Drop the Pen!: What Every Writer Should Know About Real Police Work: Handcuffs

By David Lane Williams

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There are few images more emblematic of police work than handcuffs. Most people get the basic concept: police put them on the wrists to keep arrestees from escaping, fighting, or trying to destroy evidence. Beyond that, handcuffs call to mind constitutional questions, including the Fourth Amendment regarding a government agent (a cop, for example) seizing the physical body of a citizen and the Eighth Amendment as it applies to cruel and unusual punishment. They are a tool, but one that can be abused, so their use must be performed judiciously and without causing injury.

Handcuffs are properly applied with the hands behind the back and the palms facing out. This is the most secure and reliable method for restraining someone who could be a flight or fight risk. It is more uncomfortable than having cuffs on in front, but this is a safety-first issue. Cuffs that are applied so that the hands are still on the front of the body allow aggressive prisoners to punch and grab for weapons, so academies across the country train officers to put them on so that the suspect’s wrists are behind the back. 

Exceptions to the behind-the-back method include obesity, pregnancy, and anyone with a pre-existing injury or illness that would be exacerbated by their arms being pinned back. Large-sized arrestees can get some relief if the arresting officer interlaces two cuffs together to widen the links. This takes a lot of strain off the back, shoulders, and wrists.

Most handcuff brands can be opened with a universal key, meaning Officer A, using Smith & Wesson brand handcuffs, can open Officer B’s ASP brand handcuffs. This, ironically, means people who don’t much like police or think laws don’t apply to them can secretly carry a standard handcuff key on or in their person and use it to open just about any handcuff out there. This is why the process of placing handcuffs with the palms (and thus fingers) facing out and the keyhole facing up is standard across the profession. It makes it tougher for malcontents to “Houdini” out of the restraints. 

Try it. Sit on a straight-backed chair as if you’re an arrestee in the back of a squad car. Make sure the back of your wrists are touching and your palms are facing out. Pretend that your wrists are locked, and that the keyhole is facing up. Unless you’re a true magician, you’re out of luck if your plan is to escape. 

Quality of handcuffs varies from brand to brand, so some officers spring for a higher standard out of their own pocket if they don’t like the department-issued model. The biggest factor is how smoothly and quickly the cuffs encircle the wrists. Most officers like a fast action that wraps around a wrist and locks in one smooth action. Many cops also pony up for better handcuff keys equipped with miniature lights, textured grips, and metal rings for clipping them on the duty belt. There is a whole handcuff industry you’ve probably never imagined. 

Once handcuffs are applied, officers are required to verify that they are not impeding blood flow. This is done either by checking the capillary refill in the nail bed, pinching the nail until it blanches, and then releasing the pressure. The normal pink hue should return within a second if the cuffs are not restricting the flow. 

The other method is to insert a fingertip between the cuff metal and the wrist skin. The cuffs are too tight if you can’t fit the end of a finger in this space. The handcuffs are then “double locked” so they cannot loosen or tighten during the ride to jail, the police station, or the hospital.

Handcuffs can really hurt. Officers in training spend hours slapping them on one another, wearing them in the back of a squad car, sitting down with them on, etc. They know about as well as anyone how painful cuffs can be if applied roughly or, as in the case of police training, repeatedly. 

One of the more brutal aspects of police training comes when the drill instructor orders one or two students to handcuff another cadet, and the “arrestee” cadet is ordered to keep them from getting the cuffs on. This becomes a melee, and I’ve seen shoulders snap out of the socket and bruises to wrists and forearms that travel toward the elbow in the days following the training. Thus, we know that those things can produce agony if they’re not used with some modicum of compassion. 

There is a dangerous period right after the first cuff is applied and the officer is moving to apply the second. This is often when people swivel to attack or bolt to flee. There is something about the sound of that first handcuff ratcheting down on the wrist that can make people panic and do something stupid. Cadets practice applying the second cuff quickly to alleviate some of this concern. I was okay at it, but I’ve seen experts apply both cuffs in a proper manner in under one second—blazing fast and tactically efficient. 

It’s a lot tougher to apply handcuffs than you might imagine, especially if someone is resisting arrest. People wriggle, shove away, buck and sweat, and getting that second cuff on may call for twisting his arm. This is one of the most dangerous moments for both officer and suspect.

Ironically, in nearly all cases, you’ll hear the officer growling, “Stop resisting,” even as the suspect yelps back, “I’m not resisting.” They are resisting, of course, but this is a panicked vocalization coming from a person who, in that moment, may not even realize they are in full fight or flight mode. This is why excellent communication skills and the ability to get those cuffs on quickly if the situation warrants are so critical to everyone’s safety.

I had a personal rule, which I repeat to every student I teach at academies and colleges: Never curse a man in handcuffs. Once cuffs are on, the fight is essentially over. Sure, some might still buck and kick, but the law won that round. It’s been my experience that even the toughest parolees will forgive the arrest, but they’ll harbor years of resentment toward officers who disrespected them after the capture was made. 

Our code of conduct dictates that officers revert to being polite once the scene is made safe. I understand having hard feelings, but we’re supposed to be the good guys. The communities we serve need that level of professionalism and ethics from us more than ever. One way to demonstrate that attitude is through the proper, tactical, and constitutional application of handcuffs. 

Be safe out there…just not too safe. Onward.

Creating Emotion on the Page / Author Leslie Budewitz

I’ll never forget the moment when Romeo rides past the well-intentioned Friar Lawrence with that, oh, so important communiqué about Juliet’s poisoned slumber in Franco Zeffirelli’s version of Romeo and Juliet. I wanted to yell at the screen. Even though I knew the story and what was to happen, the depth of despair from that single act of dramatic irony where no words were spoken, said it all. In this week’s blog, author Leslie Budewitz writes about evoking readers’ emotions in much the same way. As writers we don’t say, ‘And now readers, it’s time to be sad, or happy.’ Instead, the reader is guided into understanding the characters and why the actions they commit are destiny. Otherwise, as Leslie, so aptly explains, the readers won’t feel anything!

Happy Reading!

Clay Stafford,
Founder Killer Nashville,
Publisher Killer Nashville Magazine

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Creating Emotion on the Page 

By Leslie Budewitz

Story lies not in what happens to our characters—whether they lose a spouse, stumble over a body, get sold into slavery—but how they respond to what happens. How events hit them deep inside, touch an old wound, trigger a struggle, lead to more conflict, and ultimately, growth and resolution. The purpose of plot is to force our characters into those challenging situations, where they must confront their internal conflicts, externalizing them in action. This is as true in the cozy mysteries I write as in literary fiction or any other genre. The tone and depth of exploration may vary, but the heart of story remains the same.

But if we tell our readers what our characters feel, they won’t feel anything. We need to evoke emotion by showing how our characters respond to emotional situations. How do they move when struck by grief, annoyed by stupidity, or baffled by absurdity? What happens to their faces, their voices? How do their feelings influence what they say—and how they say it?

First, we can call on our emotional experience. Then, we analogize from our experience to our characters. By analogize—a term lawyers use when comparing cases where the facts differ, but the same legal principles apply—I mean we take what we know, compare it to another situation, and picture what would happen then. I remember clearly how I felt physically and emotionally, and what I did, when a man I didn’t know walked in my unlocked dorm room while I was napping. I can extrapolate from my experience and imagine how my character would respond. (Turned out my intruder was a well-known thief, not a rapist, and didn’t realize my door led to a suite, not a single room, so I wasn’t actually alone.) A character assaulted as a young child, or who had witnessed a brutal attack, would bring to the same intrusion a more complex reaction, based on her own experience.

I used a similar technique in writing Crime Rib, the second in my Food Lovers’ Village Mysteries. My protagonist, Erin Murphy, was 17 when her father was killed in a still-unsolved hit-and run. Now 32, she finds a friend’s lifeless body alongside the road, apparently the victim of a hit-and-run. Ike Hoover, the undersheriff overseeing the investigation, was the deputy in charge of her father’s case, complicating her view of him. As I wondered how Erin would respond to him, I found myself walking around the house, searching mind and body for analogous situations.

I replayed an incident nearly 30 years ago when I took a walk near a golf course, saw a man keel over on the green, and ran for help, struggling to give directions to an unfamiliar place. I remembered watching in a courtroom when an older lawyer clutched his chest, stepped back from the podium mid-argument, and died. And I recalled a collision in front of my house fifteen years ago. The loud crack broke the afternoon. Dashing outside. Seeing a young man stumble toward me. Knowing I had to check his truck, that I couldn’t rely on his dazed assertion that he’d been alone in the cab. Mining my feelings, I realized I was recreating them in my body, all these years later. My jaw tightened, my breath thinned, sounds came at me as if filtered by a fog.

“[Ike] suppressed a smile. I sat and took the statement he handed me. Rereading my description of what I’d seen and heard on Saturday night brought all the sensations crashing back. My breath went shallow, and I felt the anxiety racing through my veins, headed for my heart.  I did not want to feel this. I wanted to walk away. My self-righteous words to Kim still echoed in my ears: Stacia deserves justice, too.”

How do we tap into emotions beyond our own pale? Emotional research. I often call on my doctor-husband’s observations of how people respond to stressful situations, emotionally and physically, and the long-term effects. To explore Erin’s reactions, as a teenager and a young woman, to her father’s death, I thought about everyone I knew who’d lost a parent when they were young. Me, at 30, is very different from 17, but a good starting point. My college best friend, at 21; and a high school classmate at 22, who later lost her husband when her son was only 4. A law firm colleague whose father’s death when he was 18 set him on a much-different path than he’d planned. I wrote what I knew of their experiences out by hand to get at the physical experience. To put in my body, so my writer brain could call on it.

I also found online guides for teens who’ve lost a parent and for their teachers. Kids sometimes have a not-quite-rational feeling that something unrelated to their actions must still be their fault, somehow, or that it marks them.

“Calling him by his first name wasn’t disrespect. Undersheriff sounds too much like undertaker to me, and it had been Ike who’d come to the village Playhouse to get me, during rehearsal, after my father’s accident. The association still stuck. Childish, maybe, but it wasn’t a feeling I could logic my way out of.”

A writer friend described her own teenager, a very different girl from Erin, but whose desire for black-and-white answers helped me flesh out Erin’s best friend Kim Caldwell. Now a sheriff’s detective, Kim’s reaction cost both girls their friendship, led to her career in law enforcement, and still plagues her.

“Kim and I had been best friends all through junior high and high school. Until my father died, the winter of senior year. That had been too much for her, and the night of his accident, I lost my best friend, too. Since my return, we’d run into each other a few times, but exchanged only small talk. Why she’d chosen law enforcement remained a mystery. …

Something slid down her left wrist and she shoved it back up her sleeve. A bracelet? A memory flashed across my mental screen and vanished.

“I’m sorry to have to put you through this,” she said. “Your family means a lot to me.”

Right. My family meant so much, she dropped me like a rock when my father died. Like it might be contagious. Like I had done something to her.

I nodded. Until I knew what was going on, I needed to be very careful.”

Only when we dig into our characters’ minds and hearts, their successes and failures, their stresses, dramas, and traumas, will we know how they’ll respond to events on the page. But if we’re willing—even when it brings back up our own painful moments—we can create characters our readers will want to know.

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About Crime Rib: 

“Gourmet food market owner Erin Murphy is determined to get Jewel Bay, Montana’s scrumptious local fare, some national attention. But her scheme for culinary celebrity goes up in flames when the town’s big break is interrupted by murder…

Food Preneurs, one of the hottest cooking shows on TV, has decided to feature Jewel Bay in an upcoming episode, and everyone in town is preparing for their close-ups, including the crew at the Glacier Mercantile, aka the Merc. Not only is Erin busy remodeling her courtyard into a relaxing dining area, she’s organizing a steak-cooking competition between three of Jewel Bay’s hottest chefs to be featured on the program.

But Erin’s plans get scorched when one of the contending cooks is found dead. With all the drama going on behind the scenes, it’s hard to figure out who didn’t have a motive to off the saucy contestant. Now, to keep the town’s rep from crashing and burning on national television, Erin will have to grill some suspects to smoke out the killer…”

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If you would like to read more about Leslie Budewitz’s books please click here.

Leslie Budewitz is the national best-selling author of Death al Dente, first in the Food Lovers’ Village Mysteries, winner of the 2013 Agatha Award for Best First Novel. Crime Rib, the second in the series, was published by Berkley Prime Crime on July 1, 2014.

Also a lawyer, Leslie won the 2011 Agatha Award for Best Nonfiction for Books, Crooks & Counselors: How to Write Accurately About Criminal Law & Courtroom Procedure (Quill Driver Books), making her the first author to win Agatha Awards for both fiction and nonfiction.

For more tales of life in the wilds of northwest Montana, and bonus recipes, visit her website and subscribe to her newsletter. Website: www.LeslieBudewitz.com   Facebook: LeslieBudewitzAuthor

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