An LA Cop. John Bowermaster
suspect a citation for no plates and sent him on his way.
Ed copied the vehicle’s Vin number on the dashboard and ran it with control. “7-X-96, your vehicle is a Rampart stolen. 7-X-96, roger, suspect in custody.”
Mike handcuffed the suspect. “I guess checking the Vin number would have made them late for EOW. They gave him a ticket and cut him loose.”
Ed Bowes was 6'2", 180 pounds. He grew up in the small desert town of Twenty-Nine Palms, California. Most notably known for the home of the largest marine base in the United States, over nine hundred square miles of desert. Before the base was built in 1952, General Patton used part of that California desert to train his men to fight General Rommel in the North African desert during WWII.
Ed Bowes dated his high school girlfriend. When he graduated, Ed moved to Los Angeles and started working for an insulation company until he was drafted. He came home on weekends to see his parents and his girlfriend. The long-distance relationship with his girlfriend continued when he went to Vietnam.
After returning to the firebase from patrol one afternoon, Sergeant Waters was standing by one of the bunkers, handing out mail from the chopper’s mail drop. Waters stood there with a hand full of mail, calling out the names of men in First Platoon, handing them their mail as they passed him. Walker, Leak, Martin, Bowes.
Ed Bowes took his mail, a letter from his girlfriend, Mary. Ed started to read his letter. There it was, a Dear John letter! He’d heard about these letters from other guys in his unit. He saw them in war movies on TV.
This letter was his. She explained their long-distance relationship was too difficult for her. She met a marine home on leave. She fell in love with him. Ed didn’t reply to the letter; he figured he had more immediate concerns, like staying alive in a country that was trying to kill him.
He just stuffed the letter in his duffel bag, where it eventually was lost with time. Ed learned later from Richard, his high school friend, that Mary was pregnant with the marine’s baby. He was sent to Vietnam. She never heard from him again.
Ed was quiet and particular about trusting people. Vietnam taught him about trust. He learned you don’t know how a person will handle themselves in a stressful situation until their lives are on the line!
Ed experienced what trusting a person was about. The LAPD also presented the life-threatening danger of being killed. Not by an enemy from a foreign country during a war. But citizens in his own country that had no respect for anyone that got in their way and tried to stop them from committing their crimes. They would kill without hesitation.
Now he was not in a war zone. He was in the states, witnessing the same brutality. Ed concluded, it didn’t matter if you were in a war zone or on the streets of Los Angeles, some people just revert to their basic animal instinct when dealing with other people.
The question of right or wrong didn’t enter the equation when a person killed another.
Paul used psychology he learned on the streets in a unique way when he was confronted by an unruly suspect. He gave the person a choice of how they would ride in the police car while being transported to jail.
They could sit up in the back seat enjoying the scenery to the station, or ride facedown hog-tied in the back seat. But they were going to jail. It was their choice how!
Paul worked with a new probationer his first night on the streets. Paul made a traffic stop on a vehicle that ran a red light. The vehicle pulled to the curb. Before Paul reached the driver’s side of the vehicle, the driver jumped out of his car, confronting Paul face to face, demanding to know why they stopped him.
The driver was on the tall side of 6'5" and pushing 260 pounds. “Why did you stop me? I didn’t do a damn thing wrong!” Paul explained that he ran the red light.
He requested his driver’s license. He advised the man he would issue him a citation.
The driver said, “You’re not getting my fucking driver’s license, and I’m not signing any fucking ticket!”
Paul explained if he didn’t sign the citation, he’d have no choice except to arrest him.
Driver said, “You’re not getting my driver’s license. You assholes aren’t big enough to take me to jail!”
Without another word, Paul kicked the suspect in the middle of his groin, bringing him to his knees. The suspect fell to the asphalt on both knees, trying to catch his breath, in pain and confused about how fast he went from threatening two police officers to being on his hands and knees in the street.
Paul moved behind him, pulling one hand around to his back, forcing the man facedown on the street. The probationer didn’t have time to react as he stood there trying to grasp the situation in front of him. Paul placed his knee in the middle of the suspect’s back, cuffing one hand. Grabbing his second hand, Paul secured it with the open cuff. Paul felt an object with his knee in the suspect’s rear waistband under his shirt.
He recovered a 9 mm semiautomatic from his waistband. Looking up at his probationer he said, “When you’re finished daydreaming, why don’t you help me get this asshole in the back seat of the car!”
Before moving the suspect, Paul asked, “Are you going to sit in the back seat, or do I have to hog tie your bitch ass?”
Still out of breath, the suspect responded, “I’ll go.”
Paul said, “I know you’re going, asshole! My question was, are you going sitting up or hog-tied facedown?”
The driver said, “I’ll sit up.”
“That’s what I like to hear, an asshole with an attitude adjustment! Remember, you try anything cute in the car and you get hog-tied!” The suspect didn’t respond. The probationer asked Paul later if that was the way they handled all traffic violators who refused to sign their tickets.
Paul said, “Only the ones as big as that son of a bitch who tells me he’s going to kick my ass!”
The following night, Paul and Ed responded to a screaming woman call. A combative suspect beat his girlfriend so bad he fractured both cheekbones, causing her eyes to swell shut. He kicked her while she lay unconscious on the living room floor. The neighbors in the adjacent apartment heard the screaming for help and called the police.
As the officers approached the apartment outside, they saw the suspect through the front window, kicking the unconscious woman on the floor. The officers kicked the locked front door open. The suspect would not stop without a fight. He turned his attention to the officers.
“I’m not done killing this bitch yet, and you’re not going to stop me.” After a brief struggle, Paul got his arm around the suspect’s neck, choking him unconscious as the suspect went limp in Paul’s arm. He sat the suspect on the ground maintaining his choke hold on the suspect.
A few seconds later, the suspect regained consciousness. Oblivious to what happened, Paul rolled the suspect onto his stomach while Ed cuffed him.
After the suspect regained complete consciousness, he tried to continue his fight with the officers. Kicking at both officers while lying on the carpet. Paul reached into his leg pocket, where he always carried several nylon ties for just such an occasion.
Paul pulled the ties out of his pocket, while Ed kneeled on top of the suspect’s legs with his knees holding them down. Paul tied his feet together then tied his feet to his handcuffs behind his back.
Ed checked the victim’s pulse; she was still alive. Paul used the victim’s phone to call for an RA unit.
He saw a phone bill lying on the table next to the phone with the name “Lataisha Jackson” on the bill. Paul copied the name in his notebook for the report. Paul wanted to verify the victim’s identify. “Hey, pal, what’s Latisha’s last name?”
“Fuck you! Get the hell off that phone. I didn’t give you pigs permission to use that phone! Take these cuffs off me, and I’ll carve the bitch’s name in your forehead!”