Parents, grandparents, teachers … you have to do
it … at least once in your lifetime. It’ll
open your eyes, clear your head and give you a new appreciation
of law enforcement. The ride-along. Most police and sheriff
departments are perfectly fine with the idea. Some even
have organized ride-along programs.
I did one in 1993 with the Oak Creek police. There wasn’t
much going on that night as we cruised the streets with
an attack dog in the back seat. The officer talked about
the job. “Some folks say it’s 90 percent boredom
and 10 percent sheer terror. I say it’s 80 percent
boredom, 18 percent interesting people, humorous incidents
or the chance to really help someone in a bad situation.
The rest is terror, when you’re really in a life-or-death
situation.”
Fast forward to 2004 and once again, an opportunity to
ride-along came from Lt. Terry Seely, a 14-year veteran
of the Columbia County sheriff’s department. Seely
is dating my daughter.
The first thing Seely showed me was the computer system
in the front seat of his unmarked squad that allows him
to communicate with every police, fire, and sheriff’s
department in the county. He can send e-mails to all of
the above and instant message the deputies on duty under
his charge. He can check vehicle registrations, review
articles about previous crimes, pull up the radar screen,
view maps, read narratives from the dispatcher and review
previous calls, most of it while driving.
Seely said he rarely stops speeders unless they’re
going 78 or 79 mph. “Most of the younger guys are
more hard core and they’ll stop you if you’re
doing 68 or 69 in a 65 zone.” Since I’d never
know if it was a new-hire or a veteran in the squad with
his radar on me, I decided to keep my own driving speed
to within a couple mph’s of the posted speed. See
how beneficial ride-alongs are?
Suddenly we get a call from dispatch. A security alarm
has gone off in a million dollar home on Lake Wisconsin.
We’re on the northeast side of Poynette at the time.
Seely turns the flashing lights on the squad, speeds up
to 80, then 90 mph and turns on the siren. I take a deep
breath and start my white knuckle routine. A dozen minutes
later we arrive at the dark winding lane that leads up
to the house where another sheriff squad is waiting. The
deputy, waiting next to her car, knows burglary investigations
must be done in twos. They leave me behind and take off
for the house. I’m thinking, “What if someone’s
in there and he sees the deputies and takes off running
and sees me sitting in this car?” I quickly reached
for my cell phone, prepared to dial 911. Then I remembered,
I’m sitting inside 911.
That call turned out to be a false alarm … a glitch
in the security system at the house.
An hour later on that cold January night, we respond to
a call that a 17-year-old has flipped his mother’s
car off an icy road and landed roof down on the other
side of a ditch. The kid walked out, a passerby took him
home and when Seely and I are inside the kitchen at their
farmhouse, I want to shake the mother and say, “Why
don’t you take him to the hospital and make sure
he’s OK!” But I keep quiet and let Seely do
his work.
In the next hour, we get a call from dispatch about a
domestic disturbance. A man with previous violations who
is due in court the following week, is drunk and has locked
his wife out of the house on this freezing cold night.
We’re 20 miles away when the call comes in, so once
again, flashing lights are turned on and as Seely speeds
up, zig-zagging back and forth on the curvy, hilly, snow-covered
roads, I watch the speedometer climb past 100 mph. Then
110. At one point I see 115 and nearly screw my backbone
into the plastic seat cover. I don’t say a word
for fear any distraction could find us up-ended in a ditch.
Later I asked him how fast we were actually going. “I
clocked it at 118.” I started my evening prayers
early that night.
When we arrived at the scene, the wife had been taken
to a friend’s house, the husband had locked the
doors, turned off the lights and was no doubt eight sleep
levels beyond passed out. Three sheriff’s and two
police cars had responded, but after banging on all the
doors and trying to wake the guy, everyone finally gave
up and let him sleep.
I spent six hours with Seely that night. We drove 236
miles around his county. I gained a whole new appreciation
for law enforcement. From the 17-year-old who should still
be thanking the Lord his life was spared, to the terrifying
15-minute rollercoaster ride at speeds up to 118 mph,
I know the job these men and women do isn’t easy.
(Lorenz is a mother, writer and speaker. To contact
her about having her speak to your group or organization
e-mail her at <patricialorenz@juno.com>) |
