“Working days out of South East Substation was a boring, thankless job. All the hooks and crooks were in bed or acting like they were working at honest jobs. The only folks out there were those fine citizens who were complaining about holes in our crime-fighting machine.
Because I was working solo, I got all the complaint calls for that sector. This was the second week of the month and my teeth were wearing down from gritting them over questions like, “Why haven’t you found my grandfather’s watch? I reported it stolen ten years ago.” About fifteen minutes after such a call, the dispatcher informed me that now I was Car One of a two car team. At last I was going to get to do some real police work! Two-man squads got the action calls. I just hoped that I could remember how to handle one!
The dispatcher then informed me that he was sending us to a “Family Disturbance with a Gun.” I would rendezvous with Car Two in about five minutes at the address of the disturbance. I drove up in front of the small, neat white house and checked out the scene. Because Car Two was very close, I approached the front door. We didn’t have SWAT teams back then, so my partner and I were both first and last line of defense.
I carefully stood on the left of the door so that when it opened those inside wouldn’t see me before I saw them. I saw Car Two pull up in front, so I knocked on the door and hollered in my best South Dallas Police voice, “Open up! Police!” That’s “Pooolice” with three o’s!”
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