Wannabe or Real Cop

Some anonymous commenter (funnylibs) on today’s Northwest Herald article about the profitability of the McHenry County Jail took a jab at me for my prior service as a reserve deputy sheriff in Colorado, so I thought I’d explain just how that worked.

In 1964 I had been a part-time police office in a small Iowa town while I attended college. The town, Mount Vernon, had a day officer and a night officer, and no one was on duty between shifts. I noticed many drivers speeding through the school zone and ignoring school walk light signals, so I pestered the town council until one night the Mayor/Police Chief/Judge/Chairman of the Education Dept. of the College threw a badge at me and said, “If you think you can do something about it, go do it.” And I did.

In 1973 I was living in Aurora, Colo. and learned that the Arapahoe County (Colo.) Sheriff’s Department had a large reserve component of volunteer deputy sheriffs. I volunteered, and I served until about 1981.

My first assignment was as a dispatcher, because the patrol division was full. Within a few months I was able to transfer to Patrol, which was exactly where I wanted to be. Initially, I rode with a full-time deputy, who served (sort of) as a field training officer.

Then I was authorized for “solo” patrol duty and was permitted to work full or partial shifts and be responsible for assigned patrol districts, just as the full-time deputies were.

In about 1977 I bought a police-equipped Harley-Davidson from a volunteer who was resigning.

I often said that, when I tired of selling life insurance early on a nice day, I would knock off early, go home, wash the motorcycle, shower, put on my uniform, grab my gun and bullet, and go out to “terrorize” the citizens for 8-10 hours. I made many traffic stops but, if a little polite “roadside counseling” would solve the problem, I didn’t write a ticket.

Why did I quit?

The Department had an armorer who had a reputation for destroying weapons. I had had trouble with my duty weapon and had taken it to an expert for repair. One night at a class there was a surprise weapons inspection, and I refused to allow the armorer to inspect my weapon out of my sight. I was willing for him to touch it while I stood there, so long as he did not put a screwdriver anywhere near it. A lieutenant made a big deal out of it, and I handed in my commission card that night.

The next day I wrote a letter to the sheriff, and ten days later a new rule was issued. After that, all weapons were to be inspected at the range only and all deputies would fire their weapons after inspection.