Does Your Perception Look Like Your Reflection?

The following was inspired by my Pastor and friend, Stacy Dyer.  The names have been changed to keep me from looking foolish.

As a former Law Enforcement Trainer we would talk about perception all the time.  The most common statement was;  Perception is reality.  We would talk about case law and personal experiences supporting this.  As time passed I realized that my perception about a lot of things was not correct.  Let me explain by telling another story from my early years in Law Enforcement.

Once upon a time in early January 1982 a young patrolman by the name of Hime Yenkil was working the midnight shift.  I would have used the name Joe Bagofdonuts - but he was working that night also.  The night crew was Ed "Don't tell me what kind of day to have" Riddle, Jimmy "I'm pumping ethyl" Sherrill, Bob "My p/a doubles as a Lie Detector" Walton, Mark "Monotone" Lewis and none other than our Supreme Commander, Sgt Jack "Don't ever let me catch you doing what Ed & Jimmy do" Garson.  He told me to call him Captain Midnight when addressing him.  I grew to love Jack, um, I mean in virile manly sort of way - like a father - hows that.

One dark night at about 3:30am I was sitting in a parking lot doing paper work when two young girls (about 21 years of age) ran up to my car screaming and crying.  I (I mean Officer Yenkil) immediately exited my car and threw my cape over my shoulder asking how I could be of assistance.  Light emanated from behind me, outlining the silhouette of my body and gave the appearance of flames glistening off the top of my head as a slight breeze blew my cape in the air behind me.  As it turns out the light was from my flashlight which I accidentally turned on when I got out of the car.  Anyway, the girls told me a white male in his mid twenties was making strange sounds and tried to coax them into an alley where they feared he would try to rape them.  He was waving something which they thought was a gun and that is when they ran and found me a few blocks away.  I took there names and phone numbers (for professional reasons of course) and with the deepest voice I could muster said; I'll handle this.  Then got into my patrol car and drove north bound on Dixie Hwy singing aloud: Here I come to save the day da dah.

About four or five blocks away I saw the suspect they described walking northbound on the west side of the street.  He was later id and Bob Wickbar (name slightly changed to make you think).  I pulled up onto the sidewalk behind Wickbar with my bright lights on.  I exited my car and and told Wickbar (whom had stopped walking) to turn around and put his hands up slowly.  Wickbar did nothing but look around at the closed business to his left - totally ignoring me.  I said again in a deep and louder voice; Turn around and put your hands in the air!  Again Wickbar refused to comply.  I did a quick inventory of me in my uniform, my now drawn gun and my police cruiser - the car looked good, my gun looked good and I looked real good in my uniform but nothing good was happening?  Just then Wickbar turned and saw me.  He reached for a long metal object from his waist-band and began to draw it.  I saw a shiny black metal object with a long barrel - it was a GUN!  I remember thinking I haven't been cop two months and I am going to have to shoot someone.  I had used the door of my patrol car as cover, however as I started to pull the trigger of my revolver, I stepped away from the door.  Just as my weapon was about to discharge I saw that the object Wickbar was drawing was not a gun but a flashlight!?  I pointed my gun into the air, but it was to late - it had fired and Wickbar fell to the ground dropping the flashlight.

Officer Sherrill had been down the street and saw everything.  He drove up at which time I was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane and talking so fast in a high pitched voice, Sherrill thought I had drank a Big Gulp Espresso.  Officer Sherrill slapped me three times and told me to get a hold of myself.  I think he liked hitting me because I calmed down after the first slap but he did it two more times.  He said later it was for good measure?  I thought of actually shooting Jimmy for hitting me, but I was already so upset from killing one person I didn't think shooting another would make me feel better.  Officer Sherrill told me Wickbar was not dead and that I didn't even shoot him!?

After completely settling down I began to Reflect on what happened.  I told you my perception now let me tell you what actually happened.  Bob Wickbar is a deaf mute.  When I pulled up behind him the lights from my patrol car illuminated the closed business he was walking in front of.  It was about 3:30 in the morning which made him stop to see why the business lit up.  When Wickbar realized the light was coming from behind him he turned to see what it was.  When he turned around my bright lights were blinding him so he was pulling out his light to flash me back as if to say turn your brights off.  When I (I mean Officer Yenkill) stepped away from the car door he saw a policemen pointing a gun at him.  Wickbar stumbled backwards and tripped over the curb dropping his light just as I thought my gun went off - it never discharged.  Hey, what do you want.  I haven't even gone to the academy at this point.  When Captain Midnight, I mean Sgt Garson asked me if I thought I could handle it?  I wasn't going to say no!?

Looking back my perception of me and this situation was nothing like the actual reflection of what happened.  I had looked at myself as RoboCop, but in actuality I reflected Barney Fife.

On a final note; about fifteen years after this incident, I was on my home after teaching a night class at the Police Academy.  I was approaching the crest of an overpass and slightly exceeding the speed limit when as I came to the top, there was Wickbar riding his bicycle in my lane coming at me.  I remember leaning closer to the steering wheel not believing what I was seeing.  In an instant I screamed like a little school girl and slammed on the brakes turning my car sideways, watching him fall over as I skid past him thinking I just hit him!  When my car came to a stop, my heart was pounding and I was sweating, remembering that first incident all over again, I saw him pick his bike up from the curb he hit and ride away.  I kept thinking; I should have shot him when I had the chance...

Americans Have Short Memories - Too Short!

In just a few days, September 11, 2011 will mark the 10th remembrance of the 911 attack on our Nation.  I just wanted to take a quick look at where we are?

The Mayor of New York, Michael Bloomberg is not inviting any religious leaders to take part in the ceremony nor are New York's Finest (Police & Fire) welcome.  This is the man who wants the ceremony to be "areligious", yet supports a mosque be built near the sight.  WHAAAAAAT???

Didn't we learn what happened when we took prayer out of school, removed the Ten Commandments from the walls of our institutions?  What do you mean you don't know - your living in the mess it left upon us!  And the 'left" is still upon us and sadly always will until His return.  That however should not keep us from doing what is RIGHT...

I feel like the man who stands on the street corner with a sign on his front and back that says: The End of Times is Near!  Notice, not the end of time, but the end of times as we know them.  Could this be the last wake-up call God is issuing to this nation?

Anne Graham Lotz, daughter of Billy Graham and founder of AnGel Ministries is hosting a simulcast of Sunday evening, September 11, 2011.  I would encourage you - believer or not to watch and or listen.


A Wake Up Call for God's People with Anne Graham Lotz and Joel Rosenberg from AnGeL Ministries on Vimeo.




2 Chronicles 7:14 NLT
Then if My people who are called by My name will humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sins and restore their land.

My Early Days in Law Enforcement - Very Early!

Since my brothers and sisters of the Lake Worth Police Dept were reminiscing about the old days it made me think of a story that will be 30 years old this December (my very early days).

I started on December 14th, 1981 and since the police academy didn't start until mid January, I was sent from division to division to get a feel of what each did.  My second week into my new career I received my uniforms.  The following day I spent an hour putting on my new uniform only to later discover I had been diagnosed with terminal NCS (New Cop Syndrome)!

After spending two weeks in the different divisions, the powers to be assigned me to start riding with Road Patrol.  Each day I was put with a different Police Officer.  Most of the time I just kept my mouth shut and watched, however on the third day I was assigned to Officer Stewart "Clint" Winterson.  As I walked out to the "Sally Port" there stood Clint, a man about 6'4" with a muscular build.  He had a days worth of growth on his face and smoked a stubby short cigar.  He had a round hat and was wearing a poncho.  Officer Clint oozed with confidence and coolness.  He stood with a slight lean and tapped his trigger finger on his holster.  I noticed he was carrying a .44 magnum with a 10" barrel!  I walked up to him and swallowed hard, then introduced myself.  Clint (as he had me call him) looked down at me and squinted his eyes - I wasn't sure if I was suppose to bow or open the door for him.  In a raspy deep voice he pulled out the cars keys and tossed them at me and said; You can drive.  I CAN DRIVE I said to myself, a real PO-lice Car.  I think I even giggled like a little school girl as I skipped to the drivers side of the car.

The car as I recall was different than all the rest of the squad cars, which only makes sense since Clint was different than all the rest of the cops too.  The car was jet black and reminded me of the BatMobile with a super-charger sticking out of the hood.  As I started the the car I could feel the power right through the steering wheel.  Clint said; Let's roll.  I took one last look at myself in the rear view mirror and winked, then drove off.

Now it was shift change and the night shift was rolling in as the day shift was rolling out.  We had only driven two blocks and hadn't checked in-service on the radio when I heard the three alert tones come over the radio.  My heart started to pound and sweat rolled down my temple. I heard the dispatcher say: any unit in the area of ____ and ____ a signal 4 (accident) with injuries, respond code 3.  CODE 3, could it be that on my first day driving I was going to go CODE 3!!!  I started turning on everything I could, first the windshield wipers, car stereo, headlights, a/c to max, finally I found the emergency lights and siren as I floored the gas pedal.  Clint, realizing I was driving in the wrong direction asked me where I was going and I responded by shouting; I don't know! (but I was determined to get there and fast - real fast)  Suddenly I heard this loud noise in my right ear; PULL OVER NOW!  As I pulled the car over I spent the next ten minutes trying to turn everything off while Clint yelled up and down at me.  I told him all I heard was "signal 4, code 3".  Clint made me get out and put me in the back of the patrol car, he might of even handcuffed me - I don't remember.  It seemed like I rode back there for hours.  Later he allowed me to sit in the passenger seat as long as I didn't touch anything or speak, oh and I had to buy him lunch also.

Well, that was on a Friday and I had the weekend off to feel super embarrassed about what I did.  On Monday I slithered into the Police Station expecting to get laughed at by everyone including the janitor.  No one said anything, my secret was safe.  I was assigned to another officer that day.  I saw Clint in the Sally Port, he looked at me then looked away.  I suddenly saw him in a different light - like he had an extreme make-over.  He was wearing a uniform like all the others, no round cowboy-hat or poncho and was even carrying a .38 revolver like the rest.  His face was clean shaven, no short cigars.  I noticed he was thinner and not quite as muscular (maybe he fasted over the weekend I thought) and he was not as tall as before - that was probably because he was now wearing those shinny black police shoes instead of his big boots with the spurs on them.

Speaking of those spurred boots, I remember Clint stopping this criminal and grabbing him by the neck and lifting him off the ground.  Clint was strong.  Anyway, he dragged the perp into an alley and interrogated him for a few minutes.  Clint had his spurs at the perp's neck.  I thought he was going to cut his throat from ear to ear.  All I can say is that nine year old boy will think twice about not wearing his helmet while riding his bike.

Thanks for the memories Clint ur I mean Stew.