Drop the Pen! What Every Writer Should Know About Real Police Work: Traffic Stops, Part Two

By David Lane Williams

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Last month, we discussed traffic stops, focusing primarily on how police officers stopping vehicles based on relatively minor offenses can lead to the detection and arrest of violent criminals. Even if you’re writing a detective procedural, it’s important that you understand the constitutional and tactical considerations of a legal and safe stop in the grand scheme of policing. This month, I want to continue with the traffic stop concept, expanding on best practices. Traffic stops are performed thousands of times each day, and writers of crime fiction and true crime need to have a solid understanding of how they are performed to show they’ve done the research and know this subject better than the average Joe Citizen. There is a procedure taught at most academies nowadays, and I think it is enlightening to understand the way these things should be done. Let’s take it step by step. 

Determine Reasonable Suspicion or Probable Cause

Let’s say your fictional officer needs to stop a car because the driver matches the description of a bank robber from the previous shift. Your officer needs to make the stop in a legal and safe manner. The first thing he must decide (and be ready to defend) is the legal reason for the stop. Officers in the U.S. can’t just go around stopping every car they pass. We’ve all seen the awful ramifications of such an approach. There are basically two ways to make a legal, constitutionally sound traffic stop: Reasonable Suspicion or Probable Cause. 

Reasonable suspicion that a driver or occupant of a moving vehicle has committed a crime or is about to commit one is an acceptable reason for stopping a vehicle. It is, however, the least resilient tactic to the scrutiny of a defense attorney, judge, and/or jury. The officer must be able to swear under oath that, based on his training and experience, he suspected the occupants of a vehicle of doing or about to do a crime. Reasonable suspicion stops are done with less frequency than even a decade ago, because of the inevitable attack it will receive from the person’s attorney if the case ever goes to trial. Most officers will wait until they notice an infraction, such as making a turn without a signal or weaving in and out of lanes. Delaying a stop for actual probable cause—AKA evidence— instead of relying solely on suspicion, puts the officer in a better position to defend his actions if the case goes to trial.

Thus, you may opt to have your fictional officer stop a car based on a “gut feeling,” but you’ve placed him in a legally precarious situation that most veteran officers wouldn’t actually choose. It can still work, but your character is in a better position if he is patient and waits to spot an actual infraction about which he can testify under oath. (Go back and read the previous month’s article if you need more detail on the difference between a Reasonable Suspicion stop and one based on Probable Cause.)

Prepare for the Stop

Preparing for the stop means calling the license plate, description, and location to the Dispatch Center so other officers will know where you are and what kind of vehicle they should look for if the officer making the stop gets attacked. The Hollywood version of a cop stopping a car in a dark alley and not letting anyone know is macho hooey and should never happen in real life (or your fiction unless you want to show a police character performing at a level of incompetence or recklessness).

Parking the Patrol Vehicle

Safe parking of the patrol vehicle calls for turning on the emergency lights and pulling in behind the stopped vehicle. At night, a patrol officer will also use a car-mounted beacon-style light in such a way that it reflects in the side mirror of the stopped car. This adds an additional layer of protection because the other driver has limited visibility due to the glare. Officers know the glare is irritating, but it is designed to give them an edge if the occupants are intent on doing them harm.

The officer will then park the squad car at a slight angle with the engine block canted to the left. This has two advantages. First, the officer can cover behind the engine block if the occupants of the other vehicle come out shooting. Second, the parked squad car will careen to the left instead of straight into the officer if another car hits it from behind. 

Approaching the Vehicle

Approaching the vehicle can be done by either stepping up to the driver’s door or around the back of the stopped vehicle just behind the passenger door. I preferred the second method when I worked at night. Most people will be watching for the officer to approach from their left. Coming up on the right side of their car allowed me to be beside the vehicle and use my flashlight to see if the occupants were holding a weapon before they even knew I was close. 

Either way, officers will touch the trunk compartment door as they pass the rear fender. This action marks the suspect vehicle with the officer’s fingerprints and DNA. Should the suspect “rabbit” (flee), his car will carry definitive evidence of the encounter. It also lets the officer make sure the trunk is fully closed in case there is anyone in the trunk intent on doing him harm. 

Once the officer is near the car, he should identify himself and his agency right away. This has a proven effect of calming concerns from the driver that the officer might be corrupt. Corrupt cops don’t tend to give their names, and this small detail can make all the difference in terms of keeping the tone polite and professional. 

I am also a big believer that officers should clearly state why they pulled the car over, e.g., “I pulled you over because you were speeding through a school zone.” Again, this has a dampening effect on any driver revving up to argue. The officer should be clear, forthright, and professional, which is what it will sound like to jurors listening to the officer’s body camera recording if this thing ever goes to trial. 

Positioning At the Vehicle

I roll my eyes at cop shows where the police officer is talking straight down into the window of the suspect vehicle. The problem with standing right beside the driver’s window is that this position puts you in the line of fire should he turn homicidal. Bullets go through car doors like toothpicks through those little Christmas party sausages. Don’t let your fictional officer stand right by the door. I’ll surmise he was poorly trained or that he is about to get shot in the groin.

Instead, officers are taught to stand adjacent to the thick metal door frame behind the driver’s seat. This space has the tactical advantage of keeping the driver in sight while also making it more difficult for him to accurately fire a weapon backward and over his left shoulder. Try it next time you’re in the driver’s seat. Point your finger like you’re a kid playing with a pretend space phaser and see if you can “photon blast” someone standing back there. You can, but it’s slow and clumsy—the advantage in a split-second attack goes to the officer.

Remember: Officer survival is part tactics and part practice, but all mindset. A well-trained police officer will be thinking about these concepts as he approaches the car. 

Background Check

By now, your officer has collected pertinent paperwork, including the vehicle registration (not all states require this), proof of insurance, and the driver’s license. The officer has conversed with the occupants, determined what, if any, violations have occurred, and retreated toward his own car to increase the safety distance. Now the officer will either type in the occupants’ identification into a mobile computer or call it out to the Dispatch Center. 

I preferred to keep my eyes on the car by calling Dispatch on the radio. Oftentimes, I would do this while standing behind the trunk of my own car, again so that I would have the protection of my vehicle should occupants in the stopped car come out firing. The last place I would want to be in that event would be sitting comfy—and trapped—in my driver’s seat.

Once the cop has determined there are no outstanding arrest warrants for the people in the car, he’ll decide whether to issue a warning or a citation. Once this is done, the officer needs to make a formal announcement along the lines of, “You’re free to go.” 

This is where things might get tricky. Once the person who was detained has been informed he is free to go, he is…free to go. But, this is also when the officer may ask if there is anything illegal in the car. If the driver says, “No,” but he does it in a less-than-credible manner, the officer might follow up with, “So, you wouldn’t mind if I did a quick search, then?” 

Why then? Why not ask to search before the officer has lifted the detention? Here’s the thing: any search of a vehicle (or anywhere considered private from the prying eyes of government) done while a person is in custody is likely to get thrown out of court. In simplest terms, a person in custody may not feel they have a choice but to let that government agent search their car. Thus, any search during the stop could, and probably should, be considered involuntary. You can’t volunteer to allow a search if you don’t believe you have an option. The case is likely to be dismissed, even if you were to find a severed head and a bloody axe in the trunk. 

Officers who are looking to make lots of drug-related arrests use this tactic often. Mentioning to the driver that he is free to leave, but following up with a request to search the car is a workaround, and defense attorneys everywhere just groaned. I can’t say I blame them. This strategy pushes the limits of the Fourth Amendment, and I’m not an advocate for using it during most traffic stops. That said, this is a standard drug interdiction technique, and you may decide to use it to propel your storyline forward. 

Bloody axe, anyone?

A Word on “Do you know who I am?” 

I don’t care if you’re a minister taking her family out for a picnic after church, Senator So & So’s aide, or a rookie attorney who just passed the bar; cops don’t know “who you are,” and they don’t particularly care. They know they’ve stopped you for a reason, and they expect to speak with you and investigate further. 

You wanna make a cop mock you long after the traffic stop? Say, “Do you know who I am?” when he approaches the car. You’ll be the belle of the squad room when he tells his buddies about it later. 

That’s it for this month. Until then, be safe…just not too safe. You’ve got a job to do, after all. Onward.

Zenith Man

By McCracken Poston Jr.

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Maya Angelou once said, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” Since the 1999 acquittal of my client Alvin Ridley, an eccentric TV repairman accused of holding his wife captive in a basement for almost three decades before killing her, I knew I had to tell his story.

But there was one element missing—a satisfying ending.

I could easily explain, as I did to the jury, that Virginia Ridley was never held captive by Alvin. I could even show that she was not even murdered. What I could not explain was Alvin, the most difficult and demanding client I ever had as a small-town defense attorney. Why was he so hard to deal with? Before the trial, his entire social circle had consisted of his wife and one close friend, a character who was even odder than Alvin himself. Known as “Salesman Sam,” this pal rode around on his bicycle, pestering people to buy the promotional items he sold from catalogs he carried in his bike basket. He also (annoyingly, to me) often gave Alvin his so-called “expert legal advice,” which often countered and interfered with the legal advice I was giving my client.

After Alvin was acquitted, I continued to help him navigate the world that seemed to thwart him at every turn. We continued to have lunch together every week. Our friendship became important to both of us. But I still couldn’t figure the guy out. Forensic Files, A&E’s American Justice, the front page of the Washington Post, People magazine, NPR’s Snap Judgment, and FujiTV (Japan) all produced the basic outline of Alvin’s story, but none could explain the main character. The quirky TV repairman seemed beyond explanation.

A screenwriter friend wrote our story, and it was acquired by New Line Cinema under my suggested title of “The Zenith Man.” But after five years, it was clear that it was going nowhere. I tried finding co-writers to help write the book of my story, but one by one, each promising effort fell flat. I began to write down episodes from the case, just to preserve the story. I also sharpened the telling of the story in spoken-word, which I usually delivered to small social gatherings where drinking was involved. My friends could tell I was obsessed with it.

Then one day, someone pointed out a book being sold online with the same title that I had shared with New Line Cinema—Zenith Man — about a failed TV repairman accused of locking up his wife for decades. On brief inspection, I could see that it was our story! It changed all our names and location in this short story. What angered me was that it was being touted as original fiction. After my protests, the author of that book later changed her description of it to “inspired by true events.” But I was hurt, feeling like something very personal had been taken away from me. Frustrated at myself, mostly. We were “fair game” —I had been giving the story away!

Around this time, I was working on telling the story again with a podcaster at my undergraduate alma mater, the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga. A juror from our trial, who had moved to Alaska to work as a nurse, mentioned to the podcaster that she thought Alvin might be autistic. A lightbulb turned on in my mind. Within weeks, an expert on adult autism evaluated Alvin in Atlanta. The testing showed that he was very much in the autism spectrum.

The diagnosis gave me a new appreciation for the problems that Alvin had struggled with all his life and that had culminated in his murder trial. It also gave me what I had sought for Decades—an ending to my story. I could at last explain Alvin. That others like him could have similar experiences with the justice system in the future spurred me to action.

I met Bonnie Hearn Hill, an accomplished writer and editor, who read my scribblings and convinced me I could write Alvin’s story. She helped me develop a proposal and shared it with her curated short list of agents. That’s how I met Linda Konner, who agreed to represent me as a client. She sent the proposal to Michaela Hamilton, editor-in-chief of Citadel Press at Kensington Publishing Corp., who signed it up. I cannot stress enough the influence of these three women. If I have any success, it will be because of them.

My book contract called for a manuscript of 90,000 words. The problem was, the first draft weighed in at 177,000 words. Bonnie told me firmly but graciously what was working, what wasn’t working, and what should be cut. It was agonizing. We ended up with a lean and clean book of 98,000 words.

My excitement went through the roof when my book went online for presale on several bookseller sites in late May 2023. There it stood online alongside the “other” short story, which was now being given away for free. Soon they were both joined by yet another book, priced at $4.99, entitled “SUMMARY of Zenith Man by McCracken Poston Jr.” There, in 47 pages of A.I. drivel, a lawyer by the name of Rebecca Mitchell saved her client in a generic courtroom depiction of a trial. I was a woman! I went into action, and by the time I got through, the fake book was gone from all the major sites. Later I was told the project came out of Nigeria, in what seemed to be a scam designed to delude some confused or budget-minded purchasers.

Deciding that selling copies of my book was the best revenge, I signed up for Killer Nashville and had some promotional material printed up. I gave it to (or forced it on) everyone I met at the conference. The next day, I was thrilled to see a bump in Zenith Man’s Amazon Sales Rank. I learned that the ASR could fluctuate wildly, even in response to just a few sales, but it served to motivate me. It provided just enough dopamine to keep me going. I continued to drive the presale campaign at every opportunity.

At this writing, the publication date is a few weeks away.

As I continue my ground-level campaign, asking everyone I meet to support my book, I found an unusual sales aid from an unexpected source. Back in 1998, while I was defending Alvin’s case, I tried to get Salesman Sam on my side by buying some of his useless promotional items — cheap personalized pens inscribed with “McCracken Poston, Lawyer.” A gross of them soon arrived, and I quickly realized they were dried up and useless on arrival. Don’t ask me why I saved them. But it turns out, they now serve a purpose.

When I started talking to people about Zenith Man, I offered to give one of these twenty-five-year-old useless dried-up promotional pens to anyone who sent me or showed me their preorder receipt. To my amazement, people love them. After twenty-five years, the pens are finally of good use to me. You never know what can come in handy when you’re promoting your book.

And speaking of promoting, by the time this article is published, Zenith Man: Death, Love, and Redemption in a Georgia Courtroom will be a published book. And the campaign goes on!

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McCracken grew up just across a creek and the state line from Killer Nashville founder Clay Stafford. They frequented the same country store in his hometown of Graysville, Georgia. Poston is a criminal defense lawyer in Georgia and Tennessee. His book, "Zenith Man: Death, Love, and Redemption in a Georgia Courtroom" (Citadel, Hardcover, February 20, 2024), is about one of my cases. His client, failed TV repairman Alvin Ridley, was accused of some terrible things, including murder. We all had him wrong.