Riding along on patrol, one gets a unique perspective on the tedious, difficult job cops do.
Three years ago, I had the opportunity to join my dad — an officer with a midwestern police department — on a ride-along, spending a day with him as he went about his duties. It had the potential to be the most hardcore take-your-child-to-work day ever. But the reality was, in the end, not that exciting. I came away from the experience knowing that my father and his colleagues must take a fair number of calls that are superfluous, that the equipment they have is nothing more or less than sufficient, and that the sheer number of laws being broken at a given time makes their enforcement more subjective and dependent on the judgment of an officer than one would prefer.
We started out at the department. He armed himself for patrol as I observed. The tools you’d expect — pepper spray, radio, handcuffs, handgun, taser, baton — were all there. The rifle, shotgun, and body armor stayed in the squad car.
After arming up, we proceeded to the briefing room, where the supervisor relayed all pertinent information to the officers coming on shift. As a fraternal gesture, I brought with me 24 quality doughnuts. This was met with the enthusiasm one would expect from a room full of cops.
Briefing complete, we headed down to the garage to get into our squad car. While walking to the vehicle, I noticed a locker labeled “less lethals.” Wondering aloud what those might be, I was informed that they were weapons such as pepper grenades, flash-bangs, bean-bag-firing shotguns, and rubber bullets. It was explained that these items were called “less lethals” because while they are not intended to mortally wound a human being, they are still quite capable of inflicting a great deal of injury.
Our squad car was a modified Ford Explorer sporting a Native American chief’s visage along both flanks of the vehicle. The SUV was similar to its civilian counterpart, with some upgrades: a long-gun storage rack, front- and interior-facing cameras, and a V6 twin-turbo engine. The backseat was an enclosed steel cage with bars on the windows, separated by a plexiglass divider from the front seat. I was told the plexiglass divider was a significant upgrade over the steel bars of old because officers no longer had to worry about being spat on from the backseat while driving. It was also pointed out that the Explorer has cup holders — a welcome quality-of-life improvement for the coffee-dependent — whereas the standard Crown Vic does not.
Once we had placed our beverages in their respective holders, we drove out of the garage and into the parking lot behind the department. Officer Abel logged into the laptop mounted in the squad car to see the pending and active calls. The login process consisted of 21 passwords. Once successfully in the system, he had access to everything from local record-keeping systems to INTERPOL databases. I was informed that every search an officer conducts is tracked and audited.
Our first stop was a domestic dispute between a family and some acquaintance of theirs who they felt was driving past their house too often. Nothing illegal had been done and everyone was safe, but they were annoyed and felt that the police should do something. It was patiently explained to them that until there was a crime committed there was nothing else to be done except take a statement. Upon departing, Officer Abel proceeded to write down everything that had transpired for his report. A ten-minute, inconsequential stop meant 20 minutes of dictation. I asked if that amount of paperwork was normal. I was assured that the job was mostly paperwork.
When everything had been satisfactorily dictated we moved on to our second call, a welfare check-in. The department practices proactive mental-health intervention, assigning trained deputies a caseload of people to look in on daily. Many of these are people with serious psychological conditions who choose not to take their medications. The lady we visited enjoyed calling the police just to have someone to talk to. We chatted with her for a while before getting back on the road.
Eventually, we parked to set up the radar gun for some traffic enforcement. The driving public was quite law-abiding that day and time passed slowly until the bugling of a vehicle lacking any semblance of a muffler was heard. The car moved into view and we flicked our lights on.
If you have ever been pulled over by the police, you will recognize that it always seems like an interminable amount of time before the officer approaches your vehicle to ask for your license and registration. There are multiple reasons for the delay.
First and foremost, before he approaches you, the officer wants to know who you are, if you have a record, and if there are any outstanding warrants for your arrest. To that end, as he runs your registration and writes down his legal reason for pulling you over, he is watching what you are doing in your vehicle. By waiting a few minutes, he can better assess your mental state — if you’re making movements that would imply a flight risk, if a weapon is being drawn, if there are people in the car who are unaccounted for, etc. As all of this is going on, he is also creating a safe route of approach to your vehicle in his mind.
Once his preparatory tasks were completed, Officer Abel began his approach. Having watched my fair share of Cops and heard his own stories, I was nervous for my dad’s safety. One cannot know what someone is liable to do when approached by an officer, especially if they are a participant in illicit activities. But in the end all was fine. After some discussion at the driver’s side window, Officer Abel returned to the squad car. I was informed that the individual’s license had been suspended and that he lacked proof of insurance. The process of issuing a citation then began.
Anyone who’s ever been pulled over knows how quickly a stop can become expensive. Let us imagine you are apprehended while going one mph over the speed limit. You are in, say, Wisconsin, on a clear patch of road with no other vehicles in sight, cruising along, when all of a sudden you see the lights in your rearview mirror. The following is a bill the officer could give you from the state if he so chose :
346.57(4)(d) 1 MPH over the limit = $175.30
346.88 (4) Dirty Windshield = $175.30
346.89 (1) Inattentive Driving = $187.90
346.89(5) Operation w/ visible electronic device = $175.30
Total = $713.80
Perhaps this seems like a reasonable sum, but in my current life as an intern, it would cover a month’s worth of rent. So the libertarian critique that there are simply too many laws to be enforced consistently and in equal measure has merit. If there is a law that all drivers must have two operational headlights, then everyone who has a headlight out should be pulled over, every time. If the police force is incapable of pulling everyone with a busted headlight over alongside its other duties, then the legislature needs to either hire more police or review the value of the law. The failure to create a statutory scheme that can be consistently and universally enforced is doubtless frustrating to both the public and the officers themselves. Moreover, the sheer number of minor crimes on the books creates potential for abusive enforcement by officers who, while within their rights legally, can make a routine stop more harmful than helpful.
The man whose license was suspended was told to call a friend who could pick him up while a second friend would drive his vehicle home for him. Shift complete, we headed back to the department. Having done nothing except observe, I was nonetheless exhausted. To be constantly attuned to the world outside the vehicle while simultaneously listening to the radio traffic and watching the computer made for few mental breaks. (How police have any idea what is being said on their radio eludes me; every voice is more garbled and incoherent than the last.)
I think it possible to be concerned about the encroachment of the government on one’s liberties while at the same time being appreciative of the role police play. We do law-enforcement officers a disservice by writing excessively petty statutes that can be dangerous to enforce and impinge on the public’s freedoms. Instead of “defunding the police,” reform advocates would do well to consider reducing the legal burden placed on them as much as possible, so that their time and energy can be spent on the enforcement work that matters most.