Cop story: My first intervention


On 07.07.2010. someone started a blog titled "Police stories". Unknown author published his stories under a pen name "Good blogger". In less than a year he wrote multiple stories portraying police life in his country.

Then suddenly, without explanation he disappeared. Last post he published was a short one. "Because of personal problems, this week's story has been skipped. I hope the situation will be resolved by the next week. Greetings!"

What happened to him and why did he stop writing his blog was never revealed.

This is a first story he published.

I’ll start this adventure with my first intervention. It is not something, but it will show my inexperience. I was put in a pedestrian patrol with a colleague who worked for 15 years in the police (he was about 40 years old – a war cop), and he has “earned the rank of a slacker and an alcoholic”. From early morning we went around liquor stores so he could “collect information”.

That’s exactly what he has said to me, and when he told me that, at first, this kind of tactic seemed interesting to me, but I soon found out that he only collected beer bottles. After a while, we had a call that neighbors in a building nearby were arguing and fighting. The excitement I felt after the call can not be described. And I can not describe nor fear. My first fear was fear of my own inexperience, and immediately then I felt the fear of how my colleague would solve the situation, since he has drank more alcohol before breakfast, than I drink on the weekend when I go out.

When we arrived at the address we found two couples in their early forties on the corridor of the building. They were standing in the corridor and screaming at each other, and one man was holding a hammer in his hand.

They had scratched hands and bloody t-shirts. I immediately imagined how I would pull out the baton and begin to strike – I was just waiting for the colleague to begin.

And he remained calm, stood beside them, greeted them (as we came to visit the president) and asked for their personal IDs.

They all turned to him and everyone started to talk at the same and explaining what was going on. He told them to calm down, and then asked them again for their ID cards.

After they continued to quarrel, speaking at loud and just ignoring him, he greeted them politely (with a smile on the lips), turned to me, and told us to get out.

I almost fainted in astonishment.

I thought he was crazy, but as I had no choice, we got out of the building and headed off on the street.

People who were arguing just a moment before suddenly stopped, and they came out on the street looking for us. They couldn’t believe it either.

They ran after us, and one of them was calling us, saying something like “Forgive me, sir!”. When he said that, my colleague turned around, returned to them, greeted them again and for the third time asked for personal IDs.

This time, everyone showed their IDs, and peacefully, one by one, told what had happened.

Anyways, one of them wanted to set up a new mailbox, which annoyed the other (for an indefinite reason), so they started to argue. Soon, their wives joined.

As they couldn’t resolve their argument with screaming, they slapping and scratching each other. The slapping stopped when one of them took the hammer, but they continued to scream at each other until we arrived.

The colleague instructed them to deal the matter with the tenant’s representative and warned them not to argue and beat each other, saying that they will be arrested if we had to come back again.

After that, he greeted them again, and we left the building.

He reported to the boss that tenants were arguing over personal problems, and that there was no fighting, thus no business for us. He also wrote that in the report. I was stunned. Not only this was a clear example of disturbance of public order and peace, but people were also injured. And we did nothing. We just filed a report and left (back to the liquor store). Fuck the police…

After a couple of years I became the leader of patrols units in this area.

With these two couples I had over twenty interventions over the years.

Each time the same fight, just a different reason: painting the apartment, painting the corridor, leaving flowers on the corridor, leaving the bicycle on the stairs tied to the fence, loud television watching … I saw them more than my own parents.

How did I handle these interventions?

For the first couple of times I’ve been arresting them and led them to a misdemeanor judge. As they were welfare dependent, they received symbolic fines or parole sentences.

I did not solve the problem.

Later, I tried slapping them, and sending them off to their apartments to cool down. That day would be peaceful, but the next…. This tactic just led to them not wanting to open the door when I came for the intervention.

I did not solve the problem.

Now, when they have a dispute and the police is called, I just came over, talk to them, wait for them to calm down a bit, file a report, and I go my way.

Did I solve the problem?

Of course not, but I stopped getting upset over it.

I realized that this was some sort of their ritual, and that I had a certain job in all of this. My job was that of a party pooper.

It was hard for me to accept it at first, but I realised that I had other interventions where I could do something, and I accepted this ongoing drama with thwese people as a necessarily evil.

I also learned to respect my colleague. He also once had a “glow”, but the job has worn him out, and he solved everything with alcohol.

As incredible as it sounds, but this has not make him a worse man or a cop.

I know it’s hard to believe, but there will be more words about him.

This story is translated from HERE

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