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THE TRAFFIC STOP (Past Tense) By: Jonathon Markham The cool rain fell at sporadic moments through out the night and during its brief pauses, a fog radiated from the warm tarmac of the roadway. Hundreds of toads hopped across Route 201 in search of food, several being squashed under the tires of a Summerset County sheriff’s Chevy Impala. At the wheel was officer David McFarland, at 34 years old—he had 15 years on the force. He kept himself in relatively good shape and he was proud that he had yet to spot a single strand of gray hair, nor had he lost one for that matter. He was out all day patrolling the outer border of the county, which doubled as a border with Canada, and was on the return trip back to the station. He enjoyed patrolling the town of Jackman and its surrounding areas, the views were spectacular and the action was light. Route 201 was a typical Maine country road; a lot of blind turns and rolling hills. He wasn’t a fan of driving it at night during the rain, the turns came out of nowhere and you never knew while coming over the next knoll if there was going to be a deer, or better yet a moose, waiting to ruin your day. He never hit a large animal himself but responded to enough calls that had. If there ever was a choice, he would take the deer. The impact would be intense and the damage to the cruiser would be significant, but a moose would be down right life threatening. As he crested the next hill on a rare straight a way, he spotted two pin lights in his rear view mirror, coming around a corner onto the straight. It was the first vehicle McFarland saw for what he perceived to be at least twenty minutes. It was two in the morning and with most of the civilized world in bed, there tended to be a lack of vehicles on the road.
2 He negotiated a rather sharp left turn, when droplets of rain splattered
on the windshield. They fell at a slow, yet steady pace and after about thirty seconds, the droplets started merging into larger droplets, skewing McFarland’s view. He flipped the wipers on to the first intermittent setting, clearing the windshield every five seconds. He came around a right turn and a few moments later the headlights returned, and were much closer than before. McFarland always traveled this road at about 10 miles per hour over the limit; he felt that was acceptable. For the headlights to be catching up to him, he knew the vehicle was speeding. The rain increased in intensity and he turned the wipers to the low continuous setting. He came around another turn and moments later the headlights were only a car length away. He had no way of being certain that this vehicle was the same one he saw before and with no way of capturing the speed of the vehicle on such a twisty road he had no cause to pull the vehicle over. Not that he was complaining; the last thing he wanted to do was to get soaked by the rain. McFarland slowed to the posted speed limit and the headlights came so close that they went out of sight of the rear view mirror. He briefly entertained the thought of pulling the vehicle over for tailgating when the Driver decided to give McFarland a more justifiable cause. The headlights came out from behind the cruiser and the vehicle passed David on a hill, in the oncoming lane with double yellow lines. In the process, the vehicle exceeded the speed limit by more than 20 miles per hour before returning into the correct lane and slowing only a few miles per hour after that. “You have got to be kidding me,” McFarland said to himself. “How dumb can you be?” He gave the cruiser some gas and it responded with a growl and a light tailspin before the tires got full traction and he caught up with the vehicle. He
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could see the vehicle was a black Cadillac Escalade, with the rear window tinted as dark as the state would allow, and a custom plate that said beerman. He flicked on his blue emergency strobe lights. The Vehicle showed no sign of slowing down. McFarland activated the siren in quick succession to get the driver’s attention and it was answered by a left turn signal and the Escalade pulled over. McFarland stopped behind the Vehicle with a twenty-foot gap, leaving a quarter of the car in the roadway to give him protection from oncoming traffic as he approached the vehicle. He turned on his spotlight and pointed it at the driver side window before calling in the stop to headquarters. He gave the dispatch his location and the vehicle’s license plate number. A few moments later, dispatch informed McFarland that the Cadillac was registered to a Mathew Schwartz. “Say again, over.” “The motor vehicle is registered to a Mathew Schwartz.” “Thank you, over.” Mathew Schwartz was a good friend of McFarland during his college days. He hadn’t pulled over a friend for a long time and he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the situation. He decided he was going to feel it out once he got up to the vehicle. He put on his hat and grabbed his flashlight before exiting the cruiser into the onslaught of the rain. He remained alert as he walked to the driver side window of the Escalade. The entire procedure was instinctual, all taught to him at the academy years ago. He positioned himself at the rear driver side post, shinning the flashlight into the cabin. The electric window made a hum as the motor lowered the tinted glass revealing an older yet unchanged face of Michael.
4 “I need to see your license, registration, and proof of insurance please,”
McFarland said as he did a visual search of the interior of the vehicle. Making sure there were no weapons or open containers. “Sure officer, I just have to get the registration and insurance out of the glove box.” Mathew was unable to see McFarland’s face through the glair of the flashlight. “That’s fine. Just move slowly and keep your hands where I can see them.” Mathew did so and he handed the requested materials to McFarland, who quickly examined them with his flashlight. With the light out of Mathew’s eyes, he was able to get his first look at McFarland’s face and he recognized his friend from college. “David? David McFarland? Holy shit, it is you! Or should I say officer McFarland?” At that moment, McFarland had to make a decision. Keep his professional domineer or acknowledge his old friend. “Man, you had me really worried there. I thought I was going to get screwed by the pooch. I mean shit, this one could really hurt me, you know?” McFarland did know. He read the newspaper every day and had seen Mathew’s picture printed on several occasions. Mathew was a lobbyist for the local microbreweries in the state and was in charge of keeping a nice positive image of the industry. McFarland could smell alcohol on Mathew’s breath and he decided to stay professional for now. It had been over a decade since they parted ways and he didn’t see any reason to be on friendly terms. “Do you know why I pulled you over this morning?” “Is it morning already? Wow! It’s been one crazy ass night. Kind of like the nights we use to have back at The Lounge.” “Answer the question please.”
5 Mathew’s smile left his face. “So that’s how it’s going to be?” McFarland didn’t respond. “I assume speeding,” Mathew said. “Speeding and erratic driving. Where are you coming from tonight.” Mathew didn’t try to hide the growing frustration from his face. “A friends,” he said. “Did you have anything to drink?” Mathew stared into McFarland’s eyes. “I might of had a beer.” “You said earlier that you had a crazy night and I can smell the alcohol
on your breath,” McFarland said. “Try that answer again.” Mathew looked away from McFarland. “I don’t recall.” “Where are you heading to tonight?” Mathew opened his mouth then gave a pause before answering. “I don’t know.” “You don’t know?” McFarland asked. “Some girls house. She gave me directions earlier, but I’ve never been there before.” “So if you don’t know where you’re going, then why were you speeding?” Mathew exhaled slowly. “Because I’m horny, alright? I wanted to get laid before it got too late.” McFarland hadn’t decided what he was going to do yet. He told Mathew to wait in his vehicle and McFarland returned to his cruiser. He ran Mathew’s information and found that his old friend had a pretty clean record. No outstanding warrants, no unpaid fines, no suspension. He hadn’t even received a speeding ticket in over five years. He decided to give Mathew a Breathalyzer
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test and if he passed, or came moderately close, McFarland would let him off with a warning. He grabbed his BACtrack s80 and returned to the Escalade. “Mr. Schwartz, I’m going to ask you to take a quick Breathalyzer test.” “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” McFarland dropped his air of authority a bit so the situation wouldn’t escalate. “Listen, just cooperate with me, I’m trying to help you.” “You’re trying to help me? I can loose my job over this. You feel good about taking food out of my kids mouth?” McFarland always wanted to laugh at comments like that. The police got blamed for the situations the suspects put themselves in. It seemed that only on rare occasions did individuals take responsibility for their own actions. “I could ask you to join me in the rain so that I can administer a sobriety test. Instead I’m only asking you to breathe into this device.” Mathew kept a straight face but his eyes told McFarland a different story—he was nervous. “Fine,” Mathew said. “Lets get this over with.” Remaining by the rear driver doorpost, McFarland extended his left arm into the vehicle with the Breathalyzer in hand. He had Mathew blow into the device and it spit out a reading within moments. “Your BAC level is point one zero. According to this, you’re over the legal limit.” Mathew gave out a long and exaggerated Fuck under his breath and lowered his head. “However—these machines are known to be off as much as 12 percent, and are not fully admissible in court in the state of Maine.” Mathew looked up at McFarland. “So what are you saying?” Mathew asked.
7 “It appears that I have no choice but to let you off with a warning and to
tell you to keep the speed down and drive safe. I would hate to see your children starve because of your actions.” The last part was a bit of a joke and Mathew knew it. His face lit up as he took in what McFarland was saying. “Man, you don’t even know how much—you were fucking with me the whole time, weren’t you?” McFarland handed back Mathew’s license and registration, along with a written warning. He kept a straight face as he did so. “Drive safe and have a nice day,” McFarland said. “Man, you really got me, you know that? If you ever want to grab a beer—I know a few good places. You should look me up sometime.” McFarland hinted a smile. “Maybe someday,” McFarland said. “Now you take care.” “You too, off-i-cer.” Mathew rolled up the window and started the Cadillac. McFarland returned to his cruiser as Mathew drove away. The rain started to let up again and McFarland radioed in that he was finished with the traffic stop. He strapped himself into his cruiser and shut off the emergency lights before pulling away and continuing the trip back to the station.
THE END