For Police, Traffic Stops Are Anything but Routine

Officer Johnny Edwards of LAPD’s 77th Division calls it “the layers.”

By that he means all the perils and obligations that crowd an officer’s mind while warily approaching the suspect vehicle in what the department euphemistically calls “a routine traffic stop.”

“I hate that phrase, because there’s no such thing, every one is different and fluid,” the 10-year veteran officer said. “We found that out last night.”

Just before 10 on Saturday night, one of Williams’ fellow 77th Division officers was shot five times as he walked up to the passenger side of a white Nissan pulled over near the intersection of Florence and Normandie, the same cross streets that became notorious as a flash point of the 1992 riots.

The rookie officer, Jay Cicinelli, enrolled in the Police Academy seven months ago and was beginning his fourth week of patrol duty. The 24-year-old is in critical condition, but is expected to survive his wounds. He probably will lose an eye, fellow officers said Sunday.

One suspect was arrested after he was dropped off at a hospital with gunshot wounds, Capt. Mike Hillmann said. Cicinelli’s partner and training officer, A. Simpson, who was approaching the suspect car on the driver’s side, fired several rounds before rushing to aid the fallen rookie.

“The investigation is moving forward,” Hillmann said. “We hope to make some more arrests.”

To Edwards, the grim news added another anxious memory to the long list that officers carry with them on patrol.

“Our job has become so politicized, we have to think about so many things out there, just layer after layer,” Edwards said. “For obvious reasons, things that have happened in the past, we have to be very sensitive to civil rights of the citizens. We have to balance that with officer safety. Sometimes, that puts us in a tough spot.”

Edwards was speaking of the intense scrutiny and criticism that the LAPD faced after the riots, the videotaped beating of Rodney King that preceded them and the Christopher Commission report, which faulted the department’s relationship with minorities.

“Since those things happened,” Edwards said, “there is just a total lack of respect for our officers on the streets. It’s been hard. Especially here.”

The officers of the 77th work out of a makeshift station, a series of trailers lined up in an industrial district. One of the few neighboring buildings that isn’t boarded up is the large dessert bakery across the street. (“The smell of doughnuts, all day long,” one officer said. “It’s like a bad joke.”) The division hopes to relocate to a modern building this year, but no one seems sure when that will happen.

The new station will sit on the same foundation as the now-abandoned building at 235 W. 77 St. That site was given an unwelcome claim to infamy when Det. Mark Fuhrman--a central figure in the O.J. Simpson murder trial and acquittal--described it in a 1977 taped interview as a building awash in the smell of “beaten and killed” African Americans, describing them with a racial epithet.

The temporary station has been the division’s home for about two years. An architect’s rendition of the new building, complete with a helicopter pad and community meeting areas, is hung on the wall in one of the temporary station’s trailers. Nearby hang the photos of four officers slain in the line of duty.

An intense workload keeps officers on edge, and community feedback doesn’t lighten the load. “Some people support us--many, many more don’t,” Edwards said. “It’s rough.”

The car occupied by Simpson and Cicinelli was parked Sunday outside the station, with yellow police tape draped over windows shattered during the short but frenzied gun battle. Officers working the phones at the front desk answered a steady stream of questions about the shooting from concerned civilians and off-duty officers.

Hillmann spoke at afternoon roll call Sunday, giving an update on Cicinelli’s wounds and the suspects at large. Afterward, a young officer starting his shift paused to shake Hillmann’s hand and tell him “proud to be with you.” Watching the officer walk away, Hillmann said the rank and file were hard hit by the shooting.

“Danger is our business,” he said. “That builds bonds.”

Most of the officers working Sunday knew little personal information about the wounded officer. None of the officers who spoke with The Times, for example, knew whether he is married--nor did the LAPD’s press representatives. All, however, found it easy to put themselves in his place.

The site of Cicinelli’s shooting was not lost on his compatriots. “It’s just another intersection,” Edwards said. “But I tell my trainees to pay a little extra attention. In this case, I don’t think the officers did anything wrong. I think it was something out of their control.”

Edwards’ voice cut off as he paused to listen to a radio call:

“Officer down,” the dispatcher said, and suddenly Edwards and three other officers bolted for their cars. This time, the crisis was not an armed suspect. A motor officer had taken a spill while chasing a pair of car burglary suspects. His injuries were not serious, and the officers wound their way back through the trailers rooted at the corner of 60th Street and St. Andrews Place.

“You never know,” Edwards said with a shrug. “Not around here.”