I’m not a career cop, nor a natural warrior. But cops have always been among my heroes. Looking at the downside of fifty, it seemed time was running out. More than two decades of social service philanthropy (the majority as CEO) in three distinct cities had left me feeling restless and out of touch. Instead of trying to effect community-wide change, I thought maybe I could be more effective—more useful—to a few neighborhoods, even to just a few families or individuals at a time. I wanted to make a more tangible difference, in a more hands-on way. Not many jobs are more hands-on than policing. It seemed like a good idea at the time. It still does.
The names, nicknames, and aliases of all those portrayed in this book—police, suspects, arrestees, witnesses, informants, victims, public defenders, prosecutors, magistrates, and judges—have been changed, with the exceptions of Officer Steven Green and Lawrence Wallace, Jr. (both deceased, and a matter of public record), my immediate family, me, and good ol’ Ernie.
All events herein are from my own first-hand experience. My memory of them is supported by my dispatch notes, case files, official reports and narratives, conversations with others at the scene, and, in a few cases, news accounts.
Spoken words are necessarily recreated as closely as memory allows. In the absence of recorded transcripts, every effort has been made to convey the essential truth—the intention, inflection, and meaning—of the speaker and the words spoken. This includes colloquialisms, slang, and dialect, sometimes requiring improper grammar, profanity, and phonetic spellings. Some of the slang is racially unique, some is just southern. Mobile’s population is roughly half African American, half Caucasian, but my police beats were in primarily African American neighborhoods. I wrote the way the people in those neighborhoods talk. It’s not exaggerated or distorted. It’s different from the way people talk in Denver, Milwaukee, or St. Louis. In fact, understanding the local black dialect was a significant challenge in my early days as a cop. I had to ask people to repeat themselves multiple times, sometimes needing them to spell out what they were saying. I even had to do this on the air with police radio dispatchers—and this after having lived in Mobile for seven years. It’s a thick accent, a dense and colorful jargon, and it takes a while to fully comprehend.
At several points in my story, I use strong terms to refer to people encountered on the job. Some may take offense at words like “feral” or “savages.” I make no apology. Words mean things, and the people I refer to match the meanings of the words, and it has nothing to do with race or class and I don’t speak for all cops, anyway.
I have met cops from all over the U.S. and from a dozen foreign countries, and have found an uncommon commonality between us, stemming from the unique perspective and shared experience that the work bestows upon us. It’s scary, disturbing, dangerous work, mostly a plodding grind, occasionally thrilling, usually for scandalously low pay, but offering unsurpassed rewards. It’s the best job I ever had.