Mary A. Castillo As we were ushered...

Mary A. Castillo

As we were ushered through the booking area of the Laguna Beach

Police Department, I noticed a sign posted in several prominent

places that read, “It’s not the greatest place to be, but let’s not

make it worse!”

With the overhead lights glaring off the white walls and that

neck-tingling roll and thump of cell doors closing, the city jail

isn’t the place a girl like me visits. But together with my fellow

classmates, that’s exactly where we ended up on the first night of

the Citizen’s Academy.

The academy has now given more than 100 citizens who live or work

in Laguna the chance to glimpse into the lives of the men and women

who wear the badge. We heard presentations about the history of the

department, passed around confiscated narcotics (and no, we didn’t do

any sampling), listened to a 911 caller screaming for help, watched a

K-9 “attack” a suspect, shot a gun on the police firing range and

even got screamed at by two “problem child” residents during a mock

car stop. The only thing I missed was the field trip to the Orange

County Jail and, after watching one too many prison movies, I’m OK

with that.

But what was most challenging for me -- other than nervously

listening to Officer Tom Wall’s presentation while standing inside a

city jail cell -- is that as a reporter, I’m an observer, a collector

of facts, anecdotes and perspectives. I’m not used to being one of

the actual participants. But during the 12-week academy, I, with the

rest of my class, was put in the middle of the action.

“The most important thing to every police officer is that we can

go home at the end of our shift,” Chief James Spreine said earlier

that first evening, encouraging our curiosity and questions. “There

are no secrets, no lies. Our credibility is the most important thing

we have.”

“We’re more critical of ourselves than any news media,” Sgt. Darin

Lenyi said. “We know our mistakes better than anyone else.”

The academy is the brainchild of Lenyi, who wrote his master’s

thesis on the feasibility of such a program within the department.

Apparently, he was so convincing that Spreine gave him the go-ahead

to initiate the program in Laguna. Seven classes later, the program

is an integral part of the training undertaken by department

volunteers and civilian staff.

One of the first things we learned is why cops become cops. Now

they might not admit it if you asked, but Capt. Paul Workman broke

their code of silence. The No. 1 reason, he said, is that cops are

people who want to help other people.

“Are you willing to wrestle with a drunk at 2 a.m. and fall down

on the sidewalk?” he asked.

Hmmm, I wondered. No.

“Police must be prepared to perform day care, marriage counseling

or combat,” he said. “Officers will put themselves in harm’s way to

protect and serve.”

One memorable evening, we got a taste of life on the beat through

mock car stops directed by Training Officer Eric Lee. Now I admit, I

had visions of conducting myself with Wonder Woman-like courage and

skill as my partner, Robin Levinson, and I set out with phony

revolvers, flashlights and rapier wits.

“You’re in control,” Lee said, demonstrating how to focus the

police car’s spotlights. “You tell [the suspects] what to do.”

Keeping his words in mind, our first car stop went well. The

driver ran a stop sign, but because she was polite and didn’t give us

any flak, I let her off with a kind but firm warning.

Feeling good about ourselves, Levinson and I approached the second

car stop. It was not so great.

We pulled over two well-heeled residents on their way to the

country club for drinks and dinner. Academy alumni Hesh Lensky and

Patty Bell greeted us with ear-splitting screams, insults and threats

to not only call the chief, but also the city manager to snatch our

badges.

Officer Bob Van Gorder, who, like all of the presenters, worked

his 12-hour shift and stayed until 9:30 p.m. that night for the

class, consoled us that every officer has had to experience this kind

of scenario many times during his or her career.

“Sometimes [citizens] do get belligerent,” he explained. “This

lets the average citizen put the shoe on the other foot.”

But then, it was time for Levinson and me to make our third car

stop, and well, let’s just say that the spirit of Wonder Woman was

not with us.

Lee said that we were patrolling at 2 a.m. in Downtown Laguna and

spotted a car with no lights driving around. We stopped them and

noticed three male suspects with rap music straining through the

rolled up windows.

Levinson was the contacting officer, expertly rapping the driver’s

window with her flashlight. As she tried to get him to cooperate, I

noticed a red thing laying on the floor between the front passenger’s

feet. A gun.

I remember that my first thought was, OK now what? How do I tell

my partner, who just entered an argument with the driver, that they

have a gun? How fast can I draw my gun?

The look on my face according to Lee and department volunteer,

Ross Fallah, was priceless. But the thing I took home with me is that

an officer never knows if or when he or she may have to make the

ultimate sacrifice to protect and serve. As the community realized on

Oct. 23, one of our own almost did.

Now, just one week after I graduated with class seven, I realize

my job compared to what officers must do on their shifts isn’t so

hard. I’m not asked to investigate an accident on Laguna Canyon Road

or drag an uncooperative arrestee out of the back of my car.

I simply write about it. But I write with a deeper appreciation

and understanding for the facts, the anecdotes and the perspectives I

collect from the members of the Laguna Beach Police Department.

* MARY A. CASTILLO is a news assistant for the Coastline Pilot.

She covers education, public safety and City Hall. She can be reached

at mary.castillo@latimes.com.