Broken Badges: Cases from Police Internal Affairs Files

by Lou Reiter

  “Chief, you did good out there,” G commented and left it at that.

  “One of those cops Officer McKnight?” G nodded and gave Craig a strange stare. “Her name came up when I was eating with Sheriff Biggs the other day. Your name did, too.”

  “And?”

  “I guess there’s some concern.”

  “And?”

  “’Bout you and her.”

  “And?”

  “Not that you guys are living together,” he stammered.

  “Well, how did you know that if Sheriff Biggs didn’t tell you?”

  “Yeah, he told me about your living arrangements, but that wasn’t what he was gettin’ at. I think he’s concerned ‘bout his lieutenant who used to date Officer McKnight.”

  “Tightass L.T, that’s what he is. Both of us used to work for him. Betsy got a little more involved than I did. Luke Hansen has become a pain in the ass for us. Betsy hasn’t, but I’ve seen him staking out our place, but we live in county territory. He’s been calling and then hanging up. Won’t even talk when Bits picks up. I’ve found strange scratches on the front door around the lock. He and his buddies have been leaving vile messages on our answering machine. Don’t have to tell you what, you’ve been a cop.”

  “Either of you done anything about it?”

  “Yeah. Betsy got a protective order about two weeks ago. Can’t get it served, though.”

  “What’s holding up service?”

  “His county buddies are lagging, even Biggs might be a part of it. The process server has been to the SO office and Luke’s alleged rental home. No one will help him finish service. Say they don’t know when or if the lieutenant’s working. They’re stalling, plain and simple. We don’t really worry about it. I think we made our point just by getting the order and trying to serve it.”

  “Sheriff Biggs know? I mean, have either of you contacted him?” G shook her head.

  “Mind if I drop him a dime?”

  “Go waste your time if you want to. Luke is Biggs’ fair-haired boy and anointed successor. Crock of shit if you ask me.”

  In 1994, the U.S. Congress passed the Lautenberg Amendment to a crime bill. This significantly changed the enforcement of domestic violence incidents. The amendment mandated that anyone convicted of a domestic violence related crime would lose their right to possess firearms and ammunition. This meant forever. When it first became law, the provision was made retroactive. If a person had ever been convicted of a domestic violence related crime, regardless how long ago in the past, it would affect his or her gun rights. Police departments initially were concerned. How many of their current officers would be affected? Without the right to possess a firearm, what good would a cop be? In the end, the implication wasn’t as significant as some worried. The Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Office lost only 85 deputies, about one percent of the force. Surprisingly in 2007, the U.S. Supreme Court reaffirmed this lifetime loss of the right to possess firearms in a 7-2 decision, even with the conservative makeup of the court.

  But this law did eventually become a serious issue for some law enforcement agencies. When a restraining or protective order is filed and finalized, the judge can order the accused officer to relinquish his firearms for years. In some cases, the judge might allow the officer to possess a firearm only when he or she was actually working, and then turn the gun into the agency when off-duty. It’s apparent why an officer would see the issuance of this order as a threat to his or her job security. For many it was a threat to the career life they lived and loved.

  If actually convicted of domestic violence, the cop or deputy would lose the right to be a cop or deputy for life. Interestingly, being convicted is not always considered a conviction. Sometimes a deferred sentence is issued, or a referral to family counseling or anger management is ordered. Those orders wouldn’t necessarily end the right to possess guns.

  Many police departments began drafting their own written policies of what would constitute domestic misconduct, rather than domestic violence. State laws regarding domestic or family violence run the gambit. Most states, like Wisconsin, declare it’s the use of, or threatened use of, force or violence, but more liberal states, like Arizona, declare it’s any crime associated with any domestic relationship. This would include crimes like stalking, terrorizing phone calls, vandalism, and arson. Domestic relationships could cover any intimate dating relationship, living together, child in common, family member, or spousal abuse.

  The pressure on cops became immense, at least for those who liked to abuse their significant others. Those cops often resorted to every tactic imaginable to avoid being served with the dreaded order, or from being charged with the crime of domestic violence.

  *****

  Betsy McKnight liked the crew on her shift. She was particularly happy G was responsible for her placement. Both were surprised officers on the job didn’t think it was a problem having the lovers work together. That wouldn’t have occurred at the SO, or most other departments. Too many possible complications.

  Betsy and G talked about Luke and his continual harassment. The protective order seemed like the right thing to do, but they weren’t worried about it being served, or Luke himself. Betsy really didn’t care much about Luke, and maybe she never cared. She had used him like so many other men in her life. Her life now with G was different. Betsy was in a better place and liked their mutual friends in Madison. She felt she was part of a family.

  It was a Wednesday night and not much was happening on the shift. Betsy had already answered a couple nuisance calls—barking dogs and a report of vandalism on the high school announcement sign. Punk kids had rearranged the letters to spell a profanity. Big fuckin’ deal.

  Her back stiffened when she saw the blur of a car as it made a wide turn through a stop sign. She drove close enough to see the tag number, calling it in to dispatch. Betsy figured it was a drunk driver. She put in a call for back-up and planned to wait until a cop car arrived before she made the stop. Five minutes passed. What was taking so long? This was taking much longer than usual.

  The car suddenly whipped another right and gobbled down the narrow side street. Just as suddenly, it shot left into a driveway and bounced over the sidewalk. Too late to wait now. Betsy activated the emergency lights and takedown high-intensity spots. She knew the street name, but was so surprised by the car’s quick maneuvering that she hadn’t caught an address. The driver, a male hulky figure, got out of his car. He momentarily looked back at the kaleidoscope of lights, turned, and walked to the front porch.

  “Stop right there! Police! Stop and get on the ground!” Betsy shouted in her fiercest command voice.

  “Fuck you. I’m safe. I made it home. You fuckin’ copette ain’t got shit,” the guy slurred as he flipped her off.

  “Get on the ground! Do it now, buddy!”

  He stopped and turned to face Betsy. “I ain’t your buddy, pussy.” He put his hands on his hips and sneered. “What you gonna do now, bitch?”

  Betsy put out an “Officer Needs Help” alert. She knew whatever was going to happen wasn’t going to be easy. Someone was fixing to get hurt. She grabbed her OC spray from her equipment belt. This ‘fire from hell’ usually equalized the odds.

  “I’d get on the ground, asshole, or you’re gonna get some of this nasty OC!”

  “Asshole? I’m gonna whip your ass and shove that baton up your rectum when I’m finished. You’d probably like that, huh? You lesbian bitches usually do.”

  Betsy was standing three paces from the guy when she shook the canister and released two long bursts from the can. Both sprays hit him directly in the face. Betsy felt better after she regained control. The drunk bent down with his hands covering his face, frantically wiping his eyes. Suddenly he stood upright, spread his arms to his sides, and charged at Betsy like a deranged bull.

  “I like it!” he shouted just before he engulfed her in his arms.

  The force of the assault took both of them to the ground. Betsy was pinned
under his weight and was gasping for air. She tried to roll out from under him, but that didn’t work. She was able to get one arm free; thankfully it was her right arm. She clawed at the release of her holster and was able to grab the butt of her weapon. The guy’s hand suddenly clasped hers and held it in a vice grip. His hand forced hers tight against the gun. She inserted her finger into the trigger guard, figuring she would have to shoot her attacker. The pressure of his hand, coupled with her squirming, caused the trigger to be activated. The round startled both of them. The pungent smell of burnt gunpowder and singed cloth hung heavy in the air. The guy grabbed Betsy’s gun and rolled off her. He brought the gun up and pointed it directly at her forehead. Between his wobbly stance and the quivering gun in his hand, Betsy was getting very nervous.

  “Please don’t,” she pleaded.

  “Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck just happened? Shit! Shit!” The guy turned and ran to the porch and blasted through the front door.

  Betsy tried to retreat to the cover of her police car. It was then she realized she had been shot. Her right leg wouldn’t move. She was trapped, pinned down.

  “Help! Officer Down! He’s got my gun!”

  Officer Down are words every cop dreads hearing. Within the next two minutes three city units and two county cars arrived on scene.

  “He’s inside! Got my gun. I can’t move. Shot in the leg.” Betsy keyed these muffled words into her shoulder mic.

  G took command. She ordered two units to position their cars to block access along the street. She ordered another unit to move to the front of the house to use as cover for the officers. She ordered another officer, a SO guy, to get into the back of her car. He looked perplexed at her order. When he didn’t move, she gave her order again, this time more forcefully.

  G drove her police car over the parkway, sidewalk, and lawn of the adjoining house and positioned it in front of Betsy. The cop in the back now realized he was the rescuer. He opened the door, slipped out, grabbed Betsy by her bulletproof vest and equipment belt, and dragged her into the back seat. By the time G backed onto the street, an ambulance had arrived and was stationed just beyond one of the units blocking the street, siren wailing. G wanted to load into the ambulance with Betsy, but knew she had to supervise the operation to capture the asshole who had shot her Bits.

  “Sarge, want me to get our SWAT activated?” a deputy asked.

  “Yeah, tell them to meet at the command center. Let’s get a unit down to the corner and we’ll use that for a staging area.”

  G ordered dispatch to use the reverse directory to call the houses on the block. Residents were told there was a police operation in progress on their block and they were to stay inside. She had dispatch call the residence where the perp was holed up. G could hear the phone ringing, but no one answered.

  “G, what the hell happened?”

  She turned to the voice and saw Luke Hansen. “What the fuck you doin’ here?” she demanded.

  “I’m the SWAT commander! Fuck, you’re the one who called for us. Who got shot?”

  G didn’t want to tell him. It would only complicate things. Her radio mic suddenly came alive. “Sergeant, the hospital called and said Officer McKnight is not critical.”

  Shit, G thought as she turned to Luke.

  “Yeah, it’s Bits, Luke.”

  Luke stood tall as he asked G to come back to the command staging area to brief his men. G marveled how Luke could turn his emotions on and off like a frigging faucet. He was the SWAT commander personified. No longer Bits’ lover, at least for now.

  The operation ended up being textbook perfect. Dispatch finally got an answer from the surrounded house and patched the drunken perp into the command post. The county negotiator bantered with the suspect and was able to learn where he was positioned in the house.

  Addisonville cops were able to get the head of City Permitting out of his warm bed and obtained the house specs from a recent renovation plan filing. It was determined the suspect was in a back bedroom. SWAT personnel coordinated their operation. When the bedroom window was broken with the standard break and rake technique, a flash bang diversionary device was pitched into the room. This gave the signal for the team to enter the front of the house and secure the suspect in the bedroom. The perp didn’t have Betsy’s gun with him. It was in plain sight on the kitchen counter.

  “Fuck, man, that sucker just went off. I was fucked up. Captain Jack’s and some really good grass did a number on me. It just happened. How’s that little lady cop? I really didn’t mean for things to go that far. Shit, I’m really sorry. She okay? She’s a scrappy little thing. I’m sorry, really, I’m sorry.”

  Three days later Betsy was still in the hospital. The bullet had fractured her femur. She was extremely fortunate it hadn’t hit an artery or the shattered bone hadn’t severed a life line. The doctors were waiting for the swelling to subside before putting on a cast. Betsy was in a shitty mood. She couldn’t move, go to the pot herself, or sit up.

  “Who are these from, Bits?” G asked as she looked at the showy bouquet of flowers on a nightstand in Betsy’s hospital room. “They’re awful pretty.”

  Betsy hesitated and wondered if she should lie, but the card stood front and center in the arrangement.

  “They’re from Luke.”

  “That bastard, he’s still stalking you… and me! Get rid of them!”

  “G, they’re so pretty. Can’t I keep them?”

  “Bits, can’t you see? He’s still trying to get between us. He’s a manipulative pig, Bits!”

  “G, you know I don’t like to fight. Can’t we keep the flowers for at least a little while?”

  A soft knock on the doorframe broke the tension. G was first to see the visitor since she was blocking Betsy’s view of the doorway. Luke wore the inviting smile he always used when you knew he was up to no good. He raised his hands in front of his chest as a gesture of peace.

  “Get out! Get out!” G screamed. “There’s a protective order against you coming anywhere near either of us!”

  Luke’s smile widened, “Yeah, but it ain’t been served, has it? I jus’ want to see how our little girl is doing, that’s all.”

  “She’s fine. Now get your pig ass out of here!”

  G’s angry outburst alerted the charge nurse at the central floor station. She responded by hitting the security alarm, and then rushed to see what was happening.

  “G, he’s just trying to be nice,” Betsy pleaded as she wiggled to get a glimpse of Luke. “Your flowers are sure pretty, Luke, thank you.”

  “Bits, he’s not supposed to be here. He’s just trying to worm in again. Luke, get out!”

  “G, don’t fight. You know how I don’t like it. Just let him stay five minutes. That okay with you, Luke?”

  Luke was about to answer when the charge nurse, followed by the security officer, filled the doorway. Luke knew what was best to do now.

  “I’m leavin’. I’m not going to take any of the shit this dyke is giving out.”Luke leaned around G and whispered, “Glad you’re getting better, Bits. Maybe I can see you when you get out and are away from this pit bull.”

  Fortunately for him, Luke stepped behind the security guard as G started her attack. The guard stood firmly between the antagonists. Suddenly G stopped dead in her tracks as she realized an assault would only make things worse; Luke might file a protective order against her. She knew when to fold.

  *****

  The next day, Luke was walking through the jail sergeant’s room on his way to his office when Carl Lundgren showed up after making rounds of the high security cells.

  “L.T., how’s Bits doin’? Hear anything?”

  Luke expected a smart ass remark from Carl and was momentarily caught off guard by his apparent concern.

  “She seems to be fine. Thanks for asking. I tried to see her yesterday, but G barricaded Bits and started screaming like a banshee. Shit, hospital security showed up and all hell broke loose, but G finally calmed down.”
<
br />   Carl snickered. Luke knew it was coming. Fuckin’ cops.

  “So you snuck off with your tail draggin’. That bull dyke sergeant bitch whipped your ass.” He chuckled, and then gave an all-out hoot. “I guess she’s getting what used to be your prime piece of ass.”

  Carl worked from snickers to full-fledged belly laughs. He didn’t see the flame his comments had ignited in Luke.

  Luke turned and suddenly charged Carl, bringing his forearm tight under his neck and pushing him violently backward. Like dervishes, the two fell into banks of charging radios that were scattered throughout the room. Using every ounce of strength he had, Luke thrust his knee directly into Carl’s groin. Carl slumped to the floor, gasping to catch his breath.

  *****

  “Sheriff Biggs, Craig Connor here.”

  “Hey, buddy, how’s it goin’?”

  “Not good. I think we got us a little problem.”

  “What’s that? Shit, sounds like you got the problem. I’ve been in office ten years and never had one of my people shot. You’ve been here, what two months, and already got one down. By the way, how’s Bits doing? I like that scrawny little woman.”

  Craig thought about giving the sheriff a fast course in cultural diversity, but checked himself. It wouldn’t be received well and it wasn’t his place to lecture.

  “Well, actually, the little problem has to do with Bits, my sergeant G, and your man Luke.” There was a pause as Sheriff Biggs tried to guess what was coming next.

  “Seems there was an incident at the hospital.”

  “Yeah, so I hear. Had one here too, about a fight between Luke and one of my deputies. He wanted to make an IA case out of it. I told Carl to chalk it up to his big uncontrollable mouth. IA, can you imagine what he was thinking? I get enough complaints from inmates and my constituency. Don’t need it from my own people.”

  “I hear you won’t let that protective order be served on Luke; is that true?”

  “You heard wrong. If Luke was here when the process server came by, I wouldn’t stand in the way.”