Riding Shotgun with JCSO Deputy Brandon Przygocki

by | Nov 9, 2018 | General

It’s a tight fit – strapped in the passenger seat of a Ford Explorer Police Interceptor crammed with radios, radars, computers, keyboards, and both lethal and non-lethal long weapons. Ten-year veteran Jefferson County Deputy Sheriff Brandon Przygocki holds the wheel. I am on a four-hour ride-along. Turning left out of the compound, we’ve barely made it down the road 100 yards when the lights go on, the siren sounds, and “we” have made our first traffic stop.

Przygocki’s demeanor is non-threatening – pleasant even, and empathetic (if not sympathetic). Ten miles over the speed limit, no priors, valid registration, current insurance, and the driver is let go with a warning. 

Why a ride-along? Unless you are intimately familiar with law enforcement, or with the opposite extreme of the judicial system, ride-alongs offer access to an “undiscovered country” (to paraphrase Shakespeare) “from whose bourn (most) travelers return, and which can puzzle the will.” Sharing a day in the life of a traffic cop gives citizens a double dose of reality.

Five minutes later, and we are joining a two-car response to a domestic disturbance on Marrowstone Island. Not that I could understand the static-laden instructions relayed from dispatch. It takes special skill sets to decipher the terse reports breaking squelch on three to four channels, while keying the mic to respond, while keyboarding the computer, while whipping the car around 180 degrees, stomping on the gas, engaging the light bar, and goosing the siren as needed to move through traffic at speed.  The car-to-car tactical channel confirms an officer ahead of us on the scene as we head to the domestic disturbance on Marrowstone. But now “we” have spotted a car with no front license plate.

A bleep of the siren, a quick check with dispatch, and Officer Przygocki engages the driver. No driver’s license – never had a driver’s license – couldn’t pass the driving test – and no insurance. A quirk in the Washington State Traffic Law codes “driving without a license” as an “infraction” with a $550 fine. Driving with a suspended license is a misdemeanor with a maximum jail sentence of ninety days in jail and a $1000 fine (first-time offenders, not due to gross negligence or DUI). If the suspension was for more serious reasons (multiple offenses or DUI) it is punishable by a fine of up to $5000 and a maximum sentence of 364 days. Police don’t write the laws – but they do enforce them.

We complete the original domestic disturbance call (a dispute between roommates resulting in one moving out) and are sent on our next assignment. A dog has been caught in the tide and is being swept towards Puget Sound. We are called off as the dog manages to paddle its way back to the beach.

Another domestic disturbance call – this one between siblings and the third call of the day to this same address. Again, two cars respond. The officers gently, but firmly de-escalate the conflict and one of the disputants departs the property.

Another traffic stop, thirteen miles over the speed limit – just outside of Port Hadlock.  No priors, brand new car, dealer’s plates – the driver acknowledged an unfamiliarity with the new car and was released with a warning. Many, if not most traffic violations come down to driver inattention. If they weren’t paying attention before the traffic stop, chances are they are paying attention now, at least for the near future.

The last stop of the day (at least the last stop of my four-hour shift) provided an adrenalin/dopamine rush that had me wired for hours.  Deputy Przygocki spotted a familiar face at the wheel of a car he probably shouldn’t have been driving, on the other side of a four-way intersection.  An almost immediate about-face wasn’t enough. When we got across the intersection – there was no sign of the suspicious vehicle. Lights, siren, calls to dispatch, calls on tac channels, ploughing the center lines as traffic on both sides of the road (with varying degrees of alacrity) pulled over to make room, all the while keying the keyboard with his free hand (while I hung on for dear life). It’s amazing how fast and how far a screaming patrol car can go when it’s driven with a will. We quickly reached Port Ludlow but found that the suspect vehicle had turned off. Two can play that game. We clover-leafed through side roads at a more deliberate pace making our way back (without the lights and sound) until we’d all but closed on Port Hadlock – when there, around the corner and just off the waterfront, was that familiar face.

The driver was on a suspended/probationary license, with multiple DUI infractions and a mandated ignition interlock to monitor alcohol intake prior to starting and operating a vehicle. The driver was handcuffed, searched, and placed in the backseat of the police interceptor. A second squad car took charge of the driver’s passenger and vehicle, while we headed to the Jefferson County Sheriff compound, with a prisoner bound for the Jefferson County Jail.

It’s all about safety – public safety, and officer safety. Stopping a car for a few miles over the speed limit might not seem like a high-risk stop, but then again – it might be. Why were they speeding? Were they running from something? Running to something? Was it inattention, or a willful violation? If inattention – was it due to a medical condition? or intoxication? or confusion? If willful, does that display a chronic predisposition to criminal behavior?

Is there a gun in the car? Traffic stops are the leading cause of death for police officers, according to statistics from the Law Enforcement Officers Memorial in Washington, D.C. They report that between 2000 and 2009, 118 officers were killed conducting traffic stops, compared with 82 handling domestic-violence complaints and 74 during disturbance calls.

Officer Przygocki knows the danger inherent in even the most routine traffic stop.  He palm prints the back of every vehicle before approaching the driver.  He’s putting his fingerprints and DNA on the vehicle to prove this was the last vehicle he had contact with if the stop turns violent and he’s unable to say it with words. His ritual is a grim reminder of how very dangerous his job is.

Ride-along programs offer a powerful bridge to the community. Officers (and their ride-along) are injected into the otherwise private lives of their fellow citizens unexpectedly, often during times of stress, vulnerability and anguish. Every contact has within it the possibility of escalation. To say it was “fun” trivializes the experience. To say the experience was “educational” evokes a noncommittal cliché that communicates nothing. For me? Witnessing even a small slice of a police officer’s job from the “other side of the windshield” was sobering, humbling, and infinitely reassuring.

 

 

 

 

 

 

White, Twenty-Something and in Jail: Life Behind Bars in Jefferson County

by | Oct 1, 2018 | General

On any given day, fifty-plus young men and women live locked behind bars in the Jefferson County Jail in Port Hadlock. They range in age from twenty to twenty-eight years old.  Seventy-five percent are male. All are white. Instead of building careers and raising families – they spend their days in narrow cells and cell blocks, with brief access to an “open air exercise facility.”

Crimes range from theft, to assault, to burglary, to forgery, to drug offenses – but actually – almost all are drug or alcohol-related. Most are committed under the influence of drugs, or to acquire resources to buy, sell, or use drugs. The poison runs the spectrum from OxyContin and Oxycodone to Fentanyl and Methamphetamine, with a wide range of deadly hybrids including Fentanyl-laced synthetic marijuana (K-2), Fentanyl-laced heroin, and even Fentanyl-laced cocaine.

These are not victimless crimes. Desperate cravings and the maddening hunger of withdrawal leads inevitably to broken promises, broken families, broken laws – broken bodies and broken lives. But according to Jefferson County Jail Superintendent David Fortino, for those awaiting sentencing – or those serving time, jail can be a haven of sorts, providing a humane “time-out” for inmates – and the community at large.

Superintendent David Fortino

“We’re not mad at anybody. We’re not here to punish anyone,” said Fortino. “We are committed to providing a safe, secure environment, and care for them while they are here.” But haven or not – jail is bleak.

Jefferson County contracts out for inmate meal service. Two chefs serve up three nutritious meals, typically: a cold breakfast, a hot lunch, and a hot dinner. Jail staff deliver the meals on carts. One tray per person, per meal – no second helpings, exchanges or substitutions. The tray, spork, cup and bowl (if applicable) must be returned immediately following the meal, when trays are collected by jail staff and/or kitchen workers. If you miss the cart, you miss the meal.

At 5:00 a.m. inmate cells are unlocked, and the lights, TV and phones are turned on. From 5:00 a.m. to 6:00 a.m. meds are distributed, and breakfast is served. Superior Court video appearances are scheduled for 11:30 a.m., and lunch is served at noon. Afternoon classes begin at 1:00 p.m. and midday medications are distributed from 1:00 p.m. to 2:00 p.m. District Court video appearances are scheduled after 1:15 p.m. Dinner is served at 5:00 p.m. Evening meds are passed from 8:00 to 9:00 p.m. Lock down at 9:00 p.m. Lights-Out is at 10:00 p.m.

A cell at the “Hadlock Hilton”

On the whole, it’s a pretty drab existence. Yes – a non-denominational group conducts weekly Bible Study Sunday nights. Inmates can request assistance to get a G.E.D. or complete high school. Alcoholics Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous, and Anger Management programs can assist inmates through personal difficulties. Some inmates may qualify for work crews or inmate worker status. Life Skills classes are held weekly – encouraging healthy ways to cope with life changes and relapse prevention.

Yes – inmates have access to medical and emergency dental services, and necessary medical care is never denied based on inability to pay – but it’s not boutique healthcare by any means.

And yes, the jail provides controlled access to a telephone (collect calls only), and limited visits with friends and family on visiting lists (on either side of glassed partitions with phone handsets on either side).

But there’s not getting around it, life behind bars is grim.

Hollywood and the “entertainment industry” tend to glamorize the world of illegal drug use. Beautiful people with beautiful clothes in beautiful cars – rolling in money and influence. A touch of rebellion, a big dose “sticking it to the man.” There’s none of that in Jefferson County. No one gets rich – or stays “in the money” for long, and the superficial thrill of the first hit hurtles the user inevitably and rapidly towards the terrors of dependency. The drugs are unimaginably addictive and unimaginably destructive. Addicts lose their jobs and families, their health, and too often, their lives.

Cold-turkey detox in initial holding cells offers the inmate a clarity he or she hasn’t experienced for years. But there is little joy. As their minds clear, the severity of their situation sinks in. After a week or so of regular meals, rest, and mandatory hygiene, some of the visible sores, injuries and wounds that are the outward sign of the addict may heal. But the damage caused by prolonged drug abuse leaves lasting scars – external and internal, physical and psychological.

Some wags refer to the Jefferson County Jail as the “Hadlock Hilton.” It’s an unfortunate joke, evoking dark memories of American POWs being abused by the North Vietnamese. There is no abuse – certainly no institutional abuse – at the Jefferson County Jail. Inmate Rights are carefully enunciated and scrupulously enforced. On the other hand, the facility is absolutely no “Hilton,” in any way, shape or form.

According to statistics in the current Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office (JCSO) Strategic Plan, since 2001, 57 percent of inmates have returned to the jail at least once. Veteran corrections deputies have established long-standing professional relationships with many local offenders. This familiarity can help prevent confrontations and reduce the need for use of force – but it is no “Kumbaya” bonding.

l“We try to treat inmates with the maximum degree of compassion, dignity, and even respect possible under the circumstances,” said Superintendent Fortino. “But still, I’ve never had anyone say to me that they can’t wait to see me again next time.”

Even at full strength – the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office (JCSO) does not enjoy robust staffing – and overtime and extra shifts are common. While competitive salaries are a major goal of current strategic plans, the JCSO has experienced high turnover of patrol and correction deputy staff – and are currently understaffed.

Nonetheless, the JCSO (operations, county jail, civil division and administration) annual budget exceeds $6 million. When linked to peripheral services ranging from lawyers, bail bondsmen, and counselors, to academia, charities, foundations, contractors, and healthcare providers, and Port Townsend and state law enforcement and health expenditures, drug-related crime looms as one of the largest economic drivers in Jefferson County.

Sadly, with recidivism on the rise, and the opiate crisis showing no signs of peaking soon, it has all the trappings of a growth industry.