So, YEARS ago, when I was a cop, I met a gal in Baltimore MD (I had briefly worked there many years ago, and had gone back to visit a friend, and met this gal).
When I got back to Texas, we maintained a long distance relationship until I got my first phone bill. (Al Gore had not yet invented the internet)
In one of our nearly all night phone conversations, she expressed concern about my safety as a police officer, and would frequently mention "a fancy red sports car with a classy lady", sometimes joking that I would "run off with that lady" and sometimes just saying something like "it keeps coming to my mind". When we would hang up, she sometimes added, "watch out for that classy lady in that red sports car".
SO, one night, on routine patrol, about 3 AM, I found a car driving exactly the speed limit out on the edge of town. (OK, not much going on at 3 AM, so people are usually zipping here or there, and when somebody is going exactly the speed limit, it's almost like they're "not wanting to get caught".)
Even back then, you couldn't stop a car "just because", but needed some "probable cause". The vehicle's license plate light was out -- sufficient cause to stop and question.
I pulled close enough to get license plate info, and radio that in, then "popped the lights" to pull the vehicle over. It seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to get the driver's attention, even waving my spotlight over the back window, "take down" lights flashing brightly. Continuing at "exactly the right speed", experience tells you the driver is probably hiding something, or needing some extra time to "clear the air" (marijuana smoke or whatever), but I finally saw brake lights, and the vehicle pulled over under an overpass near some heavy construction equipment.
I got out of my squad car, walked up to the vehicle, and asked the driver, a young woman, for license and registration. She already had them in her hand, so that only took a few seconds, and she didn't even ask "why did you stop me", which seemed a bit unusual. I bent over to check that she was the only occupant, then walked back to my cruiser to call in the license info.
As I got just past the rear of her car, I had a "funny feeling", and I suddenly thought about Ruthie's comments about "a red sports car with a classy lady". This was, indeed, a red MGB, occupied by what could arguably be called "a classy lady".
I stopped. Turned around, put my gun hand on my .357, and began easing up the side of her vehicle, firearm half out of the holster, flashlight in my left hand, her driver's license and insurance card in my teeth.
As I got to her window, I saw she was bent over, fiddling with something under her seat. I spit out her license and insurance card, and ordered her to put her hands on the steering wheel, and obviously surprised her enough that she instantly did what I demanded. At this moment, another patrol unit was rolling up onto the scene, and, seeing me with gun drawn, he rushed up to where I was standing. I told him "she was reaching under the seat", so he bent down while I was still "covering her" with my weapon, and he pulled out a Dan Wesson .357 magnum revolver from under her seat. He opened the cylinder to find 2 of the 6 .357 hollow points had been fired.
My partner handcuffed her, I picked up the license and insurance card I had spit out on the ground, and he held her while I radioed in the information.
Since this was before computers, we had to wait for the dispatcher to keyboard this into our NCIC dumb terminal, wait for a response, so he kept an eye on her while I searched her vehicle. Nothing else found, but she was talking fast, trying to explain her boyfriend had been teaching her how to shoot, and that's why she had the gun, and she just needed to get home because her boyfriend would be worried.
Next thing you know, my dispatcher calls over the radio..... "737, you 10-97?" That's a code asking me if I'm "alone", ready for radio traffic. In other words, he's about to give me some news that he doesn't want my "subject" to hear, unless he/she is already constrained. I respond "10-53", the "ok" signal that either I am out of earshot of the subject, OR the subject is already in custody.
Dispatcher continues, "subject was involved in a tavern shooting 0130 this date, shot and killed her ex-boyfriend/barkeeper, wanted for homicide in [an adjacent County], charges pending".
I still get goosebumps thinking about that. "watch out for a classy lady in a red sports car", Ruthie had said.
Roger that, and thank God for "funny feelings"!
When I got back to Texas, we maintained a long distance relationship until I got my first phone bill. (Al Gore had not yet invented the internet)
In one of our nearly all night phone conversations, she expressed concern about my safety as a police officer, and would frequently mention "a fancy red sports car with a classy lady", sometimes joking that I would "run off with that lady" and sometimes just saying something like "it keeps coming to my mind". When we would hang up, she sometimes added, "watch out for that classy lady in that red sports car".
SO, one night, on routine patrol, about 3 AM, I found a car driving exactly the speed limit out on the edge of town. (OK, not much going on at 3 AM, so people are usually zipping here or there, and when somebody is going exactly the speed limit, it's almost like they're "not wanting to get caught".)
Even back then, you couldn't stop a car "just because", but needed some "probable cause". The vehicle's license plate light was out -- sufficient cause to stop and question.
I pulled close enough to get license plate info, and radio that in, then "popped the lights" to pull the vehicle over. It seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to get the driver's attention, even waving my spotlight over the back window, "take down" lights flashing brightly. Continuing at "exactly the right speed", experience tells you the driver is probably hiding something, or needing some extra time to "clear the air" (marijuana smoke or whatever), but I finally saw brake lights, and the vehicle pulled over under an overpass near some heavy construction equipment.
I got out of my squad car, walked up to the vehicle, and asked the driver, a young woman, for license and registration. She already had them in her hand, so that only took a few seconds, and she didn't even ask "why did you stop me", which seemed a bit unusual. I bent over to check that she was the only occupant, then walked back to my cruiser to call in the license info.
As I got just past the rear of her car, I had a "funny feeling", and I suddenly thought about Ruthie's comments about "a red sports car with a classy lady". This was, indeed, a red MGB, occupied by what could arguably be called "a classy lady".
I stopped. Turned around, put my gun hand on my .357, and began easing up the side of her vehicle, firearm half out of the holster, flashlight in my left hand, her driver's license and insurance card in my teeth.
As I got to her window, I saw she was bent over, fiddling with something under her seat. I spit out her license and insurance card, and ordered her to put her hands on the steering wheel, and obviously surprised her enough that she instantly did what I demanded. At this moment, another patrol unit was rolling up onto the scene, and, seeing me with gun drawn, he rushed up to where I was standing. I told him "she was reaching under the seat", so he bent down while I was still "covering her" with my weapon, and he pulled out a Dan Wesson .357 magnum revolver from under her seat. He opened the cylinder to find 2 of the 6 .357 hollow points had been fired.
My partner handcuffed her, I picked up the license and insurance card I had spit out on the ground, and he held her while I radioed in the information.
Since this was before computers, we had to wait for the dispatcher to keyboard this into our NCIC dumb terminal, wait for a response, so he kept an eye on her while I searched her vehicle. Nothing else found, but she was talking fast, trying to explain her boyfriend had been teaching her how to shoot, and that's why she had the gun, and she just needed to get home because her boyfriend would be worried.
Next thing you know, my dispatcher calls over the radio..... "737, you 10-97?" That's a code asking me if I'm "alone", ready for radio traffic. In other words, he's about to give me some news that he doesn't want my "subject" to hear, unless he/she is already constrained. I respond "10-53", the "ok" signal that either I am out of earshot of the subject, OR the subject is already in custody.
Dispatcher continues, "subject was involved in a tavern shooting 0130 this date, shot and killed her ex-boyfriend/barkeeper, wanted for homicide in [an adjacent County], charges pending".
I still get goosebumps thinking about that. "watch out for a classy lady in a red sports car", Ruthie had said.
Roger that, and thank God for "funny feelings"!
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