Officer Smith wonders why drivers act hinky during stops:
The Officer Followed me for Like Eight Blocks Before He Stopped me…
[In traffic court, drivers] bring up the fact that I didn’t stop them until we were eight blocks away from where I said they committed the violation.Why do people think this matters? Is there some publicly accepted rule that a police officer must stop you within a block of where you committed the violation? Do people really think there is something wrong with me not immediately stopping them?
When I explain that I had to put the radar down, pull into traffic and CATCH UP TO THEM first (four blocks), then I ran their license plate on my computer (another block or two), and THEN I found a SAFE place to stop them without blocking up the whole roadway, they still want to know why it took so long.
I guess I just don’t understand why people think this is going to suddenly make them not guilty…
I responded, a bit intemperately, perhaps, to explain why drivers do weird things during stops. (“Intemperate” because Officer Smith is talking about court, not the roadside, and no question, this is a dumb argument to bring up in court. But I believe that this thinking starts at the roadside, and builds in the minds of self-defenders until they think they should use it in court.)
Below is my response in full.
Every once in awhile, you or one of the other cop bloggers I read asks a question like this: Why do drivers say such stupid stuff? Are they all crazy? Are they all on drugs? Do they think we’re all stupid or corrupt?
I’m going to give you part of the answer. Mind, I’m not trying to get out of a ticket here, or to excuse recklessness, much less lawlessness. I’m just trying to explain, because you asked.
Have you been driving behind the badge for so long you’ve forgotten how nerve wracking it is to be followed by a police car?
Do you not remember that all of us have been followed by cops dozens of times in our lives? For you, it’s nothing. You’re not following anybody. You’re just getting to wherever it is you’re going, and in traffic, you have to be behind somebody, right? But for us, it’s blocks of sweating anxiety. Usually, almost always, you eventually pass us or turn off. Occasionally, the lights and sirens go on, and we piss our pants, cuss, pull over, wonder what we did wrong — and you drive past us to whatever call you just got.
Whenever these little things happen, we worry that we will do something wrong out of sheer nervousness. We all breath an enormous sigh of relief when you pass us or turn off. I’ve pulled into parking lots just to make sure you’re not following me. (And then there’s the times when I’ve wondered if I should turn in at my actual destination. Will that look suspicious if I really am being followed?) When we get there, we tell our friends and family about it, wonder what the hell it was all about, and hear their stories.
Very, very rarely, you are in fact pulling us over. We shit our pants, and think, No! Really? You actually stopped little ol’ me this time? What the hell did I do eight blocks ago?
Get it? We’re incredulous because usually when you follow us, you’re not following us.
Then there are the truly scary incidents.
I picked up a tail late one night on my way home from work. The squad car stopped alongside me at a light, waited for me to go through on green, then followed me through several turns for a lot more than eight blocks. The officers followed me up onto the freeway, immediately took the next exit, paced me on the service road, came back up behind me at the next access, followed me for two more exits, then got off and didn’t come back. No lights, no siren, and absolutely no clue on my part, then or now, what the hell that was about. I have to think they were trying to panic me into making a mistake.)
Ask my Mom about being followed for miles along a dark, lonely country road by a squad car that had picked her up, with no lights or siren, as she left work at the hospital. When she got home and parked in the attached garage, shaking and nearly weeping with fear, she watched as the car PULLED INTO OUR CIRCLE DRIVE, TURNED ITS HEADLIGHTS OFF, AND JUST SAT THERE, for about a quarter hour. Meanwhile, we were all cowering in the basement, convinced we were about to experience a home invasion launched from a hijacked squad car. Dad called the sheriff’s department, and was eventually told that a deputy had been concerned (for some reason that we were never told) about a middle-aged nurse driving home alone late at night (as she did every damn work night just fine, thank you). Nothing to worry about, folks. It’s for your protection. A few minutes later, the car drove off, the officers inside having not even bothered to knock on the door and apologize or explain personally. That was decades ago, and Mom is still angry and deeply offended by it all. It’s one of her regular stories.
(Good thing Dad’s a pacifist priest who doesn’t believe in the Second Amendment as strongly as he believes in the First, huh?)
The point is, most everybody I know has stories like these, and I run in reasonably law-abiding, working and professional middle class circles. I had a boss tell me his stories once. He’s friends with his cop brother-in-law, has gone on ride-alongs, and still worries when he’s being followed.
Do you truly not remember what these things are like for the unbadged? Particularly those of us for whom police contact is very out-of-the-ordinary, because we really do try to follow the law as far as we know it?
We haven’t been trained. We have no experience. (Although a few of us have heard that if we do act according to the script, that itself brings us under suspicion. No honest citizen should know exactly how to act around cops. God forbid we should actually refuse to incriminate ourselves, or refuse consent to search in lieu of a warrant or probable cause. Um, which side has taken the oath to uphold the Constitution?) We don’t know how the stop will turn out. We’re furious with ourselves for being heavy-footed, if we even know what’s wrong. (I’ve been stopped about five times in my life, twice without any idea why: once for no tail lights on a work truck, once because the officer transposed month and year on my inspection sticker. That’s 40% honest confusion. Should I mention the news story a few years ago about the PD that thought it would be fun to stop good drivers and give them Thanksgiving turkeys?) We’re nervous as all bloody hell, most of us, because what we do know is that our lives just got a lot more complex and likely a lot more expensive, and that for the duration of the stop, we are no longer remotely in control.
What we do know is that if we make any mistake at all, or if we just picked a cop having a bad day, we can end up tazed, beaten, and jailed, or even dead. Sure, I’m willing to believe you’re perfect, BtB, but how do I know it’s you, any more than you know I’m not a heavily armed gangster?
And you wonder why we act so oddly? Why we say crazy stuff? Why we’re just a little tense? A bit testy?
Has it been that long?