“Send me another deputy radio.” That phrase was used often during shifts. I was on my night shift and had just been promoted to Sergeant of the new D.U.I. Task Force around 1988. Zone 2 patrol Deputy Sonja asked for another deputy to 10-25 with her (meet). I had heard her when she made her traffic stop. Deputy Sonja was the second or third female deputy placed on patrol at the Sheriff’s Office, I believe. She had worked her way up, much like I did. She was a true LEO.

She had stopped a car on N. Sweetwater, just across the tracks from the downtown Lithia Springs traffic light. There wasn’t much of a downtown in Lithia Springs, with that one stoplight. I started heading her way, hoping for a D.U.I. castoff. Patrol shift supervisors had their shifts try and turn all DUIs over to a task force deputy. They wanted to keep their deputies 10-8 (in-service) in zones and not at the jail in book-in. It also kept our stats high and the State people happy. I was almost to downtown Lithia when I heard her ask for another deputy. She sounded winded. I pulled up to her stop and saw Sonja standing at her patrol car’s rear door.

Her unit was swaying back and forth, and loud cursing was coming from the backseat. Sonja asked if I would help search the man again. It took both of us to get him out. He was already handcuffed and wild. I was surprised that she had put the cuffs on him at all. I don’t know if I could’ve. He was kicking at the back door window. We pulled him out of the backseat and searched him. I could smell the strong odor of alcohol on his breath and his clothes. The man was still cursing loudly. And yelling, “No woman is going to take me to jail!” Another deputy arrived to wait for the wrecker. Deputy Sonja was adamant that she was transporting him to jail. She asked if I would follow her to the jail in case he kicked out the door window.

Sonja radioed, “10-95 10-19 radio” (10-95 in custody, 10-19 returning to). Her cruiser was rocking from side to side as we were westbound on Bankhead. About a quarter of a mile from her traffic stop, she advised, “he’s kicking at the back door window again”. How that window stayed in and held up against his onslaught, I’ll never know. “Pull over at the Golden Gallon, and I’ll adjust that for you”, I said. She pulled into the parking lot and came to a stop. I saw the man yelling and kicking the window even harder as I exited my cruiser. With my Kel-lite (flashlight) in hand, I opened the back door. The drunk was lying with his feet toward the window he was kicking. He seemed startled as I started peppering his shins with my flashlight. I yelled, “If you break my window, I’ll break your legs!”. He stopped. Sonja looked like she was in shock after I gave the man those love taps. Her mouth and eyes were wide, agape. It was a quiet ride back after that adjustment.

How many times have you had to pick this thing up off the pavement? Tickets flying. Bent hinges. Because you left it “on” your car.