There is a little-known secret in American law enforcement:
The public is permitted to accompany officers on what’s called a ride-along,
allowing anyone interested in law enforcement to experience a typical shift,
and giving the public a look at where their tax dollars go. Having just watched
“Superbad,” I was hoping to have an experience similar to McLovin’s wild night
with his new police-officer friends, but sadly the five hours I spent with
police officer Michael Britton on his Friday night shift went by as many things
do at UCSD — incredibly slowly.
Waiting Room
Sergeant Gustafson comes out and gives me the paperwork I
have to complete before I can legally go on my ride-along. While I sign an
agreement requiring me to listen to Britton at all times, I can’t help but
overhear a student trying to press battery charges on a professor who pulled
her shirt as he was kicking her out of class during an exam.
Britton strides in, shaking my hand before showing me around
the department. After we make our way out to his squad car, he sits me down and
explains that in a “worst case scenario” involving gunfire, I am to remain low
and run away when he draws the danger from me. Britton laughs at the look of
terror on my face and assures me he does not expect this to happen, but wants
me prepared nonetheless.
Arsenal
We drive away from the police station onto campus loop and
immediately I get a sense of power. Everyone around us is watching for our next
move. We can stop anyone in their tracks and either ruin or make their day.
As we go to many a campus cop’s favorite stakeout spot — the
track parking lot at the northernmost point of campus — Britton goes over the
armory that he has at his disposal: two rifles, a gun, a knife, pepper spray
and an extendable baton. Despite the arsenal, he admits that he rarely has the
need for any of it.
“My most important weapon is my brain,” Britton tells me.
Signs
The stakeout is in plain view. Britton does not try to hide;
any alert driver can see us. Most do, taking unusually long pauses at the
traffic sign, but one driver pulls a
roll and does not notice the occupied squad car until it’s too late. He looks
over in sheer horror; however, Britton lets him go with a shrug, explaining he
understands that students need to get to class on time.
“I think, ‘Is that bad enough for me to stop them?’” Britton
says. Evidently, this instance isn’t bad enough to ruin someone’s Friday
afternoon with a ticket.
Without warning, we tear off after a Chevy quickly halts at
the three-way stop before taking off again. Britton turns his lights on and
pulls the car over on the side of North Torrey Pines Road, mentioning that the
tags are expired before he hops out and strides over to the car. He gives the
driver, who claims to not have known, a fix-it ticket and he thanks Britton for
bringing the violation to his attention.
Although Britton admits that people usually aren’t gracious
when being pulled over, having people thank him is not entirely unheard of.
Even so, he is visibly pleased to be appreciated for doing his job. “I don’t
expect someone to say thanks, but it’s nice,” he says.
Time
Obeying all traffic laws, we drive unhurriedly over to
loading area behind Plaza Cafe. Britton takes out his new laser gun, a more
accurate gauge of speed than a radar gun and a tool he passed a test to use.
With the gun poised and ready to go, he looks for speeders coming around the curve
near the basketball courts. The speed limit is 25 and it only takes a few
minutes to clock a Honda Civic going 35. Whether he is trying to show me how
merciful he is or he’s simply feeling lenient, Britton lets the girl go with a
warning. However, he mentions that if the girl gets stopped again, his verbal
warning is on record and will most likely influence the next officer’s
decision; maybe he’s not letting her get away with so much after all.
Hunting for Mary Jane
Since waiting for people to blow through stop signs can get
tedious, Britton spends much of his time looking for marijuana. At sunset, we
head to the cliffs, which he assures me is a prime spot to catch stoners.
Although he is a UCSD police officer, his jurisdiction still extends a mile
around campus, and he is legally allowed to pursue law breakers to anywhere in
However, when we get to the cliffs, there are only a few visitors walking
around and no paraphernalia in sight.
Looking
We drive to the Scripps Institution of Oceanography to make
sure the doors are locked and that no one here is smoking marijuana, after a
short spin around graduate student housing. Britton leads the way up some
treacherous footpaths where we stand quietly, listening for people who might be
up to no good. Once again, we have no luck.
Before we can check the doors, Britton gets a call — a girl
hurt her thumb while using the facilities at RIMAC. It’s not a car chase or a
busted party, but it’s the highlight of the night.
Ouchies at RIMAC
Striding into RIMAC, we find the student surrounded by four
employees who are attending to her mildly injured thumb. Britton goes into the
gym to examine the machine where the accident happened and to take a picture
for his records. Even for seemingly trivial events, he meticulously documents
the incident. If Britton ever has to go to court, he wants to be able to
remember the details. People stare curiously at Britton as he scrutinizes the
bench she was using. They come over to see what all the excitement is about.
Besides a few drops of blood on the wall, there is nothing to see.
Britton’s partner shows up; now five people are attending to
a swollen thumb. Having nothing else to do, we walk to the squad car conveniently
parked in front of the gym — a major perk of the job.
Final Attempt
By the time we approach Mandeville, Britton is still
persistently tracking drug users. I make a note to tell everyone I now know
that smoking on campus is a terrible idea. Although we also look for people
tagging the newly painted stairways, Britton seems set on finding some pot
smokers.
As we walk down the stairwell, he points to graffiti
referencing “Star Wars” and bursts into laughter. Suddenly it occurs to me that
deep down inside, this police officer is a real person. In fact, Britton enjoys
typical interests and pastimes like playing video games and basketball. By the
time he points out the “Star Trek” tag and laughs, I know I have a bit of a
geek on my hands.
Checking
Door checking is probably the most tedious, and least
glamorous, part of being an officer on campus. Since many on-campus crimes
involve theft, deterring property loss is a main pursuit. We walk into the
Natural Science Building and although it is a Friday night, we find many labs
occupied. Britton is exasperated to find many doors wide open, mentioning that
thefts occur because people would rather prop open the doors than carry their
keys.
Express
After Britton calls dispatch to alert them he is on foot
patrol, we head to
for a quick bite. Over his dinner of chicken and rice, Britton philosophizes
about what his career means to him. Although he has spent his time on the job
in relatively safe areas, he still finds his work satisfying. Going into the
county to help during the fires, he says, was one of the most rewarding things
he has done. He also mentions that, although he has seen people at their worst,
he has not lost faith in humanity. However, he has been let down occasionally.
“I have been disappointed … like, ‘Did you guys really get in a fight over
this?’” he says.
Heading back to the police station to fill out reports,
which Britton bemoans as being incredibly time consuming, I ask if we have just
experienced what he would consider a typical shift. He thinks for a moment,
trying to compare the last five hours to his past year at UCSD.
“It varies day to day … there is no rhyme or reason to it,”
he tells me.
