At the end of a several month
long undercover operation concerning drug dealers several search warrants for
residences were issued. All the search warrants were going to be served at the
same time early that evening.
Eight officers were to go to
each home. I was part of the second entry team at the home I went to. The first
entry team knocks on the door, says police, waits a second or two, and then
opens the door if it is unlocked. If locked, they kick or ram the door
down. Entry must be fast, otherwise people
have time to flush drugs, swallow them or dispose of them by some means. The team quickly enters and searches the home
to locate anyone inside. The residents are pat searched for weapons or drugs.
The residents are kept together and guarded somewhere in the house. This makes
it safe for other officers to search the house. It also prevents the residents from
notifying other drug dealers in town what is going on.
Five to ten minutes after
the house was searched and secured, the second group of officers were told to
go in. I was instructed to search one of
the bedrooms for drugs. I was to locate the drugs, mark the location, and then
a second officer would check behind me. This was standard procedure in case the
first officer was to miss something; you know the saying “four eyes are better
than two.”
I entered the bedroom almost
like I was on a “walk in the park.” I perceived no danger, each room of the
house had been searched and all persons found were siting on a sofa in the living room. I walked through the bedroom
door, stood still for a second and looked around the room. All a sudden, I
thought I heard s faint breathing sound.
I immediately pulled my 357 from it’s holster and approached the closet
in front of me to my right. I thought okay;
you could miss finding someone hiding in a closet behind clothes or boxes if
you were not real thorough. I found no
one in the closet. I turned around toward the center of the room and noticed
the blankets and sheets on the bed were all piled up. The officers who had
checked the room could have thrown them about. I was not going to take any
chances. I pointed my revolver at the pile of covers and gave a command in as
stern a voice as I could conjure up” Get out of the bed now, slowly, come out
hands first.” I heard a male voice say,” I don’t have any clothes on.” My response
was” I don’t give a damn, get out now.” He did and was wearing only a pair of
white briefs. Apparently all the
commotion I was making in the bedroom had been heard and an officer came in,
gun drawn to see what was happening. The other office led the man out into the
living room.
I just stood still in the
room, knowing that at the moment I was too mad to talk with anyone. How could
their search have been so sloppy to miss someone lying in a bed? I could have
been shot while I was looking in the closet. But I was new to police work, a “new
kid on the block.” I didn’t want to criticize those who had been cops longer
than I; additionally several were of higher rank. I finished searching the room
and found nothing. I later was told most the drugs were found in the kitchen.
This incident brings forth
several questions to contemplate in my mind and discuss with others.
Why do we so want to believe
and trust? Do we ever verify anything we hear?
Anything we read? Especially on the Internet? If our kids were telling
us something we would probably ask for proof, but with adults?
Law enforcement and the
judicial system has been waging war on drugs for years and they don’t seem to
be winning. Maybe as a society, we should allow those who want to use drugs do
so. Thus allow the buying and selling of drugs. Should our law enforcement and
judicial dollars and man hours be spent investigating and prosecuting crimes
against persons and property opposed to the possession, buying, and selling of
drugs?
Until tomorrow,
Sally S
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