Bad Luck Cadet (9 page)

My last scenario on Friday was with simulated
weapons (SIMs). A small group of us were waiting outside the
driver’s track building and we were able to pick partners. Rocco
was in the group so we partnered up. When our turn came we geared
up with head, chest and groin protection. I could barely breathe in
my face mask. We were also handed SIMs guns with rubber bullets.
These guns fire and launch a rubber bullet and leave a colored
chalk mark on what they shoot. We were warned it would be painful
if we took a hit.

When it was our turn, we walked to the front
of the building, and were told to enter the abandoned building to
search for a trespassing vagrant. Rocco and I began the search. The
building was dark and we used our flashlights. We had our guns
drawn, looking and listening, although all I could hear was my
loud, too fast breathing. We searched room by room. There was a
small closet and Rocco opened the door as I peered inside. My gun
came up and I began shouting commands. There was a man standing
inside, next to a water heater. He had his weaponless hands,
visibly crossed, in front of him. He put his hands up and complied
as we talked him out of the closet. The scenario was over and so
were the practical tests.

Rocco and I went back to the classroom and it
took about an hour for everyone else to finish up. We were all
telling each other which tests we had passed and failed. Everyone
made mistakes. We were all upset over the pop gun incident and no
one felt as if they’d aced it. Donna had not returned and I didn’t
find out how she did until we were released, she came into the
classroom and sat down right before our scolding
started.

Sgt. Dickens came into the room after we were
all assembled. He was pissed off and stated there were forty three
guns missed in searches. He asked everyone that missed a gun to
stand up. Everyone stood. Some cadets missed more than one. We were
given forty three hill runs to be completed the following
Monday.

Sgt. Dickens also told us two cadets shot an
unarmed man and these two cadets needed to consider if police work
was right for them. He told us in real life the two “officers”
would not only lose their police certifications but would be
prosecuted for homicide.

The judges next reviewed specific scenarios
and we were praised on how we handled ourselves throughout the two
days. We were told to be proud of the job we had done. This was
hard due to the angry look on Sgt. Dickens’ face.

Donna and another cadet were called to the
Sergeant’s office when we were given permission to leave for the
weekend. I waited for Donna before taking off. She was crying when
she entered the room.

She told me she shot the unarmed man in the
closet with her SIMs gun. Sgt. Dickens told both cadets they needed
to think long and hard over the weekend about being police
officers. I consoled her and said Sgt. Dickens was an ass. We both
packed our laundry and took off for our homes.

Donna called me that weekend and told me she
was not returning. She was sorry to leave me alone, but she could
not take it anymore. The thought of being prosecuted for homicide
was more than she could handle and her mind was set.

My son also announced he had taken a job in
Phoenix and would be moving out in two weeks. He barely spoke to me
and refused to ask about the academy. I loved him dearly but his
attitude hurt. I didn’t know if he would ever see me as my own
person and not just his mother. My daughters were both proud of me.
Letty, my oldest had announced her wedding date a few weeks
earlier. She already had an apartment of her own. Cassie, the
youngest, was doing well in her first semester of college. She had
left for Tucson when I left for the academy.

With Roger moving out, my house would finally
have just my husband and me under the roof. In some ways this was a
blessing but it was sad as well. My husband would be alone during
my last nine weeks at the academy. I worried about him. He said he
would survive but was counting the days until my
graduation.

Driving back to the academy that
Sunday was hard, and I had a heavy heart. My friend would not be
there waiting for me. I cried for her and myself. I realized
becoming a police officer was about inner strength. I made the
drive slowly not wanting to face my empty dorm room. I still had
Rocco and I was determined he would pass POPAT. I was not
graduating without him and I, planned on graduating.

Chapter 16 No Jerking Off On My
Range

Returning to my dorm room on Sunday evening
was depressing. All signs of Donna were gone. I went in search of
moral support. Rocco hadn’t arrived yet. Cadet Rodriguez, known as
P-Rod was looking a lot worse for wear. Philip Rodriguez is the
cadet who ran my ten punishment hill runs with me and it was hard
to be down when around him. He’s one of those “Life is wonderful
people.” I think I was one of those people before the academy, but
the stress was wearing me down. It never seemed to bother P-Rod and
I felt lucky to run into him.

He said he got extremely drunk on Saturday
night in celebration of his twenty-first birthday and lost his
virginity. He was a good looking, hardworking guy. He told me he
thought he was in love with the lucky girl. I was impressed he’d
held out until he was twenty one.

I told Rodriguez about Donna not returning. He
told me he had seen my determination that first week at the academy
and never doubted I would make it. He said he never saw the same
resolve in Donna. And when she wrote the famous memo about our
Sergeant bothering us during classroom time, he was surprised she
hadn’t quit then. He said she didn’t have the nerves to handle the
job.

Hangover or not, this young man was wise
beyond his years. I would miss Donna terribly, but I was learning
daily this job was not for everyone. The other cadet (besides
Donna) who shot his SIMs gun at an unarmed man returned to the
academy. His department would be informed of his faulty judgment
call but they would allow him to remain. We had now survived half
our training and were down to twenty-six cadets.

Monday we were given our department issue duty
weapons minus bullets. These had been kept in the classroom vault.
We double checked everyone’s guns, including instructors, to make
sure none were loaded. For me, even this small step with guns was
huge. I had never owned a gun in my life. Going out with Sergeant
Spears, before coming to the academy, was the full extent of my
firearm handling experience.

We spent the day in the classroom learning
about our weapons and “dry firing.” This is aiming at a target and
pulling the trigger with no bullets in the gun. Different videos
were played on the front classroom screen to simulate shooting
scenarios. We would shoot our guns at the front screen when
appropriate. At the end of the day we were taught to dismantle and
clean our weapons. They were then returned to the vault.

We were divided into two groups. Group one
would head to the range the next day while group two would stay and
have class lecture. I was in the second group. We would alternate
activities and days so that each group went to the range twice a
week. Range days would start after physical training or defensive
tactics and go until evening.

It seemed odd on Tuesday with half the class
missing, but it was also very stress free. I was saving my panic
for the following day at the range.

Wednesday morning we headed to the range and
were issued our weapons and ammunition. Our guns and two extra
magazines were loaded. Range rules were drilled into us. If we
deviated from a single rule we would be asked to leave permanently.
The old, “You will be sent home” mantra was back in
force.

There were four range instructors for thirteen
of us. The instructor assigned to me was becoming frustrated. And
so was I but couldn’t help it. I was not a very good shot. And I
was worried that shooting would be the death of my academy
experience and my police career.

Lieutenant Hurd was head instructor in charge
of firearms training. He stayed mostly on the opposite end of the
range. At the end of the day Lt. Hurd pulled me aside and asked how
I did.

“With all due respect sir," I said, "I
sucked.”

“You don’t suck and believe me I would rather
have a new shooter than someone that is unwilling to learn the
proper way of handling a gun. I can mold you into someone that is
confident and smart with their firearm.”

I was having difficulty with his assurance.
“Honestly I think my biggest problem is being afraid of guns. I
don’t like them.”

Lieutenant Hurd laughed and said, “We have a
lot in common. I still have a very healthy respect for guns and I’m
not a gun fanatic like many officers. I wasn’t raised with guns. In
the long run you and I have less chance of having an accidental
discharge of our weapons. We always respect them. A little fear is
a good thing. Always keep in mind that guns are made to kill. They
really have no other use.”

“But if I suck so badly and can’t hit the
target, I don’t know what good it will do being armed out on the
street. I may be able to hit a vehicle or the broad side of a barn
door but that’s about it.”

He laughed again and told me he would help my
group come Friday. He said he would fix my problems and not to
worry about it. I felt better but continued having concerns. My
fear didn’t seem to affect Lt. Hurd at all. I would try keeping his
lack of worry in the back of my mind and think positive thoughts.
Yeah right.

On Friday we began with a practice shoot and
then were told we would start learning our qualify drills. The
instructor from Tuesday stayed clear of me. He was a stereotypical
healthy, in excellent shape, clean cut, bigoted cop; the stereotype
that had clearly defined ideals of cop material. And I didn't fit
it. My very presence seemed to annoy him and his "type"
endlessly.

Lt. Hurd finally came over as promised. He
stood beside me and said I needed to relax as I was shooting. He
told me I was jerking off. Was he kidding? Before I could decide to
be offended, he explained I was anticipating my shots and jerking
my gun. He smiled and said he did not allow jerking off on his
range. I smiled and relaxed some.

He asked for my pistol and then asked me to
turn around. I did as instructed. After a moment he handed my gun
back and told me to face my target again. He instructed me to fire
one bullet. I fired. My shot went wide. He told me to fire again. I
did. This time the only thing that happened was my hand and gun
jerked up but no bullet exited the barrel. I was jerking my hand in
anticipation of the gun firing. This was my problem. He had put
blanks in my gun to show me. I fired again but didn’t jerk. I hit
the target and then hit the target again. The next shot was a
blank. My gun did not jerk.

Now that I knew what I was doing wrong and
why, I began to improve. Whenever I would forget his lesson and my
hand jerked, I would hear him shout, “Ivy, you’re jerking off on my
range again.” It would put me back on target and keep me
smiling.

Rocco (nickname, The Rock) was a good shooter
and we both began enjoying our time on the range. Again, I learned
why we did so many pushups. We shot over six hundred rounds every
time we went to the shooting field.

The weeks flew by and we were finally at week
four, time for our firearm qualifiers. I was improving and
consecutively shooting in the 240’s. We needed a 210 to pass with a
250 being a perfect score. Several of the cadets shot 250’s on a
regular basis. I passed the day qualify with no problems and was
feeling proud of myself. Friday night we would return to the range
for our night qualify.

On the day between our qualifiers, we had a
lesson in traffic control. It began with a twenty-minute classroom
lecture about hand signals. We were then bussed to a major
intersection in the city. The traffic lights were turned off along
with the crosswalk signals. One by one we were thrown into the
street with a traffic vest and a whistle.

Talk about on the job training. The saving
graces were the signs posted saying, “Police Training in
Progress.”

Each Cadet directed traffic for ten minutes.
It took the first five minutes to learn the ropes while traffic
backed up. The next five minutes were actually fun. I think a
little control created a small monster in most of us. It was
comical. Some driver’s just tried to ignore us while others shouted
obscenities or laughed out their windows.

I waved cars forward and stopped them at my
leisure. A pedestrian dared to cross before I gave him permission.
I told him to get his ass back to the curb and I made him stand for
an extra minute before giving him the go ahead. He complied which
was a smart move on his part. If not, I may have taken out my
rubber gun and said, “Bang bang.”

We had a few near misses but overall it was a
great experience. I always appreciate those comical officers on
television that make directing traffic an art form. I was not one
of them. But I did get the job done.

After lunch on Friday we headed to the range.
There were different scenarios set up and while we waited for the
sun to go down we did a lot of tactical shooting, which is running
across the range and shooting at different targets.