Hero To Zero 2nd edition Read online

  The other cops laughed at the veteran cop and made fun of his simple remark. He replied, “You all know what we see every damn night. The very rich are no better off than the very poor.” He continued, “I’ll be surprised if all that money doesn’t ruin his life.” I thought about that and wondered.

  A couple of years later I was called to William’s new house on a report of prowlers. I parked a block away and walked in. After I confirmed that the prowlers had left, I met him in the darkened driveway. We walked around his luxurious new house with a flashlight, checking to see if anything had been stolen. We walked together, talking quietly as we checked the grounds. William had bought a piece of land on this, the most recent street to be cut into the mountains high above the city.

  His house was the last house on the street, and had manicured grounds and low-voltage lighting along all of the walkways. He paid a gardener to maintain the grounds, and kept two huge Rottweilers as guard dogs for the estate. He had a huge Bayliner boat, a motor home, and a decked-out Jeep CJ. He proudly showed me all of his beautiful new possessions as he told me that he, too, had once been a cop, but had worked himself out of the job and into the courts as an attorney.

  He said, “I used to be one of you, I know what it’s like on the streets, but that life was not for me. I had greater aspirations, but I still keep in touch with what is going on in the streets.” I smiled and listened.

  When we finished and found nothing was missing, I left his immaculate house. I would never lay eyes on him again. I did, however, follow the events of his life.

  While I was driving away I thought of how it was curious that, no matter what happens to cops, they always seem to identify most with their time spent in the streets. Some cops get promoted and become administrators, and no matter how much time will have passed since they actually worked the street, they think that they’re still a part of it. Here was William, living in a million-dollar home, surrounded by the best that he could purchase, and he still felt the need to make sure I knew he had not lost his edge and was “in touch with the streets.” Yeah, right.

  Any good cop will tell you that once you leave the streets, even for a moment, you lose touch. It is a constantly changing and dynamic environment. If you are not constantly aware and listening, just one slip-up and your arrogant ass is dead. These administrators and lawyers no longer had any idea what the streets were about.

  The next day, the shift sergeant invited me to lunch and asked me to meet him at one of the nicer restaurants on the west side of the city. I walked in and was immediately struck by how beautiful the hostess was. I could go on and on about her. The truth is that words cannot describe women like this. They are rare.

  The sergeant was watching me and smiled, waving me to his table. After we had ordered lunch, he said, “I heard you were dispatched to William Ross’s home last night.”

  “I was sent there on a prowler call, but I found nothing.”

  The sergeant smiled. “What did you think?”

  “Of what?”

  He began to fill in the blanks for me and told me about William’s rise to riches.

  “William married into one of the wealthiest, if not the wealthiest, families in the area. He went to law school and became a lawyer, but more than that, he joined the elite socialites of the area by marrying a millionaire’s daughter. A lot of the things William showed you he’s earned, and a lot came from his wealthy wife.”

  I shrugged. It didn’t really matter me how William obtained the things he owned. He still wanted me to know he was in touch with the streets while living his million-dollar lifestyle.

  I told the sergeant what William had told me, and he laughed too. Then he said, “There might be more to that than you realize.” I asked what he meant.

  He said, “Did you notice that sweet Porsche 944 in the parking lot, with the personalized license plates?” I had; it was pristine and had a beautiful dark-red paint job.

  “Why?”

  “The car belongs to that hostess you were staring at when you came in here.”

  “No shit! How does a hostess afford a car like that?”

  The sergeant smiled, “That is the correct question to ask.” He continued, “Rumor around the restaurant is she also has a wicked cocaine habit as well. Two very expensive habits, fast cars and drugs—and she works part-time as a hostess. Tell me, Zach, how do you think she can afford either?”

  The only things that came to mind were high-end prostitution or porn. I mentioned both to the sergeant. He laughed and replied, “Sure, or you are the girlfriend of a certain high-priced lawyer married to the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the state.”

  The light came on. Now I knew why the sergeant had invited me to lunch at the restaurant. I watched the hostess as she continually sniffed and brushed at her irritated nose. She looked like she had a cold, one of the more subtle signs of snorting coke. I said, “Really?” I had talked to Williams wife at the house and she was amazingly beautiful as well, and the fact that this one guy has two amazingly hot women was unbelievable.

  The sergeant said he had it on pretty good authority (whom he refused to name) that William had bought the beautiful hostess the Porsche and that he frequently took her on vacations to Grand Cayman Island when he went on “business trips.” He also kept her supplied with cocaine. William was living large, just like he’d planned.

  I was grateful for the heads up, and listened to the old timers a lot more closely from then on. They always seemed to know a lot more about what was really going on under the surface than what so-called “day-walkers” are aware of.

  Several years passed, and William’s beautiful girlfriend had left him—and taken the Porsche. She had married a decent guy, and they had a child. She seemed a lot happier now that she was not a coke whore for the millionaire attorney. William was still living large, and financially was very well off. But it was all a house of cards that was about to come falling down at an unbelievable rate.

  The event that first started William’s fall to earth occurred shortly after his beautiful hostess left him and got a life. William was boating in one of the many vacation spots he frequented with a couple of friends. The boat was clipping a long at a pretty good speed at night and, according to William, he could not see the boat he hit. He claimed the boat did not have its lights turned on, as was required by law for boating at night, and he claimed he had not been drinking alcohol. The driver of the other boat was killed in the incident, and William was criminally charged.

  The charges were eventually dropped, as there was no proof of William’s negligence. However, those same streets with which William claimed to be so in touch at our earlier meeting were pretty clear on the point that, in private, his “friends” said he had been drinking, and had been going ‘way too fast, and hadn’t seen the well-lit boat until it was too late. The rich have their secrets, and William had another one to add to his growing pile.

  A couple of more years went by, and William Ross III was up on tax evasion charges. He had found several ways of creatively laundering his money, largely through part-ownerships in restaurants and other businesses, until the IRS came after him. William hired the best attorneys he knew, and after a brief, intense battle, the charges were dropped.

  The federal government is not generally known in cop circles for being well-prepared in criminal cases. Usually they rely on plea deals and negotiations to settle these cases. William, however, felt he deserved his lifestyle, and was not about to give it up and settle without a fight. He was better than everyone else and smarter as well. He was able to beat the charges.

  Third time was a charm, however, and William was up on charges again a short time later—this time for stealing nearly eighty thousand dollars from an elderly client. He had overcharged the dying client, and this time the state bar had had enough of his bullshit. William was disbarred.

  William Ross III fell a long, long, way in a very short period of time. His is an amazing account of hero-to-zero.
I wonder if he ever thinks back on his time on the streets and feels like he’s still in touch? Seems to me that he’s now a lot closer to the criminals he used to pursue than he realized.

  MARCUS BILKO WAS ANOTHER COP who felt he was destined for better things—much better things. He had aspirations from the first day on the job to be chief of his department, or possibly to be elected as sheriff.

  Bilko started out on the streets, like most new cops, working patrol, writing tickets when necessary and handling calls. He quietly checked into the prerequisites for promotion, and found that a four-year degree would most certainly be required for him to reach his goals.

  Bilko went to school on his time off and worked hard at maintaining a respectable grade point average. He was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was damned determined to be the shiniest. That was his goal. He knew he could not be the smartest guy up for promotion; he always struggled academically, but he had other assets. He was personable in a slimy, used-car-salesmen kind of way, and he loved to be involved with the media. He used those assets to his advantage.

  Bilko first worked hard to get promoted to sergeant within the department, and once he had been in the position awhile, he volunteered for the much-maligned position of public relations officer.

  The public relations officer presents press releases to the media and public on high-profile cases. Sergeant Bilko had a plan to use that to his advantage.

  No good cops like the press. Media, and especially reporters, are the polar opposite of cops in our society. It is the way things are designed, really. From the beginning, our society has been set up for the people to be protected from the government, represented by one type of cop or another. One of the methods of oversight to protect the people from the government is a free press. Reporters are the foot soldiers of the media.

  Cops and government on one side, and the media, reporters, and press on the other. The two sides constantly at odds over one issue or another.

  Once in the public relations position, Bilko was in his element. The other cops had no real use for the job, but Bilko figured that he could use his natural charm and the usually tense relationship cops were known to have with the press to his advantage.

  He waited for the department’s first big case, and then presented his press release. He answered all the questions the reporters asked, professionally and courteously, smiling warmly at each ridiculous question and making the reporters feel like what they were asking really mattered. In a few short minutes, Bilko was able to establish a foothold with the media. He became the media poster boy.

  Reporters would call and ask his opinions of other departments’ cases and of issues affecting police work. He was on the television and radio and in the newspaper almost nightly, making comments about one thing or another. It made the reporters look good to their bosses to have an “in” with the cops.

  Bilko worked at his craft, practicing his speeches and sound bites in front of the mirror at home till he was able to pitch the perfect combination of verbal and non-verbal queues.

  The reporters flocked to his emotional press releases like never before. Bilko made the most of this acting career, and polished his public façade to a high sheen.

  He was shiny and perfect—clean, neatly cut hair, new suit and freshly pressed shirt, impeccable tie. Bilko was a welcome change from the previous crusty old veteran cops who had been “voluntold” they were to be public relations officers, toothpick hanging from yellowed teeth, addressing the female reporters in a condescending tone as “li’l missy.”

  Sergeant Bilko had an instant impact on his department’s popularity with the press. The chief was very happy with the new relationship with the media. Sergeant Bilko soon became Lieutenant Bilko, and continued to present press releases, even after he was made the lieutenant over detectives. Eventually other departments recognized his relationship with the press, and started to recruit him quietly.

  Bilko bounced from one department to another, always moving to a position with more pay and of equal or greater rank. Always doing the press releases, always in the media. Reporters followed him from department to department like teenage girls following a rock star from concert to concert, minus the panty toss.

  I met Lieutenant Bilko in a training class I attended, during one of his temporary landings at a local department. He was the department’s new public relations officer, and had agreed to meet and greet the officers present in the department’s newly remodeled training area.

  Lieutenant Bilko came in and made a point of introducing himself and personally shaking hands with every cop present. I could see from the reaction of the other cops that we all instantly felt disdain for the man. He was admin, we were working street cops. Some of us were still tired from working the mid shift the previous night and hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before training in the early morning.

  Lieutenant Bilko was polished and perfect. Fit from his daily routine of racquetball and a sauna. His voice was too loud, too chipper. Soft hands firmly grasped our calloused and sometimes cut and bruised hands from the previous night’s battles. No one was impressed. We were not media types. Lieutenant Bilko quickly left the increasingly hostile room, and never returned.

  One day Bilko came up with the idea of posting public relations videos on YouTube. This idea would make most cops cringe. Bilko, however, obtained permission from his chief of police and forged ahead, posting over 40 (yes, 40!) videos on YouTube about various units within the department and about issues a citizen or reporter might raise about the police or police procedures.

  His press buddies viewed the videos constantly, and he referred to them on the department’s newly designed web page, drawing even more attention to himself and his efforts.

  Oh, and who do you think had a major hand in making the department web presence a reality? Bilko, of course. He was in his element. He was noticed and appreciated almost daily for his talents with the media and web postings. He was ready, he thought, to finally make his big push for greater glory.

  The aged sheriff had decided to retire, and had announced that he did not intend to run in the upcoming county elections. The newly promoted Captain Bilko saw the opportunity he had been waiting for. He went out and got another haircut, bought a new suit, and even had porcelain veneers made so that his teeth would be perfect.

  One day, Capt. Bilko called his press and media buddies and told them he had “a major announcement to make at four o’clock today.” When the time came, he walked into the conference room he had rented to accommodate the large gathering of reporters, and announced that he would “humbly” be seeking the office of sheriff.

  Capt. Bilko left no stone unturned in his public relations blitz. Everything was perfect. He planned to attend every event, made public appearances at local rallies for law enforcement, and made sure that he commented on controversial cases currently in the local court system.

  Bilko’s picture was everywhere. He pulled out all the stops and spent every dime he had to have political flyers and ads made up and distributed. He paid for at least one huge billboard along the each of the major freeways that entered and exited the county. Several commuter buses were also graced by advertisements proclaiming how, with Bilko in the office of sheriff, the criminals in the city would be less likely to victimize the citizens. He claimed he was that capable, gifted and intimidating to the criminal elements of society.

  It was a media blitz that was worthy of a presidential campaign. Capt. Bilko’s perfect hair, perfect teeth, and new suit were everywhere you looked in the county.

  People see cops in a different light from the way they see other people. You look at a cop and you want a guy in whom you can believe and have confidence. You want someone you think can be tough enough to kick a bad guy’s ass if he broke into your home and held your kids at knifepoint, but not so scary that you’re not sure which is worse—the bad guy with a knife or the cop with a gun. They don’t want a cop who is too pretty or too scary. Much like Goldi
locks and the three bears story, day-walkers want a cop that is “just right”—pretty, but not too pretty; tough, but not too scary.

  Bilko had lost sight of that reality. Maybe it was because he had spent too much time with his media buddies. I don’t know. I do know that wherever he made a public appearance and spoke to people, I heard comments similar to these: “That guy is a cop? He looks like a model.” “I don’t think that he could fight his way out of a paper bag, He might break a fingernail.”

  No matter what Bilko did he could not change the public’s perception of his “very shiny but not so sharp self.” He poured all of his financial resources and political clout into winning the election.

  On the night of the election, Bilko he was sure that he would win. There was no other possible outcome in his mind. He had dotted all the i’s and crossed all the t’s.

  The next day, however, he was faced with a very difficult reality. Bilko had lost the election.

  He was emotionally devastated. More important, he was financially ruined. Bilko had poured all of his financial resources and political clout into winning the election, but no matter what he did, in the end he could not change the public’s perception of his very shiny but not-so-sharp self.

  His press groupies came to him for sound bites and interviews, asking what his plans were now. He was noticeably shaken by the defeat. He said that somehow he would go on with his law enforcement career. He still felt he had a calling to be a law-enforcement officer and serve the community. He had learned his part well; the sound bite sounded great and was on the evening news.

  Several months went by and the financial reality had hit Bilko hard. He could barely afford to buy food, and gas for his car. He was mad and perplexed. He could not understand how he had not been elected by the people of the county as their sheriff. Reality is a hard teacher.

  Bilko was so broke, he decided to start using the city gas pumps for his own personal vehicles. Every dollar he saved would help—and besides, he rationalized, he deserved the perk for all he had done for the department.