Beat Partners

By Mike Simmons

It was in the summer of 1987. Like many other long midnight shifts, I was out of my car on foot, checking buildings. The practice isn’t done as much today, but 35 years ago, it was common. When things quieted down, Pensacola Police patrol officers were supposed to check their buildings for burglaries – or burglars. And it often paid off. I have caught a few myself. Besides, it kept me from sliding into a state of semi-consciousness…known as sleep.

I was working Beat 10, the westernmost beat in the city. Along Cervantes Street, on the north and south side, were a row of buildings that lined the main street. At the west end of the alleyway was the parking lot of Oscar’s Restaurant, where Officer David Lee jumped Ted Bundy for the last time. Bundy never saw freedom again. Sorry, I’m chasing rabbits.

Behind each row was a sort of alleyway used mostly by business owners. It was also a haven for burglars to ply their trade without being visible to traffic. That is where I was conducting foot patrol at around 2:00 AM that summer morning.

If you have ever been out at night like that, you understand. There is a quietness, a stillness that exists. I used to thoroughly enjoy the time by myself, not being rushed, and protecting my beat. Oftentimes, it is very, very quiet, and you can hear the slightest noise from a great distance.

With my trusty C-Cell Maglite, I was shining a beam onto the backs of the buildings and in the nooks and crannies that made up the line of businesses. I made a habit of stepping as quietly as possible, so burglars couldn’t hear me coming.

As I entered the alleyway on the South side of Cervantes between “U” and “V” Streets, I hadn’t gone more than 20 feet when I heard it. It was not loud, and…indistinct. But it was there. A noise, kinda like someone moving around behind a store. I took a step back and called for backup. The officer who works next to me, Chris Huffman, radioed that he was on his way. I knew he would be.

Slowly, I inched closer. In the stillness of the night, I heard it again. Something is definitely there – just around the corner of that outdoor storage room, I said to myself. Whoever it was hadn’t heard me. They didn’t know I was coming, or at least that is what I thought. Honestly, they could have been waiting to ambush me.

I knew that, if I was ambushed, my partner would be there beside me in a matter of minutes, ready to help with…whatever. It was a good feeling, to know that another officer (or two or three) were within moments, coming with everything they had to help me.

There was a pile of junk between me and the doorway where I heard the noise. Quietly, I began to slowly make my way around the junk pile. My heart was beating so loudly now that I felt it would jump out of my body. Either I was about to make an arrest of a burglary in progress, find myself in the middle of a fight, or…

Suddenly, not two feet from me, a black cat jumped out of the junk pile and shot off across the alleyway. When the cat jumped, I jumped, my heart jumped, and my hand jumped to my gun. In a flash he (or she) was gone. I looked around for security reasons (not to see if anyone was watching) but didn’t see anyone. I took a second to catch my breath – and my heart. Then I took stock.

Okay…no one had seen me, I hadn’t wet my pants, I hadn’t fired my gun, and no harm was done. I was okay. Then I heard on the radio that my partner was arriving. Uh oh, I thought to myself. He is expecting to catch me with a burglar. What do I do?

I got on the radio and called. “Unit 232, 10-40 219.”

He answered in an excited voice, “219, go ahead. Where do you need me?” I didn’t need him anywhere. This was embarrassing.

I came back on the radio. “232 to 219, uh, I, uh. I have cleared the building. It’s okay. The owner must have left it unlocked.”

He responded, “10-4. Headquarters, I’m 10-8 (available).”

He walked around to the back. “Everything okay?” he said nonchalantly.

I cleared my throat and, in my most masculine, tough-guy voice, I said, “Oh, sure. Nothing to it.”

He shrugged his shoulders, said okay, and left. I passed the test. I never told him that story – not until today, if he reads this.

My point is not being a “scaredy-cat” (ha ha), but it is the close bond that police officers have with each other. On many occasions, Chris and I faced obstacles together. We were one young, small part of a shift that was a small part of a division that was part of a department in a small city. Not much, but we were important to each other. We knew that we could rely on each other to be there, no questions asked.

Police officers – probably all first responders and military members – go through significant, life-threatening risks. They form bonds like no one else. When you are that officer, there is an assurance in knowing – not hoping, but knowing – that that officer will be there and has your back, no matter the odds. If you and a violator are standing toe-to-toe and your partner arrives, you are positive that the count is now 2-1. If you are facing a 10-person angry group and your partner arrives, you are positive the count is now 2-10. You also know that, if you get whipped by that angry crowd and are lying on the ground bleeding after they leave, your partner will be lying on the ground bleeding right beside you.

When I talk to new officers in the law enforcement and corrections academies about this, I explain it this way. “You might have different political, social, or religious views. You might not even agree with the actions the officer took, but unless that officer is physically abusing someone, get in there and put the cuffs on the guy. You can investigate later.”

I ask them, “If you get jumped by one or a bunch of people (and it will happen), and you call for help, do you want someone to arrive, walk up to you, and ask you and those who are beating you to explain what happened, so they can decide if they are going to help you or not? No! Take care of business, make everything safe, and then talk.

Whether you call it a beat partner, zone officer, district partner, or simply a “partner,” be there.