With the city expanding and older veteran officers leaving, there were those hired to replace them. I had been with the department for nearly one and a half years. I had the major specialties under my belt, I was waiting for my first rookie assignment, but if I had illusions of “shaping” his future, that concept got flushed pretty quickly. My first “rookie” was a ten year veteran police officer from New York. Officer Margate had a vast amount of experience. He was from an area where suicide was quite dominant. It was consistent with the year-round dreary and overcast skies, which went with the area’s economic situation. In fact, one of the biggest employers was a major rifle company, whose product was frequently used as a means of self-inflicting terminal relief.
As I explained to Margate, my job was to do little more than policy indoctrination and procedures that we used. He understood, and we got along great. In no time at all, he was up and running as a solo trainee, and was cut loose from training a bit ahead of schedule.
The next victim of my training was a young officer…a genuine “newbie”. But, as should be, he was attentive, responsive and fully capable of filling the mission. He was followed by a she. She was initially assigned to a different officer, but the officer’s wife found out and complained to the department, so she was shifted over to me. She, too, fulfilled the criteria for being trainable. She was willing to do what was necessary, but was also aware of her limitations, which she was willing to share. This made things easier for instructions, and allowed her to call for assistance when necessary. On our first dead body call, she was somewhat reluctant to jump in, but hey- most of us are. The death was a natural and unattended death. Like most people who are having a heart attack of a night, the room of choice is the bathroom. She had been dead for over 24 hours, and it was hot both inside and outside the house, so “the smell” was already kicking in. For those who have never had the displeasure of experiencing the odor of dead humans, just know that the aroma is distinctly different from animals and the “fragrance” will never work in a perfume, aftershave or deodorant!
Soon enough, she was out on her own and doing well. The next trainee was a little different. He was young. In fact, he could not legally buy beer or cigarettes. He was reasonably responsive to training. On a check-off sheet, he was able to perform functions to standard. He was responsive to my directions. I was even approached by one of the “higher-ups” to find a “weakness” in his character or mode of operation which would cause him to fail. The thought was that he was simply too young to handle the job. After our discussion, plans were scrapped to fail him. I did get jammed up when the trainee mentioned to someone that I had him doing pushups in one of the parks. This had nothing to do with discipline. I had to make a determination as to his physical fitness level. One of the folks in the administrative link called me in to let me know that I shouldn’t do that. When I asked how I was to determine his physical shape, he just laughed and told me to do it by sight. I’m sure glad he didn’t run the pistol range.
All in all, training went well for all- perhaps a little too well. Each one of them left the department after a period of time. Two went to the sheriff’s office, where the insurance coverage was better for their personal needs. One became an administrative assistant to a politician, and one left for the state, allegedly becoming a county sheriff.
It has been said that police have a sixth sense. On two occasions, I was made to believe it. Alert tones were the beeps that were issued on special calls. One tone was sent over our radios indicating that there was information that needed to be written down, such as missing person details or tags and descriptions of stolen cars. Two tones were used for silent alarm calls. Three tones indicated an in-progress call that would require immediate response, often with lights and sirens. There were times when you just knew that this was your call, and it was going to be a big one. Two of us had just cleared a night shift call at a shopping center and were chatting when one of those situations occurred. As the tones went out, I had already prepared to go. It was a call about a “Signal Four (a traffic accident), possible rollover” on Palmetto Park Road. It was only a few blocks from where our last call was. On arrival, we were able to determine that yep, there was a rollover to the side of the road. Additional units arrived for traffic control as we assessed the situation. The car was upside down and still spewing fluids and the driver was sitting upright on the grass not far from the car and obviously dazed and confused. But what was fascinating was a drinking glass which was about half full standing upright, near the car and away from the driver. It was determined that the glass was an alcoholic beverage and was affiliated with the accident. As the fire department rendered aid, a man walked up to us, with a badge in his hand. He was a Deerfield Beach Police Dept. officer, and said “I believe this guy had a passenger in his car. He’s back there. He’s in the bushes. No reason to hurry. He’s a seven.” A seven, or Signal 7, was the code for a dead person.
We walked quite a distance from where the vehicle was before coming across the passenger’s body. It didn’t take a medical degree to know this man was gone. One could quickly assess what happened. The car had a T-top, which was open at the time the car flipped. Neither occupant was wearing a seat belt. The driver lost control of the car at a high rate of speed as evidenced by the skid marks. He swerved and flipped the car. When the car rolled, it caught the passenger’s head between the top of the car and the