Do You Need a Dead Body?

What I'm reading: Robert B. Parker's Killing the Blues, by Michael Brandman

I've hit Milestone #1 in my giveaway. You can't win unless you enter, so check the Deals & Steals tab.

Last week, on The Graveyard Shift, Lee Lofland shared some important information about property crimes, and how patrol officers work to solve them. He presented a lot of good information, including how useful fingerprints are (usually they aren't), and how people talk to cops. Take a minute to read it here.

But my takeaway from his post, and one that was followed up in the comments of the post, was that there's a lot of police work that has nothing to do with solving homicides. If you tell someone you write mysteries, odds are pretty good they automatically hear "murder mystery."

Can't you have a mystery that doesn't include a dead body? There are certainly enough other crimes out there, and they'll impact the lives of your characters even if nobody dies. And for me, it's always about the characters.

When I wrote FINDING SARAH, I thought it was going to be a mystery. But it began with a robbery (Anyone know the difference between a burglary and a robbery? The terms aren't interchangeable.) which brought a detective onto the scene. Now, maybe I got away without having the detective solve a murder because I discovered, thanks to my beta-reading daughters, that I was really writing a romance.

"Homicide - Hussey "- an Intro

What I'm reading: Take No Prisoners, by Cindy Gerard

Still working on the synopsis. Good news: Hidden Fire will be coming out in print sometime in the spring -- no official release date yet, and a Randy & Sarah short story was accepted for the Cerridwen Press free reads program.

And on with today's program

I met Deputy Sheriff Hussey when I asked one of the Civilian Police Academy instructors if he'd mind answering questions. I offered to buy him coffee; he asked if there was an Ale House in my neighborhood, and brought two of his colleagues, one of whom was Detective Hussey. Since then, we've chatted, emailed, and had a few more brews. Hussey has been writing accounts of some of his stories, and he's graciously allowed me to share them. I'll be posting them from time to time -- sorry, I don't have a schedule, so you'll have to check back if you want to see more. I figured the beginning was the best place to start -- so, meet the man who answers his phone, "Homicide. Hussey."

They say that police work is a ringside seat to the greatest show on earth. Truer words were never spoken. It's hours of sheer boredom, punctuated by seconds of sheer terror. It's the toughest job you'll ever love. War is hell. They're all great clichés and they all apply.

I've had more fun and been more miserable being a cop than you can imagine. Mostly though, its been fun and at times, rewarding. Once you've put your world into perspective, and realize that all the things you thought you could change when you were a rookie but found out you will never change, life as a cop is easier to take. You realize things don't matter as much. You just do the best you can, and try to make a difference in a few situations and in a few peoples' lives. You try to leave this world a little better place than it was when you came, or at least not a worse place.

I've got thirty years in this business and it sometimes seems like I've seen it all. Of course every time I say that, somebody throws me a curve.

I spent nineteen years as a uniformed patrol officer, but, because of all those years of stress, injuries and just natural aging, I took a desk job. I'm a Homicide detective. That is I work everything DEAD. It's very interesting work, but my heart is still out there with the guys and girls who work the streets. They are, I believe, the last line of defense. The difference between law and order and anarchy; that thin blue line between societal order and total chaos. These are the people who put their lives on the line everyday, then endure the constant criticism by the public and the news media.

People say they want the "job" done, but they don't want to see how we do it. Heaven forbid we should hurt someone who raped a small child or murdered a housewife and mother. Shame on us for speaking harshly, or smacking some scumbag who strikes us or spits upon us.

I wanted to be a cop as far back as I can remember. When I was six years old, I had already made friends with a tall, thin Orange County Sheriff's motorcycle cop named Jonathan. "Big John" stood 6' 5" and weighed close to 300 pounds. He was a poster boy for what cops looked like in the South in those days. White, over six feet tall and looking back, I'm sure not terribly well educated. He had something I would learn later was much more valuable…STREET SENSE.

I am sure he grew tired of a small chubby kid asking him questions about the big Harley-Davidson motorcycle with the tank shifter and the "suicide clutch" he rode every day. He packed a six-inch, Colt .357 magnum revolver in a low-slung swivel holster, which hung on a four inch wide, Sam Browne belt. There was also room on the belt for handcuffs, keys, and a wooden nightstick. In a small pocket located on the thigh of his right leg, he carried his slap jack. The slap jack, or blackjack as they were called was as Jonathan explained, "An attention getter".

If the huge officer was disgusted with me, he never showed it. Jonathan was always friendly and showed up several mornings a week at the school bus stop in what was then very rural Orange County. He would talk to me endlessly, about cops, school, and my family. He made me feel so important. I find it amusing when administrators speak of "new" concepts, such as "Community Oriented Policing". These guys were practicing and perfecting the techniques years ago.

I had decided that I wanted to be a cop. How difficult could this job be? Just think of all the people I could push around, and the cars I could speed in. I contacted several of the local law enforcement agencies as well as the Florida Highway Patrol. The patrol was considered the elite among agencies and I had befriended and begun riding quite frequently with a state trooper on nights and weekends. I was already hooked on the adrenaline.

Everyplace I went, I was told that I would have to be twenty-one years old. At eighteen I had no experience, no college and a dead-end job. I needed a push. On September 3, 1976 I walked into the Orlando Armed Forces recruiting office, where I met U.S. Army Staff Sergeant Charles “Chuck” Nobles, a dark-haired, “actor” looking guy with a mouthful of teeth and a chest full of ribbons. Good ol’ Chuck showed me a couple of films about the Army’s elite Airborne Divisions. I couldn’t wait to sign a three-year contract to become a military policeman and a paratrooper.

On September 27, I said good-bye to my parents and boarded a Greyhound bus for Fort Jackson, South Carolina. As the bus pulled away, my father, a tear in his eye, snapped to attention and rendered me a hand salute. It didn’t mean much then, but I have come to know the importance and level of respect that that gesture represents. It is one of those moments that has been permanently burned into my memory.

After eight long weeks of basic training, and eight more of military police school and three weeks of jump school I arrived at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. I turned nineteen years old the day before I got there. Now, I thought, I was an adult and I was a cop. Looking back, I was wrong on both counts.

More from Detective Hussey in the weeks to come. Have a great weekend. Next Tuesday's guest is mystery writer Maria Hudgins, who will tell us about "Faraway Places with Strange Sounding Names."

Civilian Police Academy - Class 6

What I'm reading: Cards Never Lie by Heather Hiestand; Contest entries

What I'm writing - Chapter 31.

Last night our first speaker was a detective from Homicide, a very lively speaker who was obviously very much in love with his job. The department has 1 sergeant, 1 corporal and 10 detectives, plus a field service officer and a crime analyst, who helps with getting out bulletins and making sure the interview transcripts are done, and all the other paperwork sort of details. On any given call, it's likely that the detective and partner plus a supervisor, and the CSI's are all on the scene, which means many eyes and opinions to interpret what's there.

The department is responsible for all homicides, suicides, accidental deaths, in custody deaths, and deputy involved shootings. There is now a separate child crime unit for dealing with anything involving children.

Again, unlike CSI on tv, the detectives are in charge of the case. The lead is responsible for everything, no matter who might have dropped the ball. Too many times, the detective "knows" who committed the crime, but can't prove it. The CSI's are integral in collecting the evidence that can back up the case, but they don't interact with the suspects. They gather the evidence and take it to the lab.

The hard ones are the "who done it's" such as random drive-by shootings where there are no witnesses, or none will step forward.

On the scene, which is usually dealt with by a uniformed patrol officer, the first order is the officer's safety. Once the scene is clear, preservation of life is next. This means that even if a deputy is involved in the shooting, he still tries to keep the victim alive. Next is preservation of the crime scene and notification of the detectives and CSIs.

The crime scene belongs to the detective; the body belongs to the Medical Examiner and can't be touched until the ME has been there.

We learned about rigor, lividity and using insects to determine time of death.

Suicides are also investigated as homicides, although a scene will be handled by 1 detective and 1 CSI. These cases usually get the most complaints from family, because they don't want to believe a loved one committed suicide. The detectives handle suicides as thoroughly as homicides. There were over 200 suicides last year.

We got to see photos of crime/accident scenes and tried to determine what had happened.
We also watched a video of two teams passing a basketball. Our instructions were to concentrate only the the team in the white shirts, and to count every time the ball hit the floor or was passed to another person, and to ignore the black shirted team, which was there to distract us. Of course, all but two people in the class totally missed the guy in the gorilla costume who walked right across the court.

Overall, the department has a 60% clearance rate, which they are proud of. No case, however, is ever closed, and they may have cases on their desks for 10 years, always looking for another lead. These are the ones that the detectives live with, that come back and stay in their heads.

Most of their leads come from the local anonymous Crime Line phone number. The $5,000 reward helps, too!

He also pointed out some "general" statistics, such as the majority of their cases are drug related.

Before he left, he showed pictures of crimes against children. I don't even want to discuss what horrific things people will do these innocents.

Next time - part two of the class: Domestic Violence.