When I was involved with the hiring for local law enforcement agencies, the ratio was about 1 out of 100. That's one applicant selected out of one-hundred applicants. Most cops are some of the brightest folks in the work force. The 10% rule, however, does apply. That being, no matter how diligently you test, screen, or investigate employees in the hiring process, when they are hired 10% turn into idiots. And, 10% will be superior. The old bell curve thing. An officer who we'll call Herbert Brawley was in the bottom ten.
Herbert was wacky about firearms. His duty weapon was a Colt Python, the most expensive revolver Colt made. Most cops couldn't afford one. A beautifully crafted weapon, its precision craftsmanship made it a high failure weapon on the range. We all practiced and qualified with reloads. Reloads sometimes don't have the primer fully seated, causing the cylinder to lock in a precision made gun. The python suffered from this problem.
It was beautiful and Herbert liked to show his off. A cop is never supposed to unholster their gun unless they may have to use it. Herbert had trouble with this concept, liking to take it out and fondle it or show it to the public. Repeatedly warned about this, he continued to do it until other cops derisively mocked his Southern drawl and frequent comment: Do you wanna to see my Piiiithon?
Herbert became an ex-member of the NPD on the sad day he whipped it out, in the old WT Grant store in the Naples Shopping Center, to show to a customer. He accidentally discharged a round into the terrazzo floor, sending chips flying. Two customers received minor cuts and Herbert a map back to Arkansas.
The Sheriff once had a Deputy from Immokalee, that we'll call Big 'Un, who was a crack shot on the street, but couldn't qualify on the range. His worst problem was at the 60 yard line. There, you were required to drop to your knees, draw your weapon, fall forward on your elbows and fire from the prone position. His ample belly may have been the problem. Whatever it was, he just couldn't do it and most cops didn't want to be anywhere near him when he tried.
Everyone had a blanket laid out at their feet to keep them out of the dirt. Big 'Un regularly dropped to his knees, drew his weapon, and shot a hole in his blanket. Once, the slug even set the blanket on fire. God only knows what would've happened if we'd had semi-automatics back then.
Herbert was wacky about firearms. His duty weapon was a Colt Python, the most expensive revolver Colt made. Most cops couldn't afford one. A beautifully crafted weapon, its precision craftsmanship made it a high failure weapon on the range. We all practiced and qualified with reloads. Reloads sometimes don't have the primer fully seated, causing the cylinder to lock in a precision made gun. The python suffered from this problem.
It was beautiful and Herbert liked to show his off. A cop is never supposed to unholster their gun unless they may have to use it. Herbert had trouble with this concept, liking to take it out and fondle it or show it to the public. Repeatedly warned about this, he continued to do it until other cops derisively mocked his Southern drawl and frequent comment: Do you wanna to see my Piiiithon?
Herbert became an ex-member of the NPD on the sad day he whipped it out, in the old WT Grant store in the Naples Shopping Center, to show to a customer. He accidentally discharged a round into the terrazzo floor, sending chips flying. Two customers received minor cuts and Herbert a map back to Arkansas.
The Sheriff once had a Deputy from Immokalee, that we'll call Big 'Un, who was a crack shot on the street, but couldn't qualify on the range. His worst problem was at the 60 yard line. There, you were required to drop to your knees, draw your weapon, fall forward on your elbows and fire from the prone position. His ample belly may have been the problem. Whatever it was, he just couldn't do it and most cops didn't want to be anywhere near him when he tried.
Everyone had a blanket laid out at their feet to keep them out of the dirt. Big 'Un regularly dropped to his knees, drew his weapon, and shot a hole in his blanket. Once, the slug even set the blanket on fire. God only knows what would've happened if we'd had semi-automatics back then.
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