Friendly, insightful & courageous

Murphy I’ve been on more than a half dozen ride-alongs with police over my career, and it has become a running joke that I share each time I do one: If I go on a ride-along, nothing happens.

Most law enforcement agencies permit ride-alongs, and it gives me an opportunity to really get to know one or two officers and hear their insights about the town that you won’t get from the visitors center brochures.

My appointment was for 7-11 p.m. Friday – at my choosing. I wanted to have some daytime hours and nighttime hours, because the difference between the two can be stark.

The Murphy Police Department is crammed inside a corner of an old Carnegie library downtown, sharing space with the Cherokee County Museum.

I wasn’t sure how to meet up, since it was after normal business hours and the office was closed. Then I met Patrolman Hunter Sanders, who opened the door and invited me in.

I was expected and Sanders noticed my arrival on

a surveillance screen in a small, two-station office where police file their reports. He let me in and said my escorting officer – Cpl. Adam May – would be arriving shortly.

Sanders had worked the day shift by himself. I was joining up with May as he started the 7 p.m. Friday to 7 a.m. Saturday shift – again, the only officer on duty.

May arrived on time, and a few awkward introductions were made.

I’ve had many good experiences with police over the years, but a few bad experiences, too. I imagine May could say the same thing about journalists, and I can only imagine all the hands that didn’t go up when Police Chief Tim Lominac asked for a volunteer to take a journalist on a ride-along.

Whatever expectations May had of me, he was friendly, insightful and, as you will see in a moment, courageous.

I filled out a form absolving the Town of Murphy and Murphy Police Department of any harm that may befall me during my ride-along, then it was off to the races – and by races, I mean a slow crawl.

The hours before sunset for a Murphy police officer are spent jiggling locks and doorknobs, locking public restrooms and checking for suspicious activities. As I said, when I go for a ride-along, nothing happens.

While still daylight, we patrolled shopping centers and parks, stopping to greet people both known and unknown, just checking to make sure things were OK. He was constantly waving and checking to make sure people were safe and behaving.

It felt like May was the Town of Murphy’s personal greeter and security guard. As dusk approached, we drove to a large, vacant commercial facility that had been targeted by homeless people and drug users (the phrases are not mutually interchangeable). As we walked to and fro among the rows of buildings, May discovered several signs of break-ins, each one requiring that he enter the building and check for trespassers.

This process took some time, and by then the light was failing. That’s when I realized how courageous May and his colleagues are with local law enforcement.

Except for an aging, unarmed journalist tagging along, May was without backup. If he was truly in danger, law enforcement would come out of the woodwork, but getting that help takes time and, meanwhile, he’s alone.

Think spooky. Think someone who is not at their best behavior hiding behind every corner in building after building full of clutter, debris and, occasionally, drug paraphernalia.

“Murphy Police Department, announce your presence now,” May shouted as he entered each unsecured building. Hearing nothing, he’d follow with, “All right, now,” and begin searching.

May figures he has been in well over 100 violent encounters during his years as a police officer and, before that, a sheriff’s deputy. Informed by that experience, he approaches threats cautiously but resolutely. He does not flinch.

By then it was nearly dark outside and pitch dark inside each building, but May continued on. And as he left each building, he did his best to secure the broken doorways to discourage further break-ins and give him a benchmark to go by when he returned later that night for a double check.

As we left, he got the phone number of the representative agent for the property from the dispatcher and called to let him know about the situation.

We made two stops to the county jail to discuss a woman’s personal crisis. As the first visit concluded, May received a dispatch to Walmart, where someone was confronting customers.

We went to that call with blue lights and sirens – a first for me among my ride-along experience. A nearby sheriff’s deputy responded for backup and arrived a short time after us.

No one was arrested, but May said the person had been banned from Walmart property for life. As we departed, the dispatcher directed us back to the woman outside the jail.

I stayed inside the car for these last few calls. It sort of risks escalation having a journalist show up seemingly out of thin air when you just wanted to talk with a cop.

In the case of the woman outside the jail, she deserves privacy.

The hardest part of the evening was listening to the dispatcher dealing with an accidental shotgun shooting that left one man dead near the Georgia state line. The incident was far outside May’s jurisdiction so we would not be headed there, but I wasn’t about to ask to be dropped off before 11 p.m. because of something newsier. May was donating his time to me, and the least I could do was give him my full attention.

May drove up to my car outside the Murphy Police Department at precisely 11:01 p.m. and asked if I had enough. My wife wanted me to pick up something from Walmart, but May reminded me that Walmart closed at 11.

I asked if he would mind if I rode along with him awhile longer.

We drove up and down the streets of Murphy, and I saw places I’d never visited – both good and bad. We continued to patrol the town and chat away until I started longing for my bed. He dropped me off at my car at 1:30 a.m.

May continued working his shift for another 5½ hours. Alone.