As Jennifer turned north on Hartford Avenue, Thorpe conducted a radio check to make sure all the vehicles were still in line. When she turned west on 51st Place North, Thorpe advised the dispatcher monitoring the tactical channel they were “less than a minute out” and requested a time. Jennifer brought the van north on Frankfort Avenue, approaching the target from the south. The house would be on the team’s right as they piled out of their vehicles.
Because of limited manpower, Thorpe instructed officers not to pursue anyone who ran from the front yard; they were already stretched thin enough without chasing rabbits in four different directions. As Jennifer neared the target, she switched on the van’s bright lights; the cars following extinguished theirs. The intended effect was to blind anyone in the yard so they couldn’t see the trailing marked police units.
Usually the team parked around a corner and approached the target on foot, but the logistics of this particular warrant required a faster response. The neighborhood contained too many spotters for a foot approach to be feasible; any drugs would be well on their way to the Arkansas River via Tulsa’s sewage system before officers made entry. The same concerns prevented Thorpe from having a surveillance team monitor the residence prior to their arrival. An unfamiliar vehicle or pedestrian would be noticed by lookouts. Spotters were most often young men who patrolled the area on foot or bicycles. They were either paid cash or given small amounts of crack they could then sell on their own. Sometimes the spotters were addicts who received free product for their security services.
Jennifer pulled along the right curb, one house short of the target. Thorpe broadcast over the radio that there were three black males in the driveway and again told officers not to chase. Most cops seem afflicted with extra nerve endings in their legs, which cause them to pursue anything that runs. Sometimes they had to be reminded to switch the impulse off. Thorpe then advised “Police One,” one of two helicopters operated by TPD, to make its approach.
The team poured from the van with the distinctive sound of weapons being unloosed from molded laminate holsters. One of the suspects broke into a run for the backyard. Another ran through the open front door, slamming it shut behind him. The third froze—eventually dropping to the ground in compliance with officers’ commands.
Two officers had the assignment of running to the back of the residence for rear containment. They had permission to pick one individual fleeing the house and pursue.
Thorpe went directly to the front door, and since the team had been compromised, was permitted to forgo the “reasonable amount of time” rule. He ordered Donnie to breech the door and announce, “Tulsa police, search warrant.”
Donnie swung the heavy ram. The door exploded inward, catching a skinny female smoker in the face. The term “crackhead” took on new meaning as the woman, with a flap of skin hanging from her forehead, flailed backward onto a glass coffee table. Jennifer and Jake tactically “split” the door, meaning Jake stood to the right of the opening and Jennifer to the left, both with opposing views of the room inside. Thorpe performed a “step around,” acquiring a sight picture of the center portion of the living room. After several announcements, Thorpe gave the order to enter the residence. The two officers did so simultaneously, Jennifer low with Jake coming over the top, both pistols scanning the deep corners as Thorpe followed on their heels.
The rear containment team broadcast they had a suspect in custody in the backyard but another had dived out a window fleeing west toward a drainage culvert. Police One advised they were “10-97” (on scene), and were tracking the target running northbound in the canal. The helicopters were equipped with “FLIR,” a thermal-imaging camera that picks up differences in temperature. FLIR (Forward Looking Infrared) track persons and vehicles by their heat signatures and is most effective in colder temperatures and at night. The projected image resembles a film negative. The best aspect of FLIR is the operator can track a person without him or her knowing; there is no spotlight to indicate to the suspect he is being followed. In fact, the crew often directs the NightSun away from the “hidden” suspect to make him feel all warm and cozy, as if he’d successfully avoided detection; all the while the helicopter crew is directing officers with boots on the ground right up their ass.
Back inside the residence, a black male stepped out of the kitchen, both hands stuffed in oversized coat pockets. Officers were ordering the suspect to get on the floor, but he chose to ignore their commands; he stood there expressionless, hands removed from view. The suspect very slowly and with exaggerated enunciation said, “Fuck you, cracker motherfuckers… Get out of my house.” Thorpe inched his way across the room, weapon out and pointed at the nose of the now smiling tough guy. Thorpe got to within three feet, then, with gun still trained on Smiley, brought his right foot up and used his weight to heel-kick the man below the sternum. Smiley went sailing, a countertop stopping his backward flight as he bounced off cheap Formica onto the rotting linoleum. Thorpe stepped into the kitchen and cleared it of additional threats before bending over the grimacing clump of meat on the floor.
“Who’s smiling now, asshole?”
Smiley tried to talk shit, but the wind had been knocked out of him. Instead he made squeaking noises as Thorpe secured him with handcuffs.
Cops love search warrants or “legalized home invasions,” as they sometimes refer to them. Because of search warrant’s inherent danger, failures to comply with commands were not tolerated. Where else can a person find this kind of adrenaline pump and get paid for it?
Thorpe and his team cleared the rest of the residence, finding no one else inside except for the crackhead with the cracked head and Mr. Smiley. The crew of Police One advised they had observed the window diver run north through a culvert underneath 56th Street North. The suspect continued from there to another street they couldn’t identify from the air. When he passed beneath, he never exited the other side.
Police One had also seen the runner “toss something hot” prior to hiding under the street. Depending on material and the outside air temperature, discarded items can retain a heat signature from the suspect’s body for several minutes. Thorpe took Jake and another one of his investigators, Tyrone Benson, with him to the street that passed over the culvert. Police One directed Thorpe to where Frankfort Avenue and Elgin Avenue intersected. Technically the streets shouldn’t be able to cross since they’re both north-south streets. Yet they somehow managed to form a Y at this location. Police One advised the suspect remained inside. Here, the canal leading to the culvert grew smaller. Walled concrete gave way to mud and vegetation before funneling into the four-foot diameter tube.
Thorpe posted Jake and Tyrone on the south side of the culvert where the suspect had entered. The interior was ink black, and Thorpe didn’t relish the idea of silhouetting his pumpkin to have a look. He called for a K-9 officer, Justin Adams, who arrived five minutes later with Thor, a very large German shepherd who found much enjoyment in biting humans. Thor didn’t care if the victim was a bad guy, another cop, or sometimes his own handler; if something got near his muzzle, he was going to eat it.
It’s standard practice for K-9 officers to give the bad guy a chance to surrender before releasing their dogs. Adams gave no such notice before setting his partner loose into the lightless cavern. Scent-gathering snorts and the clicking of nails echoed out of the chamber as the dog worked his way down the tunnel. Thorpe thought if the suspect hid inside, the man was most definitely expelling another odor right about now which would only aid in his discovery.