Toward the Sky

A B-25 Mitchell flew over, gear and flaps down. The radial engines sputtered and grumbled, throttles back as it approached the runway. It was our first glimpse of an aircraft at AirVenture 2005. John and I had driven the eleven hundred miles to witness the airshow of a lifetime.

Our second glimpse was of an ultralight aircraft in a ditch, surrounded by traffic cones. We found out later that the engine had quit, the glorified umbrella descending with all of the grace of a coal shovel. The pilot wasn't seriously injured.

Over the course of the next week a thousand airplanes came and went. So did a monster rainstorm. Therein lies a life-changing tale.

I had already written my first novel...er, manuscript. That's how the power of presumption seems to work, for me at least. I've written several million words of fiction - none of it in police reports, smart ass - but never considered anything a novel unless it was published somewhere. 

A Miracle of Zeros and Ones was written, and had been read by several friends. It wasn't very good, was grossly overweight... Most commercial novels are less than a hundred thousand words. Miracle was almost 200K. Oops. I guess I got a little carried away.

I got a lot of rejections from publishers. What did I expect? Although several returned nice comments there didn't seem to be much interest in a policewoman being stalked through the mobile data terminal in her car. I had guessed wrong, sort of.

Any number of the books I'd read for writing classes I'd taken (among them how to write romance...really) talked about providing variety as a means of getting published. I'd tried what I knew best - law enforcement from the grunt level. I felt like Sundance.

"We've gone straight," Sundance says, the effort having resulted in death and disaster. "What do we try now?"

Tuesday, I think it was, in soggy Oshkosh. Damp and overcast from the previous evening's downpour. The afternoon airshow went on as advertised, with some modifications to account for the lower cloud deck - the ceiling. Overhead were Mustangs, Spitfires, AT-6s... Lots of them. Formations, single aircraft passes. John had a receiver (he's a pilot). We listened as the airplane drivers talked to each other, coordinating a 200 mile per hour, 3D ballet.

We learned later that evening a Mustang had crashed off airport grounds. Sadly, the pilot rode it in and was killed. And, the words just started spilling forth.

What if?

Years later, I would have jumped onto my travel laptop and started typing. Heck, my daypack has several notebooks that would have come in spectacularly handy. But, this was 2005. I was a rookie. John had a pad of sticky notes. It would have to do.

Over the course of the drive back to Denver I invented Deputy Karen. Her marriage over, her life a shambles. Dispatched to an airplane crash, meets a guy...

Out of Ideas was published by a small California imprint, and then reissued through Amazon. The day it went live - I became a freelance writer. A novelist.

Every July I think about the extraordinary trip to Oshkosh with a fabulous friend. I came home with a ton of memories, and an aviation story to tell. Now I have a web site (Jamesgreer.online), many more books to sell and a dream. All from looking toward the sky one gray day in Wisconsin.

A Special Mind

Please welcome Bridget Quenzer Shank. She is a Blue Line Wife, whose husband Amos would be an asset to any police department. She and daughter Katy are inseparable Maryland friends. This is reprinted with permission.   

I'm not sure what goes through your head. I can't imagine how hard your brain works to process and translate language from what makes sense to you into what makes sense to everyone else. I'm sorry for the moments you feel like a parrot, trapped and forced to mimic sounds other people want to hear, with all eyes on you. I'm sorry for the expectations placed on you that feel totally impossible to meet. I'm sorry it's just so darn hard to speak. And please know that if I could take this, if I could somehow miraculously switch places with you, I would. But since that can't happen, please know this... I love you. I love every perfect part of you. And when it feels tougher than usual, when it feels like no one speaks your language, remember that I do. Even when I can't understand your words, i hear you, and I will leave no stone unturned to advocate for your every need. You are an absolute delight, so beautifully and perfectly made, and just about the funniest person I know. Thank you for your patience dealing with me, my brain is not nearly as complex and smart as yours. I'm just an ordinary mama with an extraordinary daughter.

Your Social Media Law Glossary

Social media, as an adjunct of (or 21st Century substitute for) back fence conversations, chance front porch encounters and coffee talks, is abuzz with all manner of discussion about the latest of just about everything. A blog about the Presidents latest (gaff, prevarication, foot-in-mouth...fill in your favorite term) on the world stage would be stale and superseded before I got finished proofing it. Let's talk law.

I know. Groan. My only intent here is to provide a balanced, non-partisan and objective glossary of legal terms to help navigate the shoal waters of the news, social media and your average, everyday overheated moron holding a sign and walking about totally unsupervised. In no particular order - or, even alphabetical...

Perjury - a lie? No. Otherwise all but a few of the world's most unimaginative members would be locked up forever. Lying is as human a foible as breathing, eating and falling asleep watching paint dry...or soccer. The crime of perjury requires three things - (1) a knowingly false statement (2) made under oath (3) about a material fact. If one is missing the statement, however outrageous, it is just a garden variety misstatement that requires emergency staffing, a week of late night meetings and collective (almost universal) amnesia to unscrew.

Under Investigation - the sinister, life-altering, career enhancing (depending on your perspective) act, meaning someone, somewhere has taken an interest in you. "Hey, darlin'. What's your sign?" is, under the broadest definition possible (keep it clean), an indication someone is "under investigation." But add three letters:

FBI 

and everyone loses their minds. It's just...

I and several others assisted in a Federal warrant roundup. An FBI agent and I "cleared" a house. That is, we searched it for any hidden suspects. He was semi-jocked up, a very nice ballistic vest with rifle plates and "FBI" Velcro patches. He was lead. I noticed fairly quickly that he moved hesitantly, his hands shaking (which made the muzzle of his weapon dance). Me: "Dude, you okay?" Him: "I haven't done this since the Academy." Me: "Well, okay."

We got through it. He was a great guy, very smart and willing to do whatever needed to be done. "I'm an analyst," he said later, apologetically. "I look at data. Somebody said 'Get your body armor and let's go.' So, I fished it out from under my desk." I would probably suck at his job. My takeaway? They are just like the rest of us - well-trained, courageous, unused skills dulled with passing time, other skills very sharp...people, doing their best. Just like us. Even that guy with the weird facial expressions and the paramour (which, growing up in Pennsylvania, was how we pronounced "power mower") who testified...if you could call it that...in front of Congress. People.

Nazi - some guy behind a counter yelling "No soup for you!"

Honestly, if you get all Laptop Rangered up and start flinging this term around... Go read any one of the hundred books about WWII that discuss what those assholes were really like. Maybe that - and a nap - will help.

Indictment - a word that causes normally sensible people to assume a trial has taken place, evidence examined and something akin to guilt is assumed. "Where's there's smoke, there's fire."

Who are you, Smokey Bear? Or, Smokey the Bear. Anyway...

"In a bid to make prosecutors more accountable for their actions, (New York State) Chief Judge Sol Wachtler has proposed that the state scrap the grand jury system of bringing criminal indictments.
Wachtler, who became the state's top judge[January 1985], said district attorneys now have so much influence on grand juries that 'by and large' they could get them to 'indict a ham sandwich.'"

There are three important things about grand juries to take into consideration before an indictment announcement makes your day. First, the evidence is presented without cross examination of witnesses. The defense is excluded from the proceedings. Everything really is taken at face value. Second, the finding only means that probable cause exists. Remember? Civics, poly sci... Anyone?

Probable cause is a threshold finding. It allows a person to be arrested, a place to be searched. Fourth Amendment stuff, for those of us into law porn. There is sufficient evidence to suggest a crime was probably committed, and the person who probably did it is probably the one probably indicted.

But, probable cause is not guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. Since everyone not found guilty (or convinced to plead guilty) is presumed innocent... Okay, this is where common sense and the niceties of the law part company. Let's say (as often happens) there is video of some dude doing something illegal. Okay, someone out there is poised to argue that nothing is irrefutable. The guy could have a twin, or a doppelganger. Well, save it.

Seriously, we are going to "presume" he is innocent, huh? In fact... The prosecution has the burden of proof at trial, to prove the person guilty beyond a reasonable doubt of each and element of the crime or crimes alleged by introduction of admissible and credible evidence. 

Wow, that sounds complicated.

Hence... If someone is indicted, pour a drink, pull up a chair. All it means is that things might get interesting for a while. Nothing else.

I know things sound a lot more serious when it's on CNN. Breath. It's a melodrama, and the script writer already knows who plays what part. We're the only ones in the dark.

In Their Humble Opinion

The 2017 term of the United States Supreme Court (or, if you must, SCOTUS) is in the history books. As usual, they giveth and they taketh away... Or, more accurately, they do a lot of writing, make a lot of pronouncements and mostly the rest of us get on with our lives. 

Sometimes I get confused - am I doing binge writing and day drinking, or have I misplaced my modifiers? In this case, I should probably have waited for "The Cocktail Hour" before considering this topic for a blog. If you have gotten this far, a word of caution. A good stiff belt is probably in order. I offer a primer:

How NOT to Read Supreme Court Opinions

Hop Onto Facebook and Debate THAT "Friend"

Come on, really? What do these discussions usually degenerate into? I copy and paste something, you copy and paste something and then we call each other (and our respective essay writers) names. I had barely finished reading the moments-old majority opinion of a recent case when the out-of-breath political writer for some on-line rag had written "What You Need To Know" about it. Set aside the presumption of such a headline. How much thought did he put into the carefully-crafted legal language? Zero. How do I know he wrote the post? Someone had copied and pasted it to FB, then declared life as we know it to be over.

Read the Digested Heading

Let's say you are a cricket fan. Well... Bad example. Let's say you are a college basketball fan - a Syracuse University alum, for example. It is Tournament Time, and the Orange have been selected. Do you (a) go onto ESPN and watch the highlights, or (b) Traeger some wings, crack open a cold one, tune in and suffer along with the ebb and flow of the game? Unless you have gone full contrarian, I'll bet you chose (b). Skip the digest, except to see who wrote, and on what side.

Assign Sides or Political Identities

I'm sitting in law school on the campus of Syracuse University, September 1986. I am in the first moments of my 1L Con Law class and the professor gets all The Paper Chase on us. If you don't understand the reference - "You are law students. You no longer have an excuse for classifying Supreme Court justices as conservative or liberal in their opinions."

"Aha!" (you say). "Now that's utter bullshit!" (you say).

Oh?

Collins v. Virginia, decided in May 2018. It was a search and seizure case, a technical one. It limited searches by police officers, and drew some fairly fine distinctions on order to do so. Justice Sotomayor wrote it. No surprise there, right? Well, four of the five "conservative" justices joined the opinion.

It isn't about conservative v. liberal. Look for the process they undertake to arrive at their conclusion. Do they start with the law and follow it to the end, even if "the little guy" loses? Do they start with what they think is an equitable result and reason their way there? A little of both?

That's actually the fun part of reading opinions.

Take Sides and then Read Only the Opinion That Agrees With You

I was a guest in a Maine Law School class, visiting my soon-to-be lawyer daughter. The professor uttered what I consider the most basic truth about legal reasoning, to wit:

"When you cite to authority, it may just mean you've found someone who agrees with you, but is also wrong."

A recent FB (I admit it) exchange illustrates the point. It was the Cake case, I think, where the majority opinion by retiring Justice Kennedy spoke for seven members of the Court. A good and gifted friend suggested that Justice Ginsburg's dissent was more to his liking.

Why?

Because the result she sought agreed with his wishes.

Tune into (Fill in Fox, MSNBC, CNN, etc.) and Repeat Whatever You Hear

I just finished reading a book called "Amusing Ourselves to Death." The underlying premise of the book is that Television - especially television news - relies heavily on its entertainment value at the expense of conveying (or evaluating) information important to a culture. He says, in the concluding pages, that Cheers (for example) does far less damage to American society than 60 Minutes (for example) because while the goal of both is to entertain, only the former bills itself so.

Who can argue with that?

But I've done enough damage for one day. Unfortunately I have not prolonged my (or your) agony long enough for the sun to pass the yard arm. But, what would Jimmy Buffet do?

Modest Talent, Big Heart

"Don't you hear them pounding in the stakes? The circus is in town." Former Robbery/Homicide Detective Pat Wilson (circa 2006).

It is said that law enforcement is a ringside seat to the greatest show on Earth. In the summer of 2008 the circus literally came to town, in the form of the Democratic National Convention.

Before I'm accused of bias, let me add this caveat - that label has nothing to do with politics, but everything to do generically with the political process. No doubt the Republican affair was equally panoramic for its characters, bombast and manufactured drama. That said, the DNC was the experience of a professional lifetime.

Our police department was asked by Denver to help with security at "The Venue." A ton of us volunteered, and I was assigned (probably with the help of a good friend who assisted with overall management of our group) as one of the ground floor supervisors. The first several days we spent getting acquainted with the building, the staff and members of the press setting up their expensive equipment.

There seemed to be a pecking order among the print, TV and radio personalities who mingled with us, some of whom were especially pro-cop. Meghan Kelly, for example, would gladly stop for a picture with any cop who wanted one. The big-time networks had booths on the convention floor, and also suites above. Even Al Jazeera had an optimal presence. Print media were tucked away in a big room. Bloggers - well, I think they went to the bars to write.

Then, there were the local radio "talent," tucked into a corner of the building, in a hallway near a fire exit. These were the folks who were live for their hometown audiences, bringing listeners up-to-date on the globally fawned-over events happening just yards from the radio personality's "own broadcast center." These folks dressed casually, worked in cramped, austere quarters and did their jobs with on-air panache. Off the air, they were just average folks.

The pre-convention credentials we were required to display were plastic-laminated, bright and robust. They told anyone in the know that I was permitted anywhere in the building - within reason, of course. However, when the convention itself began we were issued flimsy strips of paper, as though a third grade class had been awarded the project. They fell apart on the first day.

Not to worry, I had fallen in among thieves and brigands. Several of the guys working with me had a genius for scrounging. They knew everyone (in about the first ten minutes) and were able to score us coffee, gourmet food and plastic protectors for our IDs. Lots of them.

They were as good as cash. I have a box of trinkets and pins I traded for with these fifty-cent plastic sleeves. Everyone wanted them. My first mission was to make sure my cops had them, and that's when I met Ed Shultz.

Ed had a radio show that was broadcast out of Minnesota. He had something of a following, about 3 million according to Wiki. He'd started in radio in Fargo, North Dakota (WKRP fans are now saying "F-F-Fargo? Fargo?") doing sports play-by-play and had fashioned a successful career doing what radio announcers do - announce. He was stocky, with a certain WOLD tire around his gut, ruddy complexion, meaty face and slicked-back hair. His outfit - shorts and a polo shirt, were rumpled and unmatched. It didn't appear that he cared.

Ed's broadcast center were actually a desk, a mike and a couple of chairs. He was off in a corner, right next to one of our posts occupied by an especially gregarious academy classmate. I was distributing credential sleeves when I heard "Hey, where's mine?"

In point of fact I had a few spares. We bantered back and forth for a minute or two, the long-time police supervisor and the seasoned broadcaster. He was gracious, down-to-earth and funny. So I said "What do I get for it?" He agreed that every time he came back from break he would extoll the virtues of the Lakewood Police Department and the men and women guarding the building. He did, too, naming names depending on who was around. For the rest of our stay in the Pepsi Center.

Ed's pliable left of center tendencies and flight-of-fancy showmanship got him a gig at MSNBC. He stayed there a number of years, where (I hope) he accomplished his stated goal in show business - to make a lot of money. He was adept at poking fun at the right, which settled comfortably into the MSNBC corporate culture. Of course there happened a Great Kaboom, and by and by the network let him go.

Ed passed away this week at the tender age of 64, from natural causes. I remember him as publically outrageous - a showman - but, once the mike was off he was a kind professional, a man who could look a cop in the eye and recognize we were all human beings trying to make our way in the world.

Thanks for treating us working dudes like we mattered, Ed.