Bad Luck Cadet (15 page)

Since I was more familiar with
criminal code, I concentrated on civil traffic code -- seat belt
requirements, license restrictions and right-of-way. It was like
being a cadet again at the academy, but without all the shouting,
pushups or lonely dorm room. At least I now had my own bed and the
sympathetic ear of my husband at the end of the day.

The afternoon dragged on. My eyes were
blurring over from all the regurgitated information by the time my
fellow officers began arriving for the search warrant.

I could not yet put names to faces. I
met most of these men at the department's annual Thanksgiving
potluck that my husband and I attended while I was still at the
academy. My fellow officers were considerably younger than I
was.

They barely acknowledged my presence
as they walked by and gathered in the squad room. It made me miss
my fellow cadets and I wondered if they were fitting in or being
treated as if they weren’t there. Even with these feelings of
loneliness, I couldn’t help but admire their gear. It was way
cooler than mine. They were in full tactical regalia -- tactical
pants and shirts (lots of pockets), drop down leg holsters,
kneepads, radio mic, ear buds and military boots that meant
business. They looked professional and deadly serious.

I, on the other hand, was wearing my
dress uniform, duty belt and shiny shoes. It was Small Town Police
Policy that during their first year, a rookie was required to dress
in Class A (long sleeved formal uniform) or Class B (short sleeve
formal uniform). No tactical uniforms for me for a year. I would
look as out of my element as I was.

I entered the squad room and stood to
the back. Sgt. Spears walked in and glanced around the room. His
eyes rested on me.

“
Officer Ivy, I need to
check your weapon.” He said.

Every officer turned my way and
looked. I could feel the blush on my face, but I was well trained
and I followed orders without comment. I removed the magazine,
removed the round from the chamber and locked the slide back. Then,
I handed my weapon over.

“
When did you clean this
last?” Sgt. Spears asked. He was looking at my gun with a frown of
disappointment on his face.

“
I cleaned it yesterday
Sir.” I spent three hours last night shining my boots, ironing my
uniform and giving my gun a thorough cleaning.

He called another officer over and
told him to please clean my gun correctly and check the
magazines.

I could feel the heat in my face and I
knew my blush was now a deep red. I heard snickers from the other
officers.

My weapon and magazines were taken
away. I stood there awkwardly wondering if I learned anything
helpful at the academy. I had worked hours on making sure my weapon
and magazines were perfect.

My gun and magazines were finally
returned and I put them back on my belt. My face continued to burn
red. I could barely look at anyone else. Were my fellow cadets
going through similar humiliations on their first day of duty? The
only thing I knew the academy had taught me at this point was not
to cry.

Just a few short months ago I would
have been in tears. The new Suzie Ivy did not cry. She sucked it
up, moved forward, and learned from her mistakes.

“
Everyone, attention front
and center.” This from Sgt. Spears. All small talk
ceased.

Using a whiteboard, Sgt. Spears laid
out our strategy for the home search. He gave assignments to
everyone. The bedrooms, bathrooms and back door were to be covered
by the entry team. I, as the rookie, was to enter first with the
entry team and cover the front room, any individual on the premises
and watch the backs of the officers as they fanned out into the
other rooms of the house. Sgt. Spears would enter directly behind
me.

The strategy meeting came to an end
and we filed out the back door of the squad room. We were in five
separate vehicles as we wound through town. I rode over with Sgt.
Spears. We converged on the decrepit rundown home. My adrenaline
was pumping and my hands were shaking as the entry team gathered at
the front door. I was in the lead as ordered. My gun was drawn and
my trigger finger riding the gun barrel as I had been trained. I
was ready for action.

Terror would best describe my feelings
at this point, but it was part of the job. I swore to protect the
citizens of Arizona and Small Town.

I had complete tunnel vision. I was
focused on that front door and what might lie behind it though I
was aware of the rest of the team behind me. They were breathing
hard, but I didn’t turn to see them. I kept my eyes on that
door.

Sgt. Spears reached his hand around me
and slowly turned the handle. It was unlocked; the battering ram
was not needed.

He gave the order softly, “On the
count of three -- one, two” We entered.

I hardly noticed the empty front room,
with bare concrete floors. Immediately, two men came out from the
hallway and opened fire. The sound of bullets was deafening. I felt
my gun going off in my hands. I don’t remember my trigger finger
sliding over the trigger or pulling it. Pop, pop, pop, the noise
was all I could hear.

I have no idea how many rounds I
fired. I wasn’t even thinking of impending death. The two men fell.
I wasn’t sure if I shot them or if someone else had. My heart was
pounding so hard I felt it was going to explode. I was worried
about the possibility of other bad guys being inside the home so I
held my stance while I tried to figure out my next move.

I sensed my entry team moving out from
behind me. I thought they were heading to other parts of the house
to secure it. I didn't even take a moment to look down and see if I
had been shot. I knew if I had, the pain would begin momentarily
and right now, I needed to cover my guys as they went to the back
of the house.

A weighty hand descended on my
shoulder. My entire body jumped. Then I heard laughter.

I turned around with my gun in my hand
still ready to fire and found myself surrounded by laughing faces.
The team hadn’t proceeded to the back of the house. They were all
looking at me with their backs turned to possible
danger.

What the fuck!?

I was still running on
adrenaline and fear.
Reality was slow to
sink in
.

When it did, I didn’t want
to cry, I wanted to scream.
My heart was
beating hard and my brain barely functioning.
My gun was still out in front of me and a hand gently pushed
it down to my side.

I felt another pat on my
back.

"Welcome to Small Town PD Suzie, you
did great.” said Sergeant Spears.

By now everyone was laughing, cheering
and clapping, including the two “dead guys” who had gotten to their
feet. What a bunch of dickheads.

They were all talking at once. My ears
continued to ring from the pop sounds that exploded during the
"shoot out". I was finally computing things in my head and guessed
the pops were the product of cap guns. These guys were out of their
f-ing minds, but the first shaky smile appeared on my
face.

They were slapping me on the back now.
It felt like I was being tossed around the room.

“
You should have seen the
look on your face,” said one of the now undead guys,
“Priceless!”

“
Did you see the killing
look on her face Sarge, when you asked her when she cleaned her gun
last? She was pissed; red face and all.” The laughing
continued.

“
She didn’t duck. Or turn
tail and run. She stood her ground, protected her team and
eliminated the threat,” Said someone else.

I didn’t know who the young man was
that said those words but I was thankful and started feeling
proud.

The teasing and reruns of the action
went on for about thirty minutes. All the while, everyone was
introducing themselves. The “dead” guys I shot were not my
co-workers, but Sheriff Deputies from the county. They thanked
everyone for the fun and were the first to leave.

Finally, Sgt. Spears called a stop to
the ribbing and we left the house.

It wasn’t until days later that I
learned some of the finer points of my initiation into the
department. The officers on the entry team with me had fake guns --
black painted wooden guns that had been used on every rookie at the
department. The two bad guys that I “shot” were armed with toy cap
guns (God I hate cap guns).

Much later, I learned that they held a
long discussion about not doing the initiation because I was
female. Sgt. Spears stood up for me. He told them to treat me as
they would any officer. And I was glad they did.

It was an unspoken rule that this
little exercise in fun, games and terror was not to be mentioned
outside the department. I couldn’t wait to have a new rookie and
get some of my own back.

Sgt. Spears and I returned to the
department and he wrote my first daily review.

He explained that I did a
good job, but I wouldn’t be part of an actual search warrant entry
team for a while. My job during future search warrants would be
covering the front or back yard of the house.

“
A rookie’s job is to
provide security and not get killed. Is that understood Officer
Ivy?”

“
Yes sir.”

My first day on the job was long and
exhausting, but I left the office with a smile on my face. You
could say the shit had literally hit the fan and I
survived.

On my way home, I picked up my first
box of Depends disposable underwear. I knew I was going to need
them.

To be continued…