Stress of the Job

This is a continuation of a series of articles regarding the different types of stressors that officers face daily, in their personal and professional lives from a personal point of view.

by Dave Robbins, retired Metro Officer

Returning to riding the motorcycle after my first accident was harrowing, to say the least.  I was always on edge.  Every revving engine, screeching tires and passing vehicle raised the hairs on my neck.  I was constantly looking in my mirrors and panning the horizon.  I didn’t want to be on the roadway.  I never finished my motorcycle field training before the accident. 

I had my doubts.

I went to accident scenes and tried to make heads or tails of the evidence presented to me. 

It took a long while before I felt somewhat comfortable riding.  You never feel comfortable after being involved in an accident.

My first exposure to a fatal accident investigation was near the Charleston underpass, by the “Holsum” Bread Company.  My supervisor had already arrived and began walking me through the scene, describing skid marks, the dog who had been hit, the end position of the vehicle and the dead person (He was outside the vehicle) with the top half of his head missing and the brain lying in the gutter.  After my amazement of the brain’s position and lack of apparent damage, I tried to recreate the pre and post-accident events.  Very confusing.  Even the officers on scene were having a difficult time deciphering what had happened.

The traffic Fatal Detail arrived a short time later and after a brief walk-through, described what had happened.

The dead person was the driver of the vehicle.  He was not belted in.  The impact into the guardrail, spun his vehicle, which caused his body to be partially ejected, but his leg was hung up in the window.  His body was flung into the front of the windshield and his head hit the windshield wiper just right, causing his skull to pop open and eject his brain which rolled down the embankment and into the gutter.  The dog (still alive, but with a broken leg) was a stray that just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After attending a few of these scenes with senior motor officers, I felt comfortable with my accident investigations and even became interested in the dynamics of a vehicle accident.

For example;

A person with metal piercings/jewelry in their face will almost certainly receive “interesting” injuries when they fail to wear the seat belt and their face impacts the windshield, or if the airbag deploys and the metal snags in the material of the airbag.  Flaps of skin are peeled back, requiring many stitches.

If a human skull hits a corner of a vehicle, it will pop open and launch the brain.

Drivers and passengers not wearing their seat belts that are ejected from the vehicle during the accident don’t always survive and sometimes are crushed by the same vehicle they were just in.

If someone fails to properly store objects in the trunk or outside of the passenger area of the vehicle, the objects become missiles when the vehicle is involved in an accident.  In many cases, those objects were responsible for the deaths of the occupant(s).

Sometimes, a person that is literally run over by a vehicle will survive their injuries.  One of my investigations involved a small child that was run over by a large SUV, over his chest area, causing a “hydraulic” effect, swelling his head to almost twice the normal size, and thankfully, the child survived.

Vehicles are now designed to crush and absorb the force of a collision, but able to keep the passengers relatively safe.  Unlike your first car, which was probably built completely of steel and hardly dented the bumper when you ran into something.

The front windshield is a laminate and will act as a “net” when something impacts into it while the side windows break into small pieces to avoid large shards of glass flying around and also allow the window to break if someone is trapped inside.

Part of our duties was to investigate employee’s on-duty accidents.  I found there was definitely a double standard.  Many supervisors, without knowing anything of accident investigation, would automatically accuse the employee to be at fault.  On many scenes, I would describe what had occurred, sometimes with witnesses help, and the supervisor would say, “So it’s our fault”.  I would explain it again to reiterate that it wasn’t and get the same response.  On many occasions I would ask if the supervisor would like to complete the accident report. 

Some accidents were the employee’s fault, with varying degrees of damage.  Some required citations to be issued by the supervisor, others did not meet the criteria by policy or statute for a citation, but some supervisors felt it was necessary to cite all employees.

After the accident, the employee was subjected to an “Accident Review Board” consisting of a board of department members to review the accident and the employee’s culpability and adjudicate administrative discipline, ranging from no punishment to hours of suspension.

Many ranking members of the department have “skated” from on-duty collisions without so much as a talking to.  One lieutenant rear ended a citizen while riding his police motorcycle, causing injuries and never received a citation.  I investigated a motor officer’s single vehicle accident consisting of striking a concrete barricade while responding to an officer’s request for assistance after being shot several times.  No damage to the barricade.  The bike was damaged, not beyond a few scrapes,  and the officer was injured slightly.  The supervisor arrived on scene and began writing a citation for “not maintaining a travel lane”.  I strongly questioned that decision.  The supervisor said he “had to”.  I told him that he didn’t and to look at the circumstances.

It was frustrating at best, not knowing if we were being backed up by the department and our decisions, based on law, were even being considered.

I then realized that our traffic substation was not even noted on the LVMPD website as a substation, even though we offered all the services of a substation.

OF course, our substation was considered a “dinosaur” by department standards.

To be continued…

Police Stress Pt 5

This is a continuation of a series of articles regarding the different types of stressors that officers face daily, in their personal and professional lives from a personal point of view.

After looking at other bureaus in the department, I finally settled on the Traffic Bureau.  I knew I could ride a motorcycle and write tickets.  How hard could it be?

I remember the impact on me of the motor officers escorting the funeral procession of Officer Marc Kahre in 1988 and how I thought how professional they looked riding in formation.

I put my transfer in and passed the preliminary riding test.  I hadn’t ridden a motorcycle for about 10-12 years, and needed some brief coaching on riding the provided motorcycle before the test (like; how to start it, push it, lift it, turn it, etc).

So after my transfer took effect and being on the department for 12 years, I was now a trainee motor officer. 

After an orientation in the briefing room, we were taken out to the “course” at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway.  The “course” was a series of coned patterns that we had to ride without knocking over the cones.

I felt the blood drain from my face and sweat began to ooze from my pores.  The courses looked impossible to negotiate.  The trainers assured us if we listened and practiced, that we would be able to pass the course without problems.

I still felt unsure. The trainers were extremely patient, attentive and made sure we were confident in completing the courses. 

As we got started, I was very appreciative that they showed us the proper way to pick up the motorcycle after it “fell” down. (insert motorcycle crash pix here)  We fell down a lot.  Several riders suffered various injuries, ranging from road rash to broken bones. Many motorcycles required “repairs”, either on site or needed to be trailered to the motor garage.

The final test was the “obstacle course”.  We had to complete the course a certain number of times, without errors (knocking over cones, leaving the pattern, “falling down”, etc).  We all passed.

Next step, learn how to investigate accidents.  We spent some classroom time learning how to calculate speed, stopping distances, know the difference between a “yaw” mark versus a “skid” mark, draw diagrams and other necessary procedures.

After all that, we had to spend some time with a training officer in the field, while we rode.

My particular training officer was an officer that I had initially trained when she came to work for Metro.  So the trainer was now the trainee.

One particular nice benefit of being a motor officer was that the bike was yours to take home.  No more getting to the station early, checking out a vehicle that may have been trashed by the previous officer, loading your equipment and paperwork into the vehicle, getting dressed in the locker room, every work day. Your vehicle was always ready and clean.  You knew the condition of it. And you dressed at home.

After getting ready at home, we logged on the air to our dispatchers and advised them we were enroute to the station for briefing.

Day 5 of my first week in traffic, I was riding to work and met up with another motor officer on the freeway.  He was riding his brand new Harley-Davidson with 500 miles on it.  I was riding one of the last few Kawasakis left on the department.

On US95, west of Rancho, a driver lost control of her vehicle and slid across the freeway, striking the center divider, blocking our path with her car.

I watched as the entire incident unfolded in front of me.

The part about your life flashing before your eyes?  It’s true.  My entire life, my loved ones, blurred before me.

Training kicked in.  I tried to brake without locking up the rear wheel.  Knowing I was going to hit the vehicle, I tried to go limp.

We both slid into the side of the car.  I was catapulted over the car, landing on my back on the fast lane of US 95.  I remember the crunch of the crash, but don’t remember anything else until I heard a female voice asking if I was okay.  I opened my eyes and looked up.  Several citizens had stopped and were looking down at me.  I then remembered that another officer was with me, hoping he had avoided the accident.  I asked about him.  No one answered. I then began taking “inventory” of my body parts.  I was aching.  I realized my left arm was broken.  I could move my legs, to my relief.  I broadcast on my portable radio (they worked pretty well back then) that 2 officers were down and gave our location.  I could hear sirens coming from all directions and that they all were getting closer.  Plainclothes officers, uniformed officers, paramedics, City fire all arrived on scene.  My training officer also arrived and asked how I was doing.  She had medical experience in the military. 

Now, as a motor officer, we do have a different uniform that we wear, including riding boots that we buy and alter for our comfort.  On average, we spent about $400.00 for these boots.  My training officer DID tell me to get zippers put in as it would make it easier to put them on and take them off. As a police officer, most of us wear bullet-resistant vests that cost upwards of $500.00.    Some of us had other custom fitted gear that we purchased ourselves.

The reason I bring this up is that paramedics have these very cool “scissors” that they love testing on different materials. Leather (boots and gloves), Kelvar (vests), etc.

My trainer asked if my back and legs were okay.  I told her “yes’ and moved my legs to show her.  She then began tugging at my boots, cursing at me because I had yet to put the zippers in.  The fire department paramedics arrived and began yelling at her for pulling on my boots.  She yelled back that I told her that my legs and back were okay.  The paramedic then walked over to me, grabbed my broken arm and shook it as if to console me and wondered why I was screaming.  My trainer then dropped the foot she was yanking on and almost punched the paramedic.

I was loaded up onto a gurney and an IV was started in my arm (I thought).  During a very bumpy, painful ride to UMC Trauma, I commented how uncomfortable I was.  They said, “Not to worry” as the pain meds would kick in. 

I was wheeled into the hospital and trauma team began cutting the rest of my clothing off and the doctor lifted my broken arm.  I again yelled out in pain.  Startled, he asked if I felt that.  Duh.  He checked my IV.  I was not receiving any of the meds due to the needle never accessing a vein.

I asked about the other officer involved.  Again I got limited info.

My family arrived and checked on me.  I was alive and functioning (for the most part) to their relief.

I was shown an x-ray of my arm, showing the clean break of my bone.  I then began to shiver uncontrollably.  They wheeled me out of the Trauma unit and down a hallway.  They told me I was going to surgery and “Good Night”.  I watched as they injected something into my IV line and that’s all I remember.

I woke up in the recovery room with my arm wrapped in about 10 pounds of gauze. 

They told me I was going home and after a brief recovery time, I was wheeled out in my gown, butt cheeks hanging out as I was loaded into a waiting car.

As we rode home, traveling west on Charleston, we noticed commotion around the intersection of Arville and Charleston, with numerous police running about and police crime scene tape blocking off the area.

I knew the area sergeant and called him as we passed. 

Macayo’s had been held up and a responding officer was shot in the face.

I forgot about my injuries and prayed for the officer.

To be continued…

How “EXTREME” do you ride?

How “EXTREME” do you ride?

Last Thursday, September 15^th, a motorcyclist conducting a “wheelie” on I-15 at 100 mph was killed after hitting the guardrail.

In June, a group of motorcyclists in Texas wanted to “honor” their fallen military comrades by conducting acts of extreme riding on a public highway while police watched (Again, policies dictated they could only watch and not chase).

I remember a horrific accident on Sahara, west of Decatur, approximately 2 years ago, involving a motorcyclist traveling at high speeds, while conducting a “wheelie” and colliding with a car, killing the rider instantly with gruesome results.

I observed, on several occasions, a motorcycle traveling northbound on highway 95, with the rider on the bike, backwards, traveling about 85 mph.  On other occasions, it appeared the same bike and rider were NB on the rear wheel at 85 mph.

I’ve been involved in several pursuits with motorcycles (at least when the police were allowed to chase bad guys), that ended up in the riders crashing  or just giving up.  All the pursuits were high speed, and thankfully for the intense training provided by LVMPD, I was able to keep my bike upright, while sometimes the other riders couldn’t.

One pursuit involved a “bulletbike” that I definitely couldn’t keep up with.  The rider ditched me in a neighborhood and by the time I approached the neighborhood, he had turned around and was headed the opposite way, but without a helmet this time.  Later, when he was caught trying to ditch his bike in a casino’s employee’s parking lot, I asked him what had happened to his helmet.  He said at one point he was traveling about 175 mph and looked back to see how far behind I was, and the force of the wind at that speed ripped the helmet from his head. 

While seeing firsthand some of the “extreme” riders here in Vegas, I noticed most of their stunts were low speed and if they did have a accident, it usually involved some sort of road rash, MAYBE a broken bone. 

Other motorcycle riders feel that the stunt riders showing off on the public roadways gives the rest of the recreational riders a bad name, and even state they deserve the punishment administered by the asphalt.

The comment section on the local papers article of the most recent death on I-15 revealed a harsh discontentment for stunt riders, even wishing further harm to the riders.

While a lot of riders do so for recreation, I don’t believe it fair to judge the rest of us based on the mistakes of a few. 

The local rider’s safety courses at the community college and the dealerships have been busy and productive in producing safe and sane riders.

Many laud the bike’s ability to get great gas mileage, provide fun, transportation and a stress relieving experience.

Those who chose to show off on the streets and run from the police always pay their dues, one way or the other.

Oh yeah.  They can’t outrun the radio (maybe this radio, you can.  Check the archives of www.VegasNewsReview.com on the “Speak and Spell” article) or the chopper…

As far the people wishing ill will on certain riders, I think it’s a jealousy issue.