May, 2010
SFC HEADQUARTERS DOCTRINE
"Read by Thousands Round' the World!"
May 20, 2010: Libby, Bozo and Sidney
As a city police detective, I've probably been a case agent on about 100 or so rape cases, and more while helping with other detectives' rape cases. There were a few rape/murders, but we classify them as murders. In the early 1980s, I shared a series of rape cases of college girls with a few other detectives. I had a few lucky breaks and fresh leads on my cases and Lt. Gene Ray Green eventually assigned me to all them. I developed a suspect that we'll call here, Sidney Green. Back in the 70s and early 80s, you didn't hear the term - serial rapist, but Sidney was one.
This suspect was a black male in his 20s, about 5'8, a good-looking, friendly-faced kid. His MO -modus operandi or method of operation- was to roam the many apartment complexes and two major college campuses in our city, pretending to be a college student. He would ingratiate himself with groups and had unusual success with apartment complex, pool parties. He would linger until almost every person had gone home and single out the last girl at the party. With charm, working his way into her apartment, and there once inside the girl's apartment, he went to his insidious work.
One other method Sidney used was just to knock on an apartment door and see if a woman answered. We do not know if he staked these women or complexes. He would ask for any stupid thing, use the phone, get a drink, whatever and once inside, would attack the woman. And that is how I became involved..
My involvement began late one hot summer, evening shift. I was dispatched to a rape scene to discover a woman, and I mean a woman not a “college girl,” shivering at her kitchen table, being questioned by a patrol officer and Russell Lewis - our “CSI-guy” you might call him now in modern terms. The victim let the suspect in to use the phone, after he knocked on her door.
The rest is ugly, violent history. The woman, I'll call her Libby here, was in her late 20's, early 30's and a graduate student working on her masters or doctorate. She also possessed something else, a real “hippy's” attitude against the police. She was a 60's generation type. Hell, so was I! She acted like she distrusted and resented us from the start. Especially me. If only she felt that way toward strangers. But, I was very annoyed at the boldness of the suspect and maybe it showed. Russell was disarming and charming as usual and got a lot of information. Her night would be long. A trip to the hospital and the medical rape kit. Rape Crisis. Long night.
Libby was married and her husband worked nights. We worked the scene and a prowl car took her to the Flow Hospital emergency room for the rape kit-the exam to collect bodily evidence. When I arrived at the ER, her husband was there. Nice enough fellow, in his thirties, red-curly, haired-afro, (Bozo-hair, I'd call it) and well, I could tell his hero was Abby Hoffman, not John Wayne. We'll call him Abby, not Bozo, although he screwed up like a Bozo a few nights later. He was a peace-nik, non-violent type.
We ended up back at their apartment. They expressed natural concern about the suspect returning, and how she was singled out? I didn't know. Did he know the working hours of her husband? I suggested they get a gun in case he returned. Suddenly my Gestapo status skyrocketed. They both bolted upright on the couch and each gave me the “I abhor guns” speech. Bad guns. The waste of hunting. The waste of war. Cops shooting minorities, and I politely said goodnight. I told her not tot answer the door alone and only if Abby was there. They should answer the door together. No more random door answering.
The waste of hunting? I myself have never been big on hunting animals, which I did as a teen-ager. I don't care what people hunt as long as they follow the rules of hunting. Through time, I learned that shooting birds and small or big animals is nothing like hunting people. Now…hunting people? People I like to hunt, and Lord, I miss it so. Being successful at it just takes an extra commitment; a deeper study into personality, and staying out on the trail longer than your average cop will stay. I call it having “teeth.” In detective candidates, I use to look to see if they have the teeth for the job. Very few do. It always amazed me that a detective would gladly sit in a deer blind at 4 am for a passing deer, but bitched about waiting in a drainage ditch for a felon to come home. Confusing isn't it? I would take the felon any day over a dove or a deer. So anyway, I left Libby's apartment with few new clues for the hunt. I wonder what they expected their version of a hippy detective to actually do? And if the suspect resisted arrest, what would "a Libby and Abby" certified detective do? Plead for peace?
The next day Libby came into the station and I constructed a composite drawing of the suspect. Our conversation was cold and her trip to the police station a strain on her sensibilities. I found her a strain on mine, too. But the once happy Libby was now afraid of life. Afraid of every corner, every alley, every hallway. We always encouraged getting help for this and the Rape Crisis people were our ace in the hole to steer them to help. I cobbled together a decent drawing as those kits go. You've seen them. Generic. The next few days I used the local media as well as two universities to spread the word, and now this new composite drawing of this suspect. I even used the new police department copy machine (remember, I started in the world of carbon-copy paper) to make copies and visited the office of EVERY apartment complex in town. Myself and area officers tried to stop by any pool parties we spotted (tough, tough job, ain't it?)
I continued to collect suspect sightings and form this canvassing of parties and publicity, found new attempted-rape victims whom managed to foil Sidney's charming ploys. I filtered a collection of conversations he had at these parties down to some conclusions. It seemed logical that he was from Missouri and his first name was Sidney. I got this info from extraneous people he did not need to conceal himself from. Early evening pool conversations…that kind of thing. Basically, if a student was from Missouri, Sydney could converse about its geography.
The heat was on for our Sidney Green, and as I feared one result of such a tightening net might produce, he knew he needed to flee. That "closing net" thing. But, he decided to make one last re-visit before splitting town. He actually knocked on Libby's apartment door again! Only this time her husband was home. Libby and Abby answered the door together and there stood her rapist from a week earlier. She screamed. A smiling Sidney turned and slowly walked away. Abby stood there and let him slowly escape. He turned for the phone and called the police. We had no 911 back then. of course it took awhile for us to arrive. We all searched the area first and then I went to the apartment. An officer and their new friend from the Rape Crisis Clinic- Libby called her - were interviewing Libby and Abbey when I walked in.
This skunk's return was Libby's worst nightmare. And he did. I scratched my head and asked why Abby hadn't jumped his wife's rapist. He was a full foot taller and bigger than the criminal. He remained pale and speechless and I gathered, feeling all confused and pretty bad about it. Bozo. Libby was in a state of shock and part of it was the realization she was married to real hippy-dippy....non-violent poser, his theories concealing the fact he was a coward and unprepared. Every time they answered the door, they were expecting the return of the rapist. Sounds like paranoia, but this time it wasn't.
The rapes and even the Sidney sightings dried up. I extended this search information from Texas to Missouri and contacted state investigators up there and in between. About one month later, I got a phone call from a Fulton, Missouri detective that officers had arrested an armed robber I might be interested in. "Do tell," I said. He told me that a man with a shotgun held up a store, kidnapped the female clerk and shoved her in the trunk of her car With her keys, he escaped in her car. Luck! A witness saw this. A police chase ensued and he shot at the officers. He crashed into a tree and was arrested on the scene. The clerk was rescued form the trunk. Unfortunately, they did not kill the somabitch. The Fulton investigator told me he had some papers in his effects and within this wallet were some items from my city in Texas. He was a black guy. And, his name was Sidney...
I got some mug shots mailed to me. (Remember the post office?) I put together a photo line-up. Libby came back to the station and she identified him as the rape suspect. I used this ID and got a search warrant for Sidney's hair and blood. I packed a bag and drove up to Fulton to collect this evidence. I tried to interrogate Sidney. By now, a week had past since the robbery and he was well lawyered-up and wouldn't talk. He apologized to me that we couldn't talk - the charming bastard. They had great cases on him up there, least of which was attempted murder of a police officer. I returned with the evidence and some great facial photos.
I also carted this new photo line-up around to all the other Sidney victims and sightings. Positive IDs. Blood/sperm tests matched our victims. He was convicted in all Texas and Missouri cases. Texas was scheduled to take over when his Missouri terms expired. Possession in 9/10s of the law so to speak, and the folks of the "show me" state possessed Sidney at the time.
But, this story is not about Sidney. It has many interesting details I would tell, if so. It is instead about Libby. About a year later, Libby called me to check on the court cases and she was in apparent great spirits. Her life had taken a sea change, it seemed. She took up shooting, carried a pistol now and by the way- divorced her husband. She told me she couldn't tolerate his inability to jump Sidney that night as he slowly walked away from their front door. Reality strikes. Many realities and issues were brought to a head about life and death, violence and non-violence. Libby it seems, is a survivor. I hadn't been treated well by the old passive-aggressive Libby, none of us had, and this phone call was actually kind of an apology for all that, too.
Many theories and idealisms exist in a unpopped, delicate bubble. But in our diverse and radiical world, something, sometimes, comes along and pops it. Sometimes that's communism, or terrorism, or even just a guy named Sidney...
There is an old adage, “I've never met a liberal that's been mugged.” And honestly, that has been my experience. I have also learned another piece of advice - never marry a hippy, Bozo.
Adios Amigos
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15 May 2010: First Contact! Ambush and/or Interview
For more details, click here: First Contact
Adios Amigos
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10 May 2010: The Four “D” Curses of Cognitivity! Delay. Drift. Distraction. Daydreaming.
Coaches use to shout at us. “Keep your head in the game!” when they spotted us not prepped for the next play or not paying attention to the base runners in baseball. Keeping your mind on the matters before you is also an essentially point in Zen practice, and smart mojo for the tactical operator or the self defense and survival of anyone. In the “who, what, where, when, how and why” of life, the “what” can haunt you, as in “what were you thinking?”
“What was I thinking at that exact second?” Well, there is also a before and after that exact second to this performance and training dilemma and the subjects of cognition, cognitive delay, cognitive drift, mental distraction and even flat-out, daydreaming come directly into play to cause mistakes.
Technically speaking, cognitive means “the process of knowing and, more precisely, the process of being aware, knowing, thinking, learning and judging. The study of cognition touches on the fields of psychology, linguistics, computer science, neuroscience, mathematics, ethology and philosophy.” Looking at all that makes you realize that there is a lot more here than simply keeping an eye on the runner on third base, or staring blankly at the back window of raid house. Or, keeping track of your surroundings while on line in the local pizzeria Pizza?
Cognitive Delay is a old term often used by educators of children when discussing problems with the natural progression of a child’s learning. Given that set of study, this expression never officially evolved its way into combatives, self defense, tactical operators or operations. Too bad because it should have from the start. The very expression Cognitive Delay is a perfect noun for before, during and after, distracted people whose head is out of the ballpark.
What does this have to do with a pizza parlor? We all howl and complain when we see news footage of inactive citizens waiting on a pizza line when a customer suddenly erupts into violence and attacks some one else. Monday morning quarterbacks call the the non-response of other customers as cowardly and chicken. Society degradation. Lack of civics! But in most of these circumstances the customers are really thinking about ORDERING A PIZZA! Or a million other things on their minds. The last thing they expect to see is a guy two lines down suddenly pummeling another guy. Not only do you have a delay, but you also suffer through a shock factor as in the surprise of seeing something that you don’t usually see. By then, the pummeling is usually over. The suspect is gone and all that is left is a close circuit film of you standing there dumbfounded and later being called a frozen, coward. The simple, ugly truth is that could be anyone of us daydreaming on the pizza line of life, deep in distracting thought, or several of us seated at a restaurant table, deep in distracting conversation. Caught unawares, for the second, the moment. The hour.
You see the first response in any situation is directly connected to exactly what the person was thinking right before the incident itself. That is why ambushes are usually quite successful and have defeated the greatest militaries of the world.
I have also heard this called Cognitive Drift. The term fell into the emergency medical and hospital fields in 2008 when experts began to study mistakes in care and surgeries. One of the big mistakes identified was this “cognitive drift.” Personnel were not concentrating on what they were doing, their thoughts ‘drifted’ and as our governments would say in their best third-person, elusive, escape phrase - “mistakes were made.” Taking the blame in a mysterious third-person framework.
Reactionary gap. They all say that action always beats reaction. Reaction is a “curve behind the eight ball. There are big delay mistakes and little ones in a scale of bad to worse. When you are completely surprised and/or ambushed, its a zero-to-sixty problem. Not only was your head not in the game, you forgot you were playing the game! If you are in the game, drifts and distractions take your mind away for any periods of time. You’re dressed. You’re on the ball field. But, you failed to watch the runner on second base. That's cognitive drift. Mini-ambushes of the mind. On a mission, but you drift occasionally making the next event, a mini-surprise, not zero-to-sixty, but a thirty-to-sixty response.
Some upper echelon bodyguard companies won’t even hire people they deem addictive personalities. People addicted to cigarettes or caffeine enter into this easily distracted category because they think about a cigarette or a coco latte too much. Given the time length of many assignments, this mission-only mind set is a real challenge.
Post-cognitive distraction and drift? Napoleon once said that one of his greatest fears for his troops was immediately after they had won a victory. They were thinking about victory, elated, distracted and therefore subject to a counter-attack.
The human mind. Delays. Distractions. Drift. Daydreaming. Bills, movies, cars, sex, cigarettes, coffee, even pizza? What takes your head out of the game and when? Identify these things and these times and work to improve your concentration.
Adios Amigos
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7 May 2010: Fear, Pain and Anger Management
Thinking about my old essays on these subjects, it is always good to review and discuss these fundamentals on fighting. I think that good military training can really best cover the concepts.
Adios Amigos
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3 May 2010: Easy, Cheap and Legal Weapon
While in the wiles of Canada, I spotted something unusual in somebody's work out bag. It was a lengthy, sturdy car windshield swiper, ice scraper. Other than the whisky parts that could cause grief to anyone's eyes, by turning the broom away from an enemy, the tool becomes like a impact weapon. Plus the pommel is a sharp ice scraper. This is like a baton or stick with extras! And, if it is laying on your back seat, it would appear to be a weather tool and perfectly legal.
I spun and twirled this thing and swung it in the air. It felt like a common stick. Don't leave home in your car without one.
Adios Amigos
++++++++++++++ 1 May 2010: Geek Squad Still Working the Talk Forum
So, stand by on the recovery. They get it up and a new problem arises and it disappears again. They are working...
Adios Amigos
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But Please don't look here! Buffalo Nickels . We are NOT responsible for anything the Buff says or does!
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