Drop the Pen! What Every Writer Should Know About Real Police Work: Legal Justification for a Traffic Stop

By David Lane Williams

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Patrol officers have many different roles day-to-day. They may bust out of the station for a domestic violence call or be dispatched to an armed robbery while eating lunch. The next hour may be taken up with a traffic accident, followed by a shoplifting complaint. An elderly woman may call about hearing sounds beneath her house, relieved when the smudged and dusty officer reappears from the crawl space to report the intruder was only a raccoon. In other words, the mission of protect and serve stays the same, though the tasks involved change by the minute. 

The most visible duty, though, has to do with traffic stops. We’ve all seen them, and many of us have been the subject of a stop. Perhaps we were speeding, didn’t use a turn signal, weaving in and out of lanes or tailgating another driver. There are any number of reasons a patrol officer might pull us over, but this aspect of police work is one of the least understood. 

Even if you write exclusively about detective work, it is important that you understand the reasons for and mechanics of traffic stops. I can’t tell you how many times as a detective that I asked patrol officers to pull over a car for me so I could locate a suspect, find contraband specific to the case I was working, or to make an arrest for a violent crime. Stopping vehicles using the trappings of a patrol vehicle such as the emergency lights, decals and insignia, and public address systems is the safest way. 

Your protagonist investigator may need to stop a fictional “bad guy” while he’s driving a car in which he has hidden an axe he used in the murder of his business partner. Perhaps your detective has gotten information the suspect will be moving the axe from his basement in order to throw it in a lake. Your investigator needs to stop the guy quickly to secure the evidence, and the safest way is to call in help from Patrol. 

There are a lot of factors that go into the decision to stop a car. It must be done in the safest way, which means controlling the tactical advantage at all times. It must also be done in a constitutionally sound manner, both because it is wrong to violate someone’s civil rights, and also because not doing so is the fastest way to get your case thrown out in court. 

There is no such thing as a “routine” traffic stop. Every stop carries the possibility of ending badly. People don’t much like being pulled over by police, even if they know they’ve been speeding, driving drunk, or throwing litter out of their pickup truck. Some people, however, hate it so much that they’re willing to murder the officer who stopped them. 

There are people in this world with felony warrants out for their arrest. Some are looking at life behind bars once they’re caught, so the safety of the officer and anyone else unlucky to be in the line of fire are of no concern. They will die in prison if they don’t get away from the cop who stopped them, and violence is a choice too many are willing to make. 

Thus, every officer coming out of a police academy in America is trained on how to safely and professionally conduct such a stop. Unfortunately, not everyone does it the way they were trained, but the preparatory foundation is a starting point for this discussion. Let’s explore the most professional, least confrontational way of conducting a temporary detention of a driver for an infraction. 

In a traffic stop several things should happen as a matter of constitutional law, training, experience, and a totality of the circumstances. First and foremost is the stop itself. It is only legal for police officers to stop you while driving a car if they have evidence—probable cause—that you have committed a crime or an infraction, or they have a reasonable suspicion that you are about to commit a crime or just committed one. 

Examples of reasonable suspicion that have come before the Supreme Court include stopping cars coming out of a parking lot where there is known drug trafficking (this is constitutionally limited and not used as often anymore), “furtive” movements such as a guy ducking into the shadows when a patrol car cruises by, or someone sprinting away when a police officer approaches. All suspicious, but such subjective decisions on the part of the officer based on his or her training and experience are ripe for misinterpretation, abuse, and second-guessing. 

Probable cause, however, is less subjective, which is why most officers wait to make a stop until they have actual evidence and not just a suspicion of misdeed. This is a critical concept for writers of mystery and thriller fiction to understand. Yes, officers could stop a car based on suspicious circumstances, but veteran cops soon learn that they will spend less time in court being grilled on the stand by a defense attorney if they spot evidence of an actual infraction before turning on their emergency lights. 

This is why some of you may have felt like a police car was following you for too long. You start muttering profanities and staring into your rearview mirror. I’m sure this is where the phrase, “Doesn’t he have better things to do with his time?” came from. Perhaps. It could be that the officer is simply driving in the same direction as you, but it could also be that he is waiting until he has verifiable probable cause. This is especially true if he is trying to record said evidence on his dash camera. 

For example, he may see a person speeding down the road, crossing over the median stripes, or their car has a burned-out taillight. Any of those would constitute probable cause for a stop. 

I can almost hear some of you groaning right now. Stopping someone for a defective taillight? Are you kidding me? Stopping a car for speeding or suspicion of drunk driving is one thing, but why would an officer “waste” time pulling over a car for a light bulb issue? 

There are two answers to this. First, every state has laws regulating safety features on a car, and working lights are part of that package. 

I grant you a broken taillight isn’t on the same level of offense as a driver speeding through a school zone or drunkenly weaving back and forth in traffic. That said, every officer I know has stopped someone for a lower-end priority infraction such as a defective light, expired license tags, or a busted muffler only to find out the driver is a wanted felon. 

In 1995 Oklahoma State Trooper Charlie Hanger pulled over a yellow Mercury for the minor infraction of missing a license plate. To his surprise, Trooper Hanger came to discover the driver of the Mercury was one Timothy McVeigh who had just perpetrated the largest domestic terrorism attack in the history of this nation. McVeigh had worked with other white supremacist/government separatists to blow up the Alfred P. Murrah building in downtown Oklahoma City. 

That one stop helped the FBI retrieve an avalanche of evidence later used against McVeigh at trial. Would McVeigh have gotten away with the murder of one-hundred-sixty-eight and the injury of another six-hundred-eighty people had Trooper Hanger not stopped him for a minor infraction? Potentially, yes, but I think it is also fair to wonder how many others Trooper Hanger saved by stopping McVeigh such a short time after his cowardly act. It was courageous, savvy police work, and it illustrates the potential value in such traffic stops. 

Next month I’ll walk you through how a safe, constitutionally sound, and effective traffic stop should go. Until then, be safe…just not too safe. Onward.

Drop the Pen! What Every Writer Should Know About Real Police Work: You Have the Right to Learn About the Miranda Warning

By DL Williams

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“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law…or in a good tabloid story.” Leslie Nielsen in the 1988 police comedy, The Naked Gun.

Once upon a time there was a fellow by the name of Ernesto Miranda who did not play well with others. He spent the bulk of his life in jails and prison, and that revolving cell door pattern would continue for the rest of his life until he died from stab wounds incurred during a 1976 bar fight. His life was one of rage and pain and waste. 

But he changed criminal investigations forever. 

In 1963 Miranda kidnapped and sexually assaulted an eighteen-year-old woman in Phoenix, Arizona. The woman Miranda attacked was able to provide a solid description, as well as the make, model, color, and partial license plate of his pickup. Phoenix P.D. officers picked him up, whereupon detectives put him in a lineup and interrogated him until he confessed. Miranda was found guilty at trial, which is when the story takes a turn. 

The case was appealed all the way to the Supreme Court, where the conviction was thrown out stemming from the fact the detectives had not adequately ensured Mr. Miranda understood his Fifth Amendment right to be silent while being questioned as a criminal suspect, as well as his Sixth Amendment right to have an attorney present during interrogation by the police. 

To be clear, the Phoenix officers did some solid police work, but the times, they were a-changin’, and so was legal precedent. Few police professionals had thought about reminding suspects they had constitutional rights, and the very idea of giving people accused of violent crimes such a reminder would have been about as popular as a cop walking into a squad room wearing a duty belt under a tutu.

The Miranda vs. Arizona ruling changed everything when it came to police interrogations. Nowadays, as I’m sure you’ve surmised from police procedurals in films and novels, officers dutifully issue the warning at the point of arrest as a matter of routine and departmental policy. 

I wonder how many times we’ve heard fictional cops recite the Miranda warning on television. I bet you could list the whole thing from memory the next time you make a citizen’s arrest.  I should point out a couple of things before we continue: 

1. It’s best to not have your cop character recite Miranda from memory. I’ll tell you why in a minute.

2. Most of the time, it’s best to avoid making a citizen’s arrest in real life. It’s dangerous, it can get you sued, and you’ll end up on someone’s social media feed looking like a big old citizens’-arrest-making doofus. 

It's conceivable you’re writing about a police detective or patrol officer who will wind up reading the warning. You have some wiggle room depending on how detailed you want to be with the project, so let’s examine a few ways Miranda can or should be applied so that you can make informed decisions as you delve deeper into your work in progress. 

The Miranda Warning must be read to a criminal suspect if that person is not allowed to leave and the questions to be posed by the police investigators could be used against the suspect at trial. Both elements must be in place for the warning to be required. So, your protagonist might make an arrest but have no plans to ask follow-up questions. In this case, your fictional cop might not give the Miranda Warning at all. 

An example is the arrest of a man for an outstanding warrant for failure to pay child support. The warrant was discovered when a patrol officer pulled him over for speeding through a school zone, and a check of the driver’s license through the National Crime Information Center (NCIC) resulted in a warrant “hit.” The officer in this scenario has no involvement in the child support case, so there is no reason to ask questions about it. Thus, the officer would most likely serve the warrant but not ask the suspect anything about it. 

An investigator may also opt against giving the warning if she wants to ask potentially incriminating questions but has no plans to make an immediate arrest. In this instance, she could ask questions as long as she lets the suspect leave when questioning is done. This is a legally sound strategy, albeit a risky one. Conceivably, the suspect could confess to the beheading of his ex-wife, and the detective would still have to let him go. That’s not to say she couldn’t go get an arrest warrant and pick him up later, but an axe murderer is walking the streets in the meantime. 

I used this technique twice in my career. In one of those instances, I was out on a case and working alone. I suspected a young man of participating in a gang-related shooting the day before. I’d learned from an informant that the man had helped the shooting suspect by picking up the spent bullet casings at the crime scene. He was in hot water for tampering with evidence, but he was also a witness to the actual shooting. I needed him to cooperate, and I had to make some quick decisions to make that happen. 

The young man was stronger and faster than me. Arresting him alone could have gotten someone hurt (probably me, if we’re being honest), and it also would have shut down any chance of getting him to talk to me. Asking him questions about the part he played in the aftermath of the shooting would incriminate him, but I was certain giving him his rights in that moment would have spooked him. Thus, I asked about the shooting and suggested (honestly) that his cooperation could help him if and when he was arrested for the evidence tampering charge. 

Using this tactic requires officers to be fully transparent about their intentions. Suspects can’t read minds, and many believe they are not free to go at any time. It is incumbent upon the officer to make it clear throughout the interview that the person being questioned is not in custody. Thus, an investigating officer would literally say, “Listen, you’re free to go, but I’d appreciate a few minutes of your time.” 

This also means the officer’s body language must match what she said. She can’t stand between the person being questioned and the exit door so there is no confusion about how and where the person can leave. Your fictional detective will likely keep the conversational tone light, and it is always best practice to record the conversation, so judges and juries know she was upfront with her intentions and upheld her commitment. 

I mentioned earlier that it is a good idea for cops to refrain from giving the warning from memory. It looks slick on film, but it can be awkward in real life if you stumble over the wording or leave out one of the required elements entirely. This can happen when adrenaline is up, so every detective I’ve ever known carried a laminated copy of the warning in their badge wallet. 

This can also be a crucial element at trial. A defense attorney might ask the testifying officer if he gave the warning from memory. An inexperienced officer might answer, “I did it from memory,” with a smug look on his face, thinking this is some sort of IQ test he just passed. 

Unfortunately, his day just got a little longer, because the next question out of the attorney’s mouth will be, “Would you please recite that for us now…from memory.” 

I don’t care how tough you are or how comfortable you feel talking in front of a judge, jury, the accused, the lawyers for the accused, and an audience watching the trial. You are going to mess up when called upon to recite under such duress, at which point the attorney will make hay out of the suspicion you didn’t correctly provide the suspect his rights. 

Conversely, if you testify you read the Miranda Warning off a laminated card, the attorney is likely to drop the entire line of questioning. It’s safer and more professional, and it is simply a better way to get the job done. 

I have one more thought on the Miranda Warning. Yes, it can be a bit of a hassle, and it might be the catalyst for the suspect to clam up and ask for a lawyer. It is also true that hardened criminals who have been in and out of prison most of their life know the warning as well as you or I. However, I came to a conclusion some years back that the warning is also a reminder to good police officers that the people we suspect of horrible crimes are still endowed with certain rights. We’re the good guys, and remembering to treat even the worst offenders as suspects instead of as guilty by our own opinions is how we stay right with the law and with the ethics we swore to uphold. Onward!