Just the Ticket

When Ventura County Sheriff’s Deputy Dirk Munsie pulls a car over, the driver is as likely to leave with a toy as a ticket.

“Parents might drive away grumbling about police,” said Munsie, a burly, smiling man with a thick mustache. “And kids are a captive audience. I don’t want those kids to be afraid of police. I want them to know we’re here to help.”

At a time when many police departments are rediscovering community policing, Munsie, 44, has been working his Oak Park beat with a uniquely personal touch for 11 years. Handing out toys to the kids of traffic scofflaws is just one of his community-friendly approaches to crime-fighting.

He knows many of the community’s 15,000 residents by name. He has watched them go from scraped knees on the elementary school playground to cap and gown on graduation day.

When he patrols the streets, Munsie is likely to be greeted with hearty hellos, bear hugs and kisses. And it’s not unusual for him to get a few invitations for a home-cooked meal.

“This is a man who builds friendships,” said Hanoch Epstein, owner of Pita the Great restaurant. “Everybody knows him because he’s always around.”

“He is Mr. Oak Park,” added Sherry Kirsch, the office manager at Red Oak Elementary School.

Munsie, a single man who jokes that he is “married to the streets of Ventura County,” joined the Sheriff’s Department 18 years ago. Even then, he realized the value of getting to know people.

“You just can’t win a war by always fighting,” the deputy said. “I figured out real quick you get more results with honey than vinegar, and it has become a great tool, a great weapon for me.”

Like the time a call came over the radio about three unidentified young men who shot BB pellets at a school official and fled. As dispatchers called out descriptions of the suspects and their car, Munsie already knew where to go.

He drove to the house of a man he knew from walking his rounds and found three BB guns in a car parked in the driveway. It wasn’t long before his suspect was confessing.

“That’s a typical scenario.” Munsie said. “I know these people. I see them every day. I know how they dress, how they’re wearing their hair, what cars they’re driving. I know.”

Schools are among his favorite hangouts. Munsie often schmoozes with students and shares information with administrators.

And it’s not always about making a bust, said Oak Park High School counselor Randy McLelland. Often Munsie just wants to know how the kids are doing: Are they keeping up with schoolwork? Any trouble at home? How did that algebra test go?

Sometimes it may mean counseling a teenager starting down the wrong track. Rumors that a youngster has been involved in making graffiti, for example, can prompt a visit from Munsie.

“I usually say something like, ‘Word on the street is you’re involved in this or that,’ ” Munsie said. “And nine times out of 10 they’ll say, ‘Yeah, it was stupid, I won’t do it again.’ I’m trying to put out fires before they get out of hand.”

Even those like Red Oak Elementary School student Trevor James who have had run-ins with Munsie don’t usually walk away mad. Munsie recently caught the 11-year-old boy and his friends skateboarding in an unauthorized area.

“But he lets us out of trouble,” Trevor said. “He just tells us to clear out. And he might throw us a piece of candy.”

After the skateboard incident, Munsie reached into a purple backpack slung over his arm and pulled out a finger puppet for Trevor.

Munsie used to buy toys out of his own pocket--spending as much as $600 one year. But using his public relations skills, Munsie managed to get local merchants to make donations. One of his biggest suppliers is the Oak Park Blockbuster, which donates leftover promotional toys.

On weekends, Oak Park residents know they can find their favorite deputy sipping java at a local coffee shop, the Beanscene. That is where Munsie “holds court,” talking to residents about their problems.

“Every Saturday this place is a social gathering spot,” he said. “I pick up all kinds of little tidbits.”

Because of his close ties to the community, Munsie has been reluctant to put in for promotions over the years, preferring instead to stay a patrol officer.

“Why would I want to go anywhere else?” Munsie said. “Whatever I gave this community, they have given me back tenfold.”

Three months ago, however, Munsie began spending a little less time in the community. Superiors finally talked him into becoming a crime prevention officer, overseeing crime awareness programs for Oak Park and all of the east county’s unincorporated areas. His bosses are hoping he can forge the same types of close relationships he developed in Oak Park.

“We’re not just hoping,” said Capt. Frank O’Hanlon, Munsie’s supervisor. “We know he will. He has a way of getting beyond the badge and the uniform and letting people see a human being who cares about them.”