Читать книгу LIFE AFTER RUSSIAN ROULETTE: REDEMPTION - Michael Kaminski - Страница 12

“210 to radio,” I advised Northern Dispatch.

“210,” the dispatcher responded.

“210 in service,” I replied as I drove from headquarters to Rivera Beach on my first day on patrol. Rivera Beach was about 20 miles from headquarters. It took me about half an hour just to get to my post.

I became very familiar with the activity, or lack of, in the Beach from my assignment in the radio room. There were only 2 post cars, 209 and 210, assigned to cover the Beach. We had one umbrella car as backup. It was a very quiet area and if you did not want to get involved in anything, this was a great assignment.

As I drove to the Beach, I listened to the radio. Other post cars already received calls for service in Glen Burnie and Brooklyn Park. I thought about why Sergeant Unger, my squad leader, assigned me to this gravy post. I knew he lived in Rivera Beach.

In my skepticism and lack of trust, I believed that I was either assigned to the area to keep me out of trouble or for the department to see how much trouble I could get into. Either way, it did not matter. I was a police officer again and it felt good to have the power.

That first role call was a learning experience for me. I developed the art of listening in Western and so I just sat back and observed the conversations. The main goal, for me, was not to have the other guys think I had a stereotypical Baltimore City police attitude.

Sergeant Al Unger was a big man but very quiet. He was getting ready for retirement and I knew he did not want anyone to make waves. His personality was nothing like Tim Florey. Sergeant Unger went strictly by the book.

Lieutenant Parker, in contrast, was loud and very vocal. Although he had been away from the Baltimore City Police Department for many years, Lieutenant Parker still had that Baltimore City mentality and tone of voice. He was all police, old school, and I could tell he enjoyed his beer.

All the guys on the shift welcomed me but I knew I had to prove myself to be accepted. I was still a rookie and being an ex-Baltimore City police officer had very little meaning. This was Anne Arundel County and not the city.

“We do things differently here,” Sergeant Unger said as he shook my hand.

The primary topic of discussion that first day was the series of arson fires in Glen Burnie. Restaurants were targeted and we all knew the fires were related to payoffs or compensation, but it could not be proved. The county had its own level of organized crime. I listened to the conversations and found the action to be very interesting.

I drove around Rivera Beach that first day comparing the area to Western. It was a different world. The Beach was nothing like Western. Everyone was white. It was a laid-back community. I sensed the people did not appreciate aggressive police enforcement. In fact, the people I talked to that first day did not want police to get involved in anything unless we were called. Be visible but don’t create trouble.

It did not take long to learn that some police activities were the same. We had periodic shift parties at the end of 3-11 rotation. A couple of the guys who worked patrol posts close to headquarters went to the police bar across the road. They loaded the trunks of their patrol cars with cases of beer and we met in a nearby field to discuss the events of the night or the week. Not everyone attended these unofficial staff meetings; mostly, the guys who had to return to headquarters to turn in their patrol cars. At times, a few women from headquarters stopped by.

It was rare that a supervisor was part of the group. They all had their personal police vehicles and usually went straight home. After the meetings, we drove home knowing that none of us would be arrested for driving while intoxicated because, after all, we were the police.

Third shift, the graveyard shift, was the most exciting but, at times, the most boring in the Beach. After the bars closed for the night, the Beach was dead. Therefore, on many nights, I took the term ‘graveyard’ literally and found a cemetery to sleep in for a couple of hours until dawn. I knew no one would find me there.

One thing I learned in Western about the rules was that you could do anything you want as long as you keep your actions within the law. And if you are bored, you can create your own source of entertainment and justify it by simply enforcing the law.

I discovered one aspect of law enforcement that really annoyed people – police presence. Rivera Beach had a lot of bars and nightclubs. After the holidays, the Beach was more quiet than usual. Therefore, I created a new game – bar checks. I knew this routine enforcement annoyed and irritated the establishment owners. They were accustomed to the police minding their own business and leaving the bars and clubs alone. But I still had a vision of a future assignment in Vice and Narcotics.

So, on second shift, I made nightly bar checks. What I discovered, and strictly enforced, eventually led to my transfer because of the number of complaints.

Each bar or club had several ‘one-armed bandits,’ or slot machines. They generated a lot of money, not only for the establishment, but also for the organization that owned the machines. A legal vending company owned and operated most of the machines, which, in reality, was owned by the Valentine family, a local county connection to suspected organized crime. However, Vinnie Valentine never violated the law. And it was not illegal to operate slot machines.

Every machine or money-generating device had to be licensed by the state. Those licenses were required to be current and legal. Moreover, all licenses were required to be posted in plain sight somewhere in the establishment. That was the law. To me, enforcing the law was my game, my game of chance. Others gambled with either the legal lottery or the numbers. I gambled with the law.

On second shift, 3-11 shift, I made visits to all the bars, clubs and establishments that had slot machines and other gambling devices that generated income. Apparently, the police in the Beach overlooked that type of law enforcement in the past. I was told that it was not my job and that the machines were not illegal or hurting anyone. My goal was more visionary than just routine patrol. I had a fascination with any level of organized crime and drugs. Although the Valentine family was low level, we all knew about their connections.

“I would like to check your machine licenses,” I demanded as I walked into each establishment. That statement was unexpected to everyone. The patrons reacted as though I were invading their territory. The management, although accommodating, was surprised and annoyed.

Most of the amusement licenses hanging on the walls were invalid and expired. Some could not be found. Others were not posted in plain view. Although the slot machines were very popular and taking in a lot of money, most of them violated state licensing. And that meant the establishments were also in violation.

“Out of Order by the Authority of The Anne Arundel County Police Department.” I felt very powerful, but a little uneasy, as I unplugged each machine in violation and posted the sign on the devices in each bar, club and establishment. I felt the eyes watching me and heard the quiet murmur.

The management of each establishment was advised that the machines in question could not be plugged back in and operated until current amusement licenses were obtained. This action resulted in substantial loss of revenue to both the businesses and the vending company. The owners of the bars and clubs were not happy. I knew my unorthodox and unwelcome enforcement also affected the Valentine family where it hurt the most – their profits.

I wrote a report for each incident. I wanted to make sure my activity was documented and headquarters, especially the Criminal Investigation Division, noticed it.

Patrol shifts rotated on a weekly schedule. Once a month, for several months, when my 3-11 shift came I made routine inspections at each establishment to check the status of the license violations. Many times, I found the machines in violation plugged in and still operating without current and valid licenses. Again, I unplugged the slot machines and attached “Out of Order” signs to each device. Again, I wrote incident reports to cover my actions.

This game continued for several months. Eventually most of the locations obtained and posted valid licenses for each machine on the premises. Nevertheless, in the process, I had made waves. Someone did not like my aggressive enforcement of the law, which many people, both club owners and patrons, viewed as harassment.

One night, on midnight shift, as I was sleeping in a cemetery, the back window of my patrol car was shot out with a shotgun blast. The impact woke me from a dead sleep. I never knew who pulled the trigger but I took it as a warning. I forgot the motto of the Baltimore City Police Department – “Ever on the Watch.”

That was the last night I slept on graveyard shift or parked in a dark cemetery. Suddenly I felt very alone as I wrote the incident report of the shooting and submitted it to Sergeant Unger and Lieutenant Parker. The investigation of the incident never produced any suspects.

After the incident in the cemetery, I turned my attention more toward drug activities. I needed informants and thought about Glenn Russo. He developed informants in two ways – through observation and other people. I had a passion, even an addiction, to narcotics investigations and since nothing was going on in the Beach, I needed to create my own excitement, another game – car checks.

By this time, the burning days of summer had finally hit the Beach and people bustled around, enjoying the sunshine. I knew it was time to go on aggressive patrol and bring a different type of sunshine into their lives.

Vehicles with inspection or moving violations soon became my targets. You always need probable cause to justify your actions, as a cop. Observation was the key that I learned from Russo.

My statistics increased. The DWI/DUI arrests were solid. However, minor violations like speeding, other moving violations, driving without a license or registration, unregistered vehicles or inspection violations were usually negotiable. If I was really lucky on a vehicle check or stop, I found some type of illegal substance. That was the jackpot. The tradeoff for being charged or fined was to be an informant. My network of contacts grew.

Eventually my drug arrests, although minor, increased. I was doing what I loved but with a handicap. I was in uniform. Then I also had a goal – to have my name known to the Vice and Narcotics Unit. I knew my information would be channeled and read by someone in the division. The arrests may have been small, but they showed activity and a desire. And I kept thinking about PJ Werner.

The blistering days of July turned into the dog days of August and dayshift always was boring in the Beach. However, one day proved to be an exception.

On a routine patrol, I drove on Fort Smallwood Road to the bridge over the Magothy River that connects the two sections of Rivera Beach. There he was.

A man was walking across the bridge. He was not dressed in the usual fashion, at least not for that time of the year. He wore a graduation robe and a four-pointed graduation hat with a tassel. He also walked with an open umbrella covering his head even though it was not raining.

As I watched him walking, he reminded me of Professor Kool. My curiosity got the best of me. I had to find out why he was wearing this strange outfit since graduation had been over a couple of months.

“Stop,” I announced into the loud speaker from my patrol car. The man continued to cross the bridge.

“Stop. Police,” I demanded again but the man continued, not paying any attention to me. This lack of authority irritated me.

“Halt,” I said for the third time. Instead of stopping, the man started to run. Although he was not doing anything wrong, his demeanor and appearance were not normal.

I stopped my car and yelled, “Halt or I will shoot.”

The man continued to run toward the other side of the bridge. I pulled out my service revolver and fired a warning shot. He jumped from the bridge and into the river. Fortunately, he was near the shoreline. I jumped into the water and pulled him out. After all, I did not want him to drown. This would be a very difficult report to write. No matter what, I could never justify firing my gun. But now, with my uniform soaking wet, I would have to explain why I jumped into the river.

The man was mentally ill and had walked away from a psychiatric facility. I wrote the report as saving his life and he never made a complaint about me. Nothing was reported about the shot that I fired in his direction for no reason. No one ever knew the truth.

During the sweltering month of August, I continued to make my visits to the bars, clubs and establishments that had one-armed bandits and other gambling devices. I felt good and powerful, knowing that I irritated the owners with my police presence.

What I did not know was that unofficial complaints were being made about me. What I learned later rang true – friends and enemies are interchangeable. Allies and enemies depend on whom you know. That September brought an unexpected change to my life and family.

“Mike, you are being transferred to Vice and Narcotics.” Sergeant Unger said to me in the squad room after I came in from dayshift.

Those words were surprisingly unexpected. I had not formally requested a transfer. I was only on patrol for a year. I had not even considered putting in a written request.

“Are you serious, Sarge?” I responded. Why me? Really, why was I being transferred? Was it because of what I had done in the Beach? Or was it because someone wanted me out of the Beach?

“You have been requested,” Sergeant Unger replied. “That is all I know. You will be assigned to Sergeant Danny Sanders in Vice, effective October 1. You can ask him.”

When I had the opportunity, I contacted Sergeant Danny Sanders. Because of my issues with authority, I was very guarded in how I wanted to approach him. And, I did not know him.

“Sergeant Sanders,” I introduced myself. “I understand that I have been assigned to Vice and I will be working for you.”

From what I heard about Sergeant Sanders, he was a straight cop. He was very Christian, very religious. Danny Sanders was totally against all forms of vice activities, especially prostitution, pornography and the massage parlors. His philosophy was perfect for his position.

“Actually, you were initially assigned to Vice,” Sergeant Sanders replied. “You will still be working for me but you are being assigned to the Narcotics side of the unit. When PJ Werner heard you were coming in, he personally requested you as his partner.”