GHETTO COP STORIES
BY TEAMO BIGG
A Day in the Life of
a Rookie Ghetto Cop

One day when I was a rookie, I realized that a city cop learns and does more in one shift than a small-town cop does in a year. I had about a year or so on the street and I thought I had seen and done it all.
My first run of the day was for a family fight. Fairly routine stuff really, so I rambled into the house not thinking too much about safety. As I tried to decipher what the fat woman was trying to say to me, I saw a fat man running towards me with a barbecue fork in his hand. My service pistol jumped out of my holster and into my hand. I yelled, "Drop the fork, man!" The fat man acted as though he didn't or wouldn't hear me and kept on coming. I yelled some more and took a tactical stance and removed the slack in my pistol's trigger. Then I saw it...just like on the old Batman shows. I saw a spinning newspaper coming closer. When it stopped I saw the headlines..."Officer kills man armed with a fork!" I decided that I would just have to be stabbed. The fat man then looked at his fork and said "Ooops, I forgot I was holding this thing." He went on to tell me that he needed his special sauce, and he was running to retrieve it quickly before his chicken burnt. The original fat lady was going on about her son who wasn't there as I left.
I left quickly because a run for a man with a gun was broadcast. I arrived on that scene first and as I investigated, two other policemen arrived. I had the rear, and they had the front. So far, so good. As I walked with my pistol drawn, I noticed a mongrel, dirty, probably rabid German Shepherd following me on the other side of a fence. I thought to myself how lucky I was to be on the other side of it. Then the fence ended and the dog was looking at me like a piece of beef. Once again, I took out the slack on my trigger and thought, "I have to kill this dog." Right on cue, just as I decided to actually press the trigger, the dog cocked his head, as if he knew he was about to die. He then looked off in the distance and pranced away, wagging his tail.
That incident ended without incident, and I was off to another assignment when a car I passed got my attention. I remembered the tag as one from a stolen auto and I began to chase it. Soon after, four young dudes bailed out of the car and ran towards a residential area. Another Officer came to assist me, and as he was faster and in better shape than I was, I let him take the lead. One of the bad guys leapt a fence with my partner right behind him. The bad man was grabbed in mid air, wrestled to the ground and handcuffed to a pole. I thought this was very smooth, and I thought I should do the same to the guy I was right behind. My suspect leapt the same fence, and I was sure I had him now. I leapt just like my partner. I grabbed a handful of air and landed in a Weber kettle with something or another grilling on top of it. My bad guy got away. I ran off before the owner of the grill could find out what happened.
My next assignment, after I changed my uniform shirt, was for another family fight. A mad husband punched his wife and then threw the family dog at her. I arrested him and charged him with assault with a dangerous weapon/pooch, and with cruelty to animals. As I was processing his arrest, I noticed the time. I only had six more hours until check-off.

Cop Car
Remmington or River

It was about two days before Bill Clinton's second inauguration. Everybody at work was consumed with the upcoming detail that promised boredom, frozen toes and long hours. I was driving in circles and avoiding trouble when the call came across the police radio: "Scout car 41, respond for the robbery hold-up in progress." I answered and began to drive to address given. The only thing in my head on the drive over to this robbery was that I would probably catch this bamma and have to go to court in the morning.
Three or four minutes later, I arrived in the block and saw a taxicab sticking out of a nightclub. I thought that this was not in fact a robbery, but maybe just a bad traffic accident. Just then, a group of bystanders pointed down the road in an attempt to point out the bad man sprinting down the sidewalk. I finally looked in the right direction and saw my suspect running away from me with an angry band of taxi drivers following. The bad man had a silver pistol in his hand and I later discovered that he had used this pistol to rob the same cab that I saw earlier. The driver of the cab would have no part in losing any of his hard-earned money and purposely crashed into the nightclub to escape. Unfortunately for the bad man, the nightclub was right next to a taxicab headquarters and garage, thus the angry mob at his heels.
Realizing that Ford Crown Victorias are much faster than I am, I threw 41 in drive and hopped the curb in a flying U-turn worthy of Steve McQueen. Narrowly missing a mini-van and oddly enough a Taxi, I headed towards the bad man. Two blocks later, I arrived at the angry mob and they all pointed to the frozen river below the bridge we were on. As my back up arrived, I saw the bad man running along side of the frozen river. My additional help was in the form of a youth services officer, and she quickly and flatly refused to chase the bad man with me. I remember the words "Fuck that!" coming from her mouth.
I then decided that I still needed a partner, so I popped the trunk and grabbed a Remmington model 870 shotgun and began to run down the stairs and alongside the river. The bad man turned left, and began slipping and sliding, traversing the frozen river. I remember telling the dispatcher that I was chasing one with a gun across the river. I later learned that my co-workers did not believe me and thought I was trying to be funny.
As I got closer to the bad man I began to break through the ice. First only an inch or two, but then more and more. As we both came to the center of the river, the ice was firm and there was no more falling through. We both came to a barge that was trapped in the ice, and I followed the bad man up and on top of it. I could not believe it, but then, I found myself crossing a frozen gangplank onto a second barge. I then saw four electric company workers to my left, frozen in fear as well as just plain frozen. They all nodded to their left, in the direction of the bad man who was now backed to the edge of the second barge. The bad man screamed "Come here!!?!" in the direction of the workers. One worker replied "I can hear you just fine from over here."
I could now finally look at the bad man face to face, as I was standing 15 feet from him. As I racked a round into the chamber of my shotgun, I yelled "Dude, just drop the gun!" The bad man looked at me for what seemed an hour, then he cocked his head to one side and said to no one in particular "They are coming to get me, he is going to get me."
The bad man then took off his clothes faster that a former priest on his wedding night, and said "Praise Allah." He then turned and preformed a perfect 10 out of 10 swan dive down to the ice. He produced a small hole in the ice and there was no splash. I think I said "Oh fuck." on the radio, followed by "Dispatcher, the suspect was last seen swimming in an unknown direction. Send homicide and harbor branch."
I put the shotgun down and scratched my head. Just then, I saw my good friend, also a cop, running across the ice in an effort to help me. Then I saw nothing. Then I saw a blue popsicle spring out of the ice shivering. He then crawled to the shore on his hands and knees vomiting. Once on the shore, two officers gave him a hand to his feet.
Two hours later, following an unsuccessful dive, I was still standing on the barge. I was thinking that after so many years as a policeman, that I could still see unbelievable things. As the part of the river I was standing on was far from anyone's home it was selected as the explosion point of the inaugural fireworks. A surreal event got even spookier as the fireworks boomed 40 feet over my head. I sat down and wondered if the bad man drowned, was killed on impact or actually got away. I dismissed getting away, because even James Bond could not pull this one off.
The bad man was found four months later, a mile down the river. No one mentioned my partner's cowardice. The two officers on the shore were given medals of honor. My friend caught many diseases from the river. And I am now known as the guy who makes people walk the plank. I think of him every time I pass that bridge. I can't remember his name.

The Prostitute Catcher

I was working in the newly established anti-prostitution unit in a ghetto in Washington, D.C. A ten-block area was over run with sin, and we were charged with its elimination. Now these are not the types of girls you have in mind. Nothing even close to the Las Vegas showgirl. Most folks drive through and wonder if these girls actually are paid for their services. These are D.C. hoes. 75 to 80 pounds of smelly crackhead.
The Chevy Cavalier of justice seemed impossible to fool anyone, let alone experienced pros. This in mind, I eased up to my very first prostitution negotiation. Not knowing what to say, and receiving no training, I draw a blank. I am thinking that it must be painfully obvious now that I am not just a goofy white guy, but a goofy white cop. Finally, I blurt out "How much will it cost a guy to get his dick sucked?" Miss hoe replied "You a cop?" I look around and say, " Do I look like a cop?" She states that it will cost me ten dollars plus a five-dollar tip.
As the girl hops in my car I begin to drive down the street to the pre determined arrest site. I am comfortable with this new strange situation, because I am only a few blocks from 20 of my closest friends. The girl says, " Turn left here." I ramble something about knowing a better place and keep driving ahead. Now my new friend freaks out and begins to scream and punch and claw and kick. She is screaming rape and she is demanding to be let out. As she opens the door, I realize that I have indeed lost control of this situation. I run down my list of options. Plan B arrives in the form of my service pistol, and I figure the effect would be greater if it was placed against her head.
Instant calming effect. I said " I'm the police, now shut the fuck up and sit still." She did. As I pulled into the arrest location, my new friend was crying and said something about her kids. I couldn't listen as I was on my way back out for another.
This went on all night until we had the patrol wagon full of ladies. One woman stated from inside the wagon " I want to speak to that man's boss, he licked my pussy! ". Then as if rehearsed, 10 of my newest and best friends all claimed that I had indeed done just that. The wagon started up and the first complainant of pussy licking said "That's about enough for tonight boys, lets move 'em out. "
I found out later at the station two things: One, that what you say on the street seems really cool until you have to write it down on an arrest form, word for word. Secondly I discovered exactly what the secret contents of a prostitute's handbag really are. Every single bag contained the same stuff. Change, phone numbers, eye drops, a crack pipe, a half of a pack of Newports, and lots and lots of tissues. I quickly learned that in future I would describe these things on the property tag as 1 bag of worthless belongings.
This is the way it went for a few weeks. We would switch locations every day or two and I found myself arresting the same girl again and again. Who said prostitutes were smart. I would pull up next to the arrest team every ten minutes or so, and both the prostitute and myself would be arrested. After the girl would be placed in the back of the wagon, I would have the cuffs taken off and I would go out for some more. This was working fine until one day my official fielded a complaint. The investigation centered around why the policemen in the area were arresting all the prostitutes and letting all the white guys go free. More paying attention, less complaining please.
My stint as the hoe-tamer was cut short one day when I approached a girl I had never seen before. Following my patented rap about sex for money, she said " Fuck you police, you can suck MY dick. ". I knew my career in this field was over, and the arrest team does less work anyway.

Cover and Concealment

I remember it being summer. Very, very warm and sticky. It was a busy night and I thought it would be over soon, so I could relax a bit. I was not really listening to the radio, but something caught my ear. This might be worth a look, I thought to myself. I figured it to be a run of the mill garden-variety footchase that I like to get in on. Plus, being the "fastest whiteboy in Southeast" has its responsibilities. I headed slowly in the direction I guessed the bad man would pop out.
Then I heard a friend of mine scream over the radio "we have returned fire, I repeat, we have returned fire!" Well this was definitely worth a look now. I put the lights and siren on, and drove to the location of my friends. I could not hear much over the sirens, but I thought I had the general area.
The location I am speaking of is a trash filled alley in the rear of a housing project that has been a shithole since Moses was a teenager. I threw the car in park when it was doing about fifteen miles an hour and hopped out on the move. In front of me was the alley and to the side, a three story garden apartment unit. I heard over the radio that some person had fired his rifle at two officers while they were stalking badmen in the rear of this complex. And as alleyways are in these situations, it was dark. For some reason, people all behave when the streetlights are on.
I saw the open window and noticed a shadowy figure. I honestly did not know if I was looking into the correct window, but something told me to pay attention to this one. I saw the figure in the window again. I did not have enough information, nor a good enough view to consider this figure a target, and I really wasn't up to popping a few rounds into grandma as she applied her beauty cream, so I just kept looking.
The next second I heard this little voice. It was the officer from the radio saying "Psssst, get the fuck down." I looked to my left and in a long thin shadow, were the two original officers in a position not unlike two folks spooning. They were trying to stay in the shadow, and out of sight. In a brilliant tactical move I said loudly "WHAT." Both officers pointed to the very same window and whispered "Gun."
To make up for my complete lack of combat tactics I quickly decided to be somewhere safe. I then noticed my sergeant was well placed to my right behind a telephone pole, and farther down the alley was my partner, behind the hood of our car. I saw my chance. A dark shape was in front of me, just past a pile of trash. I dove to my safety and gathered that I was behind a disused refrigerator. I was so proud that all my training paid off, and I was now in a position for the upcoming gunfight.
We waited like this for what seemed like two hours, but in reality it was about thirty minutes. We asked for the swat team to come and do whatever it is that they do in these situations. I added to the request by stating that I needed to be relieved or covered or something in the back of the alley. One of the officers in the shadows whispered to me that the guy inside was blasting away with at least one rifle and one shotgun just prior to my arrival. The other officer stated that he had shot back a bunch, but he couldn't tell if he had hit anything. Then the first officer lit up a cigarette, which lit up the whole area. The second officer punched him in the face and the cigarette went out quickly. As I stared in disbelief, I heard "I'm sorry, I just couldn't wait anymore."
About ten or twenty minutes later, my arm was beginning to tire from aiming it at the window. I decided to tactically and carefully rest my wrist on the top of my life saving refrigerator. My pistol, my arm and the whole cardboard box that refrigerator's come in all fell to the ground in a thud. I started to think of bullets not even coming close to slowing down when they go through cardboard. Now I wanted to light a cigarette. With my luck, I would have burned my cover to the ground.
I stayed that way for another hour. I wasn't so much scared as tired. Following the swat teams forty-seventh meeting, they decided to storm the castle. Five minutes later, I heard over the radio to summon the homicide detectives. The rounds that my shadowy partner shot all went in the window and all went in the bad man's sternum. He fired nine times and didn't even chip any paint on the walls. I had in fact seen the gunman earlier, but his rifle jammed and then he passed out and died. The swat team came to the rear of the building to give me the all clear, and I said "Nice kevlar helmet you motherfucker, I've been behind a cardboard box for the last couple of hours!" He replied "Sorry, man."
I was ordered to stay outside and secure the entrance and my partner went inside. I talked to him on the surveillance channel of our radios and asked him what he saw. He replied "Nice grouping."