The Rise and Fall of a Deputy Sheriff: Part IV
It was my last day with my Fourth Phase trainer and it was supposed to be a quasi-off day. He didn’t want me taking any reports. Do a few traffic stops, contact a few folks, but for the most part take it easy and probably go 10-7OD early. Now I found myself barrelling down the highway code threee, at 115 MPH. We had just been on a traffic stop for a driver using his cell phone, when a call of a fight at a graduation party gone wrong involving 50 or more people went out. I quickly cut my traffic stop loose with a warning, jumped in my cruiser, threw on the lights and sirens, and, like every other deputy in a 15 mile radius made my way to the fracas just as fast as my Crown Vic could carry me.
As we flew down the freeway details of the fight started to come in. There were reports of bottles flying, gangbangers squaring off, possibly armed with knives, someone possibly injured, and people taking off in all directions, on foot and in vehicles. We were quite a ways from the scene when the call went out, and deputies started arriving when we were still a good distance away. Deputies were calling out vehicle descriptions as they tried to flee the area, and one deputy reported there was a man down in the roadway, possibly bleeding from the head. Initial reports were he had been hit by a fleeing vehicle, possibly intentionally. When we arrived there were so many patrol cars and fire trucks already on scene we had to park fairly far away. As we walked up toward the commotion, a few deputies had subjects detained, mostly teenagers, and I could see the medics surrounding the man down.
As we got closer I could see him facedown on the pavement, a broken cinderblock lying next to his head, which was lying in a small pool of blood. In most cases on FTO, this would’ve been mine to handle even though several other deputies arrived on scene first. That’s part of the “fun” of training, you “get” to take paper on everything. But not tonight. My trainer told the sergeant on scene that I wouldn’t be taking it. I did still assist of course, questioning one of the detained teenagers, who (of course) wasn’t at the party. He just happened to be walking by on his way home–even though he told me he was walking in the opposite direction of where he said he lived. When he finally admitted to being at the party, he inexplicably forgot the names of the two friends he came with. The lies never get any better. You never know your friends names, you only had two beers, and these aren’t your pants.
He didn’t give us much, and truthfully, probably didn’t know anything useful anyway. Just a stupid kid at a stupid party doing stupid things (he was HBD). After his mom came to pick him up, we made our way back to the station to call it a night, a couple hours early.
So, why were we ending the night early? Why didn’t my FTO want me handling anything more than a traffic stop? And why was I still with a trainer eight days after I was supposed to have already completed The Program? And why am I a deputy no longer?
I promise not to go eleven months before the next installment. I’m feeling the urge to get the rest of this story off my chest, so stick with me and check back soon for updates.