Wheels of Justice : Cypress and Garden Grove Join Pack of Police Departments Deploying Beat Cops on Bikes

The suspected drug dealer with the Dallas Cowboys cap shoved $250 into his pocket as he talked to the anxious buyer, scarcely glancing over his shoulder at the two bicyclists behind him.

In a blur of movement, the cyclists hopped off their bikes, whipped out their guns and barked: “Hands up! Don’t move! Police!”

The man’s jaw dropped as he turned to find himself under arrest for offering to sell methamphetamines. Later, handcuffed and sitting on the ground as police searched his car, the man took a good look at the officers in the blue bike shorts, polo shirts and white helmets.

“Bike cops,” he sneered, shaking his head.

No longer relegated just to beach patrol or the community fair, bicycle patrol officers in Orange County do most everything other officers do; they’re just doing it on two wheels instead of four.

“Robberies, gangs, burglaries, you name it, we go to it,” said Cypress Police Sgt. Gordon Re, head of the recently formed bicycle patrol unit. “Sometimes, we’re even the first to respond to a call.”

Bike patrols were nearly nonexistent in California in the late 1980s. Now almost every law enforcement agency in Orange County uses them. Cypress and Garden Grove are among the latest converts, and Santa Ana and Costa Mesa recently expanded their existing bicycle patrols.

Officers on bicycles can go where black-and-whites can’t. They whiz through bumper-to-bumper traffic or back alleys, traverse stairs or speed along the walkways of seedy motels.

Unlike patrol cars, bicycles are quiet and easily blend in, giving officers a stealth advantage.

After the drug arrest last Wednesday afternoon, Re and his four-man squad roamed the downtown streets, no game plan in mind, just looking for trouble.

Officer Mike Lyons found it. His curiosity was piqued by a car parked away from others behind a video rental store. Despite the sweltering midday heat, two men sat inside. Lyons steered closer to see one take a sip from a can of beer.

It turned out the middle-aged manager of the video store was treating his fresh-faced 17-year-old trainee to a few drinks. A check of the manager’s identification also turned up nearly $50,000 in outstanding warrants, including a fraud count.

“That’s a mistake,” insisted the manager, as a patrol car arrived to take him away. “Then we’ll try to straighten it all out,” Lyons said.

The officers then turned to the youth. Had the man made any sexual advances toward him? The teen shook his head. Next question: What’s your mother’s phone number?

Departments like bicycle patrols because they’re cheap. Many departments, such as Costa Mesa, buy bikes with community donations. Save incidentals such as flat tires, the sturdy mountain bikes log thousands of trouble-free miles.

The International Police Mountain Bike Assn. says bicycles are used by well over 3,000 law enforcement agencies and 10,000 officers nationwide.

“Patrolling by bicycle is definitely here to stay,” said association director Jennifer Horan.

There are some disadvantages, the most obvious being exposure. The officers wear bulletproof vests, which, with their gun belts, mean an extra 50 pounds.

On the upside, officers never have to look around for a bike lock.

“Handcuffs,” Re said. “Best bike lock ever invented.”

But how seriously can the public take officers who look like they’re out for an afternoon ride and pack . . . sunscreen?

“We don’t know if they’re going to laugh or pull over,” joked Costa Mesa Senior Officer Bill Adams, referring to the new siren on his patrol bicycle.

But bicycle patrol officers say their less-intimidating demeanor is their chief advantage.

“We probably do as much public relations as we do patrol,” Adams said. “People don’t feel comfortable coming up to a black-and-white. On bikes, people stop and flag us down all the time for directions, whatever. They see us as friendlier.”

Adams and other officers take the PR side of their job seriously. They see themselves as on the front line of the community policing effort that can be traced in part to the public’s mistrust after the Rodney King beating in Los Angeles.

Typically, bicycle patrol is a grab bag of duties.

On a recent afternoon, Adams and his partner, Officer Mike Fettis spent more than an hour working the chaos at East 17th Street and Superior Avenue. Traffic backs up for several blocks, because northbound drivers get stuck in the congested intersection when the light changes. That’s when Adams and Fettis put pedals in motion from their shady post beneath a pine tree.

Dean Munn of Aliso Viejo was one of the drivers pulled over but spared the stiff $500 fine.

“I was kind of startled to look out the window and see him on a bike,” Munn said.

When traffic was cleared, the officers moved to the Shalimar neighborhood, which is the target of a police crackdown on drug dealing and crime.

Several young men retreated to their apartments after catching sight of the patrol. The officers, meanwhile, were mobbed by scores of neighborhood children with one refrain: “Stickers!” The stickers are tiny badges that officers hand out. The department was fresh out of them, though, so the children took turns blasting the officers’ new bicycle horns.

The rest of the afternoon was spent cruising the neighborhood, focusing on carports, alleys and apartment courtyards. The officers, who speak fluent Spanish, stopped frequently to ask about any neighborhood complaints.

As they cycled past a coin laundry frequented by drug dealers, a man who saw them hurled something behind a video game machine. Officers assumed it was drugs, but found only an empty cup and a strong smell of beer.

A search of Jose Barraza’s pockets revealed he was recently released from jail and has been ordered to attend drug and alcohol counseling. The search also inexplicably turned up several cloves of garlic.

The officers warned an apologetic Barraza to curb the drinking and sent him on his way.

Less than a block away, the patrol found a man lying face down in the grass.

“Hola, hello?” tried Fettis. No response. Adam sounded the ear-popping siren. Nothing. The officers began fearing the worst when the man stirred.

“Are you OK?” they asked him in Spanish. The man lifted himself up and managed a nod. Asked where he lives, the man patted the grass.

“OK, OK, buenas noches,” the officers said and pedaled away.