BadLuckCadetfhtml

by Suzie Ivy

  The rest of the day was spent on defensive tactics to help prepare us for the practical tests beginning the next day.

  Twenty-two feet is considered the safety zone for a suspect with a knife. Even when you know he’s going to be coming at you it’s almost impossible to pull your gun and fire at the twenty-foot range. We were made to stand with our arms at our sides, with an attacker twenty feet away holding a large rubber knife. As soon as the attacker starts running towards us, we were to draw our guns and fire (this is done by making the bang-bang sound). We were all stabbed. Twenty-two feet is not easy either but at that distance we all managed to shoot. There is no room for error.

  I said "stabbed" not “killed” for a reason. For the past eight weeks it was drilled into our psyche we would never die. No matter what happened we were to continue fighting. This mind set is what will save your life. People have died from non-life- threatening gunshot wounds simply because they knew they’d been shot. The only exception to this rule had been our fight for our guns and the "I died today" letters that were written to family.

  That evening we gathered in front of our dorms when we heard the results for POPAT were in. Cadet Clark made the announcement that all but one of us had passed. My heart sank.

  “Cadet Chavez, can I speak with you in my room? All the rest of you did a good job, and scores will be posted tomorrow in our classroom.”

  I’d passed. I couldn’t believe it. This was the one thing I’d been most worried about. If I was injured and could not complete the final POPAT this score would stand and I would graduate. I passed on my first try.

  I waited for Rocco. We cried together. He missed the magic score by twenty-four points. He told me he needed to lose more weight and he was determined to pass. He wouldn’t be given the chance until a week before graduation. If he didn’t pass in week seventeen he would go home. It was heartbreaking. I told him we would work at POPAT every night and I was not graduating without him. We’d made that deal the first week at the academy.

  Non-academy personnel began arriving that evening for the practical tests beginning the following morning. Some would be staying in empty dorm rooms. They were all police officers volunteering their time to help us train. I hoped if I made it through the academy, I would be given the opportunity to come back and help other cadets.

  The officers were nice and relaxed. It was strange after weeks of being treated like we were less than human. One officer told me I didn’t need to call him sir. That was impossible. I now even said, “Thank you sir or mam,” to Starbuck employees during my weekend splurge.

  Wednesday morning it began. We were divided into different groups and placed in separate "station" waiting areas. For my first test, I was given a police radio and dispatched to an unidentified man standing on our parade deck. I was told a neighbor called him in because she could see him out her front window and he was making her nervous.

  I approached. The man had a large boom box in his hand. I identified myself and asked what he was doing in the area. The man simply stared at me. I asked him for some identification. He laid the boom box down and placed his hand in his pocket. I could see a bulge in the pocket and I asked him to keep his hands where I could see them.

  He finally spoke, “Then how you spect me to give you identification?” (He even had the lingo)

  I asked if I could pat him down for my safety and explained I just needed to feel the outside of his pockets for a weapon. He complied and I asked him to turn around, keep his hands where I could see them and spread his legs apart. I stepped forward and performed the pat down. My hands were shaking.

  He had a large wallet in his front pocket and I asked if his identification was inside. He told me it was. I stepped back and asked him to retrieve his wallet. He gave me his identification and I told him a neighbor called because he was making her nervous.

  He then told me he lived down the block and a friend was picking him up here, on the street corner. The scenario was ended. The two judges came forward and told me I did a good job. I was told I should have noticed the bulge in the pocket earlier but I passed and they liked the way I spoke to my suspect.

  This scenario was meant as a non-violent confrontation, but it would have turned aggressive if my demeanor warranted it.

  Between scenarios we were sent to our station waiting areas. Our dorm meeting room was one of the waiting areas. There was a television, couches and small kitchenette with a microwave and toaster oven. We cadets didn’t normally use this area because the college kids used it as a hangout. We were not allowed to talk about any scenarios we’d finished. So we watched a movie we were too nervous to pay attention to while we waited for our names to be called.

  There were two scenarios taking place at this station. I was only able to complete the first before lunch. It was a man with a baseball bat threatening to kill his ex-wife, while he was pounding on her apartment door (an empty dorm room).

  I drew my gun upon seeing the bat, and had to talk my suspect down from there. I made an arrest and placed him in handcuffs.

  After the completion of the scenario I was asked why I drew my weapon. I explained my suspect had a bat and it was a deadly instrument. I was asked if I would have fired if he came towards me with the bat. I said yes and was given a pass on my second scenario.

  It was time for lunch. I was excited but several cadets were upset and said they failed their morning practical tests. I couldn’t ask which ones they’d taken, but it made me more nervous about what might be ahead for me. I thought both my scenarios had been rather easy.

  After lunch, there was another domestic violence scenario at the dorm rooms. I passed it with flying colors. I’d finished the day and did not need to perform any remedial training. It had been a good day for me but too many cadets had failed scenarios.

  I knew I probably would not be as lucky on the second day.

  Chapter 15

  You’re Not Dead Until I Say You’re Dead

  I wish I could say the next two days of Practical tests went as smoothly as the first, but they didn't. I struggled with two of the scenarios, and completely failed one of them. In the one I failed, I was driving a patrol car and came upon a vehicle pulled to the side of the road with its hood up and a man standing with his head buried in the engine. I pulled over behind the vehicle, activated my emergency lights, and called dispatch with my location.

  I approached the man, asking if I could help. He straightened up and began shooting at me with a cap gun. The gun looked and sounded real which scared the hell out of me. I stumbled back a few feet trying to remove my gun from my holster as the man continued walking towards me and firing. I probably took six bullets directly to the chest, before my gun was in my hand. I stood my ground, firing two shots, but the guy just stayed where he was firing back at me. I turned to the instructor and said the fatal words, “I’m dead.”

  All hell broke loose. Sgt. Dickens was standing to the side of my vehicle, and he blew a gasket.

  “You are not dead, you never stop fighting. You’re a fucking loser Cadet Ivy, and I should kick your ass out of the academy right now.”

  I stood frozen. I wanted to bury my head in the dirt and cry. Sgt. Dickens told me to get the fuck out of his sight and I left. What a disaster.

  I felt I was lucky to even be given a second chance but I was. During the remedial scenario things were changed up. I walked into a “store”, answering a dispatched call for a disorderly female customer. I could see the clerk and problem maker ahead of me but I was stopped by a man coming from behind, placing his arm around my throat, and putting a gun to my head. The disorderly female pulled a gun and shot the clerk. I did as I was trained and grabbed the barrel of the gun at my head, pushing it away from my head, turning in my captor’s arms, shoving him away with everything I had, and then running for cover while pulling my gun.

  The significant difference that allowed me to pass the second scenario was running for cover while removing my gun. The first time, I had stood f
rozen, while going for my gun and never sought to get away or find cover, to continue the fight. In real life I probably had little chance of surviving either scenario but the instructors wanted to see our thought process during the events. Standing my ground and shooting was not what they were looking for.

  It wasn’t until I found out that three quarters of the class failed that first specific practical, that I felt somewhat better. I’m surprised Sgt. Dickens had a voice left; apparently he yelled at all of us and threatened to kick everyone out.

  My other mistake of the day was missing a small gun while searching a suspect. The gun was on a chain around her neck, in her cleavage. I managed to grab the gun as she was pulling it out to shoot me, but I was pissed at myself. I had performed a bad search on a female suspect of all things. After that incident, my searches were extremely thorough and I found two additional guns during the following scenarios. One was literally underneath a suspect’s penis. I located it, removed it, and found some satisfaction in shaking everyone’s hand before I was able to wash the ball sweat off.

  My last scenario on Friday was with simulated weapons (SIMs). A small group of us were waiting outside the driver’s track building and we were able to pick partners. Rocco was in the group so we partnered up. When our turn came we geared up with head, chest and groin protection. I could barely breathe in my facemask. We were also handed SIMs guns with rubber bullets. These guns fire and launch a rubber bullet and leave a colored chalk mark on what they shoot. We were warned it would be painful if we took a hit.

  When it was our turn, we walked to the front of the building, and were told to enter the abandoned building to search for a trespassing vagrant. Rocco and I began the search. The building was dark and we used our flashlights. We had our guns drawn, looking and listening, although all I could hear was my loud, too fast breathing. We searched room by room. There was a small closet and Rocco opened the door as I peered inside. My gun came up and I began shouting commands. There was a man standing inside, next to a water heater. He had his weaponless hands, visibly crossed, in front of him. He put his hands up and complied as we talked him out of the closet. The scenario was over and so were the practical tests.

  Rocco and I went back to the classroom and it took about an hour for everyone else to finish up. We were all telling each other which tests we had passed and failed. Everyone made mistakes. We were all upset over the popgun incident and no one felt as if they’d aced it. Donna had not returned and I didn’t find out how she did until we were released, she came into the classroom and sat down right before our scolding started.

  Sgt. Dickens came into the room after we were all assembled. He was pissed off and stated there were forty-three guns missed in searches. He asked everyone that missed a gun to stand up. Everyone stood. Some cadets missed more than one. We were given forty-three hill runs to be completed the following Monday.

  Sgt. Dickens also told us two cadets shot an unarmed man and these two cadets needed to consider if police work was right for them. He told us in real life the two “officers” would not only lose their police certifications but would be prosecuted for homicide.

  The judges next reviewed specific scenarios and we were praised on how we handled ourselves throughout the two days. We were told to be proud of the job we had done. This was hard due to the angry look on Sgt. Dickens’ face.

  Donna and another cadet were called to the Sergeant’s office when we were given permission to leave for the weekend. I waited for Donna before taking off. She was crying when she entered the room.

  She told me she shot the unarmed man in the closet with her SIMs gun. Sgt. Dickens told both cadets they needed to think long and hard over the weekend about being police officers. I consoled her and said Sgt. Dickens was an ass. We both packed our laundry and took off for our homes.

  Donna called me that weekend and told me she was not returning. She was sorry to leave me alone, but she could not take it anymore. The thought of being prosecuted for homicide was more than she could handle and her mind was set.

  My son also announced he had taken a job in Phoenix and would be moving out in two weeks. He barely spoke to me and refused to ask about the academy. I loved him dearly but his attitude hurt. I didn’t know if he would ever see me as my own person and not just his mother. My daughters were both proud of me. Letty, my oldest had announced her wedding date a few weeks earlier. She already had an apartment of her own. Cassie, the youngest, was doing well in her first semester of college. She had left for Tucson when I left for the academy.

  With Roger moving out, my house would finally have just my husband and me under the roof. In some ways this was a blessing but it was sad as well. My husband would be alone during my last nine weeks at the academy. I worried about him. He said he would survive but was counting the days until my graduation.

  Driving back to the academy that Sunday was hard, and I had a heavy heart. My friend would not be there, waiting for me. I cried for her and myself. I realized becoming a police officer was about inner strength. I made the drive slowly not wanting to face my empty dorm room. I still had Rocco and I was determined he would pass POPAT. I was not graduating without him, and I planned to graduate.

  Chapter 16

  No Jerking Off On My Range

  Returning to my dorm room on Sunday evening was depressing. All signs of Donna were gone. I went in search of moral support. Rocco hadn’t arrived yet. Cadet Rodriguez, known as P-Rod was looking a lot worse for wear. Philip Rodriguez is the cadet who ran my ten punishment hill runs with me and it was hard to be down when around him. He’s one of those “Life is wonderful people.” I think I was one of those people before the academy, but the stress was wearing me down. It never seemed to bother P-Rod and I felt lucky to run into him.

  He said he got extremely drunk on Saturday night in celebration of his twenty-first birthday and lost his virginity. He was a good-looking, hardworking guy. He told me he thought he was in love with the lucky girl. I was impressed he’d held out until he was twenty-one.

  I told Rodriguez about Donna not returning. He told me he had seen my determination that first week at the academy and never doubted I would make it. He said he never saw the same resolve in Donna. And when she wrote the famous memo about our Sergeant bothering us during classroom time, he was surprised she hadn’t quit then. He said she didn’t have the nerve to handle the job.

  Hangover or not, this young man was wise beyond his years. I would miss Donna terribly, but I was learning daily this job was not for everyone. The other cadet (besides Donna) who shot his SIMs gun at an unarmed man returned to the academy. His department would be informed of his faulty judgment call but they would allow him to remain. We had now survived half our training and were down to twenty-six cadets.

  Monday we were given our department issue duty weapons minus bullets. These had been kept in the classroom vault. We double-checked everyone’s guns, including instructors, to make sure none were loaded. For me, even this small step with guns was huge. I had never owned a gun in my life. Going out with Sergeant Spears, before coming to the academy, was the full extent of my firearm handling experience.

  We spent the day in the classroom learning about our weapons and “dry firing,” which is aiming at a target and pulling the trigger with no bullets in the gun. Different videos were played on the front classroom screen to simulate shooting scenarios. We would shoot our guns at the front screen when appropriate. At the end of the day we were taught to dismantle and clean our weapons. They were then returned to the vault.

  We were divided into two groups. Group one would head to the range the next day while group two would stay and have class lecture. I was in the second group. We would alternate activities and days so that each group went to the range twice a week. Range days would start after physical training or defensive tactics and go until evening.

  It seemed odd on Tuesday with half the class missing, but it was also very stress free. I was saving my panic for the following day at t
he range.

  Wednesday morning we headed to the range and were issued our weapons and ammunition. Our guns and two extra magazines were loaded. Range rules were drilled into us. If we deviated from a single rule we would be asked to leave permanently. The old, “You will be sent home” mantra was back in force.

  There were four range instructors for thirteen of us. The instructor assigned to me was becoming frustrated. And so was I but couldn’t help it. I was not a very good shot. And I was worried that shooting would be the death of my academy experience and my police career.

  Lieutenant Hurd was head instructor in charge of firearms training. He stayed mostly on the opposite end of the range. At the end of the day Lt. Hurd pulled me aside and asked how I did.

  “With all due respect sir," I said, "I sucked.”

  “You don’t suck and believe me I would rather have a new shooter than someone that is unwilling to learn the proper way of handling a gun. I can mold you into someone that is confident and smart with their firearm.”

  I was having difficulty with his assurance.

  “Honestly I think my biggest problem is being afraid of guns. I don’t like them.”

  Lieutenant Hurd laughed and said, “We have a lot in common. I still have a very healthy respect for guns and I’m not a gun fanatic like many officers. I wasn’t raised with guns. In the long run you and I have less chance of having an accidental discharge of our weapons. We always respect them. A little fear is a good thing. Always keep in mind that guns are made to kill. They really have no other use.”

  “But if I suck so badly and can’t hit the target, I don’t know what good it will do being armed out on the street. I may be able to hit a vehicle or the broad side of a barn door but that’s about it.”