Barnidge: No such thing as a routine stop for CHP

By Tom Barnidge
Contra Costa Times columnist

Posted: 07/24/2010 12:00:00 AM PDT

EIGHT DAYS later, we know most of the details surrounding a late-night gun battle between Highway Patrol officers and the felon they pulled over July 17 in Oakland.

We know he wore body armor and was armed with a pistol, a rifle and a shotgun. We know that he twice was convicted of bank robbery, and we've been told he planned to kill leaders of the American Civil Liberties Union and the Tides Foundation.

CHP officers didn't know any of that when they pulled Byron Williams over for driving erratically.

"The times change and the technology changes, but some things never change," Andy O'Hara said. "That's the surprise factor in walking up on a car and never knowing what you're going to face out there."

It takes a special person to do what CHP officers do, as O'Hara knows only too well. He retired near Sacramento as a sergeant in 1994 after spending 19 of his 23 years on the force at the wheel of a patrol car.

"There's an old saying that there's no such thing as a routine stop," he said. "Your biggest danger is that you'll get in the habit of treating them that way, and then everything goes to hell."

Dick Augusta, a former CHP officer who lives in Antioch, can offer firsthand testimony. One of his last assignments in a 12-year career, some 30 years ago, was to pull over a car weaving erratically on a rural road near Bethel Island. When he stood alongside the vehicle, waiting for the driver to supply identification, a passenger opened a rear door and opened fire. A bullet punctured his kidney and lodged near his spine.

The car's occupants, who turned out to be wanted for robbery, sped off as Augusta fell to the ground.

"The element of surprise always goes to the bad guys," said Augusta, whose condition was so critical he was given last rites. "And that element is elevated during the hours of darkness because your visibility is limited."

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A far easier question to answer: What is the job's greatest reward?

"That," he said, "is taking off the uniform at night and being alive."

Little wonder that officers learn to be cautious. O'Hara can recall several occasions when he drew his gun before approaching a stopped vehicle.

"If I couldn't quite see into the car, I'd slip the gun out of my holster and have it my side, ready to bring it up," he said. "Once I was satisfied that everything was OK, I would quietly put it back in my holster, and nobody knew the difference."

When you sign on to work as a CHP officer — each candidate must first complete a 26-week academy training — you expose yourself to all sorts of dangers, not to mention emotional duress.

Augusta was called to an accident on May 21, 1976, when a bus filled with Yuba City High School students plunged off the Marina Vista off ramp on I-680, landing on its roof and killing 29 of the 51 passengers. He said he is reminded of the tragedy every time he drives past that exit.

"You just can't get those thoughts out of your mind," he said.

Gunfights make headlines, but every CHP officer knows that traffic is his or her biggest enemy. It is constant, immediate and unpredictable.

Of the five CHP officers killed this year, four were the victims of traffic accidents. Brett Oswald, of San Luis Obispo, was waiting for a tow truck at a collision site when a vehicle veered off the highway and hit him. Justin McGrory, of Barstow, and Philip Ortiz, of West Los Angeles, were conducting vehicle stops when vehicles hit them. Thomas Coleman, of San Bernardino, was in a high-speed pursuit when he crashed.

"The toughest part of the job," said O'Hara, "is maintaining a sense of safety and alertness. Even after you've pulled over a suspect and you are approaching his car, you have to keep an eye on the traffic. It's enough to give you ulcers."

Blood and gore are an unavoidable part of the job. California has more than 3,000 traffic fatalities every year.

"People used to ask me how I handled all the crashes I saw," Augusta said. "The answer is you have a job to do. You have people to interview, physical evidence to gather, witnesses to contact, first-aid to be given. You can't sit there and dwell on it like an onlooker."

In the face of all the job's dangers, it's only natural to wonder what drives an individual to join the CHP.

O'Hara said he could speak only for himself, but the first time he saw a photograph of an officer comforting a family at the site of a crash, he was determined to wear the badge.

A far easier question to answer: What is the job's greatest reward?

"That," he said, "is taking off the uniform at night and being alive."

Contact Tom Barnidge at tbarnidge@bayareanewsgroup.com