Tuesday, November 24: Surprise Witness
New Jersey police chief and Shamus-nominated EQMM author David Dean returns with the second of two columns ruminating on cops, fiction, and cops & fiction. You can read Part 1 here.
SAINT MICHAEL AND FRIENDS – PART 2
by David Dean
In my experience, the average police officer is not big on reading. Beyond a professional magazine from time to time, the sports section, certain publications featuring high-quality photographs of artfully posed subjects; reading does not appear high on the law enforcement officer’s to-do list.
This is not an intelligence or education issue, as most officers today, unlike yours truly, have undergrad degrees, or even Masters and Doctorates. Its more of a personality thing, I think … cops are not contemplatives—they see themselves more along the lines of the aforementioned spear-wielding angel than the hermit monks.
But as to writing, well that’s another matter entirely. Cops spend a lot of time writing. Now these scribblings, sometimes called an investigation report, sometimes an incident or operations report, will be a meticulous rendering of some sad encounter with an unquestionably hapless civilian. This same report will be scrupulously reviewed by sergeants, lieutenants, captains, etc … until finally receiving the stamp of hierarchical approval.
This approval however, though required, stands but for little when the report finds its way into the court room. There it will be used to illustrate every fault in the officer’s case and conduct during the encounter, his improper training, or lack thereof, his cavalier disregard of the Second, Fourth and Fifth Amendments, his personal prejudices and clearly demonstrated biases (as interpreted by the defense), and if the judge will allow it, his questionable choice of cologne. This is in the criminal court of course; once the lawsuit is filed, then the gloves really come off. You get the picture—cops become very leery of the written word after being scourged with it a time or two. But they do plod on in spite of it all, and generally prevail in spite of their many shortcomings.
As for us that do write outside the office, so to speak, I can only answer for myself. If you are familiar with my stories at all, you will note that most are not “cop” stories, though they often have a police officer appear within them, as is the case with “Erin’s Journal” which is currently in the December issue of Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. In that story a police chief plays a supporting role to an inquisitive priest who has chanced upon a discarded and disturbing, diary.
Chief Hall serves to anchor the story within a believable reality. Back in the early nineties, this same officer was a patrolman and held center stage in four stories, or was it five? These were fun and cathartic to write but as I “matured” as a writer, I found that the officer alone was unable to access certain areas of human behavior and thought—the problem with being a police officer that writes fiction is that I feel honor-bound to be absolutely correct when it comes to depicting the police and this can be limiting.
After all, unlike the impression conveyed in many mystery stories, the police are not required to provide a motive for any criminal act. An arrest is based on probable cause, and that is something less than proof beyond a reasonable doubt but more than just reasonable suspicion (wonderfully gray area, isn’t it?). In reality, motives and the criminal’s state of mind are never truly known but to himself, the rest we generally infer from his acts, though sometimes, and only rarely, they are kind enough to actually leave some tangible and believable proof that serves to plausibly explain their actions.
To the fiction writer, of course, this knowledge is essential (and knowable); to the cop, not so much. Cops know that people lie—all kinds of people, in all kinds of situations…even when they’re being “honest”; for bad guys truth is a commodity to be indulged in sparingly and only for “consideration” and subject to alterations as needed. So cops tend to dismiss the “why I did it” without a detailed “how I did it” to back it up.
So having said all that, when it comes to cops who write fiction, I can only offer a theory on their motives which is based solely and subjectively on my own—I suspect that deep within their suspicious, jaded, little hearts, there is a desire to impose order on a disorderly world (I warned you about this earlier); to provide insight into human behavior (if only best guesses), and most certainly, to provide “justice” rather than always having to settle for “just law”. It’s what I’m guilty of anyway … so arrest me.
Cops in TV and fiction are always Mirandizing suspects in the field, and I’ve heard that this is never (or hardly ever) done in real life. What’s your experience of this, David?
Hi Jon,
It’s nice to hear from you. Like everything in police work, it depends. Miranda warnings are triggered by two things: custody and questioning (not just ID info, of course). In a lot of cases, a suspect is taken into custody and charged without Miranda because he is never questioned–the officer witnessed the offense and does not need an admission of guilt. In some cases you may question a suspect, but because he is not in a ‘custodial’ environment, i.e. handcuffs, interrogation room with closed door, etc…it does not trigger a ‘Warning’. This last is often fertile ground for argument with defense attorneys, but the current practice of videotaping generally resolves the matter of custody and/or coersion.
So, my experience has been that it is done when the two elements come together. Young officers sometimes Mirandize to a fault, giving the ‘Warning’ to witnesses–talk about your conversation killer.
In the U.K., I understand, a person must be “cautioned” on being arrested unless it is impractical, for example if the suspect is violent or intoxicated to the point of incapacity. The Brits have nothing like the Fifth Amendment since they have no written Constitution, but as a matter of precedent the right not to incriminate oneself under interrogation goes back to the English Civil War in the mid-17th century. The British warning is a little different from ours:
“You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence [sic] if you do not mention when questioned something which you may later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”
It may harm your defense if you don’t speak up? That’s downright un-American. Oh, wait—
David, it was a rare privilege to run your columns. Feel free to contribute whenever you get the inkling—you are always welcome here.
James,
The privilege was all mine, I assure you. I’ve caught the British ‘caution’ a few times on PBS’s ‘Mystery Theatre’ and kind of admire the wording; especially the hook about possibly harming one’s defense if one remains mum–I would like that part, of course.
Happy Thanksgiving to you, Rob, and all at Criminal Brief.
Not being a cop I can make up anything about them the editors will let me get away with. On the other hand I read a short story recently by an author I like a lot and quit reading when his cops did something that seemed so obviously out of bounds that it broke my syspension of disbelief.
On the other hand, I have tried to write short stories about librarians several times and no editor would touch ’em. Too horrifying to be believable, I suppose.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve hit that same speed bump in both stories, novels, and movies, featuring cops.
As to librarians, well now, that’s another animal altogether. I am married to a kindergarten teacher who’s also certified as a school librarian. Very sketchy characters, these librarians–they bear watching. And speaking of horrifying, I am currently writing a novel that features a librarian. It is, in fact, a horror novel, and like my previous novels, not intended for actual publication.
Now, there’s a subject for a blog entry (we will work you like a dog, given the chance). Why would you wrote novels “not intended for actual publication?”
Some of my very best writing has not been intended for actual publication, you see, but are ‘Works in Progress’. When I send them off to agents and publishers it is only to obtain their useful insights and guidance. Otherwise, those rejection letters might be very disheartening.