Random Pieces

Officer Richard

Being pulled over by the police can be terrifying. Even if you know you haven't done anything wrong, the whole situation is a pressure cooker of anxiety, stress, and tension. Even simply being followed by a police car can trigger a spike in stress and anxiety in a normal human being, let alone in a neurodivergent individual with chronic anxiety. Have I done anything to piss off the cop behind me, or are they simply existing in that space and my mind has created an entire scenario where they have somehow predicted exactly where I would be at what time and they were just waiting to pull in behind me? Do you see how bonkers that sounds, now that you've read it? That's a taste of my crazy. Now, let me tell you about my friend Officer Richard - or Officer "Dick", in this case.

It was a fairly typical day. At the time of this...let's call it an "incident", I was working construction. Some days on a construction site can be extremely long, both physically and emotionally. Depending on what's going on and how the day goes, you can work ten to twelve hours and just be completely wiped at the end of the day. That's normal, no big deal. This was a day like that - it was a ten-hour day, hard physical labor working on pouring concrete and setting fenceposts. The workday itself was uneventful. The fun started on the drive home.

The day ends, and I pack it into the car and head home. It's a short fifteen-minute drive, 45 mph the whole way. Knowing the police in the area at the time were a little ticket happy, I set the cruise control to just below the limit to eliminate any margin of error in the car computer, settle in, put on music or a podcast and head out. Simple. Maybe five minutes later, a police car pulls out of a side road and flashes it's lights at me. Cue anxiety spike - what the hell could I have done now? The good little boy that I am, I pull right over, get my license and registration ready, and stand by while the officer does the slow walk up, making sure to shine his big scary flashlight directly into my face while he does it. Nothing says power like blinding the driver you just pulled over after all.

Officer Richard goes through the motions here. He takes my license, registration, proof of insurance, and asks if I've been drinking or if I'm carrying any illegal drugs. Has anyone ever say yes to either, or both, of those questions? Yeah - don't do that. Sets kind of a rough precedent for the rest of the traffic stop as it turns out. So here's little old me, never been in any kind of trouble, never had a ticket for any reason, and wiped out from a long day. And my brain decides that this is the time to be a clever boy.

"Sir, have you been drinking tonight?" he asks me.

"No sir." Nailed it. Doing great so far. I've got this. Just be cool, man.

"Any illegal drugs in your possession at this time that you want to disclose to me?" asks Officer Richard.

"Just the usual stuff, officer." Great answer...wait, what? Quick, try again! "Hah! Kidding, I'm sorry. Long day." Okay, that's better. We're fine. Everything is fine. Nice save!

"Sir, can you step out of the vehicle for a moment for me?"

Shit.

Naturally, things do not improve from there. Officer Richard does a brief search of the car because I am a smartass. He makes it very clear that he knows I was being a smartass, and he is teaching me a lesson. Nothing found of course - just what's left of my mood. By this time another police cruiser is on-site, because police travel in packs and they're all perpetually bored. The second officer, we'll call this one Officer Stan, has been lovely. No attitude at all, very polite and very professional.

Officer Richard, though, has not been polite or professional. He has been snide and pointedly rude. Fair enough, I made a stupid joke of a comment and it probably forced him to do a cursory search. I get it. But he also knew it was a stupid joke, and took it upon himself to escalate the whole damn thing. He takes ten minutes to tear apart my car and then another five to lecture me on the importance of "being honest" with officers of the law. Claims that he could have hauled me in on the spot, tells me how lucky I am that it was him who pulled me over and not another officer or things may have gone differently. He really drives it in that he's done me a tremendous favor by being so cool.

"You have a good night now, and make sure the next time I see you, you don't waste either of our time", Officer Richard says as I climb back into my car. At this point, for some unfathomable reason, my brain has decided that the best possible thing for this whole situation is to make another joke. Now obviously, the best way out is to lean into what got us into trouble to begin with, right?

"Thanks, Officer Dick." Oh fuck.

Officer Dick did not love that one. Officer Dick does not like Dick jokes at 6:45 in the evening, as it turns out. He also does not like Dick jokes from someone that he has already decided that he simply does not like. Who knew?

Officer Dick promptly introduced me to the back seat of his police cruiser and showed me exactly how securely the doors shut. He then stormed off and had a very animated conversation with Officer Stan. I couldn't hear much, but my limited ability to translate body language told me that all of his arm waving and pointing told me that Officer Dick was either angry at me or under vicious attack by invisible bees.

Fifteen minutes have now elapsed since this whole ordeal began. My mind runs through a quick recap of everything so far, taking stock of the whole situation to file for review later.

1. Pulled over.
2. Drug joke.
3. Officer Dick
4. Back of police car.
5. Invisible bees.

Got it. Super helpful, Casey's brain. As always.

I'd say roughly two minutes of animated conversation take place between the officers before Officer Stan saunters over wearing an expression that tells me he is either hiding some kind of amusement or he's trying to figure out what the hell kind of human would put himself into this situation willingly and why. Or maybe both.

"Son, with all that's happened here tonight, did you refer to my colleague as, and I quote, "Officer Dick"?, Stan asks of me.

"Yes, sir." Good. Honesty. Should have tried that to begin with, huh?

"Why would you do that?" Stan stares at me, remarkably composed.

"His name is Richard. A common way to shorten Richard is Dick." Okay, great save. Completely reasonable. No way that backfires. "Also he's a Dick." Fuck. I need a new brain conductor.

And that does poor Officer Stan in. His composure snaps like a twig and he barks out a laugh. To his credit, he still manages to get the cruiser door open and let me out, much to my surprise. Tentatively, like a baby deer, I exit the police car and stand there awkwardly while Officer Stan regains his composure and Officer Dick fumes next to the other police cruiser a few yards away.

"Get out of here, son. Go on home," Officer Stan tells me, smirking. "I'll handle Officer Dick." And with a wink, he urges me towards my car. I may be dense, but I can take a hint. I casually walked back to my car, trying not to sprint like a startled bunny, and very slowly got the hell out of there. The drive home was uneventful.

I've been told that I should always take a lesson away from events in my life if possible. So what did I learn from this?

1. When a cop asks if you have been drinking or if you have illegal drugs, the answer is a firm and resounding NO SIR. Seriously. They hold all the cards, don't give them a reason.
2. When dealing with police in an already tense situation, DO NOT further escalate the situation with smartassery. Take it from me, this is a bad idea.
3. And finally - if your name is Richard, maybe try not to be a Dick. It just ends up giving everyone a headache.

I would like to leave this with a firm salute to Officer Richard: A cop so desperate to be a hard-ass that he just ended up being a Dick.

Acknowledgments

For the past two decades or so, I've been told to write a book on my life. I've been told that I have lived a life so absurdly unlucky that it has toppled over into comical. I have resisted that idea for as long as I can remember for various reasons, some of which are more reasonable than others and some of which are simply procrastination, anxiety, and fear of failure. All of the usual reasons. Recently I find that I have time on my hands that I need to fill, so I have opted for a compromise. To everyone who told me to write a book, I instead offer you chapters and short stories written and published in no particular order. Maybe someday I'll cobble them together into something more substantial.

Until then, enjoy my life's disasters - one Random Piece at a time.

-CJF