The Police Department had been conducting a search for a permanent Chief, and the day had finally arrived. He appeared somewhat younger than most of the veteran officers. He had a pleasant manner, at least with the rank and file. His wife, who was frequently present at the station, was quite sociable. Like any first impression situations, there was a favorable feeling that was being generated. But, with some of the upper brass, there was a sense of hostility that the new guy on the block was brought in from the outside, as opposed to promotion of those thought to be eligible already on hand.
Changes were quickly implemented. There was a new concept which the Chief adapted, which divided the city into three sectors- South, Central and North. Each sector would have its own commander, who was responsible for all events within his geographic designation. Personnel within each sector would be selected by the commanders by way of a rotational pick. I was told that I was being assigned to Central Sector. The commander of the sector was Lt. Goldbar. I was told that I was the second officer picked. Lt. Goldbar picked mostly rookies. His theory, I later learned, was that rookies work harder at trying to satisfy the upper brass and would listen to correction better than some of the veterans. We were assigned shifts of the 4 four -day, ten - hour variety. This was quite the change. One could actually make plans and schedule events around the shift. I also had Sgt. Seeque as the sergeant of the squad. We were given what was termed “prime time” which was the evening shift. Initially, it was 4 pm to 2 am.
Lt. Goldbar was right. While we were primarily rookies, we were energized. As statistics began to be assembled, it was noted that Central officers led in virtually all categories for productivity. This included arrests, field interviews, calls initiated, and calls responded to. We even did more traffic-related activities than our special operations unit (with the exception of traffic fatalities, where we assisted). We were moved out of the police department and placed in a two-story structure in the middle of town, which also allowed us quicker response time. The teamwork was, for the most part, air tight and waterproof. If we were in any way available for backup on a call, we were there. It was a tiny slice of magic.
For the most part, we had (more or less) permanent assigned zones. For dispatch purposes, South sector was the 30 series, Central was 40, and North was 50. Each sector had either four or five zones. I worked zone 42. On the plus side, we knew every square inch of our zone. We knew the convenience store clerks and other 24-hour business personnel. We knew when there was a new beer bottle thrown on a median on a boulevard. We knew the adjacent zones for purposes of coverage. The only real down side was that, if we had to back up a unit in one of the other sectors, we would occasionally need dispatch assistance to expedite response. For the new officers, there was an unfamiliarity of the different areas within the city. But overall, it was a good thing. One night, one veteran officer in our sector got into a pursuit. The pursued vehicle stopped. The driver got out of the car quickly and approached the officer with what appeared to initially be a case of attitude. The look on his face did a 180-degree change when, before he got to the officer’s car, four other units had converged on the scene. He gladly signed his citation and left.
We assisted South sector during a situation involving four individuals who were suspected of an armed robbery. The quartet was in an apartment building, playing cards. Two of the men decided they needed to make a snack run to a nearby convenience store. As their vehicle approached the store, a total of six units surrounded them, all with weapons drawn. They were in the middle of the street leaning on the trunk of the police cars with their feet spread. The facial expressions indicated they were compliant with any and all requests made by the officers on the scene. A short time later, the men in the apartment got into a car and went looking for the other two. It was the same greeting committee, same location and the same facial expressions.
We had a similar situation one night on Federal Highway. A South sector officer was advised that a vehicle he was following was stolen. By the time the officer turned on his emergency lights and popped the siren on, there were five additional units surrounding the suspect vehicle. And again, there were more weapons drawn and at the ready. It’s always nice to have a tactical advantage. In this case, it turned out the car was not stolen. All of the Central units disappeared quicker than they appeared, leaving the officer to deal with the shell-shocked driver and passengers.
Weather played a role in how things were conducted. One very windy night, Officer Rickards and I had been placed in the same patrol car due to a vehicle shortage. He and I had attended the same academy and we got along very well. We initiated a traffic stop on a vehicle which had made an illegal U-turn just outside of Florida Atlantic University’s main entrance on Glades Road. Inside the vehicle were two occupants. The male driver and female passenger were concluding a date night and returning to the dorms. I had the male produce his driver’s license and vehicle registration. I could tell that he was nervous about the stop. He stepped out of the car to gain access to his billfold. In doing so, the vehicle registration got picked up by the wind and carried a short distance. As if scripted for a comedy routine, the male chased after the registration. As he leaned down to pick it up, the wind took the registration several yards away. Once again, he began chasing the paper and again, as he went to grab it, the wind blew it further down the road. It happened a third time, and by now, the poor guy was out of view of our headlights. After several minutes, the driver returned. He was gasping for breath and sweati