The Follower

       This isn’t a big police story, but it made me feel good at the time and still makes me feel good today when I think about it. The story takes place in the summer of 1983. There wasn’t much during a patrol shift to feel good about. I was working the east side of Fort Worth on the evening shift. It was busy as usual, and I was on a minor accident call. I had gotten all the information and was ready to write the report. You must remember there were no computers, no internet, no cell phones and limited video cameras. The only means of communication was police radio. It was open air communication, meaning anyone could grab a police scanner at Radio Shack and hear all conversations by police over the air waves.

      Some bad guys were starting to use them as tools of their trade. They would plan a burglary and listen to the police scanner. They figured out where all the cars in a district were and then hit their target knowing they had a certain amount of time before the police arrived. They would hear the officers get the call and could track their movements. This was rare however, because the reason criminals commit crimes is because they’re stupid and lazy. Most people who had police scanners were just regular citizens who enjoyed listening to the action going on all over the city and right in their own neighborhood. Fort Worth had plenty of action in those days and was one of the highest crime cities in the country. The city’s motto of “Where the West Begins,” had turned into the “Wild Wild West.”

      Working the evening shift on the east side in the summer meant you were answering calls for police service the whole shift. You just went from one call to another for eight hours. It was difficult to get something to eat because the dispatchers couldn’t let you get anything if there were calls holding. There were always calls. If you wanted to eat you had to run by a fast food restaurant while you were on a call. When you finished a call, you were supposed to tell the dispatcher you’re ready for the next call. The officers learned not to tell the dispatchers when they were done. You would drive your police unit to a Seven-Eleven to use the bathroom or stop off at McDonalds to grab something quickly without clearing the call you were on. The dispatchers knew this and for the most part they were sympathetic.

      On one particular night I had worked on two minor accidents, a burglary, and an armed robbery in progress and it was still early in the shift. I was starving because I hadn’t eaten lunch before I came into work. I was involved with a particular lady friend and didn’t have time to eat. I was single at the time, just to make that clear. I just needed to add some finishing touches to the paperwork on a minor accident and there was a Taco Bueno close by. I love Taco Bueno. I decided to run in and grab something quick. I used the bathroom, ordered, and sat down for a second. I finished the accident report faster than I thought. They generally allow a certain amount of time for the different calls if there weren’t extenuating circumstances. A minor accident, for example, should take about an hour. A major accident might take two hours or more, again, depending on the circumstances.

      I finished this minor accident in about thirty five minutes and had time to sit and eat. It shouldn’t take long. As I ate, however, I could hear the handy talkie continuously chattering. There were calls being held all over the district. I felt bad and shoveled my food and walked out still getting in the last few bites before I had to throw the rest away. I got in the car and turned the key. I heard that dreadful sound no one wants to hear anytime. The slow whirr of the engine which meant dead battery. I was desperate. I turned the key again hoping I could get it to start. I just wanted to get someplace else besides here. I did not want to call out with a dead battery at Taco Bueno on Brentwood Stair when I was supposed to be at E. Lancaster working on an accident. I continued to turn the key. Not only was it not going to start but the car was completely dead. I looked around the parking lot. Maybe some good citizen had jumper cables, and I could get it started. There was no one in the parking lot. I had to make the call. In between radio chatter I picked up the microphone and said, “Adam two fifteen I have a dead battery. I need a jump.”

      The dispatcher came back with a sour, “What’s your location.”

      “I’m at Taco Bueno at Handley and Brentwood Stair Road.”

      Everything stopped. All traffic on the radio stopped. The officers in the field knew what I was doing, and the dispatcher knew what I was doing. The officers knew the dispatcher would be upset and decided to just stay off the radio for a few minutes. Not only did she have to contend with one unit out of service she had to take another unit out of service to go jump my car. I could hear the condemnation in her voice, “Adam two fifteen I’ll have someone enroute when I can. It might be a while.”

      The last part was really meant to cut deep. She wanted me to sit there apparently and listen to all the calls going out knowing I was useless. I tried to be upbeat, “ten four. Thanks.”

      I continually scanned the parking lot for someone with jumper cables. There was no one. They must all be somewhere else committing crimes. Now that’s a cynical police view of the world. After about five minutes a brand new powder blue, Cadillac El dorado hits the driveway to Taco Bueno at a high rate of speed. I turned around and watched the car approach my police vehicle and park in the spot next to it. A large round Hispanic male climbed out with a big smile on his face, “You need a jump?”

      I must’ve looked surprised, “Yeah, yeah I do.”

      “Hi, my name’s Mike Ramirez.”

      “Hi, my name’s Doug Moss.”

      “I was listening to the scanner and heard you needed a jump.”

      “Yeah, where do you live?”

      “Right around the corner on Mims. I thought I’d come help you out.”

      “Thanks a lot. I really appreciate it. The dispatcher is busy. I figured I’d be here for a while.”

      “No problem. Pop the hood.”

      I walked over and popped the hood as he popped his. He hooked the cables up to his car and started running them over to my car. I called dispatch, “Adam two fifteen disregard unit with jumper cables. A good citizen is jumping my car now. I’ll be back in service shortly.”

      The dispatcher seemed much more pleased with the situation, “Ten four Adam Two fifteen. Let me know when you’re ready.”

      Mike had everything connected and I turned the key in the patrol unit. The car started right up. I revved it a few times and Mike started disconnecting the cables. I got out of the car to thank him again. As he was disconnecting the cables, he stared off in the distance as if he was thinking, “Moss, Adam two fifteen. Didn’t you get into the chase the other night with the armed robber, and he was shooting at you?”

      Mike had been surprising me since he pulled in the parking lot, “Yeah, that was me and Jason Lynch. We were right around the corner from the liquor store when the call went out. When we got there, he was just leaving. We chased him down East Lancaster and he started shooting at us.”

      Mike finished the story, “Yeah, and y’all caught him on foot running through someone’s house.”

      “Yeah, do you listen to the scanner all the time?”

      Mike had a big smile, “Yep. A whole group of us listen to the scanner in this neighborhood. We know most of the officers. You, Lynch, Mason, Jones, and several more. I can’t think of their names now. Y’all are great. I can’t believe all the stuff you do. You could say y’all have kind of a fan club.” He laughed.

      I stood there a second thinking about what he said, ‘Y’all are great.’ Nobody says that to any of us. It was amazing to me that someone actually sat around and listened to what we do, and thought it was worth listening to.

      I smiled at him, “Thanks Mike. I really appreciate the jump. I gotta get going. If you need anything call the police desk and have Officer Moss call you, I.D. 1724.”

      “Thanks officer Moss.

      “Call me Doug.”

      “Thanks Doug. See you later.”

      There are many times in my career I wish I’d gotten his contact information. I wanted to see if he and his friends were still listening to the police radio. It’s not a big deal but it made me feel good. I think about that from time to time.