Night patrons of Fuzzy's Taco Shop.

It’s interesting. In my position, I’ve seen so much. Mangled cars, blood and bruises, arrests, you name it. But it’s always been from a reporter’s eye, which I learned this weekend is only part of the story.

Today’s Lights & Sirens will be a little different, as I wanted to tell you about the experiences I had on a “ride-along” with Lawrence police Sgt. Trent McKinley early Saturday morning. From 1 a.m. to about 3:30 a.m., McKinley and I cruised town, hitting a few hot spots known for late-night activity. Here’s what I took away from my time in a police vehicle passenger seat:

Saturday, 1 a.m.

The night begins and I’m rolling passenger side in a police vehicle. At that hour, as bars prepare to close, the natural place to go is Massachusetts Street.

I’m immediately shocked by the way young, likely intoxicated people treat officers. We turn the corner from the Judicial and Law Enforcement Center at 111 E. 11th St., and a woman crossing the street with a gaggle of friends hollers at a car in the crosswalk.

“Watch where you’re going, (expletive),” she says as the car zooms by.

Turning to her friend and pointing at us she says, “That cop didn’t do anything!”

OK, she’s mad at the other car driver. I get it. But McKinley tells me you have to pick your battles when working high-activity shifts like late nights/early mornings. We go on our way.

A block later, I start noticing people — of all races — throwing their hands in the air. Some yell, “Hands up, don’t shoot.” Another man flips us off. Then another.

I expected some of this so closely on the heels of Ferguson, Mo., and violence related to community-police relations nationwide. But after the seventh outburst, I’m starting to feel uncomfortable.

1:40 a.m.

We swing around the street again, and this time there are about 50 people crowded outside a nightclub in the 700 block of Mass. after “last call” is called. McKinley says these situations are difficult because of the sheer number of people in a small area.

We slow down, but don’t stop. A man pulls out some kind of LED flashlight and clicks it on and off like a strobe light, flashing it into our eyes.

The whole thing is baffling me. I’m the person who, when I spot a police car, slows down, makes sure to make a complete stop, tries to stay under the radar, so to speak. But these individuals are being purposefully conspicuous.

Amid the behavior, McKinley turns to me and says, “I could deal with intoxicated people screaming at me all day. It’s the violence that’s really unsafe.” And on that front, it was a relatively — and unusually — quiet night.

These officers take so much grief and just ignore it. I, on the other hand, can get flustered over a hurtful commenter or nasty email in my inbox. The experience really taught me what it is to grow a thick skin to face the “haters” on the job.

I tallied 13 instances of what I’d label as harassment throughout the night. But police can’t be “victims” of disorderly conduct by law, and it’s completely within your rights to cuss at an officer.

But there can be other consequences. McKinley said that he’s had instances where, for example, a passenger in the car in front of him might lean out the window and raise a middle finger at him, focusing the officer’s attention on the car.

Then McKinley might notice something out of place and pull the car over. He’d say something like, “You know, I might not have noticed that you’ve got a tail light out, but your buddy here caught my attention. Here’s a ticket; maybe your buddy can help you pay it.”

That sort of thing did not happen while I was out. McKinley just respectfully took the berating. But I did get to watch McKinley assist with a few other car stops.

_____

1:30 a.m.

The first was just outside Fuzzy’s Taco Shop at 1115 Massachusetts St.

Night patrons of Fuzzy's Taco Shop.

McKinley assists another officer who’s pulled over a truck that had allegedly taken a hard turn that the officer had to dodge to keep from getting hit. The officer follows the truck, wondering if the driver may be intoxicated.

Police pull over a driver who allegedly did not have a driver's license.

Turns out, the driver was not drunk; he was the designated driver. He had three intoxicated passengers in the car who thought they were doing the right thing. The only problem was, the DD didn’t have a driver’s license.

So, the passengers hop out of the truck and start to walk home. The driver is given a ticket for driving without a license. We move on after about 10 minutes.
______
1:50 a.m.

Next on our list, we stop to help another officer on Mass. who has a white Toyota pulled over. The car doesn’t have a license plate, but the driver says it was recently purchased and turns over some kind of registration or document to the officer.

McKinley and another Lawrence police officer speak with the occupants of a car without a license tag.

McKinley’s standing over by the passenger’s side as the other officer deals with the driver. I can see his eyes staring down a passenger, and he tells me afterward that he’d been watching as a passenger was filming the exchange with his cellphone. The passenger was also apparently texting someone, “OMG the cops just pulled us over.”

The officer tells the driver to put a license plate on the vehicle, and we all leave. I’m not sure if the driver was issued a citation or not.
______
2:10 a.m.

We stop when we see officers talking to a person parked cockeyed in a parking space on Mass. We get out, and are immediately bombarded with “Hands up, don’t shoot” and “Who are you?”

The officer had stopped because he thought the car had a flat tire and was going to help, McKinley said. But, alas, the tires were fine and the driver had just parked weirdly. We learn that the driver is actually an Uber driver, but one of his passengers bails for a professional taxi company after the incident. We clear the scene.
________
2:30 a.m.

McKinley and I then drive around town, checking out the Oread neighborhood that was full of patrolling officers because it was the first week the KU students were back. We head over to North Lawrence and cruise around.

By this time it’s 2:30 a.m. and we see that an adult entertainment establishment has a few too many cars for after closing time. McKinley goes inside, leaving me in the car, and conducts a bar check. Nothing obviously shady was going on inside, McKinley said. Just employees.
_______

3:10 a.m.

As McKinley goes to drop me off, he apologizes for it being a largely quiet night. As I unbuckle, we hear a call come over the scanner: “10-97 (domestic disturbance)” outside a downtown business.

I pop my seat belt back on and away we go. Upon arrival, we see a group of people, and officers separate witnesses, suspect and victim.

Five officers, including McKinley, begin speaking to the different groups. They’re able to determine from various witnesses that a man was allegedly seen physically abusing a woman on the sidewalk.

The whole time, the woman is crying, “He didn’t do anything,” and the man denies all accusations. But the thing is, I later learned, that in Kansas, you don’t have to have victim cooperation to prosecute domestic violence cases. An officer places handcuffs on the man, and the man’s friend starts yelling at police.

“I need your card. What’s your badge number?” the friend said. “He didn’t do anything.”

McKinley and a team of officers walk the cuffed man over to a police vehicle. He’s cooperative, and tells the friend to quiet down. The alleged victim is sobbing. The friend continues to scream. But eventually the scene quiets down, and McKinley drops me off at home.

On Monday, I told Willow Domestic Violence Shelter executive director Joan Schultz about what I’d seen. She said she wishes more people would act as the witnesses in this incident did. She said often in domestic violence cases, if a woman speaks of her abuse, the abuser might retaliate when he is released from jail.

“If we could just write the witnesses a big thank-you note,” Schultz said. “Thankfully, the law is there, and these witnesses took the time to help. It’s just safety for the victim.”