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Randy Sutton

Randy Sutton is a 33-year law enforcement veteran, a trainer, and the national spokesman for The American Council on Public Safety. He served 10 years with the Princeton (N.J.) Police Department and 23 years with the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department, retiring at the rank of lieutenant. He is an author who has published multiple books on law enforcement.

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Patrol

If You Can Read This...Please Don't

A few readers of the earlier blog post, "Taking Down One of Our Own," may have missed my meaning.

February 14, 2012  |  by - Also by this author

Really. Because it's not intended for you. No, this little love letter is meant for someone else. OK, for a couple of people, actually.

If that's the case, then why the hell put it in here? Because, this is where it all begins. How so?

Well, a couple of weeks ago I blogged about the attempted arrest of a Santa Maria (Calif.) Police officer that resulted in his shooting death. I'd like to think that a vast majority of the few thousand—we keep a running tally—who read the piece at least understood where I was coming from even if they didn't always agree with me about the merits of its discussion. Some tactfully communicated as much.

However, if I were to extrapolate anything from the ratio of replies reflecting a sober and lucid understanding of the blog to those whose reflecting a categorical and willful misreading of same, it would be that some background investigators have been a little overzealous in screening out potential Mensans.

But that would be just as imaginative and just as wrong for me as it was for those whose comprehension skills led them to similarly ill-founded conclusions.

Still, I was a little...miffed.

Realizing that I shouldn't personalize the matter, I took a deep breath and a step back. Put yourself in their shoes, I told myself, then proceed accordingly. To further hedge my bet, I decided to wait a couple of weeks so as to tender a calm, measured and reasonable response to those few reading-impaired individuals. So here it goes:

"LOOK, YOU DUMBASSES, THE COLUMN WAS ADDRESSING OFFICER SAFETY ISSUES AS THEY RELATE TO DEALING WITH ARMED MEN AND WOMEN IN OUR RANKS!!!"

Sorry. Was channeling a nimrod in question—one who is seemingly addicted to the font equivalent of shouting.

Theoretically, that should be enough. But then my obvious concerns should not have required any embellishment or elaboration in the first place, and since the imaginations of these few numb skulls know no limits—"I WAS NOT SAYING DON'T ARREST COPS"—I will retreat to an example of a similar situation.

Recently, LAPD detectives were in the process of wrapping up an investigation of one of their own, Det. Stephanie Lazurus, in connection to the decades old murder of Sherri Rasmussen. When it came time to speak with Det. Lazurus, the investigators asked her to come to an interview room to assist in an interrogation. There was no one in the room save for another detective and the only person to be interviewed was Lazurus herself. They had created the pretext knowing that she would be obligated to secure her firearm prior to entering the room.

Re-read that last sentence. The one in the immediately preceding paragraph. The one that is italicized (i.e, it runs in a right-ward slant; "i.e." = "that is"...*sigh*; *sigh* = exhalation of breath borne of frustration, etc.).

Now, if you can't understand the motivation for their charade, then you're a damn Darwin Award candidate, I can't help you, and I sure as hell wouldn't want to be riding in the same car with you (God help the poor bastard that does). Still, and this is very much in the spirit of wanting to illuminate the unilluminatable, I will humor you by spelling out the otherwise obvious reason for their subterfuge:

Because, boys and girls, she just might have tried to shoot their asses, otherwise!

I know that I'm wasting my breath herein on more than sighs as this is the same demographic that actually reads aloud those "gullible" signs and are disappointed in the results. The one's that look around the poker table and can't find the sucker.

Still, I feel somewhat better now.

Happy Valentine's Day.


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