Today and next Tuesday we are treated to a two-part essay by David Dean. David’s short stories have appeared in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, as well as a number of anthologies, since 1990. His story “Trial by Fir”’ was nominated for a Shamus Award in 1995, and “Ibrahim’s Eyes” won the EQMM Readers Award for 2007. He is a Chief of Police in New Jersey, and once served as a paratrooper with the 82nd Airborne Division.

—Rob Lopresti

SAINT MICHAEL AND FRIENDS – PART 1

by David Dean

Saint Michael the Archangel defends us in the day of battle; be our safeguard against the wiles and wickedness of the devil. May God rebuke him we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the other evil spirits who prowl through the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

Meet the patron saint of police officers. Talk about your constable on patrol, this is one tough celestial do-gooder. You’ll often hear him invoked at police funerals and find his depiction in both print and sculpture in police offices throughout the country—often with a spear; sometimes with a sword, but always armed and often doing something alarming to a serpent, dragon, or demon. Even amongst my non-Catholic colleagues St. Michael medals are often worn. Cops are seldom atheists, and even when they are, they like to hedge their bets when it comes to matters mortal.

Rob Lopresti suggested I enter the Tuesday sweepstakes with something about being a writing cop, so I thought St. Mike was a good way to introduce the cop thing…the writing thing comes next week. Cops share a lot in common with the above saint; but cops are seldom saints. Most of the ones I’ve known, however, are good guys (and gals), and set out each day to do well by their fellow man—but the world being the wicked place it is, it doesn’t always turn out that way.

Cops are probably the single most scrutinized, criticized, feared, abhorred, reviled, and yet envied humans on the face of the planet. Can you think of any other profession that appears more often as the central focus for fiction in modern literature and film? Yet, if you watch the news programs each evening you must wonder how these bumbling, inept, corrupt and venial charlatans ever manage to put a clumsy foot right. How is it that they pull off such miracles on the big and little screens, but can’t effect one simple little arrest without causing a national uproar in real life? It is a mystery.

In reality, of course, there are hundreds of thousands of encounters between the police and citizens every single day and, by far, the vast majority does not result in riots, beatings, internal affairs investigations, or even a beer with the President. For my part, unless they start serving something stronger, I’m not interested in a visit to the White House.

The average cop just wants to go home unscathed to his family at the end of his day; that is if he still has one and they are actually there waiting for him. (Sadly, and statistically, this is often not the case.) Most officers, after the newness is worn off them like the hair on their anxious heads, don’t desire to be heroes unless there is simply no alternative left after applying experience and common sense. But if this fails they will, with a kind of weary determination, forge ahead into the fray, knowing that if they survive the flying fists, bottles, or bullets, they can confidently expect to become the target of a riot, internal affairs investigation, lawsuit, or invitation to the White House.

There is one universal rule that all cops learn early on and it is this—everyone, from plumbers to presidents, know how to do their job better than them—just ask. In reality, you seldom need to; this observation is freely offered to police officers on a daily basis and from nearly every quarter. I even do it myself, and I are one! Anyhow, unlike St. Mike, we are not perfect beings, and so require the protection, guidance, and example of one from time to time and when it is convenient to us, or we are suddenly desperate and out of slick answers. After all, who you gonna call if you are 9-1-1?

Most cops manage to complete their careers without shooting anyone. This is true of small departments like my own and big ones like N.Y.P.D. This is not a result of poor marksmanship, but because most cops spend most their careers talking instead of shooting—talking our way into the confidence of victims or complainants, and talking our way out of trouble with out-of-control people. Sometimes we’re even good at talking a bad guy into telling the truth … without a beating or threat thereof—boring, but true.

The vast majority of arrests take place without so much as a scuffle. But … there are those times, those magic moments, when all hell breaks loose, and when it does, you can be almost guaranteed it will be when the officer thinks it won’t. That’s when bad things happen—punches are thrown, ball bats are wielded, and cozy kitchens become an edged weapons nightmare.

The arrival of a uniform on the scene of something going wrong usually has one of two results: Everyone suddenly remembers that they have jobs, families, maybe even reputations to think of, and settle down like little lambs. Or, all that ugly energy gets instantly redirected at the sap in the funny blue pants, and he’s suddenly rolling around on the ground with an irate citizen; taking cheap shots to the kidneys form “innocent” bystanders, while desperately trying to protect his gun and use his radio to call for back-up. The point being, I guess, that while few officers ever have to kill anyone, almost all of them are subjected to violence during their careers. It tends to make them wary.

Cops come in all sizes, shapes, colors, and both sexes, and if I had to come up with one thing that most have in common, it would be an innate love of order. I know what you’re thinking—“what about an overriding love of justice?” Well, that’s only in the beginning, back when both hair and idealism were still intact. As time and experience forge the “mature” officer, he comes to understand that true “justice” is probably reserved for the hereafter (think St. Michael). Because, so long as we haven’t yet shuffled off this mortal coil, the best we have here is law, and law and justice are not always familiar with one another or on speaking terms, so order is a good substitute.

Every cop learns, sooner or later, that within the murky, roiled waters of chaos and anarchy swims the ambush predator in search of someone that is loved by someone somewhere. And it is in these gray waters that the officer will spend a great deal of his career trying to intercept yon lowlife on his way to causing that someone, or someone that loves them, real and lasting misery. It has been thus since Sir Bobby Peele first sent out his “Bow Street Runners” and I suspect it shall remain so for the foreseeable future.

Next week David will discuss the police officer as writer, and vice versa.