A Lesson in Civics From Evacuation Over Bomb Threat

It was bad enough when my wife and I returned from the movies to find that the LAPD had cordoned off our street. But it was beyond my wildest dreams when the big, blond police officer pulled my right arm taut behind my back, pushed me to the wet pavement and handcuffed me.

It was a civics lesson, whether I was ready for it or not.

While most Los Angeles residents spent last Saturday afternoon indoors escaping a rainstorm, thousands living in Hollywood and Larchmont Village were forced to evacuate because some crackpot had parked his van on Melrose Avenue and told police that he had wired the vehicle with 5,000 pounds of explosives.

As my wife, Leslie, and I drove home about 5 p.m., we heard the news of the bomb threat on the radio, but nothing about an evacuation--and were shocked to find yellow tape strung across our street. Simultaneously we said: “We better get the dogs.”

We had two miniature schnauzers at home, and if there was a serious possibility of an explosion we wanted to get them out of there. We lived only a block and a half from the evacuation perimeter on Beverly Boulevard, and we figured we’d be in and out in less than a minute.

Seeing no cops, we made a command decision and lifted the tape and drove under it. We were about 100 feet away when we saw the swirling red and blue lights behind us.

*

Leslie, who was driving, immediately stopped. The police cruiser pulled up alongside her, and the officer in the passenger seat told her that we were in an evacuation zone and to get out immediately.

She told the officer we were simply getting our dogs and heading out. The blond officer jumped out of the car and screamed at her: “Get out of here, now!”

I got out of the car and told the officer that I would be out with the dogs within seconds. He threatened to arrest me, citing the danger of the suspected bomb.

I started walking toward the house, a stone’s throw away. He walked in the same direction, a bit in front of me, and told me to stop. I did. He warned me that another step would constitute resisting arrest.

I was well aware that I was about to respectfully disregard a police officer’s order. I also knew that the consequences of my civil disobedience affected no one but Leslie and me. I believed he had no right to stop me from getting my dogs.

I took the step, placing me within a couple feet of him.

Then came the civics lesson.

The blond officer, who we’ve since dubbed the “bad cop,” grabbed me, put me in an arm lock, pushed me to the pavement and told me to shut up and hold my wrists together while he applied the cuffs.

Leslie was pleading with the other officer to allow her to get the dogs. He refused, but he was wavering, and as she ran from him toward the house, he shouted at her to halt, more forlornly than forcefully, He did not try to stop her. We’ve since dubbed him the “good cop.”

Leslie returned less than 30 seconds later, just as the bad cop was putting me into the back of the police car. She pleaded unsuccessfully with him to release me. The good cop gave Leslie back our car keys, helped her coax the frightened dogs into the seat and told her to meet us at the perimeter.

The blond officer drove the squad car 60 mph in reverse back to the perimeter, the good cop urging him, “Slow down, OK? Just calm down now.”

The good cop immediately took me out of the police car and, without any speeches, removed the cuffs and told me to get into our car and leave. The bad cop lectured Leslie about his justification for apprehending me and turned to me. “You were resisting arrest; I could have really hurt you,” he said.

We drove 50 feet across the street, parked and waited an hour and half with other displaced residents for the barricades to come down. We wondered: Would the bad cop have arrested the man who chose to stay behind at the lodge on Mt. St. Helens? Wasn’t this the same principle? There were residents who had refused to leave their homes, and the officers made no effort to apprehend them--so why hassle us? Would we do it again? Yes, we decided. It’s not that we like pain, but to act out of fear of police recrimination is to acknowledge that we live in a police state.

The next morning there was a knock on the door. It was another civics lesson.

*

It was the officers’ superior. He had read their report on the incident and didn’t like what he’d read.

He told us the response to the bomb threat had overwhelmed the Police Department, forcing it to deploy some teams of rookies like the one that confronted us. Normally each first-year cop would have been with a supervisor, and any seasoned officer would have allowed us to get our dogs, the supervisor said.

He was troubled by the fact that the altercation greatly lengthened the time all of us were exposed to the potential risk; if nothing else, he said, the officers were inefficient.

He said all rookie officers are on one-year probation, and the department uses incidents like this to weed out “overly aggressive” recruits. He faulted the blond officer “for following the letter, and not the spirit of the law.” He said the incident would be entered in both officers’ personnel files, and that the blond officer was to receive counseling.

And then he said: “Personally, and not speaking as a policeman, I would have gone back for my dog, too.”