AZAndy
Member
Howdy all,
This past Saturday I was on my way to my favorite indoor shooting range in the area, as is my weekly habit, and saw that the car in front of me was going a bit under the speed limit. The car in question was an Arizona Highway Patrol vehicle, and was plainly marked as such. I thought, "Oh, he's probably busy with his radio or talking on his cell or something, so I'll just gently pass him." Speed limit was 55, and he was going 52 or so, with traffic passing me on the right (he and I were in the left lane). I pulled around him and, in the words of Lewis and Clark, "proceeded on," at no time exceeding the speed limit (I mean, hey, why ask for trouble, right?).
A couple of minutes later, there he was in my rearview mirror, lights flashing. So I pulled over. I turned off the car, rolled down my window, and then kept my hands on the top of the steering wheel. He appeared at my passenger side, and I reached over to roll down that window for him, whilst mentally slapping my forehead for not paying attention to where he was headed, having already rolled down the wrong damn window in the rain. Approaching the car from the off-traffic side is probably de rigeur for law enforcement nowadays, I imagine, but I'm oldish and haven't been stopped for a long time... about thirty years, now that I think about it.
He asked for the usual documents, and as I was getting them out of my wallet and glove compartment, he mentioned that he was stopping me for speed-- I was going 61-62 mph according to him, which threw me a bit, but I didn't muster a fuss or anything. I did apologetically mention that my speedometer read otherwise, but wasn't in any way confrontational or argumentative.
As I handed over the various documents, I added my concealed-weapon permit to the stack, thinking merely to be courteous. (Arizona law does not require the permit to be offered before it's needed or asked for, but I prefer to stymie any possible trouble in the bud, as it were.) In fact, as I took it from my wallet, I said, "Just so there are no surprises, here's my concealed weapon permit, since I'm carrying a gun." He didn't bat an eye, but he did ask me where my weapon was, and I pointed to my right front pocket, where my trusty S&W 642 was. He said something along the lines of "Well, don't reach in that direction, and I'll be right back." I smiled in the friendliest manner I could muster and said "No, my hands will be right here" (resting them back atop the steering wheel).
He went back to his car and did all the mysterious things that police officers do while you're in that position. After a short while, he returned to the driver's side this time-- again, mental head-slap for not paying attention and realizing that he was coming up on that side-- and asked me to step out of the car. "Hoo-wee," I thought, "this isn't looking good-- wonder what the problem is?" He had me follow him to the space between his car and mine and asked me again where my gun was. Again, I pointed to my right front pocket, keeping my hand well away from any position that would telegraph "reaching for gun." He let me know that he was going to reach into my pocket and get it, and immediately did. I just kept my hands up and tried to look nonchalant, hoping that nobody I knew was driving by at that moment. He asked me to return to my car, which I did.
After only a couple of minutes, he returned-- to the passenger's side this time-- and handed my back my revolver. Even though the cylinder was closed, I could easily see that it had been unloaded. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the cartridges while explaining that he had unloaded it, asking, "That was a 5-shot, right? Okay, here, let's see, yep, there's five..." I unzipped my range bag which was sitting in the passenger's seat, and said, "Yep, they're all there, just dump them right here (pointing to a compartment in my bag that I've designated as the Official Ammo Dump)."
He then handed me a warning to sign, which I gratefully did, not wanting to receive a ticket for not actually speeding, you understand. We parted ways and all was well. At no time was the officer in any way pushy, obnoxious, unfriendly , or anything less than professional, other than flat-out lying to me in the first place about the speeding thing. (Still trying to figure out why he really stopped me; I don't have any threatening bumper stickers or anything other than a Linux shark on the car... hmmm, maybe he's one of Bill Gates's minions?
).
The whole point of this boring, rambling story is that it raises some questions that are gun-related:
1. Is it really safer to disarm someone during a simple traffic stop? Seems to me that the unnecessary handling of guns is just asking for trouble.
2. Is it really a good idea to, having taken a gun from a person, unload it? Ditto unnecessary handling.
3. Should a police officer, having presumably been the recipient of at least some basic training in the handling of firearms, hand a revolver to its owner with the cylinder closed? Much picking of nits, I know, and it's not really a big deal to me... but still, that ain't right. I like the courtesy of having a firearm's state of unloadedness (or otherwise!) immediately obvious when handing it to me.
4. Since the officer involved seemed to have some concern about firearms in his presence, should it not have crossed his mind that the bulging range bag into which he was dumping my cartridges might contain other firearms? (And it did: a Springfield 1911, Kel-Tec .32, and a Romanian TTC-- I didn't think about that at all, I was just concerned with letting him know about what I had on my person. The presence of the other guns didn't even hit me until I pulled into the parking lot at the range.)
5. Since the law doesn't require me to alert the officer to a concealed weapon and the permit thereof, should I have even bothered?
I have no complaint at all about the comportment of the police officer. He was perfectly calm and friendly, as was I, during the whole procedure. I imagine that he was handling what turned out to be a non-stop under the guidelines he had been given. But still-- just seems really dumb to me to make any kind of extra duty out of someone legally carrying a gun that they legally own. Good thing I didn't mention the switchblade in my back pocket; temporarily removing the blade might have been a bit of a bother for him, I would think.
(Lest you misunderstand that last bit, spring-operated knives are legal in Arizona, even without a permit for concealed weapons. Jointed sticks, however, are not, which strikes me as really bizarre-- even with a permit, one may not carry nunchaku. Perfectly legal, with a permit, to have two short shotguns under your coat and a pistol in every pocket and a rifle down each pants-leg and a brace of Navy Colts down your back. But two sticks with a joint in between them? Goin' to jail, mate.)
Andy
This past Saturday I was on my way to my favorite indoor shooting range in the area, as is my weekly habit, and saw that the car in front of me was going a bit under the speed limit. The car in question was an Arizona Highway Patrol vehicle, and was plainly marked as such. I thought, "Oh, he's probably busy with his radio or talking on his cell or something, so I'll just gently pass him." Speed limit was 55, and he was going 52 or so, with traffic passing me on the right (he and I were in the left lane). I pulled around him and, in the words of Lewis and Clark, "proceeded on," at no time exceeding the speed limit (I mean, hey, why ask for trouble, right?).
A couple of minutes later, there he was in my rearview mirror, lights flashing. So I pulled over. I turned off the car, rolled down my window, and then kept my hands on the top of the steering wheel. He appeared at my passenger side, and I reached over to roll down that window for him, whilst mentally slapping my forehead for not paying attention to where he was headed, having already rolled down the wrong damn window in the rain. Approaching the car from the off-traffic side is probably de rigeur for law enforcement nowadays, I imagine, but I'm oldish and haven't been stopped for a long time... about thirty years, now that I think about it.
He asked for the usual documents, and as I was getting them out of my wallet and glove compartment, he mentioned that he was stopping me for speed-- I was going 61-62 mph according to him, which threw me a bit, but I didn't muster a fuss or anything. I did apologetically mention that my speedometer read otherwise, but wasn't in any way confrontational or argumentative.
As I handed over the various documents, I added my concealed-weapon permit to the stack, thinking merely to be courteous. (Arizona law does not require the permit to be offered before it's needed or asked for, but I prefer to stymie any possible trouble in the bud, as it were.) In fact, as I took it from my wallet, I said, "Just so there are no surprises, here's my concealed weapon permit, since I'm carrying a gun." He didn't bat an eye, but he did ask me where my weapon was, and I pointed to my right front pocket, where my trusty S&W 642 was. He said something along the lines of "Well, don't reach in that direction, and I'll be right back." I smiled in the friendliest manner I could muster and said "No, my hands will be right here" (resting them back atop the steering wheel).
He went back to his car and did all the mysterious things that police officers do while you're in that position. After a short while, he returned to the driver's side this time-- again, mental head-slap for not paying attention and realizing that he was coming up on that side-- and asked me to step out of the car. "Hoo-wee," I thought, "this isn't looking good-- wonder what the problem is?" He had me follow him to the space between his car and mine and asked me again where my gun was. Again, I pointed to my right front pocket, keeping my hand well away from any position that would telegraph "reaching for gun." He let me know that he was going to reach into my pocket and get it, and immediately did. I just kept my hands up and tried to look nonchalant, hoping that nobody I knew was driving by at that moment. He asked me to return to my car, which I did.
After only a couple of minutes, he returned-- to the passenger's side this time-- and handed my back my revolver. Even though the cylinder was closed, I could easily see that it had been unloaded. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the cartridges while explaining that he had unloaded it, asking, "That was a 5-shot, right? Okay, here, let's see, yep, there's five..." I unzipped my range bag which was sitting in the passenger's seat, and said, "Yep, they're all there, just dump them right here (pointing to a compartment in my bag that I've designated as the Official Ammo Dump)."
He then handed me a warning to sign, which I gratefully did, not wanting to receive a ticket for not actually speeding, you understand. We parted ways and all was well. At no time was the officer in any way pushy, obnoxious, unfriendly , or anything less than professional, other than flat-out lying to me in the first place about the speeding thing. (Still trying to figure out why he really stopped me; I don't have any threatening bumper stickers or anything other than a Linux shark on the car... hmmm, maybe he's one of Bill Gates's minions?
).The whole point of this boring, rambling story is that it raises some questions that are gun-related:
1. Is it really safer to disarm someone during a simple traffic stop? Seems to me that the unnecessary handling of guns is just asking for trouble.
2. Is it really a good idea to, having taken a gun from a person, unload it? Ditto unnecessary handling.
3. Should a police officer, having presumably been the recipient of at least some basic training in the handling of firearms, hand a revolver to its owner with the cylinder closed? Much picking of nits, I know, and it's not really a big deal to me... but still, that ain't right. I like the courtesy of having a firearm's state of unloadedness (or otherwise!) immediately obvious when handing it to me.
4. Since the officer involved seemed to have some concern about firearms in his presence, should it not have crossed his mind that the bulging range bag into which he was dumping my cartridges might contain other firearms?
(And it did: a Springfield 1911, Kel-Tec .32, and a Romanian TTC-- I didn't think about that at all, I was just concerned with letting him know about what I had on my person. The presence of the other guns didn't even hit me until I pulled into the parking lot at the range.) 5. Since the law doesn't require me to alert the officer to a concealed weapon and the permit thereof, should I have even bothered?
I have no complaint at all about the comportment of the police officer. He was perfectly calm and friendly, as was I, during the whole procedure. I imagine that he was handling what turned out to be a non-stop under the guidelines he had been given. But still-- just seems really dumb to me to make any kind of extra duty out of someone legally carrying a gun that they legally own. Good thing I didn't mention the switchblade in my back pocket; temporarily removing the blade might have been a bit of a bother for him, I would think.
(Lest you misunderstand that last bit, spring-operated knives are legal in Arizona, even without a permit for concealed weapons. Jointed sticks, however, are not, which strikes me as really bizarre-- even with a permit, one may not carry nunchaku. Perfectly legal, with a permit, to have two short shotguns under your coat and a pistol in every pocket and a rifle down each pants-leg and a brace of Navy Colts down your back. But two sticks with a joint in between them? Goin' to jail, mate.)
Andy
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