Ghost of a Chance
Another officer and I decided to walk one of the parking garages on campus that was closed for the holiday. We cleared a few trespassers, but as we reached the 4th floor, we saw a vehicle parked near the far corner. Both of us clearly saw a man seated in the driver seat and moving around. Because we were on foot and didn’t want to take the chance that he would spot us and take off, we skirted the perimeter of the 4th floor and moved quietly, placing supports between us and him. Several times, we were able to clearly see him in the driver seat, moving around. When we reached the area where we could approach the car from behind, we moved up on either side of the car. But there was no one inside. We had not heard car doors open or close. We had not heard footsteps walking away. The car was cold, empty, and still.
The other officer looked over at me. “We SAW him. There was a man in this car.”
“I sure thought so,” I told her.
I called Parking Services and they told me that the car was on a list not to be cited as the owner had a medical emergency and couldn’t drive away. The car was gone a few days later and I never learned what had become of the student or the ghost in the car.
Balancing The Scales
So much depends on circumstances. As a university police officer, I responded to one call at a market on campus where a homeless man had stolen a five-dollar sandwich and a drink. Because he admitted that he had entered the market with the intention of stealing the sandwich and the drink, I had to charge him with felony burglary (at the time, the law has since changed). I tried to talk the manager out of requiring me to make the arrest, because, as I told him, “I feel like I’m arresting Jean Valjean.” The college student manager didn’t get the Les Miserables reference, probably a computer science or business major, and again, demanded that the suspect be arrested. I did not like making that arrest.
However, on another occasion, we were called on an art student who walked out of the campus bookstore without paying for a set of five highlighters, valued at about seven dollars. The store loss prevention officer had followed him to a studio in the Art Building, across the walkway from the bookstore. When we arrived, I asked the student if he had forgotten to pay for the highlighters. He said that he didn’t feel like he should have to pay for them, his tuition should cover all of his supplies. I told him that I kinda agreed that his tuition should cover those kinds of supplies, but that unfortunately, it doesn’t, so he should go back and pay for the highlighters.
His response was a big, “Fuck no. No way am I paying for these highlighters.”
Well, that left me very little wiggle room when the loss prevention officer demanded an arrest and off to jail he went for felony burglary. I was less ambivalent about this arrest.
The Hand That Feeds
In a large, metropolitan university, with about 5000 employees, it behaved like a small town. You get to know people and you even make friends with the people you serve. But, just like a small town, it can lead to awkward arrests. And the drama is just as stupid as small-town drama.
I had met an Associated Students employee, Alicia, when I had signed up to work a special event. She was a manager and handled significant amounts of cash. While she was involved in selling tickets to the event, a young man decided that he didn’t like the politics of the speaker in the building and wanted to protest. A short arrest later, followed by paperwork ordering the young man to stay off campus for fourteen days, and the young man left the area. Unfortunately, he would not stay gone. He sued both me and Alicia, in small claims court, of all places. So Alicia and I bonded over court appearances.
Fast forward several years and I was told that we were investigating the loss of more than $50,000 in cash over a short period of time from the Box Office. One of the detectives came into my office and asked if I knew Alicia. I told him I did and described our professional relationship. The detective told me it looked like she had embezzled the money and the University allowed her to pay the money back and walk away. I found out later from other campus employees that she had embezzled the money to pay for her significant other’s medical bills, due to his significant disability and inability to work. She had cashed out her retirement plan to pay back the embezzled money.
The one thing that never really made sense to me was this: Alicia had been living with a man for about eleven years and they never married. He was unemployed due to disability and she was overextending herself paying for his medical bills as he was uninsured. But I ask you, how did embezzling the money make more sense that simply getting married or declaring a civil union and having him covered under her University-paid medical insurance?
Circle Of Steel
University campuses have a real responsibility to allow free speech, and yet do their best to control behavior which “disrupts the academic environment.” On my campus, panhandlers, buskers and the like were allowed, but they had to contact the Student Affairs Office and get a handout (or permit) that listed appropriate hours and locations for free speech that wouldn’t disrupt nearby classrooms.
On this particular summer day, I saw a man near a classroom building, sitting on the ground and playing his guitar, a hat on the ground in front of him with some small change inside. I was on bicycle, so I coasted up to him and introduced myself. I smiled and asked if he had contacted the Student Affairs Office to find out the more appropriate locations that he could practice his free speech activity. He told me that he had not and looked a little nervous. I told him that all they were going to do was give him a handout with the rules and a map of the campus.
He smiled and nodded. “Okay officer. Since you’ve been so kind, I’m going to sing you a song that I wrote just a few days ago.”
He played his guitar and then began in on an obscure Gordon Lightfoot song called Circle of Steel (1974). He finished two lines before I joined in with him singing along. I’ve always been a huge Gordon Lightfoot fan and I have owned the Sundown album (yes, vinyl) since I was a kid. Our busker stopped singing and stared at me.
“How did you know that song?” he asked.
“Because I’m University police. We know everything.”
Shall I Take A Look Under The Hood?
I stopped a car that had committed a minor traffic violation. I had no intention of issuing a citation, but I wanted to talk to the driver about the violation to make sure they understood why the driving maneuver they made was illegal. While I was talking to the driver, I kept hearing a small, squeaking noise from under the hood. I asked the driver if he had heard the noise too. He said he had and that his car had never made that noise before. He exited and we both lifted the hood. I ran back to my patrol car and pulled a pair of heavy-duty leather gloves from the trunk and ran back. I reached into the engine compartment and pulled a small, gray kitten from inside. Some of his fur was singed and a small spot on his back was burned, but otherwise, he looked good. The driver took him immediately to a vet and had him checked out. The driver took the kitten home and named him “Sparky.”
That was the only time I checked the engine of a car I had pulled over.