Bad Luck Cadet (10 page)

During one test, pylons were set up every six
feet. Six small metal targets were spaced twenty feet in front of
us, six feet apart between pylons. We could not stop moving between
the first two pylons until we hit the first target. We would then
move to the next two pylons. Back and forth we ran in a six foot
space until that fateful “ping.” For safety’s sake we went through
the course one at a time. By the time we were at the last three
targets it was easier and our speed picked up. The test was timed
and the scores would be added to our overall range
rankings.

As hard as I felt some of the shooting tests
were, by the time the sun went down, I was ready to shoot at a
non-moving target. I passed with a good score and I was not last.
For me this was something to celebrate.

My confidence was increasing and the end to my
academy days was in sight. Only five more weeks and I was holding
on to my determination for all it was worth.

Chapter 17 The Police
Perspective

The academy was changing me, mentally, as well
as physically.

Physically, I didn’t just have arm bicep
muscles. I had muscles in my forearms, thighs and butt. No jello
cheeks for that polygraph seat now.

Mentally, I was now seeing things from the
“police perspective.”

This was pointed out to me by an old friend I
saw during a weekend stay in the city. We went to Starbucks for
breakfast. She asked what I would do if someone walked in and
robbed the cashier. I told her I would be an excellent witness and
observe everything he or she was wearing, along with noticing
facial and body features. My friend asked what I would do if I was
actually an officer, off duty with my gun. I told her I would do
exactly the same thing and I wouldn’t take out my gun unless the
suspect started shooting.

My friend was floored. She didn’t understand.
I was going to be a cop and she expected me to act like the cops on
television. I explained my reasoning. I had to look at the amount
of people in jeopardy if I opened fire, the people sitting behind
me if the suspect opened fire. The suspect getting away with some
cash was very small compared to an innocent person being
killed.

I don’t think my friend “got it.” I just
looked at things differently now. A motto drilled into us daily at
the academy was to go home to our families every night. Be smart
and be safe. Police Officers are not like firemen. When we’re off
duty we don’t advertise that we are officers. It’s
dangerous.

During those last academy weeks we watched a
movie that talked about keeping your family safe and teaching your
children to not say anything about you being a police officer. The
film shows a boy and his father at a hotel getting off the elevator
and seeing two men fighting. The father tries to get his young son
back into the elevator when the son says, “Do something dad, you’re
a cop.” Both men turn, one pulls out a gun and starts shooting at
the boy and his father. End of video.

I think this was something none of us ever
thought of. Our children should be proud to have an officer for a
mom or dad. In real life, “cop” families don’t advertise who they
are. When they are with fellow officers and their families it’s a
different story but when not on duty and out in public, it’s
important to remain anonymous.

I see firefighter t-shirts everywhere. I
seldom if ever see a police t-shirt unless it’s the rock-n-roll
band “Police.”

On the east wall of our academy classroom Sgt.
Dickens posted the “Officer Down” memorial page of every officer,
in the United States that was killed in the line of duty, while we
were at the academy. Without a word, he would walk into the
classroom during our instruction time with the “page” in hand.
Silence would descend. With measured dignity, he would post the
page and then walk out.

Another officer dead. Another family left to
grieve. Fellow police officers across the country left to
mourn.

The longer we were at the academy the more
pages appeared on that wall. During our breaks we would read the
latest officer’s page and mourn in our own way. Two officers died
in Arizona during our eighteen weeks. The sadness was overwhelming
but until it happened to one of our own, I don’t think we
understood the sense of loss that we would forever feel.

Four months after we graduated the academy, I
got the call at six in the morning. It was from one of the guys I
sat with in the classroom.

Through tears he said, “This is Mike, P-Rod is
dead.”

My mind didn't seem to want to process the
words.

Deputy Philip Rodriguez (P-Rod as he was known
at the academy) was only twenty-one years old and just beginning
life, engaged to the incredible young woman he gave his virginity
to. He always had a goofy smile plastered on his face. He got a
great amount of teasing from his fellow cadets, but he took it all
in stride and we loved him. He was the baby of the class and he had
so many hopes and dreams for his future as a police
officer.

P-Rod was also the incredible young man who
ran beside me through all ten punishment hill runs when I was at my
lowest point. And he was the one who bolstered my determination
when Donna quit the academy.

While crying, Mike told me P-Rod was heading
to a code-3 (lights and sirens) call, when he lost control of his
vehicle and was ejected. He died at the scene.

I stayed on the phone with Mike as we both
cried and tried to find some sense in P-Rod’s death. There was none
to find, but we needed each other.

I went into work that day to request time off
for the funeral. I was asked if I needed to see a counselor and
told one could be made available before or after the funeral. I was
shocked it was even offered but I would grow to understand what it
meant to be part of a police department and wear a
badge.

Deputy Philip Rodriguez’ funeral was held in
his high school auditorium to accommodate the large amount of
mourners. The stands were filled with his high school classmates
and friends. On the floor of the gymnasium were hundreds of chairs
filled with police officers and deputies from Arizona and
surrounding states.

We, his classmates at the academy, all sat
together. The academy classmates working at his department were his
pall bearers. When the service was over we walked up together to
say our last goodbyes. We were in groups of three and fours and all
holding hands.

When I turned to walk away I saw Sgt. Dickens
at my side. He was crying. I let go of the hands holding mine and
tightly hugged Sgt. Dickens. The day before graduation he had made
us all promise to always wear our seatbelts while on duty. We all
swore. P-Rod broke his promise and you could see the hurt over this
young officer’s life in Sgt. Dickens’ eyes.

We walked out to our vehicles to line up for
the procession. Mike rode with me.

P-Rod was buried at the top of a hill in a
cemetery overlooking the valley. I was about twentieth in line and
as we came to a stop, at the top of the rise, Mike told me to turn
and look down the hill. As far as you could see, there were
hundreds of police vehicles with red and blue lights
flashing.

At the cemetery, all officers lined up to give
Philip our last solute. All the drills we had not performed since
being out of the academy were used as we were called to attention.
Every Officer knew the drill no matter how many years they had been
on the streets. We saluted Philip and his family.

We were then told to turn on our portable
radios. The dispatcher on duty, during the time of Philip’s death,
announced his final call. His “End of Watch” was recognized and his
watch was turned over to us. We would take his duty and live up to
his dream of what it was to be a police officer.

Philip Rodriquez’ memorial page is at
http://www.odmp.org/officer/18852-deputy-sheriff-philip-anthony-rodriguez.
Philip’s time as a detention officer before going to the academy is
included with his time of service. He held the detention officer
job until he was old enough to begin his dream of being an Officer.
His time of service as a Deputy was four months.

Yes, I was changing. Even before Philip’s
death I was a different person than I had been when beginning the
academy. I watched everything around me with a new eye. I had a
different perception of the world. I was tougher and more secure in
who I was. During those last weeks at the academy the world shifted
and I began knowing I had what it takes. This was no longer a whim.
This was the beginning of my life as an officer.

Chapter 18 The Most Popular Cadet

Graduation day was only five weeks away. I
wish I could say the academy was easier at this point, but it was
only getting harder. Sgt. Dickens never thought I would make it
this far and now, concerned that I just might make it all the way
through to the end, he was out to get me.

Police Chief Varnett and Sergeant Spears from
Small Town PD attended an academy luncheon. The luncheon was an
opportunity for individual police departments to speak with class
Sergeant Dickens about their cadets. We cadets were not allowed
anywhere near the event. Later that evening, Sgt. Spears called and
asked me to meet him outside my dorm. We then went for a long
walk.

He began by congratulating me for making it as
far as I had. He told me he was proud of my determination. He then
dropped the bomb. He and my Chief had been told by Sgt. Dickens
that I was not officer material. I was, according to Dickens,
physically and mentally unfit to wear a badge. I was
devastated.

Sgt. Spears told me Sgt. Dickens wanted me
removed from the academy immediately. I held my breath as he
continued to talk.

“Suzie, I didn’t have to send you to the
academy. I questioned my decision repeatedly but I saw something in
you. I see it now. I’ve discussed it with the Chief and he is
deferring to my judgment. You’re staying. Be aware your class
Sergeant has it in for you and he is not happy with our
decision.”

I hugged Sgt. Spears. I could tell he was
uncomfortable with my emotion, but he patted me on the back and
returned the hug.

“I won’t let you down.” I promised.

We continued to walk, and he asked me
questions about my experience. He told me a little about his
journey through the same academy. He talked about sneaking out at
night and drinking alcohol at the top of the water tower. Alcohol
was banned on the college campus and he would have been kicked out
of the academy if he’d been caught.

By the time I returned to my dorm, I felt I
had a new friend In Sgt. Spears. I knew I was not Sgt. Dickens’
favorite cadet but I felt he had let up on me slightly. I had
always thought of myself as a likable person but I realized Sgt.
Dickens did not just dislike me, he wanted me gone. This was a hard
realization but at the same time it just added that extra spark to
my determination. I had come too far to even consider quitting and
I wanted to be a police officer like nothing I had ever before
desired in my life.

During morning physical training, we were now
running six miles. Once a week we ran our “personal best.” This is
when we would run on our own, not as a group and our times were
recorded. My “personal best” time had gotten much better but I
continued to finish well behind the rest of the class.

One morning, as I was running alone through
our desert trail, I noticed a vehicle parked in the distance. I
could see a man looking through binoculars and watching me run. It
was Sgt. Dickens. I continued running and actually pushed myself
harder. He would not catch me slacking.

I spoke to my squad advisor about the incident
and he confided that Sgt. Dickens suspected I was walking, when no
one else was around, during my personal best runs. It was not true
and I was pissed off he would think so. It was just another sign of
his dislike.

At the beginning of week fifteen, we were told
to wear our department uniforms. It was exciting to actually put on
my police uniform. None of us looked the same as we did when we
started at the academy. We looked like real police officers and
deputies, if you could look past the rubber guns in our belts. The
“baby” class, class 96, was now allowed to wear their academy polo
shirts and it was great to see them out of white shirts and
ties.

The first day of week fifteen, Sgt. Dickens
came to early morning physical training and was waiting for cadets
to finish our personal best runs. The entire class had finished but
me and I was nowhere to be seen.

I was running along minding my own business,
when suddenly the rest of the class appeared. I saw them coming and
wondered if we were being made to run the course again. But they
all turned around when they reached me and started kept pace by my
side.

Rocco said, “Don’t ask!”

It was impossible for me to run and talk
anyway so I continued over the finish line. I later learned that
Sgt. Dickens had asked everyone where I was. When informed that I
was still running, he started yelling.

“You call yourselves a team? Have I taught you
nothing? You left a fellow cadet on her own. What if she’s injured,
been bit by a rattle snake? You don’t know where she is or what
she’s doing.”