TALES FROM THE BLUE LINE 13

Sometimes the whole truth about a crime never reaches the police. At least, not in an official way. I was on my way to Headquarters minutes before the end of my shift when a shooting was reported on the police radio. I picked up the dash microphone and told the...

TALES FROM THE BLUE LINE 12

New York cops are the best! Well, at least two of them I met in about 1975 are the best. Or were, back then. They came roaring into Milwaukee one day, subpoenaed to the south east Wisconsin Federal District Court for a major drug trial regarding a crime that began in...

TALES FROM THE BLUE LINE 11

  Field training is your real beginning moment as a cop. I’d been a police aide for the Milwaukee Police Department for nineteen months, been around cops and precincts and commanding officers and even close up to some people who’d been arrested for...

TALES FROM THE BLUE LINE 10

Some called him Le Roy, others called him Elroy. I called him both names, depending upon my mood and state of sobriety. But being called more than one name suited him: Le Roy/Elroy was a multiple kind of guy, who’d go anywhere and do anything By the way, neither...

TALES FROM THE BLUE LINE 9

Heavy raindrops beat the roof of the unmarked squad car I was riding in like a tom-tom. I didn’t like it. No one did. We detectives would see each other on the street or at various precincts, and stop to whine about it. As one could figure, those nights were...