Deputy

by Cliff Yates

  CARVER PARK MASSACRE

  I WAS IN my last month or two of training. Marv and I were working the pm shift out of Willowbrook. We received a 245 now call (assault with a deadly weapon). Man with a shotgun in Carver Park, numerous gang members involved. We were the first to arrive at the park, and there must have been over one hundred Carver Park Crips who started running everywhere at the sight of the arriving Sheriff’s car. We saw two guys running from the park with handguns, and a gang member just two yards from us threw a sawed-off shotgun to the ground and started running. Marv ran and tackled the suspect within 25 yards while I secured the loaded shotgun. We called for assistance as all the gang members ran to the end of Antwerp Street, where they gathered yelling obscenities and threats all the while throwing their gang signs.

  The sergeant arrived, and after the troops arrived, we announced an unlawful assembly and ordered the gang to disperse. Marv taught me to put our car radios on loudspeaker mode and then get on the patch to make the dispersal announcement. There were legal requirements in the announcement which had to be made before you could make an arrest. By making the announcement over the regular radio frequency, you could request the tape of the broadcast later to prove in court that you made the announcement. Here’s a shocker; they refused to disperse. We rolled hard to the end of the street. There was a lot of resistance. The taser was used, and physical force was required to make a lot of the arrests. Another caper was my handle.

  And I was so happy to have the knowledge of delegating and having supplemental reports written. We made 24 arrests for unlawful assembly mixed in with our 245 suspect and the use of force reports. I think Marv and I broke a station record that day, one call 24 arrests. Marv’s friend Joey Fennel was working the jail that day. You should have seen his face when we marched in with 24 in custody. I think the station jail only held 50. We dubbed that day the Carver Park Massacre. For the next year or so whenever we made an arrest or otherwise contacted anyone from Carver Park, they were very cooperative and respectful. We were there a lot. They sold a lot of marijuana at the dead-end of Antwerp Street. Customers came from all over to buy marijuana there. The problem is you make an arrest, and by the time you’re done booking, someone else has replaced the seller you arrested. The customers keep coming, so believe me the product is around, and there is always somebody ready to step in and continue the selling.

  OFF TRAINING

  TRAINING IS A stressful time at Lynwood. So when you pass training, or get off training as it’s called, it is quite a celebration. There is usually a big party for a group of trainees that have recently finished training. And then you work a one-man car for a while. If you’re lucky and you so desire, you can then find a partner to work a two-man car with. I should say a two-person car. I had several female partners that I loved working with and trusted with my life. Personally, I liked working alone. I liked calling all the shots, deciding where to drive, who to stop, when to eat. Most deputies liked working with a partner. I had some great partners while at Lynwood, and we had a great time together. All one person cars are contract cars in the city of Lynwood. And the two-person cars were in the county areas. The county areas had less call activity, so you had more time to be on the hunt. Police work is hunting for humans. It’s a lot of fun. I liked working alone, but the city cars got hammered with calls.

  There was a parking garage on Imperial Highway near the station where we would park to write reports or finish up our logs before heading into the station at the end of our shift. It was a two-story parking garage, and we parked on the top level which had no cars on it after 5 pm or on the weekends. It was a safe place to park because it was elevated, and you couldn’t be seen from the street. You couldn’t just park anywhere in Lynwood and write reports by yourself. You would get sniped, shot, or have your throat slashed. But this was a great spot. For some reason, I named it the “Hilton.” So after about a year if you asked another car to meet you at the Hilton, everyone—even the desk—knew where you were talking about. A safe place, maybe, or maybe not.

  One night near the end of the pm shift, I radioed my roommate Bill Costleigh, who was working a traffic car in the city. I told him to meet me at the Hilton, and he said he was just finishing a ticket and he would be right up. I drove to the parking garage top floor and backed into an empty parking space of my choice so I could face the one ramp controlling access to and from the top of the parking garage. I had my choice since the top level was empty of any cars.

  I was finishing a report and looked up to see headlights coming up the ramp. I wrongly assumed it was the front headlights from Bill’s police car. I looked down, and a second later a car that was not Bill’s or a police car was door to door with mine. The lone male occupant was a big red-headed white guy. He was breathing heavy, and as he came to a stop started yelling at me, “You better fucking shoot me now, shoot me, shoot me now!”

  As I started to my car in drive as discretely as possible, I said, “Do you have a gun?”

  He said, “I got a fucking 45 right here under my arm.”

  He had just finished that last part when I jumped on the accelerator. The tires squealed as I zoomed forward and then did a turn to face the back of this crazy bastard’s car. I pulled my gun and trained my spotlight on his back window. I was on the mic pronto.

  “10-33 request assistance, man with a gun, I’m at the Hilton.”

  From atop the parking garage, I could hear sirens coming to life from several different directions around the city. Bill was the first to get there. And within two minutes there were three more cars up the ramp. I went through the felony stop procedures, having him throw his keys out the window and open the door from the outside. He was wearing a leather jacket, and I didn’t have him lift up his jacket to see if he was armed. He already told me he was, so it was as good as if I had seen it. I didn’t want him to put his hands down to his body for any reason.

  He complied with all our orders, and we got him handcuffed. Sure enough, this guy had a loaded 45 semi-automatic handgun in a shoulder holster. This guy in a calm voice said, “This used to be a nice neighborhood and now it’s all niggers and Mexicans, so I want to die. I live right down on the street. I know you guys come up here to write your reports. My plan was to come up here and pull my gun so you guys would shoot me.”

  I took the guy in for 5150 Welfare and institutions code. If we feel someone is mentally ill and is a danger to themselves or others, this code gives us the authority to take them into custody and transport them to a mental health facility to be evaluated for a possible 72-hour observation. I transported him the Augustus Hawkins Medical Center. When I got him inside, a black attendant approached us. Oh man, the guy went nuts when he saw the attendant, yelling, “Nigger! Get this nigger away from me—don’t let this nigger touch me!” He ended up in four-point restraints, and I never heard what happened to him after that.

  We didn’t park at the Hilton for a while. I talked with my friend Greg, a dispatcher at the East LA radio center. He was working our frequency that night. He said that one of the deputies was a detective working overtime in a patrol position. He radioed in, “Where’s the Hilton, there’s no Hilton in Lynwood.” This guy kept hearing Lynwood units go 1097 arriving at the scene, and he was bewildered. Greg goes on ride alongs at every station, and he knew exactly where the Hilton was and directed him in. It was a good lesson, to be careful what you give a nickname to. Not everyone will know what you’re talking about.

  SAN DIEGO LICENSE PLATES

  IT WAS NICE when we got computers in the cars. We could run license plates all night long. We no longer had to wait for the radio to be clear, which it never was. Now we could really be on the hunt for crooks and especially stolen cars. I was rolling south on Long Beach Blvd in the number two lane, and in front of me driving south was a pickup truck with a camper shell. The license plate frame read "San Diego." Oh man, San Diego license plate frames; that's almost an automatic stolen car.

  I entered the plate int
o my computer as we continued south. Sure enough, the dispatcher came on the air.

  "251 status regarding your 10-29 Victor (stolen car).” Yes!

  "Give me the patch, I'm following a 10-29 Victor south on Long Beach Blvd approaching Compton."

  As assisting units were coming, the stolen truck started making all sorts of turns. Finally, while we were stopped at the red light of El Segundo and Wilmington Avenue, tires started squealing and we were off to the races. I put out the pursuit. It's quite a wonderful, exciting thing being in pursuit: the rotating lights bouncing off the houses, siren blaring, sparks flying as the stolen vehicle bottoms out at a low spot in the road. I know, it's dangerous, but I miss it. I was having a ball, but this pursuit had gone on for a while. I don't know who the watch commander was, but bless him for letting this chase go on. When you’re chasing a stolen car, if more information isn't revealed indicating it's more than a stolen car, the watch commander is required to cancel the pursuit. The amount of time the watch commander lets the pursuit go before he cancels it is subjective, so different watch commanders with different philosophies would handle things differently.

  We got an air unit over the pursuit and assisting units behind me, and all of a sudden, the truck stopped. We took three in custody for the stolen truck. Sure enough, they had crossed the border and stolen the first vehicle they could so they could get to the city of angels. That's a pretty common scenario, which is why we were always on the lookout for San Diego license plate frames.

  FIRST TRAINEE

  I WAS PICKED to be a training officer. I wasn't sure if I wanted that job. It was a big responsibility, teaching and a lot of documentation. At the time, I didn't like reports. But if you ever want to get promoted to detective, become a sergeant, or go to a specialized unit, you have to have been a T/O to be considered for the job. My first trainee was Dani, and she was small in stature but tough as nails. She did a great job and did not take any shit from anybody.

  Dani and I had a weird case that turned into a big lawsuit. The county ended paying out over $800,000. I hesitate too give out to many details as the memories of lengthy depositions flood my brain. Because it was such a newsworthy and noteworthy lawsuit, I choose to be brief in my description. We made a traffic stop and towed a vehicle. The occupant became hostile and refused to go with us to the station where they could be picked up. Dani took copious notes of our taking the driver to a safe location. Later the person claimed to have been assaulted, although the story given to another police agency didn’t add up. A year later the person sees a wanted poster of a murder suspect and calls it in as the same person that assaulted them after we towed the car. Sure enough, the tattoos described in the police report matched the wanted poster. The person ended up being the only surviving witness who could identify the suspect and testify.

  One night we had a car stopped on Atlantic Avenue in East Compton. We were searching for the car and had three male Hispanics in our backseat. We were standing between the car we had stopped and the patrol car, when Dani pointed to a car driving south on Atlantic. "That's the stolen car they just put out a broadcast on." We jumped in our patrol car, did a quick turn and got up on the stolen car within half a mile. We broadcast that we were behind the stolen car and requested assistance for a felony stop. Two cars quickly came up behind us, and we activated our overhead lights to initiate the traffic stop. And we were off.

  The stolen car kicked up dust as it accelerated to a high rate of speed. We started broadcasting our pursuit. After a couple of quick turns off Atlantic Avenue onto some side streets, the doors flew open and two suspects were out of the car and on the run. We quickly set up a containment of the area and called for a k9 and Aero unit. We had the containment set up quick since we already had two assisting units behind us when we started our pursuit. If you get a good containment set up quick, you have a good chance of getting your crooks. The Watch Commander responded, and we briefed him on what was going on. I had a dry erase board on the hood of our car where I put the location of all of the units. We were standing around the hood of our patrol car. The Watch Commander said, "Everything looks good, but who are those guys?" pointing to our backseat. Oh shit, I forgot about the three male Hispanics we had in our backseat from the traffic stop we were on when we saw the stolen car go by. We quickly got them out of the car and sent them on their way walking back to their car still parked on Atlantic Avenue. Thankfully the Watch Commander was a veteran street cop and just laughed it off. He could have really jammed us up for taking our detainees on a high-speed chase.

  The K9 unit arrived and found our two suspects in the containment. We took them into custody without incident or dog bite.

  CARVER PARK MASSACRE 2

  DANI AND I were working the Willowbrook car on pm shift. We received a 415G call: a large gathering of gang members in Carver Park. It had been over a year since our original Carver Park massacre incident. Most of them knew me, and we had an understanding. Backup units were rolling but were quite a ways away. I thought we could roll in and handle this, put out a code 4 (no further assistance needed; all ok) and save the backup units the long roll. It was still daylight and a hot summer afternoon. We rolled into the park, and there must have been two hundred Crips in the park all dressed down in their blue dew rag gang attire. Everything looked calm, so I rolled up over the curb and drove into the center of the park on the grass. All of a sudden, a sea of gang members surrounded the Sheriff's Car. Oh shit, this turned real bad fucking fast.

  Then some crazy-eyed bastard rushed up to my driver's door throwing gang signs yelling, "What's up my nigger, cmon nigger motherfucker—let’s dance."

  When I picked up the mic, everyone started running out of the park like mad. Crazy eyes started running away right in front of the police car. This crazy bastard had a handgun in the back of his waistband. I put out, "10-33 requesting assistance, man with a gun Carver Park." I must have had fifteen cars show up in less than five minutes. I couldn't figure out at the time why there were so many gang units out, marked and unmarked units. And some from other stations.

  Later I found there had been a funeral for a Crip gang member shot and killed earlier in the week. I'll never forget the name, Diamond Blue. The gang units had wind of the funeral and the probable aftermath. These Carver Park Crips were all juiced up after the funeral having a good time until I showed up. We set up a containment, and we got crazy eyes. About 20 went to jail that day. Not quite as many as Carver Park massacre number 1. The gang unit knew crazy eyes and told me that he was a wannabe Crip gang member, and he pulled this stunt to gain favor with the gang. He was acting on his own.

  HAM PARK

  HAM PARK, LOCATED in the northeast end of Lynwood was a park controlled by Young Crowd, a Hispanic gang. All over the northeast area of Lynwood you would see “YC” graffiti marking Young Crowd’s area. The park looked like a normal park during the day. But at night, looks could be deceiving. It was not unusual for the pm shift to have a few drinks after shift. A little choir practice to unwind. Sometimes it was convenient to have choir practice at the rear of the station parking lot. Some higher up decided that city officials might see this in their comings and goings, as City Hall was right next door. So the order came down: no more drinking in the parking lot.

  One night the pm shift picked Ham Park as a nice spot to get together after the end of shift. That was until Young Crowd did a drive-by on the deputies, who returned numerous rounds. No one was hit. I remember coming into the station on the early morning shift and seeing all the pm deputies and a sergeant writing reports. When they got shot at, more than a few deputies returned fire. Nobody was hit, but of course, there was a clusterfuck of paperwork to write.

  P.M. Choir practice moved to a different park in the city. That didn’t work: shot at again, return fire. Back to the station for more memos to the captain. A new order, no more choir practices in the city of Lynwood.

  THE BUMPER JACK

  THE LAST NIGHT of training for my Trainee E
ric Parra was a hot summer weekend night. Right after briefing before we went 10-8 in the field, I received a phone call from Eric’s dad, who was a homicide detective. He said, “Thanks, Cliff. You did a great job with Eric. I really appreciate you taking care of him.” Laughing, he said, “You didn’t get him into a shooting, but I won’t hold that against you.” I jokingly told him the shift just started. We also had a station CSO with us as a ride along. CSO stands for civilian service officer, and they take minor reports like vandalism, and they write parking tickets. Many of them are too young to become deputies, but that is their ultimate goal. It was a wild night from the start, and the action didn’t stop until the early morning hours. We were going call to call.

  The crew from the TV show Cops were riding along with the gang units. We were assisting units in East Compton with an officer involved shooting. Deputies Ripley and Blackwell had got behind a stolen car. They were coordinating a felony stop when the passenger leaned out the car door and started shooting at the deputes with an AK- 47 assault rifle. The deputies seeing the barrels of the gun as it came out the window were able to lean down below the dashboard as numerous rounds smashed through the front windshield. Both the driver and passenger headrests were ripped apart by numerous rounds.