Jackie Snow Photography

A Friday Night Ride-Along With UCSD Blue Brass
By Jackie Snow
Originally published on February 11, 2008 by the UCSD Guardian

There is a little-known secret in American law enforcement: The public is permitted to accompany officers on what’s called a ride-along, allowing anyone interested in law enforcement to experience a typical shift, and giving the public a look at where their tax dollars go. Having just watched “Superbad,” I was hoping to have an experience similar to McLovin’s wild night with his new police-officer friends, but sadly the five hours I spent with police officer Michael Britton on his Friday night shift went by as many things do at UCSD — incredibly slowly.

3:15 p.m.: The Waiting Room

Sergeant Gustafson comes out and gives me the paperwork I have to complete before I can legally go on my ride-along. While I sign an agreement requiring me to listen to Britton at all times, I can’t help but overhear a student trying to press battery charges on a professor who pulled her shirt as he was kicking her out of class during an exam.  

3:42 p.m.: Greetings

Britton strides in, shaking my hand before showing me around the department. After we make our way out to his squad car, he sits me down and explains that in a “worst case scenario” involving gunfire, I am to remain low and run away when he draws the danger from me. Britton laughs at the look of terror on my face and assures me he does not expect this to happen, but wants me prepared nonetheless.

4:14 p.m.: The Arsenal

We drive away from the police station onto campus loop and immediately I get a sense of power. Everyone around us is watching for our next move. We can stop anyone in their tracks and either ruin or make their day.

As we go to many a campus cop’s favorite stakeout spot — the track parking lot at the northernmost point of campus — Britton goes over the armory that he has at his disposal: two rifles, a gun, a knife, pepper spray and an extendable baton. Despite the arsenal, he admits that he rarely has the need for any of it.

“My most important weapon is my brain,” Britton tells me.

4:28 p.m.: Stop Signs

The stakeout is in plain view. Britton does not try to hide; any alert driver can see us. Most do, taking unusually long pauses at the traffic sign, but one driver pulls a California roll and does not notice the occupied squad car until it’s too late. He looks over in sheer horror; however, Britton lets him go with a shrug, explaining he understands that students need to get to class on time.

“I think, ‘Is that bad enough for me to stop them?’” Britton says. Evidently, this instance isn’t bad enough to ruin someone’s Friday afternoon with a ticket.

Without warning, we tear off after a Chevy quickly halts at the three-way stop before taking off again. Britton turns his lights on and pulls the car over on the side of North Torrey Pines Road, mentioning that the tags are expired before he hops out and strides over to the car. He gives the driver, who claims to not have known, a fix-it ticket and he thanks Britton for bringing the violation to his attention.

Although Britton admits that people usually aren’t gracious when being pulled over, having people thank him is not entirely unheard of. Even so, he is visibly pleased to be appreciated for doing his job. “I don’t expect someone to say thanks, but it’s nice,” he says.

4:58 p.m.: Laser Time

Obeying all traffic laws, we drive unhurriedly over to Revelle College, where we pull into the loading area behind Plaza Cafe. Britton takes out his new laser gun, a more accurate gauge of speed than a radar gun and a tool he passed a test to use. With the gun poised and ready to go, he looks for speeders coming around the curve near the basketball courts. The speed limit is 25 and it only takes a few minutes to clock a Honda Civic going 35. Whether he is trying to show me how merciful he is or he’s simply feeling lenient, Britton lets the girl go with a warning. However, he mentions that if the girl gets stopped again, his verbal warning is on record and will most likely influence the next officer’s decision; maybe he’s not letting her get away with so much after all.

5:15 p.m.: Hunting for Mary Jane

Since waiting for people to blow through stop signs can get tedious, Britton spends much of his time looking for marijuana. At sunset, we head to the cliffs, which he assures me is a prime spot to catch stoners. Although he is a UCSD police officer, his jurisdiction still extends a mile around campus, and he is legally allowed to pursue law breakers to anywhere in California. However, when we get to the cliffs, there are only a few visitors walking around and no paraphernalia in sight.

5:49 p.m.: Still Looking

We drive to the Scripps Institution of Oceanography to make sure the doors are locked and that no one here is smoking marijuana, after a short spin around graduate student housing. Britton leads the way up some treacherous footpaths where we stand quietly, listening for people who might be up to no good. Once again, we have no luck.

Before we can check the doors, Britton gets a call — a girl hurt her thumb while using the facilities at RIMAC. It’s not a car chase or a busted party, but it’s the highlight of the night.

6:13 p.m.: Ouchies at RIMAC

Striding into RIMAC, we find the student surrounded by four employees who are attending to her mildly injured thumb. Britton goes into the gym to examine the machine where the accident happened and to take a picture for his records. Even for seemingly trivial events, he meticulously documents the incident. If Britton ever has to go to court, he wants to be able to remember the details. People stare curiously at Britton as he scrutinizes the bench she was using. They come over to see what all the excitement is about. Besides a few drops of blood on the wall, there is nothing to see.

Britton’s partner shows up; now five people are attending to a swollen thumb. Having nothing else to do, we walk to the squad car conveniently parked in front of the gym — a major perk of the job.

6:59 p.m.: A Final Attempt

By the time we approach Mandeville, Britton is still persistently tracking drug users. I make a note to tell everyone I now know that smoking on campus is a terrible idea. Although we also look for people tagging the newly painted stairways, Britton seems set on finding some pot smokers.

As we walk down the stairwell, he points to graffiti referencing “Star Wars” and bursts into laughter. Suddenly it occurs to me that deep down inside, this police officer is a real person. In fact, Britton enjoys typical interests and pastimes like playing video games and basketball. By the time he points out the “Star Trek” tag and laughs, I know I have a bit of a geek on my hands.

7:02 p.m.: Door Checking

Door checking is probably the most tedious, and least glamorous, part of being an officer on campus. Since many on-campus crimes involve theft, deterring property loss is a main pursuit. We walk into the Natural Science Building and although it is a Friday night, we find many labs occupied. Britton is exasperated to find many doors wide open, mentioning that thefts occur because people would rather prop open the doors than carry their keys.

7:57 p.m.: Panda Express

After Britton calls dispatch to alert them he is on foot patrol, we head to Price Center for a quick bite. Over his dinner of chicken and rice, Britton philosophizes about what his career means to him. Although he has spent his time on the job in relatively safe areas, he still finds his work satisfying. Going into the county to help during the fires, he says, was one of the most rewarding things he has done. He also mentions that, although he has seen people at their worst, he has not lost faith in humanity. However, he has been let down occasionally. “I have been disappointed … like, ‘Did you guys really get in a fight over this?’” he says.

Heading back to the police station to fill out reports, which Britton bemoans as being incredibly time consuming, I ask if we have just experienced what he would consider a typical shift. He thinks for a moment, trying to compare the last five hours to his past year at UCSD.

“It varies day to day … there is no rhyme or reason to it,” he tells me.