A Day on the Police Beat
In a perfect world, just about everybody would have to serve on the police beat for at least a year. And not just journalists, either. Everybody. Much of what I learned about writing, I learned on the police beat. There are a number of classes where you can learn how to accurately gather information and write in clear declarative sentences on a deadline.
But on the police beat, you learn a lot more. You learn how to discern among several conflicting viewpoints. You learn about agendas. You learn how to nurture contacts. You learn who isn’t trustworthy. You learn how to tell when someone is trying to use you for their own gain. You learn how to weave varying opinions into a story. You learn, ultimately, what is and what isn’t newsworthy. All of those still-evolving skills have served me in (mostly) good stead as I’ve written ever-larger magazine articles and books.
So, just like the obituaries, no matter what city I am in, I read the short police reports in the daily newspaper. And, like obituaries, I’m sure some folks would think this is a bit morbid of me. It’s true that the bulk of the reports are about murders and robberies, car crashes and fires. (But not everywhere. When I lived in the U.K., there was a single murder in Bristol in the year I was there. It was front page news for nearly two months.)
Like most police reporters, I have a story or two from my time interacting with the police. Perhaps I’ll blog about them some day. A couple of them involve Brad Bailey. By and large, I’ve liked the beat policemen and inspectors I’ve encountered. (Traffic cops, not so much.) The guys and gals on the street – the “Thin Blue Line” – are generally honest, hard-working, fascinating people. Like the men and women who work in fire departments. Like the men and women who teach science and math to junior high school boys. They’re all interesting. And we don’t pay any of them enough.
And so it comes to pass that I was reading the police reports in the Sunday Oct. 28, 2012 San Antonio Express-News: a fatal car crash, a fire, a police homicide detective facing an assault charge … and this little item from the city’s East Side. Police reporters are trained to relay the information they’ve obtained from the police blotter (or interviews with the police) in a dispassionate, matter-of-fact style, just as the reports in the police blotters are written.
This particular story (on page B2, should you think I am making this up), is titled “Aggressive dog killed by officer.” To recap:
According to Sgt. Gary Pelfrey from SAPD, a woman’s dog got loose from her front yard about 2 p.m. on that Saturday. The woman pursued the animal. “According to her,” Pelfrey stated, “in a playful manner, the dog started ripping her clothes off.”
OK, full stop. I’m having trouble picturing this. But Pelfrey continues:
“An innocent bystander who was walking down the street didn’t know they were being playful, and he tried to help.”
The pit bull-like dog bit the man on the leg, then ran further down J Street. Paramedics and the police were called.
When the officer arrived, the woman was “walking down the street in a thong,” still trying to regain control of the dog.
The dog lunged at the officer in “an aggressive manner” and the officer was forced to shoot the animal.
You’re wondering if the innocent bystander was all right.
No you’re not, you’re wondering about the woman, now reduced to wearing nothing but a thong after her dog “playfully” tore the rest of her clothes off, trying to regain control of her pit bull-like dog. Admit it.
What’s next?
But that’s all there is. The account ends with the cop killing the dog.
Intriguing, yes. Infuriating, yes. Weird, yes. But that’s the deal with police reports. They’re just reports, they’re not complete little short stories. They’re a snapshot of a moment in time.
An innocent bystander, an alternately playful and aggressive dog, a woman wearing only a thong, a cop.
Four characters in search of a third act.
Just another day in the police reports. What will it be tomorrow?