Any encounter with a cop, good or bad, is bound to be at least somewhat of an interesting experience. These people went to Quora to share their most memorable experience with a cop. Whether they were running to or from the cops, these story tellers won't soon forget these moments! Content has been edited for clarity.
“I was eating lunch at a park in California. A small town, not too noisy. The park I was eating at was quiet, nothing but the birds chirping and the sprinklers watering. I was taking a bite out of my sandwich when a friend walks over and kicks the sandwich out of my hands. Keep in mind, this was not just any friend, this was one of my best friends. Raphael and I are both experienced martial artists so needless to say I felt like I was playing street fighter in real life. He had kicked the sandwich out of my hands with a hard roundhouse, almost kicking my face off. I had owed him 100 dollars from the night before and I still had yet to pay him back. I actually had the 100 dollars in my wallet at that moment and I was planning to pay him back when I saw him. Regardless I was eating and I was ticked off, so I squared up. He followed suit.
I had gotten into a classic orthodox stance while his hands were at abdomen level. I threw three quick consecutive punches in a row only to miss and be punished with a crippling low kick to my inner thigh. We were both traditionally trained as kick boxers. The only difference between him and I, was that I liked to punch, he liked to keep his distance using kicks.
I throw a punch with my left hand and throw a low kick with my right leg, expecting him to block my blows I sidestep and slam a knee into his stomach but to no avail, he blocks with a cross guard and retaliates with a left sidekick, slamming it into my thoracic cavity. Clutching my chest I initiate a conversation.
‘We could have done this at the gym you prick. You did not have to kick the friggin’ sandwich.’ I spat.
‘You’re mad over the food? I’ll just buy you some chicken after practice!’ Raphael states with a grin.
‘Rest in peace, bud.’ I say sarcastically reaching my hands to the smashed sandwich. My friend laughs and helps me up. Patting me on the back.
‘Well since we are out here, want to train for a bit?’ Raphael said.
Forgiving him I nod in agreement. We continue to spar a little bit, this time a lot less fierce, a lot less aggressive. But I still try to steal blows in whenever I got the chance. To many fighters; Going 50% still looks like 100% to the common person. Only fighters usually know the difference.
Suddenly a sheriff’s deputy walks over. We immediately freeze into place. We both glance and look each other in the eye. Running was not an option, fighting was not an option, so what the heck was the other option?
He stops into place. His seaweed green eyes scan us with a cold stare. He looks at us up and down. The silence only bolstered his already impressive features. When he spoke I could feel my heart stop just a little.
‘I saw you both fighting.’ he states with narrowed eyes.
Shoot. I thought. How the heck was I going to get away with battery? What if it was assault?! A thousand things go in and my head and my friend and I exchange worried looks. Knowing we were scared, he breaks a smirk.
‘You guys are pretty good, y’a fighters?’ The deputy states nodding. I look at him in surprise. Was this some form of police interrogation technique? I stay silent knowing that he can either arrest me or leave me be.
‘Guys I am not going to arrest you. I just noticed two young adults exchanging blows. I realize you guys must have been sparring or messing around because you went hard the first minute, and then you went light on each other.’ the deputy smiled.
At this point, I could only stand in silence, stunned. It was my friend who broke the ice.
‘Yeah, yeah, we do fight. We actually compete, amateur though. We are not good enough to be professionals yet.’ My friend smiled.
‘Hah. I can see that. Your sidekick needs to be more explosive, more stiff. And Mr. Strong Silent Type over here, his left hook needs work. Some newbie could see that a mile away.’ The deputy laughed and smiled, pointing at me. After hearing that I could only shoot back at him asking if he even fought.
Later on we eventually have a long conversation with him. He actually competed regularly in SoCal’s battle of the badges. It is where Ems, Armed forces, police officers, fire fighters, etc, duke it out for charity. The money they raise actually get donated to miscellaneous children’s hospitals. Many fighters in the area knew what the event was so Raphael and I looked at him wide-eyed asking what it was like to fight professionally. He actually gave us some tips for a good 5 minutes and told us he had to leave. He told me if we were caught fighting in public by another officer we would probably be charged with, ‘Disturbing the peace.’ With a smile and a fist bump to both of us, he left without giving us an arrest, ticket, or warning.
A year later I got to go to a Battle of the Badges match and see him fight. I eventually got his number and got to go where he trains.
Presently I have been training with him for a good 2 years. Still have not beat him in a fight to this day.”
It All Started With The Cheeseburgers
“Back in 1987, a fast food restaurant called ‘Hardees’ was running a $0.99 double cheeseburger special in St. Charles, MO.
To be honest, my best friend Russ and I had SERIOUS munchies from a little too much herbal indulgence that evening – I mean serious munchies.
We headed to Hardee’s with a long 20 miles in front of us, clutching $4.25 in nickels, just enough to score two helpings of hamburger heaven, each. Driving a very large and very old Ford Fairlane, our trail was filled with thick smoke from our battle cruiser with it’s own voracious hunger for engine oil, so there was no mistaking us for some suburban family in a new cadillac, out for a Sunday drive. You could see us coming a couple of states away.
Not to be left out of the the smoke ceremony our ride was providing, we figured we’d smoke also. It really was the last thing we needed but, we were just two very hungry, good hearted stoners and figured with our smokescreen outside, nobody could tell or smell any difference. Let me just say before you do, I know…. I know. But in Russ’s and my defense, it was 30+ years ago. I can’t turn back the clock – so just stop with the finger wagging and let me get on with my story.
About a block away from Xanadu, the stop lights grimaced yellow for one micro-second before turning red. I could tell Russ was considering stuffing his foot into the carburetor and rocket through the intersection, but he didn’t. Instead, he mashed the brakes and we both bobbed forward, skidding up to the intersection’s crosswalk. ‘Ahhhhhh Fuuuuuuug!’ we both said at the exact same moment and the car abruptly settled.
It was pretty foggy that night and our junkyard resurrected transportation wasn’t helping. We could just barely make out the orange’sh yellow of the Hardee’s sign through the smoke and fog. But more than anything at that moment, WE COULD SMELL THEM BURGERS COOKING. Oh yeah.
The moment the stoplight flickered and flashed green, we were already doing high fives back and forth, cheering and pointing at fireworks going off. (OK, there weren’t any fireworks but it sure seemed like it)
As quickly as our giggling sounds of our joyous cheesy, meaty relief were born, everything stopped with the loudest silence ever. I suddenly understood what death was like.
Our heavenly transportation turned into an unwilling, non-compliant immovable, stationary object. It might as well have been chained to the center of the Earth. The final sounds I remember hearing in those last moments were of a sullen mechanical gurgling, spitting and choking as the motor fought to live. The last few movements during it’s death caught us unexpectedly and like moments experienced but never mentioned, seemed to rock the entire car until coldly still. We’d heard of the term ‘deafening silence’ in our high school English class but never really, truly understood it until then. We were so darn hungry.
I may have left out that this car we were in was a non registered vehicle with more than a few lights burned out and had no insurance. Russ (driver) had no license and we both had arrest warrants for unpaid speeding tickets we’d managed to attain while racing each other home from work at 3AM, months earlier. I should also include that we had a really enormous bag of some absolutely potent weed with us.
The intersection lights turned green and we were stone. (no pun intended there) Driver Russ, being a true mechanic at heart, pumped the gas pedal, spoke sternly to our cheeseburger wagon, churned the starter again and again…. NOTHING.
In one flash of a second everything in reality changed. Piercing, ominous, blood red lights out of nowhere invaded everything. There’s just no mistaking what’s happening when lighting strikes 10 feet away from you. Russ looked at me and I could already hear the words before he spoke them: ‘We’re going to jail, Moe’ (my nickname then) ‘No double cheeseburgers, man…’
The nightstick on the foggy window was so alarming, so jarring, that without our seat belts on, (guilty of that too, I suppose) we both leaped off of the enormously wide 1969 Ford’s bench seat like we had just sat on a bag of thumbtacks. Russ moved his hand, shaking pretty badly, over to the door and rolled down the window.
The Officer said, ‘Hey guys, roll it back into the church parking lot down the hill and I’ll get you a tow truck – wait a minute while I clear the lane for ya’ and walked off like he was on a vacation.
It took a few seconds to understand what was happening but as soon as we caught on, man oh man….
We may get out of this? We may still get double cheeseburgers??? Oh, that feeling of being so clever by getting away with something I wasn’t supposed to swelled up in me.
The officer shut his overhead lights off and we saw much movement from automobiles stirring around behind us. Russ asked me how clear it was as he shifted into neutral and started rolling backwards. I opened the passenger door and looked back and saw only fog. While feeling the car moving towards progress, I just said, ‘All good, dude! – no lights at all man! All clear! – GO! GO! GO!’
Our massive metal Ford sled on wheels gathered a good 15 or 20 miles an hour pretty quickly rolling backwards. Russ acted like he was getting ready to cut the necessary sharp, backwards right turn to pull into the… BLAM!!!!!!!!!! SCREECH! SCREECH! SCREECH!
The cop car was still there. We mashed it. Let me rephrase: We absolutely, with this huge, old 3 ton, gas-eating, hamburger denying, rusty barge-beast, absolutely destroyed this cop’s car. We mashed it so badly that it scooted sideways, 3 separate times before becoming still. We could hear the ‘Oh my God’s’ from onlookers through the rolled up windows. Our hearts started pounding again, worse than ever. We were scared before. Now? Utterly terrified.
I don’t remember the next few minutes. I’m really glad our brains do that.
The next thing we know, three news vans were suddenly at the scene, more and more flashing lights coming from everywhere now in the darkness and police cruisers seemed to multiply, emerging from every direction on every side road you could see from our hilltop vantage. Picture taking, interviews, witness statements, police radios blaring, evidence technicians, sirens in the distance becoming louder and louder… we we both breathing like we’d ran those last 10 miles instead of driven. Fear, panic, hysteria and pot induced paranoia took over. This was too much to bear.
We were gasping for words to each while hyperventilating and could only point with our shaky hands. We both saw newspaper reporters, and radio station people taking cover. Yeah, none of this was logical and we weren’t in a state of mind to recognize that fact. You’d think we would have curled up and started balling.
I don’t know how it began, how we went from public trial and execution to hanging, to a simple giggle or two. Then we giggled a bit more, which quickly turned to laughing. We laughed and giggled and cried hysterically. We laughed so hard it hurt. I don’t know what was in our conscious minds at that moment, we just knew there’s no helping this – it’s all over, we’re in prison, only way you can deal with things is laugh uncontrollably. We couldn’t believe how in trouble we were.
The next morning, we were pictured in the paper with an incredibly memorable image. Some reporter snapped a picture of us in the front seat of our assault vehicle with a totaled cop car immediately behind us. Our ear to ear grins painted with the uncontrollable tears of laughter streaming down our faces shown through the front windshield with the big bag of pot easily seen on the dash. All of that for a couple of cheeseburgers to be paid for with a tube sock full of hamburger nickels. Priceless.
We did not get arrested. The cop didn’t give either of us a single ticket. He let us keep our pot and he let us keep our freedom. He said we probably had ‘learned our lesson’ and to ‘get home now.’
I don’t know why he did that and I don’t want to know. I’m only telling this story because the statute of limitations says this is done and the cop that gave us the biggest break ever is probably retired now.
I’m glad I don’t have to be young anymore. We never did get our cheeseburgers.”
Random Stranger Saves The Day
“When I was 16 years old a police officer rear ended the vehicle I was driving.
I was waiting my turn at a 4 way stop and he was going fast enough to push me into the intersection. I was able to drive the car the rest of the way through the intersection and pulled on to the shoulder of the road. The police officer pulled up behind me.
I got out of the car to look at the damage and he ordered me to get back in the car over the PA. Then he ordered me to put my hands in the air then place them on the dash. He then approached the driver side window and started interrogating me.
‘Have you been drinking? Are you on any substances? Is this your car? Is the car stolen? Is there anything in the vehicle I should know about? Is it okay if I search your vehicle?’
While this questioning was taking place a gentleman walked up behind the officer without him noticing. He asked what was going on and if everyone was okay.
The officer yelled at him and told him to get back in his car because this was an active situation. The random guy got back in his car and drove away.
The officer returned to his line of questioning then asked me to slowly provide my license, registration, and proof of insurance. He said, ‘You will be getting a ticket and I will be searching your car afterwards.’ The officer returned to his vehicle and was doing whatever police officers do after taking your information.
I was sitting there thinking I am in huge trouble and my parents are going to be extremely angry because it was their car.
I was already freaking out so when two more police cars arrived with sirens and lights on I was on the verge of having a full blown panic attack.
Turns out the random gentleman who had asked if we were okay was an off-duty county sheriff. He had stopped at the county sheriff’s office which was only two blocks away and sent two of his co-workers to intervene.
Fortunately, the off-duty sheriff had witnessed the city police officer rear-end me. The newly arrived county sheriffs took my information from him and then began to question the police officer. Turns out the officer had been drinking on the job.
I was extremely lucky that the off-duty sheriff had been there because I am pretty certain the officer would have made up a story and would have accused me of violating more than just the laws of the road. Never looked at police officers in the same way again.”
An Escaped Ram
“Two years ago one of our rams escaped the field on shearing day. He spent a few months happily eating other people’s grass and running off at the slightest appearance of me and my net.
After some time the local landowner asked me to get the sheep off his land so I spent the day uphill and down dale, trying to capture said ram.
A passing Police car stopped to ask what I was doing and, after being told, they offered to keep an eye out for the sheep.
Throughout the rest of the day, I got calls from the Police switchboard telling me of a sighting. I would hustle out with my trailer and net and try to capture the thing.
I was about to ignore the fifth call that evening when the switchboard advised me the ram was on our local highway and the Police had a rolling road block in place, across all four lanes!
As I approached the block, gingerly weaving my trailer through the increasing traffic jam, a clutch of police officers tried to corral the ram into one place.
The ram was clearly not having any of this and took off running down the road. I took chase running at not so high speed and was rapidly passed by three officers sprinting after the sheep. One rugby tackled it to the ground upon which I jumped on it with the net and hauled it back to the trailer.
I apologized, and thanked the officers profusely, expecting a bollocking at least. They all smiled and said no problem and went back to their daily routines. They have my eternal gratitude and I hope at least they had a funny story to tell their colleagues!
The ram is still with us and has not [yet] attempted another escape!”
They Didn’t Want To Be On The News
“The Wife and I had moved in to our last house about 6 months prior. We were in the back yard with the dogs, cooking burgers on the grill.
Out of nowhere, my big dog starts barking very aggressively and has gone into full alert mode. He’s lunging at the gate and growling. He only ever does that when someone he doesn’t know approaches the gate. So, I go to investigate who is here.
As I come around the corner, I am greeted by the sight of 3 heavily armed and armored men with POLICE in big letters across their chests. Two of them are holding assault weapons at low ready, the leader has his weapon drawn but low. These guys are NOT messing around here.
Then I look around and I see more men. All covered in body armor, all holding weapon. I can see them not only in the front yard, but in my neighbors’ yards on all sides. We are literally surrounded by men with weapons at the ready.
What the heck is going on?
I nervously waved at the lead cop, making sure both of my hands are open and in full view. I don’t want to end up as a news story. I also don’t want my dogs to get shot. I’ve got a rottweiler and a pit bull, so it is reasonable that they would fear my dogs.
‘Hello, sirs. I’m not sure why you’re here, but can I please secure my dogs?’
‘Please do, but can I have everyone who is present in the house come out into view first.’
I motioned to The Wife to come around the corner with her hands visible and she does. We tell the officer that we are the only ones present. He gives me a skeptical look and indicates that I should put the dogs away now.
I locked the dogs in the garage and came back around the corner slowly, announcing my moves. Again, there are weapons at the ready pointed in my general direction. No sudden moves or surprises.
‘We have a warrant to search this property for ‘Joe Blow’’, he told me.
‘I’ve never heard of Joe, but if you’ve got a warrant, you’re free to search.’
We were asked to stay in the back yard with a group of officers guarding us. We tried asking them what was going on, but none of them would tell us.
After they had swept the house and cleared it, they came back out and handed us some mug shots. ‘This is Joe. He’s a wanted violent felon and we got intel that he was living here.’
We explained that we had moved in relatively recently and didn’t know the previous tenants. After the search and our conversation, the atmosphere became noticeably more relaxed. They put away their weapons and most of the officers headed back to the vehicles.
The lead officer stayed behind to ask us some questions and asked us for our landlord’s information. After all was said and done, he let us know one final tidbit.
‘I was originally planning on breaking down the door and raiding the place, but I saw you had dogs and didn’t want to have to shoot them.’
Apparently, he didn’t want to be a news story either.”
So Many Red Flags
“As I was leaving my shift which ended at 11pm, I decided to take the long way home which (literally) looped through town and only adds a few extra minutes to my journey. Small city, it was a weekday and there was not a car in sight.
Two minutes into my slow cruise through town, on a balmy summer night- just relaxing my feet after a long shift and decompressing from the customer and employee drama du jour. When all of a sudden a single squad car pulls out behind me, from seemingly nowhere. I didn’t need to check my speedometer, I’m following the city’s leisurely limit through downtown. I just keep going but this guy is on my bumper and he has had several opportunities to pass me or turn off. He continues cruising closely behind me for a good 6km.
Now this is rural, so calling it a ‘city’ is extremely generous; especially in Canada. Everything is very spread out and all typically closes around 6pm, so there’s no traffic- of the motor or pedestrian variety to be seen tonight.
At the end of the city there’s a major bridge that separates our district, so there’s literally nothing out there. No buildings, no homes- just a stop light and a mountain.
As I’m nearing the end of the 6km straight stretch, the officer waits until I come up to a deserted darkened corner. The one location along this road with the one and only burnt out street light, he finally flicks on his red and blues. After driving past a never-ending string of actual working street lights on a completely spacious/desolate road. I pass so many empty parking lots and areas with a wide shoulder, he chose oddly.
It was such a long pursuit, I never made any errors; the last stop light and sign was a few kilometers back. My registration is good, the car is brand new and just serviced. I have no idea why he’s pulling me over.
So he has me pulled over and tucked into a very dark and secluded corner, ahead the road gets so narrow that there’s no room to pull over. I had no choice – confused, I put my car in park, turn off the ignition and flick on my interior lights then I wait. (My uncle had been a cop for awhile and said that this is what people should do, as well as placing their hands on the wheel. Then wait for direction)
So I do all of this as confusion and unease lightly creeps in. He turns off his red and blues before he approaches my car, weird?
At the window he asks me, ‘What are you doing, where are you coming from?’ (funny, I’m in my uniform and I’ve served you a few times today) even though he’s killed every light, nary a flashlight. I still recognize him.
I tell him ‘I’m just getting off of work and I’m going home’.
He asks ‘Where are you headed?’
He says ‘Why are you going this way?’
I said ‘I felt like taking a drive, I thought of picking up a snack before I cram for a test’.
He says ‘Why didn’t you go the other way?’
‘I felt like taking the long way.’ (I liked my new car — the novelty hadn’t worn off yet).
He said, ‘Alright Jess, I’m going to be following you. I will be watching you, if you pull out of this restaurant or that restaurant, anywhere you go. I will do this all over again, right here.’
He hadn’t asked for my license or registration. I had been pulled over once for going about 24–34?km/h over the speed limit in a passing lane, on a highway. That officer took awhile to initially leave his car as he was running my plates, etc. With this guy he took no pause at all.
He continued on to tell me that if he sees me he will pull me over again and how he’ll be looking out for me. I am thoroughly confused, it sounded like a threat. I was still a novice driver. I hadn’t been in any trouble at that point, aside from my ticket which I got very early on another distant highway. I was leaving directly from work, _which he did know as he was dating my 17-year-old co-worker. She had hated me from the moment my friend introduced us. They were friends; I remained friendly but she made so many thinly-veiled jabs at every opportunity, from my perspective there was no reason for it. (My friend even tried to make light of her being a complete witch towards me, trying to lighten our initial meeting).
Working with her she tried to do everything in her power to make my work life miserable. I never got upset or frustrated with her, I just smiled and greeted her and went on with whatever task I was assigned that day. Keep my head down, the store was large enough I did not need to bother her with my presence. So I knew this cop because he was the 29-year-old Constable in a very secret relationship with a high school girl, who had only just turned 17.
Why me? I have no idea, maybe she said something to him. I never talked of them or got in their way. What I do know – the entire encounter felt so wrong.”
“I was hitchhiking. A guy picked me up. A few miles down the road we were pulled over by a Washington State trooper.
The trooper was taking his time getting out of his cruiser. My driver was getting upset – glancing nervously in the rear view mirror.
‘Look at this guy! What the heck is he doing? Talking on the radio, looking out the window. Freaking cops!’
The trooper has finally emerged from his cruiser and is now adjusting his Smokey Bear hat while checking his look in the driver’s door glass.
‘Jesus H Christ, what next?’ My driver furiously rolled down his window and yelled back at the trooper ‘Hey pig! Did you forget your lint roller or some freaking thing?’
At ‘pig,’ the trooper straightened up, gazed up and down the empty highway and unsnapped the leather safety strap on his weapon. He began to walk up to the driver’s side of our car.
He had his right hand firmly on his weapon. I had my hand on the door handle, ready to jump out and run. The driver was halfway out the window, almost screaming.
‘So tell me, pig, just what do you want? Why the heck did you pull me over?’
The trooper crouched down so his face was even with the driver’s. His face showed no emotion. I was jammed up tight to passenger side door, eyes wide, hands up, trying to make it clear I’m Not With This Guy.
The trooper held the driver in a steady gaze. Finally, he spoke:
‘What time are we supposed to be at Mom’s house tonight? I’ve got her birthday cake back at the office.’
I met these jokers again a few years later. I was picking up my date for evening, a girl named Lee at her house when I met her brothers Tom and Terry. Tom was the trooper, Terry was with the sheriff’s office. We had a good laugh when we all realized our role in this incident…”