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From Al As I glance about the room filled with the glit ter of badges and the odor of aftershave, I become humored by the situation. For I know by the end of the evening we will all smell of sweat in uni forms tainted by the hazards of our work. It's time to hit the streets. Just like the day before, and the day before that, we know that with every coming day the odds grow against us. Officer Bennett is working the night shift on the Thursday we catch up with him. We depart in his patrol car from police headquarters, heading toward sector 1-Adam-32, the Pikes Peak Park area, which Bennett generally works. The air con ditioner is roaring. His bullet-proof vest is hot and uncomfortable. Bennett, a tall man with short hair and a beard, is fiddling with his sunglasses. They are the type of Blues Brothers eyewear in vogue with the high-school crowd. “Every cop has his own style,” he says. That includes everything from his sunglasses to his tone of voice, for each can have important effect. As an example, he tells of a recent day when he answered a call to a domestic dispute, meeting fel low officer Don Chagnon at the scene. “This woman had really taken a dislike to Don,” Bennett says. “She was calling him all kinds of names, saying he was a jerk and everything else. She says, ‘Why can’t you be cool, like this guy,’ and she points at me. “Don, who's really a good guy, asks her why she thought I was so cool, and she says, ‘Well, look at those shades.’ ” 2:21 p.m. — 8:30 p.m. My night is filled with burglaries, petty thefts, harassments and traffic tickets. Nothing unusual, nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that could even be considered dangerous or hazardous to my life. No, it's not Hollywood. We're not T.J. Hookers or Dirty Harrys. It's generally not a college educa tion that helps us through the night.It’s good common sense and beauty to listen. We stop at a house where a woman stands watering her lawn. Bennett gets out to chat. The woman had been married to a violent man, and today their divorce decree became final. She is scared. She didn't ask for the police to come, but Bennett's visit seems to lift her spirits immensely. Next, a car accident. An elderly woman, who earlier in the day had her gas shut off because she has no money, has absentmindedly backed into another car. She looks like she's about to cry. Ben nett hands her his card. “If there’s anything I can do, just call.”’ Now we're driving through a low-income apart ment complex. The children wave from the sidewalk. ‘‘Kids are my best sources,”’ he says, “They look at a cop as the knight in shining armor.” A young man, sitting on his front steps, waves. “Yo, Bennett!” he yells. “I've arrested him a few times,” Bennett says, waving back. On At 8:56, a scream for help came over the radio. It was my friend, whom I had long considered to be a brother. I heard him give out his location, but I wasn't sure what he said. I thought he said he had been shot. As I started out for his location, I wanted the car to go faster, the siren to be louder, the lights to be brighter, but they wouldn't. The traffic was heavy and even with the use of my lights and siren, nobody moved. “Get out of my way! I shouted, “Get out of my way! They just looked at me. As the skies darken, Bennett idles the car down a residential street, looking for a suspect in an assault earlier in the day. A call breaks through the radio's static: Domestic disturbance; man threatening wife and children with a rifle. The voice of Bennett's friend, Officer Don Chagnon, answers. He is near the house and will respond, with no cover. As quickly, Bennett has his lights on, speeding down side streets, rushing to assist his friend. They've been buddies since the police academy. But by the time he reaches the house, Chagnon has arrested the man, without incident, and three other patrol cars are there. As Chagnon stays at the house to talk to the man’s wife, Bennett takes the suspect to police headquarters. In the back seat, handcuffed, the man is now realizing he is in serious trouble. It turns out the gun was not loaded, but the charge of menacing will still be a felony. It also turns out Bennett knows the man. The officer has had to answer complaints about the man’s sons riding off-road motorcycles on city streets. As the man is put in a holding cell at the police station, Bennett enters the .22-caliber rifle as evi dence. Later, he will take the man to Memorial Hospital, for a blood-alcohol test (the suspect cringing and looking away as the needle pinches his arm. The man will have to bail out of the county jail and try to find friends to stay with. He cannot return home. “He's a nice guy,”’ Bennett says. ‘He's never given us any problems in the past. “Now, he’s here in jail. He’s in big trouble. But I'm not going to make it any harder on him. He broke the law, and we're doing our job. “Maybe some day, there’ll be trouble in his neighborhood, and we'll need his help. And he’ll remember we did all right by him tonight, and maybe he'll be on our side. “We can't help that he did what he did. “But when he looks back on tonight, he'll remember that the Colorado Springs Police treated him right.” Being a cop isn't so bad. Sure, we put our lives on the line. We get dumped on, we get cursed at, but we take it all in stride. Because we know that sooner or later, someday, somewhere, sometime, we'll be given the opportunity to make a differ ence. And it's that one time, that one single time that makes it all worthwhile A few days later, Bennett answers a shoplifting complaint at Peterson Air Force Base. He arrives at the security office, and finds a man in custody. He is old, mute, the victim of throat cancer. He answers Bennett's questions with a pencil and pad of paper. The man looks at Bennett’s nameplate, then sees a Mason’s ring on his hand. He writes a note: “Are you Col. Bennett's son? He is. Air Force Col. Gordon Bennett died of cancer last April. His son has worn the ring since. “Your father and I, we were friends, the man wrote. We used to ride the bus together to Fitzsi mons Hospital, for treatment. He used to cheer up everybody who was sick. I had wondered what had happened. When I saw the ring, I knew.” Another note: “Am I going to jail?” Bennett is quiet. ‘We all make mistakes,” he says. ‘You're a good man, and a friend, but even so, sometimes we still have to answer to someone.” The man nods, and writes on his pad: “Your father was really proud of you.” The day was over, my uniform tarnished with the smell of sweat. Another day had come and another day had gone. It seems as though we, as police officers, because of our training and experience, are always expected to make the right decision, and yet one error in judgment may cost our own lives, or the lives of others. And now I find myself in a situation where I must explain who I am. Not for good or bad, not because my heart is made of gold, but rather bound by honor Brandon Bennett investigates a recent traffic accident at Constitution Avenue and Powers Boulevard.
Newspaper Details
Colorado Springs Gazette
Colorado Springs, Colorado, US
Sun, Jul 26, 1987
Page 3
Full Page
Clipped by
Donald C.
USA 28 Jul 2026
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