Adventure in Copland The Story of an MPD Ride-Along by Ben Abelson My ride for the evening pulled up to my dorm five minutes late. I was about to embark on a night of passionate law enforcement with the officer inside the car. Or so I thought. It turned out this was only my transportation down to the police station. I had to wait for my assigned officer to finish up some things before my ride along began. We left the new model Middletown police car (who misses Ford Pintos?) and walked into the decaying police station. My driver asked me, "So...why'd you decide to do this?" "Just for fun." "Thinking of a future as a cop?" "No. Just for fun." "A career in law, then?" "No. Just for fun." "Oh." Freaking college kid, I could imagine him thinking, shouldn't he be getting trashed at a frat party or something? I had to wonder if he even suspected my true mission: to report the seedy underside (or lack thereof) of the Middletown Police Department. I was told to wait in the booking room for a few minutes. 'My' officer would be ready shortly. A burly man was sitting across the table from me, engaged in a somewhat heated phone conversation. "They got me this time, baby. If you don't come and get me, I'm gonna stay here. I'm gonna do a year, I know I am. You gotta come get me tonight. Ok. If you ain't here; take care of my kid." "What's he here for?", I asked the officer. "Narcotics possession." "Oh." I glanced towards the cop. Shouldn't you be out catching murderers or something? The burly man resumed his conversation, "'Course I'm gonna marry you, shortie. Just as soon as I get out. You know how it is." So goes the 'one phone call'. Before leaving, I had a quick tour of the police station. While seated in the 'command center' I overheard the conversation of a few officers. "Hey, who's on ammunition detail tonight?" one shouted. "I am, what's up?" said another. "I fell down on my [ammunition] magazine. Can I still use it?" "Yeah, looks like only external damage. Should be fine." "Oh, good." "My magazine's all rusted up!" guffawed a large officer. Wouldn't that make it hard to use? It was time to get moving. First stop, Klekolo. Favorite hangout of Middletown punks. There had been a noise disturbance of kids playing music too loudly, we were going to check it out. At first I was optimistic. Approaching the coffee shop, we saw a group of kids outside. A few of them staggered over to the cop car, their eyes glazed over and reddish. A boy of about fourteen cockily leaned in the open passenger window, blowing smoke from his cigarette inside of the car. "How's the wife?" he said to my officer. "Oh, she's doing good." "Baby's due real soon, huh?" "Yep, yep." A pre-pubescent girl in the background asked me, "Are you his son?" "No," I said. "Are you a skateboarder? He pick you up?" the first boy asked. "Uh..." "You like harassing skateboarders? We're just having fun, man." Uhmm....huh? "I'm on a ride along program...with the University," I said. "Oh." Just then another cop car pulled up alongside ours. Turns out the kids turned down their music a few minutes ago. We had missed the action. "Those kids are always giving us trouble," my officer later told me,"they're always hanging around harassing people, asking them for rolling papers, you name it." "Do a lot of Middletown kids go to Wesleyan?" After his laughter died down, he told me no. Driving through downtown Middletown, my officer remarked, "Geez. Sure is dull tonight. Nothing's going on." (These same lips would later utter, "Damn, I hate it when no one has warrants out on them!") As we approached an intersection, we saw a car go partway through a red light, then back up. The driver had spotted the police car just in time. Or so he thought. "Hey, lookit that," said my cop, "should we pull him over?" "Uhm...I dunno." "We can pull him over if you want! Or, we can drive around and look for other stuff going on." "Uh...geee." "It's up to you." "Well....OK, why not." We turned a sharp turn onto the perpendicular street in the opposite direction, pulled a tight U-turn, and turned on the sirens. Half a block later, the car was pulled over, and I was running a license plate check on the on-board laptop. The guy was clean, and we moved along. I could see now how the police could be a dangerous group. Alright, I knew that before. But now I had a chance to witness it firsthand. Too much power in the hands of anyone could be dangerous. The cop had just pulled over a guy on my behest. And I had relished (well, somewhat) my "authority." What would happen if two hundred power-abusing cops were gathered together? The drunken riots at the NYC police convention a few years ago come to mind. My officer and I engaged in some conversation as the night progressed. First thing he asked, of course, was if I played any sports at school. He seemed a little disappointed with my negative answer, although he perked up a bit at my mention of intramurals. I was beginning to get to know my officer a little better. He went to a local high school, and had no plans to attend college after he graduated. He worked as a security guard while taking some classes at the local community college. A short time after he attended the police academy, a job opened up on the Middletown force. He's working the four to twelve evening shift right now. Everyday from seven in the morning until three he and another cop work as landscapers. Damn, an eighteen hour work day. My respect for the common blue collar worker definitely rose. I never had a dad who handled two jobs from dawn until midnight just to pay the bills. His wife also works on the police force. She handles the phones and computers behind the desk and is eight months pregnant. Later on in the night he showed me his house. It was a modest ranch, which probably had about five rooms. A metal screen door guarded the front; a short paved path led the way through the small yard. No sidewalks. It all reminded me of a working class setting somewhere in the Midwest. "There's my truck," he said with a hint of pride in his voice, nodding towards a pickup with a gardener's trailer attached to the back. We talked about his life, and the overall situation in Middletown. Apparently Middletown doesn't have the greatest school system, and he doesn't have the money to send his soon-to-be-born son to private school. He's hoping to move to another town about 30 minutes south when his son reaches school age. The schools are a lot better down there, he says. He also told me how he enjoyed deer hunting. Middletown is more run down than I had realized. During the tour that night, I was shown about 20 local 'crack houses' (in the words of my officer). Our patrol took us through a lot of run down areas, most of which are near the river and route 9. We passed by a local "auto body" shop suspected to be a chop shop, where stolen cars are dissembled to be sold and reconstructed. Several miles away from downtown Middletown, up in the hills, are vast areas of condominiums and housing developments. They range from nice and well maintained, to decaying and rundown. We took a tour through some of the more decrepit developments. I was shown which houses are frequented by local drug dealers, the houses that are frequently called in for domestic disputes, even a house that was destroyed by two kids who were angry with their mom. We were driving through a slummy area near the river, a few blocks off of Main street, when my officer pulled the car over next to a kid walking on the sidewalk. After a few seconds of conversation between the two, during which the kid explained that he was on his way to visit his "boy," the kid was straddled across the winshield being searched. After not finding anything on the kid, and having me run a check on the on-board computer, my officer let him go on his way. "Sorry buddy," he said to the young man, "you know, it's late, and I see an unfamiliar kid walking by these crack houses......I see a white kid walking in a black neighborhood...y'know?" Yes, we wouldn't want to promote inter-racial friendships, would we? As the night wound down we found ourselves parked in a lot outside of a local crack house. Another police car pulled up, it too had a student riding shotgun. While the other student and I looked on, the two officers began an engrossing conversation. After twenty minutes, I had had my fill of hearing about their sex lives, wives, views on masturbation, and stripper stories. I also learned that they were getting paid to get drunk as a demonstration for a trainee DWI class. It's definitely a job perk, but is this really where police funding goes? It was time to call it a night. After getting dropped off outside of my dorm I wondered if I had gained a new perspective about cops. I still don't like cops and have little respect for them. But, they are people, something I had been largely unaware of. Don't get me wrong, the cops I had gotten to see at work had fulfilled many of my stereotypes. They were loud, boorish, crass, and didn't seem overly intelligent. But, let's face it: some kind of a police force is necessary in contemporary society. Most people that are cops probably aren't far from the idealized upstanding citizen. I'm sure that the police would function better with a few more intelligent open-minded people working for them. But would you really want to?