Twenty years ago, Lt. Janet DiMarco and her partner Sgt. Cynthia Rice debuted in The Good Walk Alone. They kicked ass and shot armed men if they had to. They bent the law and made life hell for Capt. Audrey Russell and Chief Forensic Scientist Julie Levine. City Police LLC was staffed exclusively by women, checked by skeptical female judges and a plutocratic female Supreme Court. I argued intellectually for female justice and law enforcement in a series of essays and videos. The Freeman's Constitution provides for female jurors in family law.
I'm having a celebratory cup of coffee. Janet DiMarco falls in love with the Chief Executive, a Cary Grant type with vast resources and enough courage for five or six men rolled together as hereditary monarch ordered by the Supreme Court to pick a woman, marry her, and produce a prince. He picked DiMarco. Romantic comedy ensues. Heroic men are not naturally willing to be completely docile or honest, sharing every micron of their privacy and power. I tried to illustrate male responsibility and discretion in a dozen novels. We naturally out-rank women in multiple respects. If it weren't for strong men, women would never experience love and willingly agree to create children by irresistible heart-pounding intimacy.
For fun, it's also 33rd anniversary of my first fictional female cop, Lt. Laura Oak, awarded the Medal of Valor on Mars in 2157. She falls in love with an Earthman sent to do justice. Mars Shall Thunder was my first longform action adventure novel, to be topped decades later by a husband and wife team of private eye wildcats, Chris Cable and Mary Blount, Ph.D. It doesn't matter what other people write, or created in the long history of literature. I write about men and women, indestructibly bonded couples who form families and raise their children, tens of millions of moms and dads like my parents were, some of them uniquely tasked in life as heroes. Peaceful civilian life cannot exist without heroism by an elite minority of lovers. All the real life heroes I encountered were married men and women. Criminals were single and unlovable. It ain't rocket science. Strong, courageous folks are drawn to love and marriage.
We never do this perfectly. It's not perfection that men and women want from each other. If the standard of romance was perfection, it would never happen. Heroic people make more mistakes and face infinitely worse challenges than ordinary couples. That's the whole point of literature as I see it, to test the limits of what people can do in difficult circumstances. It was a specific failing of the noir genre, always a lonely p.i., destined to push away the babes, unable to love anyone, which I endeavored to fix. There's no drama without a loved one.
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Showing posts with label law enforcement. Show all posts
Showing posts with label law enforcement. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 19, 2020
Saturday, January 25, 2020
Blood shift
Krautzer and I never spoke to each other. He got up and, armed with a flask of coffee and a pack of cigarettes, I sat down to sign in. It was already a busy night, four units in action, which I monitored a few minutes before I took over. I hated weekends.
"Seven polecat," the radio said.
"Seven," I acknowledged.
"Maintenance arrived at 3355 Union. Situation quiet."
I glanced at the map that was evoked by his transmission. No reason to take chances. "Seven polecat remain on scene and cover. I'll relieve you as quick as I can."
"Seven copy," he replied.
I lifted the cover and touched the All Channel button. "Twenty-one oh one, R.A.C.C."
Coffee would have to wait. "Night units to district loops. Day shift dismissed, except Seven polecat, Nine alpha, Center one and Center two. Nine alpha, report your status."
"Waiting for P.D., 6300 block of Farleigh. Request backup."
The nearest unit had just saddled up. "Sharp five, 6300 block of Fairleigh, code 2. Meet Nine alpha on Tac 1."
"Sharp five wilco."
The mess downtown bothered me. "Center one, what's the situation?"
"We're still tied up with P.D. and directing traffic."
Shit. "Can you release Center two?"
"Uh ... okay. Maybe ten minutes or so. Center one."
The customer board yelped at me.
"Nine strong, silent alarm at Western Supply, 601 South River, code 1."
He acknowledged, and I debated sending a second car, but resisted the impulse. Nine strong had enough firepower to deal with whatever the situation might be, and if the shot locator tripped, I could get another unit on scene fairly quick. I called the customer, told him not to respond until we had control of whatever was happening, and had to hang up abruptly.
"...backup! Officer down!"
The shot locator flashed red at 3355 Union. I vectored the drone: "Armed support to 3355 Union. Be advised civilian maintenance people on scene." Policy dictated that I had to report a shooting incident to the cops. Not now. "Six buster, six falcon, 3355 Union, code three." They acknowledged in turn. I briefed the EMS dispatcher, requested that he deploy two units to a safe position, 35th and Lafayette, until I signaled on their tactical channel to proceed. The shot locator was rattling, five or six map jogs. I described the situation to the drone operator, ordered him to take out the brick building and adjacent vacant lot at 3367 Union, be aware that two District Six units were converging, code three, use stun shots, and be damn careful not to hit our people or nonactors by mistake.
The clock was running and I had to notify the police. I scanned the directory for Southwest, identified myself, described the activity, and suggested that they delay responding until we had control of the situation. The station commander was pissed off, aware of what we were doing, monitoring my dispatch channel. No point in apologizing. I disconnected abruptly
.
With the drone on location, I started getting fuzzy bodycam relays, one of them an unmoving cockeyed image of the pavement. Officer down. Tactical chatter among the others and then a series of flash bang shots to take out a knot of gang bangers.
"Six buster, Seven polecat, say your situtation."
"This is falcon. Two men down. Buster and Ritchie from polecat are holding a perimeter. We need EMS, right now, god damn it!"
I released the medics to roll, sickened by what had happened. Eight hours to go, and in the first fifteen minutes of my shift I had two men down and three units out of action. When the cops showed up, they'd pour molasses over everything. Might be more than a few bangers wounded, blinded, or deceased. I had to call Legal.
A few seconds to light a cigarette, unscrew my thermos and pour a cup of coffee.
.
"Seven polecat," the radio said.
"Seven," I acknowledged.
"Maintenance arrived at 3355 Union. Situation quiet."
I glanced at the map that was evoked by his transmission. No reason to take chances. "Seven polecat remain on scene and cover. I'll relieve you as quick as I can."
"Seven copy," he replied.
I lifted the cover and touched the All Channel button. "Twenty-one oh one, R.A.C.C."
Coffee would have to wait. "Night units to district loops. Day shift dismissed, except Seven polecat, Nine alpha, Center one and Center two. Nine alpha, report your status."
"Waiting for P.D., 6300 block of Farleigh. Request backup."
The nearest unit had just saddled up. "Sharp five, 6300 block of Fairleigh, code 2. Meet Nine alpha on Tac 1."
"Sharp five wilco."
The mess downtown bothered me. "Center one, what's the situation?"
"We're still tied up with P.D. and directing traffic."
Shit. "Can you release Center two?"
"Uh ... okay. Maybe ten minutes or so. Center one."
The customer board yelped at me.
"Nine strong, silent alarm at Western Supply, 601 South River, code 1."
He acknowledged, and I debated sending a second car, but resisted the impulse. Nine strong had enough firepower to deal with whatever the situation might be, and if the shot locator tripped, I could get another unit on scene fairly quick. I called the customer, told him not to respond until we had control of whatever was happening, and had to hang up abruptly.
"...backup! Officer down!"
The shot locator flashed red at 3355 Union. I vectored the drone: "Armed support to 3355 Union. Be advised civilian maintenance people on scene." Policy dictated that I had to report a shooting incident to the cops. Not now. "Six buster, six falcon, 3355 Union, code three." They acknowledged in turn. I briefed the EMS dispatcher, requested that he deploy two units to a safe position, 35th and Lafayette, until I signaled on their tactical channel to proceed. The shot locator was rattling, five or six map jogs. I described the situation to the drone operator, ordered him to take out the brick building and adjacent vacant lot at 3367 Union, be aware that two District Six units were converging, code three, use stun shots, and be damn careful not to hit our people or nonactors by mistake.
The clock was running and I had to notify the police. I scanned the directory for Southwest, identified myself, described the activity, and suggested that they delay responding until we had control of the situation. The station commander was pissed off, aware of what we were doing, monitoring my dispatch channel. No point in apologizing. I disconnected abruptly
.
With the drone on location, I started getting fuzzy bodycam relays, one of them an unmoving cockeyed image of the pavement. Officer down. Tactical chatter among the others and then a series of flash bang shots to take out a knot of gang bangers.
"Six buster, Seven polecat, say your situtation."
"This is falcon. Two men down. Buster and Ritchie from polecat are holding a perimeter. We need EMS, right now, god damn it!"
I released the medics to roll, sickened by what had happened. Eight hours to go, and in the first fifteen minutes of my shift I had two men down and three units out of action. When the cops showed up, they'd pour molasses over everything. Might be more than a few bangers wounded, blinded, or deceased. I had to call Legal.
A few seconds to light a cigarette, unscrew my thermos and pour a cup of coffee.
.
Sunday, October 20, 2019
Private government
In the first, fundamental sense of the term, private government describes the power of each individual to control the conduct of his or her life, whether right or wrong, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, courageously, cowardly, or cooperatively with others. In America, toleration of differences and separation of church and state were a precondition for national union, and it resulted in a widely understood right of individuation legally protected by the First Amendment. The state cannot compel a citizen to attend a church or be taxed to support a religious sect. Individual decisions concerning education, career, marriage, and finance are largely unregulated, despite a mountain of legislation and administrative rules imposed to limit individual choice. Liberty stubbornly persists as a matter of personal aspiration or folly, contrary to the best efforts of family, neighbors, and politicians to induce conformity.
That, however, is not the topic I wish to discuss. Private government has another meaning pertaining to constitutional law, not in the present, but the future. In tempestuous infancy and adolescence, the U.S. Constitution was a legalized tug of war with periodic explosions. Colonial frontier pioneers did not perceive an obligation to be stewards of the planet. The Federal Convention of 1787 did not debate LGBTQ or transgender privileges, and the Civil War was not fought to give birthright citizenship to foreign anchor babies.
American constitutional thumb wrestling was a brief struggle in the sweep of human history, even if we graft it to the dead root of English common law. Some historians point to ancient Rome as a source for concepts like contract, or Bible stories as the source of all law. Athenian aristocrats experimented with democracy and trial by jury. The Code of Hammurabi is taught in U.S. law schools as the ancient basis of equity and criminal law, improved incrementally by thousands of years of judicial and legislative thought.
Wait a minute. Spaceflight was derived from rock throwing?
Obviously not. The American Experiment was a clean break with all previous governments, and it was totally rewritten twice, by Civil War and by 20th Century Supreme Court decisions. If the Founding Fathers knew what we've done to their Constitution, they'd shout from their graves to damn us. Everything in law today is a radical break from its original intent, no better than juvenile delinquency, defying Madison and Franklin and Otis. You don't know who Otis was. Nor do you know why Franklin proposed that judges should be elected by lawyers, or why Madison opposed a Bill of Rights. Without Madison, Franklin, and Otis, there would be no Constitution to reinterpret and coin gay marriage rights.
Be that as it may, I'm not interested in political footstamping or current notions of political rights. What matters is the future, and I'd like to return to the idea of private government. Let's suppose that the public tussel of democracy is arbitrary and unpredictable. The United States is a bankrupt nonprofit corporation, a global welfare fountain that no one owns.
Private government is totally different. Instead of voting, free of charge, expecting the U.S. to hand you a pile of benefits, in a private government there are joint venturers (partners) who pony up "cash calls" to retain their right to elect a board of directors. There are no taxes, no regulation of commerce, no social benefits. The sole function of a private government is national defense, funded by insurance companies, banks, and wealthy individual citizens who can afford to buy a vote to determine the scale and scope of national defense. It's less nutty than it sounds. The American Revolution was funded entirely by private backers and fought by volunteer civilians.
I wrote a short story and recorded a lecture to explicate the idea.
.
That, however, is not the topic I wish to discuss. Private government has another meaning pertaining to constitutional law, not in the present, but the future. In tempestuous infancy and adolescence, the U.S. Constitution was a legalized tug of war with periodic explosions. Colonial frontier pioneers did not perceive an obligation to be stewards of the planet. The Federal Convention of 1787 did not debate LGBTQ or transgender privileges, and the Civil War was not fought to give birthright citizenship to foreign anchor babies.
American constitutional thumb wrestling was a brief struggle in the sweep of human history, even if we graft it to the dead root of English common law. Some historians point to ancient Rome as a source for concepts like contract, or Bible stories as the source of all law. Athenian aristocrats experimented with democracy and trial by jury. The Code of Hammurabi is taught in U.S. law schools as the ancient basis of equity and criminal law, improved incrementally by thousands of years of judicial and legislative thought.
Wait a minute. Spaceflight was derived from rock throwing?
Obviously not. The American Experiment was a clean break with all previous governments, and it was totally rewritten twice, by Civil War and by 20th Century Supreme Court decisions. If the Founding Fathers knew what we've done to their Constitution, they'd shout from their graves to damn us. Everything in law today is a radical break from its original intent, no better than juvenile delinquency, defying Madison and Franklin and Otis. You don't know who Otis was. Nor do you know why Franklin proposed that judges should be elected by lawyers, or why Madison opposed a Bill of Rights. Without Madison, Franklin, and Otis, there would be no Constitution to reinterpret and coin gay marriage rights.
Be that as it may, I'm not interested in political footstamping or current notions of political rights. What matters is the future, and I'd like to return to the idea of private government. Let's suppose that the public tussel of democracy is arbitrary and unpredictable. The United States is a bankrupt nonprofit corporation, a global welfare fountain that no one owns.
Private government is totally different. Instead of voting, free of charge, expecting the U.S. to hand you a pile of benefits, in a private government there are joint venturers (partners) who pony up "cash calls" to retain their right to elect a board of directors. There are no taxes, no regulation of commerce, no social benefits. The sole function of a private government is national defense, funded by insurance companies, banks, and wealthy individual citizens who can afford to buy a vote to determine the scale and scope of national defense. It's less nutty than it sounds. The American Revolution was funded entirely by private backers and fought by volunteer civilians.
I wrote a short story and recorded a lecture to explicate the idea.
.
Tuesday, June 25, 2019
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