase continued with just A-2 in pursuit. Three blocks later, A-2 rammed the Caddy to force it to stop. Oberlies grabbed the shotgun that was in its stand between them.
Within seconds, the driver was up against the car with his hand on the curser’s trunk; IV patted him down, and Oberlies aimed the shotgun at both of them as the ‘calvary’ arrived. Sometime during the next several minutes, one of the backup officers said to the arrested suspect from a small distance to the rear, “We got your black ass now.” Bruce told the voiceful officer to get away and handcuffed the suspect.
A-2 transported the suspect, Thomas Ray Pickens, to the station for processing. After arriving at the station and waiting for a good forty-five minutes, IV telephoned Communications to find out the status of the car search conducted by Sergeant Young, the pursuing detective, and other officers. He did not expect or want to hear the response: “No weapon found. It may be the wrong car.”
Thomas Ray had remained silent after his arrest. Only after being told of a possible mistake did Pickens reveal he was a junior law clerk for Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart. For a second, both officers felt ill; they saw their careers pass in front of them. Just then, the Shift Commander appeared and said he would take over.
Three weeks after the incident, IV was asleep on Sunday after serving yet another midnight tour. The thing about midnights for Bruce was that no matter what time in the morning he went to sleep, he woke up at exactly Noon. So, IV wife took the kids to church and then to her parents to let her husband get as much sleep as possible. It was a standing rule among Bruce’s friends not to call on a Sunday morning. This Sunday morning, Victoria McDonald, the longtime girlfriend of poor Mrs. Bruce, violated the standing rule. She had to call. The headline above the Sunday morning newspaper logo read, “Officer Shoots at Supreme Court Law Clerk.” Robert the 3rd answered the phone on the eleventh ring, so much for sleeping, with said “Good By” and was about to hand up when they heard the distant shrill of that bitch, Victoria McDonald, yell into the phone, “Is that you on the front page?” He slammed the phone into its cradle and was about to go back to bed when he decided to investigate the bitich’s inquiry for some reason. He found the newspaper on the table on the front screened-in porch, and yes, it was his name splashed every which way in super bold print.
To say his sleep was interrupted would be an understatement. He would not get a good night’s sleep for the next year and a half. As he read, he couldn’t understand how The Star could correct every detail of the incident except who shot at the poor, misunderstood law clerk.
The same day, IV would never forget every detail of that Sunday. Lieutenant Harry Myers from the Internal Affairs unit called and requested his immediate presence at Headquarters in one hour and “don’t be late.” He arrived at Headquarters one minute shy of the deadline. The only other time he had been to Headquarters was to interview for a detective’s position, which he thought he would get, but now it seemed that was out the door. Even though every member of the Major Crimes Unit was at best a drunk, gambler, or just a plain old degenerate, none had had the privilege of being called into IA on a Sunday for an interview.
Before he could sit down, his partner arrived, followed by officer voice-full and the stupid-ass detective that started all this shit. They sat on metal chairs in the IA waiting room for whatever. No one said a word.
Each officer was interviewed separately, and all four took a Poly. Just to be safe, IV was offered a 2nd Poly; he passed both, but passing doesn’t mean anything. It just told whoever you knew how to beat the machine; police never trusted or relied on the damn device.
To top everything off, the new State Police Officer’s Bill of Rights (POBR) had just taken effect that day. New rules covering the police investigations and interviews had been in force for about fourteen hours when the IA guys started grilling the four offices. Not one of the four IA guys, all having been called in on their day off, which did not set well with any of them, had read the new rules and procedures so much for the POBR. As a result of the interviews and polys, which proved IV and Oberlies entirely blameless, they and the actual perpetrators were suspended without pay until the Chief’s office reviewed the case. Of course, the new POBR strictly forbids the suspension without pay, but according to the old-school IA guys, “Who the fuck cares.”
Well, the police union gave a fuck, and by 11:30 am the next day, police union lawyers were in Maryland Circuit Court seeking the suspensions without pay be lifted. After Judge Gottesmann reviewed all the fillings and affidavits, he ruled against the police union because “they had shot at a Supreme Court law clerk.” When Judge Gottesmann, a personal friend of Potter Stewart, they golfed together at least every other Saturday, suggested he might throw the four “bastards in jail to teach them a lesson,” the police union lawyers started yelling and threatening to take this matter to Maryland Court of Appeals. After some lengthy conversation, the lawyers got to keep their freedom instead of being thrown in jail for contempt of court, but the officers lost their appeal and source of income for the duration.
After the ruling went against them, the police union being the police union went straight to the County Executive in Upper Maybury and demanded that the POBR be followed. They reminded the County Executive that he needed the FOP’s endorsement in the upcoming primaries. Within twenty minutes, the Chief reversed the IA suspension without pay and ordered the four officers to report to the Telephone Reporting Unit with pay until the matter was resolved.
Given who the victim was, a sitting Supreme Court Judge’s law clerk, the union lawyers had little hope for their clients. As expected, after two days of hearings in front of a three-officer panel and a horde of spectators that included at least two officers from every Department in the state, it was the first POBR Trail Board; the four officers were found guilty.
Given that this was the first “Trial Board” held under the new POBR, no one, including the lawyers, knew what to expect, but the Commissioner of Police knew. On the morning of the Trial Board, at 0800 hours sharp, the three members of the Board and the Commissioner held a meeting in the Commissioner’s office. It was a friendly meeting; everyone was smiling, but only one person spoke. After about ten minutes of chit-chat, which did not sit well with the Board members because none of the Board members ever heard the Commissioner chit chat, he rose from his dark brown tilting leather swivel chair and said, “This is how I would judicature this matter. First Young, maybe a reduction in tank to Corporal and a $250.00 fine [ Young just happened to be the new deputy police commissioner’s old Field Training Officer and current motorcycle riding buddy – Years later the Retired Commissioer and Deputy Commissioner plus Young would ride their Harleys to Stergis, SD together to see G. Gordon Liddy ]. Temper should get a $400 fine, have to be a little more stringent on him [ He was the grandson of the Mayor of the City Laurellton. Give Oberlies a $100 fine, they shouldn’t use bad language around god-fearing citizens. And that Bruce, he will be the one taking the brunt of the punishment, someone has too. Reduction in rank to Patrol Officer with a fine of a month’s pay [ $1,475.30 ]. Okay gentlemen do your thing.” The three Board members left the office, and the Commissioner closed the door behind them.
When the verdicts and punishments were read, Bruce knew his career was over. The powers to be had selected him to take the blame. He had three choices: One, sue the Department which the union lawyers wanted; two, plead for mercy which would not have accomplished anything; or three, suck it up, be a man, and prove them wrong. Against his wife’s advice to resign and move on, he chose to wait; he would prove them wrong.
One of the unintended consequences was that the majority of the Department didn’t know any of the facts except that IV had cooperated with IA and that he was guilty and deserved to be drawn and quartered. Of course, the fact that the other three “cooperated” also did not seem to concern them. IV was a “rat,” and that was that. For months following the Trial Board, hardly anyone talked to him on or off the job, and few of his fellow officers backed him up on calls, routine, or emergencies.
IV was on his own. His wife wanted him to move on, but he couldn’t. Who would hire an officer convicted by a trial board?
IV noticed a dark blue Chevy making a U-turn in the middle of the road. Considering the time of night and there was no traffic, he didn’t care, but the car had California tags; maybe it was lost.
IV decided to pull the California car over on Route 1 at Edgewood Street. He turned on his emergency lights and sounded the siren twice. The Chevy immediately slowed and drove to the shoulder, stopping shy of Edgewood Street. IV, going as C-4, pulled behind the Chevy. He was about to exit the cruiser but decided to “call out go out on traffic.”
“Charlie Four traffic,” he said into the mike; he had his door open with his left foot on the ground and the mike in his right hand. At the other end of communications, Franklin Pavs sat in front of the communications console with his eyes closed, thinking he had to go to the bathroom any second. He rarely made it past 3 am without taking his “break.” His first thought to the voice out of the blue was, “Shit, god damn Bruce, doesn’t he know I take my break now, “Go ahead, Charlie Four.” The almost immediate response was, “Charlie Four, traffic on a 74 Chevrolet, dark blue, four-door with California registration NFC 569, occupied by at least three times, at Baltimore Avenue and Edgewood, requested NCIC and wanted check.”
“Ten-four, Charlie Four,” Pavs said. He almost threw the slip of paper he wrote down the traffic stop information in the trash can under his console but decided maybe he should run the tags; he had nothing better to do. He entered the registration information into NCIC, slowly closed his eyes, and crossed his legs for extra control.
Usually, one of the other beat cars would immediately ‘backup’ on a traffic stop, but not for IV. The seven other C-sector cars ignored the traffic stop; whatever they were doing, which was nothing, was more important.
After throwing the mike down on the cruiser seat, he walked up to the left side of the 74 Chey. He sensed something was wrong as he came abreast to the left rear window. He immediately stopped, but before pulling out his service revolver, the driver pushed his door open and fired a .38 caliber 4-inch Smith and Wesson three times, striking Bruce twice in the stomach just below his bulletproof vest. IV fell backward onto the asphalt. Somehow, he managed to hold onto his service weapon and pull the trigger by instinct. The single round struck the driver dead center in his chest. He then fired two times into the left rear door. The two rounds struck the passenger in the back seat in his head and shoulder. IV felt an awful pain throughout his entire body; he knew he was losing consciousness. As he strained to stay alive, he felt a presence. Without looking, he turned his body to the right and fired one shot toward the car’s rear. The bullet struck the third and final passenger in his upper left leg, who had exited the vehicle when the driver did. As the passenger fell to the ground, he returned fire, striking IV once in the head.
The NCIC response took two and half minutes: “Vehicle wanted in connection to the shooting and killing of a Redwood, California police officer. Believed occupied three times. Use caution.” By the time the last word on the response was received, most of the blood leaving the IV’s body had done so.
Dispatcher Pavs immediately requested a backup for Charlie Four. “Any car in C Sector to respond to backup Charlie Four?” Again, there was no answer. Dispatcher Pavs put out a three-tone alter for any unit to back up Charlie Four with a possible murder suspect. A and B Sector units on the same channel responded and proceeded to Charlie Seven’s location. After thirteen minutes, the Sector C supervisor responded and stated that his units were en route back to Charlie Four.
Baker Six arrived in under two minutes and found two dead bodies in the middle of US Route 1 and a third body in the vehicle’s backseat. The third suspect was also lying in the street, passed out with a wound to the leg.
The media never learned of the actual events of the tragic traffic stop. For the first time in Department history, details were not leaked to the press. The Department and Union leaders joined forces to save the good name of the Department.
The seven C Sector officers, excluding the Sergeant with 18 years on, resigned within two months to avoid facing criminal-related charges of misfeasance and malfeasance. All, except the Sergeant, got jobs with other police departments within a year. There was no mention of the reason for their departure in their Department personnel files. The seven C Sector officers were at the house of one of the officers who lived within the sector, being served coffee and sandwiches by the lady of the house. Since the hostess had two kids asleep, all the officers turned down the volume on their portable police radios. None heard the request for backup from Charlie 4. It wasn’t until one of the officers’ land-lined communications that they found out about the traffic stop. Their response was too late for Charlie 4 and their careers with the Department.
The Sergeant, Brian Mathew Myers, Squad 34 supervisor and 18-year veteran with the Department and recipient of numerous awards for whatever from the Department, decided that he was responsible for IV’s death since he was in charge on the night in question was found hanging by a rope off the Chesapeake Bay Bridge four months after IV’s funeral. Myers drove his car onto the Bridge at 3 am, stopped halfway, put the car in park, walked over the south edge of the eastbound lane, tied a two-inch rope around his neck, secured the rope to the top railing, and then jumped. His wife received enough insurance money from the Union to set her up for life.
IV was buried with full Department honors. Over seven hundred officers from forty-two different departments attended the funeral. The good citizens of the county lined the streets to view the funeral procession. Of course, all the politicians from the county on up were there to support the grieving family; even both US Senators were seated right behind the widow. The County Executive gave a powerful eulogy condemning the crime, etc. And, no one faulted him for calling the deceased “Brute” instead of Bruce. The Commissioner reportedly shed a tear as he presented Mrs. IV with the American flag.
Two days after the funeral, Robert Bruce, IV was promoted posthumously by the Commissioner to the rank of Sergeant at yet another self-promoting press conference. A week after the press conference, the County Executive announced “with regret” the Commissioner’s retirement.
