“We are the police”

We are the Police

By

Ralph L. Dettwiler
(Former) Sergeant
Beaufort County Sheriff’s Department
Beaufort, South Carolina

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There was a street survival seminar that six of us attended in Myrtle Beach, S. C.. One evening after class we all decided to go out to eat. We went to a Japanese steak house.

We were seated all on one side of the table, which was also the grill. There was another table directly in front of us. The people at that table had finished their meal and were sitting around finishing their drinks. One man in their party had too much to drink. He was loud and his friends could not keep him quiet.

The drunk took a long look at the six of us as we walked in and sat down. He focused his attention on my former partner, who is a retired Marine and wears his hair in a very close cut flat top. The drunk just could not let this go by without saying something.

He made several loud statements like, “Hey, get a load of him, he ain’t got no hair!” At first, we just tried to ignore him, but he kept it up. His friends tried to get him to stop but he wouldn’t listen to them.

He said a couple more things and one of his friends said, “You better quit before they decide to call the Police on you.”

We didn’t plan it but almost as one person we all reached into our pockets and pulled out our badges. We all held our badges out and said, “We don’t have to call anybody, we are the Police!”

The drunk just sat there for a minute trying to figure out what was happening. Before he could say anything his friends jumped up and grabbed him then pulled him out of the restaurant. They kept saying, “We’ll get him out of here, officers. He’s just drunk. He does not mean any harm.”

After they were gone, we all had a good laugh. Often Police Officers feel like they can’t even go to a restaurant because someone will start something. It was nice for once to have the last laugh.

©Samina Iqbal. 2018

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Happy 4th of July USA

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©Samina Iqbal. 2018

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Happy Canada Day

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©Samina Iqbal. 2018

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Happy Flight with Wordpress

Dear bloggers and friends–I got this message from WordPress on February 9, 2018. It made me realize how quickly time flies and another year goes by. I have much to thank for. Thanks to all my blogger friends who have made my flight a happy one. A million thanks to you all. You are fabulous. 

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Happy Anniversary with WordPress.com!
You registered on WordPress.com 5 years ago.
Thanks for flying with us. Keep up the good blogging.
©Samina Iqbal. 2018
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Love is an amazingly beautiful feeling–Happy Valentine’s Day.

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Happy Valentine’s Day

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©Samina Iqbal. 2018

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Is that a confession?

My blogger friends, here is a story that will bring a smile to your faces.

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“Is that a confession?”

By

Michael Kowalski (retired)
Niskayuna Police Department 

“I was an Officer in Charge of the midnight shift for about 7 years. All the young officers were on the midnight shift… we had a union and that shift fell to the ‘rookies’ or those with not enough time on the job for the other shifts. I loved it because I was the old dog and had to keep up with the yearling’s!
Speaking of DOGS, one night we had a burglar alarm at a local car shop go off. Three cars responded, myself included. One officer noticed a panel kicked in of an overhead door. I knew that there ‘once was’ a not very friendly Rotteweiler inside, but he had died from old age a while before. What I didn’t know was that there was a new Sheriff, or should I say, K-9 in town! A big black Doberman! One of the other officers covered the rear, but found there was no other way out except the overhead door and the walk in door a few feet from us. We checked the interior from the outside with our flashlights and saw nothing disturbing. One of the new guys was about 5’7 and 150lbs with all his gear, so was voted unanimously to be pushed through the opening, to unlock the walk in door for the rest of us. The officer asked, “Are you sure there isn’t a dog in there?” Heck, no… he died a while back! “Okay”-as he urged his body through the hole in the overhead. Once inside, we heard “WOOF WOOF!” Uh-oh!
The officers head and torso was thrown through the hole and he wiggled free in the fastest time I’ve ever seen! “I thought you said there wasn’t a dog!” The third officer and I couldn’t have helped him if there was gun battle, we were laughing so hard both of us were literally on the ground, rolling holding our stomachs!
The owner arrived, unlocked the door and advised us that the dog was on a twenty foot leash toward the back of the building and couldn’t get to us. What we found however was a burglar wedged against the furthest wall, just enough room to not get bitten by the Doberman! We turned a corner, the owner had a hold of the Dobe, our flashlights caught the perp in their beams…in a fetal position on the floor. “Thank God you guys got here!” was enough of a confession we needed.

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©Samina Iqbal. 2018

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A high speed chase.

CARROLLTON and DALLAS, Texas (CBS11) – It was a high-speed pursuit reaching speeds of 115 miles an hour through three North Texas cities and captured in dramatic video. The Carrollton Police officer who led the pursuit of a suspected drunk driver described the harrowing chase on Tuesday night only to CBS11. Carrollton officer dash cam…

via Officer Recalls Harrowing High Speed Chase Of DWI Suspect — CBS Dallas / Fort Worth

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Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year 2018

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No life is perfect but we do have hope. 

In this holiday and the joyous season of the year my thoughts and prayers are specially for those less fortunate, who are not blessed to enjoy the best that life has to offer, at this time of year. Life can be hard and challenging but faith and hope for better times keeps us going. May the New Year turn out to be just the best one for all those wishing for better times in life. 

Merry Christmas and A very happy, healthy and prosperous New year to you all.

©Samina Iqbal. 2017

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Happy Thanksgiving U.S.A

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©Samina Iqbal. 2017

 

 

 

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Lest we forget

(Remembrance Day November 11, 2017)

“On this Remembrance Day, we honour our
fallen heroes for their service, their
commitment, their courage. And their
extraordinary sacrifices. They fought
tyranny and oppression, stopped dictators
and despots, eased suffering and despair.
And left us an enduring and cherished gift:

FREEDOM

As we remember all who gave their lives
in the noble pursuit of liberty, the eternal
light of our nations’ gratitude shines on.
(Actvan)
 

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IN FLANDERS FIELDS
By John McCrae, May 1915

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up your quarrel with the foe;
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

©Samina Iqbal. 2017

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“Calmly Planned out Suicide”

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“A Police Officer’s life is full of death and what most people would call unusual situations. To remain a Police Officer a person has to learn to deal with the stress and emotional ups and downs.” 

“Calmly Planned out Suicide”

by 

Ralph L. Dettwiler


(Former) Sergeant


Beaufort County Sheriff’s Department


Beaufort, South Carolina

“I worked numerous suicides but one stands out in my mind. I responded and found a woman, from a well-to-do family, in the upstairs bathroom off the master bedroom. As I walked into the small bathroom, I saw a .22 caliber rifle on the floor. The barrel was pointed toward the bathtub which was on my left.

In the tub I found the woman lying on her back, her right arm was dangling out of the tub. She had a small bullet wound to her right temple with powder burns around it. There was a much larger exit wound on the left side of her head. There was blood and flesh all over the wall, tub and her.

The woman was in her late forties or early fifties. I was able to accept her suicide. My years on the streets had hardened me to life and death both. I had become cold to events such as this. If I hadn’t grown cold and pushed my emotions deep inside me I would not have been able to continue my work. The suicides that seemed to bother me were those by teenagers, whom I felt had their whole lives ahead of them. How could anything be bad enough for them to take their own lives?

As I said, in this case I accepted the fact that she had killed herself and calmly went about my business of fitting the case together. We always looked for a suicide note but in the cases I had worked, we very seldom found one. Somehow it made the suicides easier to deal with for me. I formed a picture of a person who had reached the end of his rope and proceeded to end his suffering. However this woman threw me a curve which made it hard for me to fit her suicide into a sterile neat package.

I found her note in the bedroom, just feet from where she now lay dead. In a legal sense it was a suicide note but yet it was much more than that. It was an open letter to her family.

She opened it by saying that she loved all of them and that they should not blame themselves or each other for her death. She said she hoped that they would all get together because of this, she felt that it was important that they all meet as a family. She went on to say that she was sorry that the house was such a mess but she had not gotten around to cleaning it. She stated that she did not want to make things any worse so she would try to keep the mess in the bathtub where it could be cleaned up easier. She wrote that she was sorry she was not stronger and hoped they would understand and forgive her. She said goodbye and told them she loved them and please take care of each other.

That note bothered me. How could someone sit and calmly plan their own death like that? Before I read the note she was just another suicide victim, but after I had read it she became a real person.

In the end the whole incident became another shovel full of dirt thrown on the grave of my emotions. I became colder and harder.

The suicide rate in the Police profession is alarmingly high. One reason I have heard given for this is the stress from the job. I believe that, but I also believe part of it is that day in and day out you live with the realities of life and death until the separation of the two becomes almost nonexistent. Death becomes a sort of relief from the dirt and filth of this life. In order to keep your sanity while working on the streets you beat your emotions down until, whether you noticed it or not, you no longer care about things as you once did. If this could be done in a selective way it would be fine but it can’t, it affects you as a whole. You see the world and life and death through new eyes.

Please pray everyday for our Police Officers. They have a very tough job. We cannot expect them to wallow in the filth of society day in and day out without our full support and our prayers. Who among us is willing to give our lives for people we don’t know or for people who don’t care about us? That is what they are willing to do everyday they put on their uniform and leave home.
A person cannot see pain and death all the time without being touched by it in some way.”

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©Samina Iqbal. 2017

 

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Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving my Canadian bloggers, friends and countrymen. In today’s chaotic and uncertain world we need to be thankful for every moment that brings peace and harmony to our lives. We need to be thankful for the safe and protected environment that we live in, and many thanks to our Police Officers for making this possible. Lets thank them from the bottom of our hearts since gratitude is a beautiful sentiment.

“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend.” (Melody Beattie)

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©Samina Iqbal. 2017

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‘A spike in your stats’ BOOM!

My fabulous bloggers and friends I thank you for all my successes in the blogosphere. I got this message from wordpress team last week and I thank them for encouraging me and from time to time to keep my spirits soaring high. Thanks a million everyone. I highly appreciate it. Love you all. Blessings. Samina

Your blog, Samina’s Forum for police support, appears to be getting more traffic than usual! 28 hourly views – 1 hourly views on average
A spike in your stats.
©Samina Iqbal. 2017
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Night Duty Cops’ Video Goes Viral With Lip Sync Of Backstreet Boys ‘I Want It That Way’ — CBS Detroit

The following video shows “the gentler side of law enforcement”. I hope my blogger friends will enjoy watching it. Samina.

DETROIT (WWJ) – The Port Huron Police Department in the limelight after three of their officers posted a video of them lip syncing to the popular Backstreet Boys song “I want it that way.” It started when Tri-Hospital EMS, who made a video, challenged the Port Huron Police Department to do the same. And when…

via Night Duty Cops’ Video Goes Viral With Lip Sync Of Backstreet Boys ‘I Want It That Way’ — CBS Detroit

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A Police Officer: Armed to save a life.

“Her smile was like armor & everyday she went to war…” (r. h. sin)

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“You begin saving the world by saving one person at a time; all else is grandiose, romanticism or politics.” (Charles Bukowski)

©Samina Iqbal. 2017

 

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“Take no chances that you don’t have to”.

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Kitty the cat,” Officers, I swear I did not steal milk, let me go?”

Police Officers to Kitty the cat,”To prove you’re telling the truth you have to take the breathalyzer test (for milk). We take no chances that we don’t have to, and we trust no one that we really don’t have to. So surrender peacefully.”

These are crazy times and the crazy world we live in. Trust and faith seem to have disappeared from our daily lives as we experience what is happening around us. Police officers are forefront in their battle to protect us. Lets pray for them and wish them safe and secure lives to be protectors of their families and us.

©Samina Iqbal. 2017

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Happy Independence Day USA

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©Samina Iqbal. 2017

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Happy 150 Birthday Canada

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©Samina Iqbal. 2017

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“I have to ticket you, please forgive me my love”

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The day is glowing with incandescent sunniness,

Divine is the air and nature hums

melodies of bliss,

It is so nice to see you in all your loveliness

with a heavenly smile to light

up the world with your prettiness.

 tyr

 

Going fast, even in a fast lane?

Flying on the wings of desire my love!

This leaves me wondering as if,

You want to make yourself free from self

in one stroke! to vanish into oblivion

and emptiness.

piou

 

Flee from speeding, away from trouble;

take the path of safety, far from this danger.

Take this advice from me

as a sign of compassion, 


of care, of concern, of love

for sake of your secureness.

pio 

Life is rushing onward from moment to moment. 


It’s onward rush is so visible,

but the next turn is unseen:

may that which is hidden

not fail you! Life Surprises us

with its un-predictableness.

 uoi

If you be observant and vigilant,

You will see at every moment

the response to your action.

Be perceptive my love

for something is fashioned

in outcome of every action of our fickleness.

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I have to ticket you my love,

to protect your humanness

from fading into nothingness.

May Luck be with you,

I am a Police Officer

to us is the sacrifice!…

Too many innocent lives are lost everyday due to speeding. Police officers as first responders witness the gruesome reality in its most raw form. Lets save ourselves and our protectors from trauma and observe speed limits.

© Samina Iqbal. 2017

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“She made her decision, and it was the wrong one,” Constable Steve Addison of Vancouver Police Department.

My dear bloggers and friends Today I am presenting the story taken from “Eastside Stories: Diary of a Vancouver Beat Cop” by Constable Steve Addison of VPD (Vancouver police department).

The story is set on Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside and according to constable Steve Addison of VPD, “There is perhaps no other place in the country that is as infamous, as political and as misunderstood as this. I thought I knew all there was to know about the Downtown Eastside. It must be one of the most written about, talked about, studied and debated neighbourhoods in the country, if not North America. After being posted here in 2007, I quickly realized how little I really knew.

The poverty, the misery and the dangers that exist on these streets are often something you simply have to see to believe.”

Now the story.

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She made her decision, and it was the wrong one

Five days past her 18th birthday, she was hooting on a crack pipe near the corner of Hastings and Columbia. She tossed the glass pipe to the pavement as we approached and tried to blend in with the crowd.

“Please don’t arrest me,” the pretty redhead pleaded as I grabbed her arm to prevent her from running away.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I just want to talk to you.”

My god, she looked young. Dressed in jean shorts and a button-up shirt that was tied in a knot just above the belly button, she looked like she should have been riding a tire swing at the family cottage, not getting high on Hastings Street. Though her hair was unwashed and her face was breaking out in sores, I could tell she was still early in her suffering. The addiction hadn’t fully taken control of her.

I wanted to help her.

We talked as I ran the girl’s name through the police database. Her story reminded me that addiction does not discriminate between race, gender or class.

The product of a tony West Vancouver neighbourhood, she began experimenting with hallucinogens — magic mushrooms and LSD — at age 15. She managed to get clean for eight months, but soon was looking for new ways to get high. Which brought her to Ground Zero in the Downtown Eastside — still frighteningly oblivious to the dangers surrounding her.

She’d been staying with her new boyfriend — a 38-year-old she met five days ago — in a room at the worst slum hotel in the city. It’s infested with cockroaches and rats, and the rooms reek of urine and dirty cat litter. (When we stopped by later that night to suss out the boyfriend, we found his room littered with empty beer cans and condom wrappers.)

A pretty, new face like her’s is easy prey on these streets. And with a habit to feed I figured it was just a matter of time before she’d be selling her body to buy drugs — either for herself or for the boyfriend whose last name she still did not know.

The young redhead assured me that wouldn’t be the case.

“Don’t worry. I’m against prostitution.”

She said it with such righteousness and confidence that I knew this girl just didn’t have a clue. I told her about the young lady I spoke to a few months ago who stands on the street corner and gets into strangers’ cars — sometimes 10 a night — just to support her heroin habit. I told her how that girl knows that every car she gets into could be the last.

Her lip started to quiver and her eyes welled up with tears. I asked if she really thought that any of the girls who sell themselves for drug money are actually in favour of prostitution. A tear rolled down her cheek, and we both knew she was only fooling herself.

It’s not often that we see any kind of vulnerability or emotion from the men and women in the Downtown Eastside. Life can be so hard down here, I think most learn to shut off the emotions, or simply bury them so deep that they can’t be seen. You have to be tough to survive in the Downtown Eastside, and vulnerability makes for easy victims.

But the tears in this girl’s eyes told me she wasn’t that far gone, that there was still a chance to save her.

I offered to help her. I promised her a ride to anywhere she wanted to go — so long as it was away from skid row. I knew this was likely a now-or-never moment. She thought about it for about a second, then asked if she could go see her boyfriend instead.

I wanted to tell her that she couldn’t, that she had to come with me. But the reality was I could not force her to make the smart choice. The crack pipe she had tossed on the ground had already been trampled on and crushed, and I really had no authority to hang onto her.

I told her she was an adult now, and that the decision was her’s to make. She could choose to stay, and risk being sucked into a lifetime in sex, drugs and disease. She could choose to go, and maybe have an outside chance of getting her life together.

“You’re an adult now,” I said, cringing as the words left my mouth. “It’s your choice.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes, then darted across the street and back toward the slum hotel to see the boyfriend who was old enough to be her father.

As she disappeared into the sea of disorder somewhere east of Columbia Street, I knew it was just a matter of time before I’d see her again. By that time, it would likely be too late.

She had made her decision, and it was the wrong one.

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©Samina Iqbal. 2017

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