Twenty some years ago, the stars lined up, and I got an interesting call for service that allowed me to work with three of my favorite cops. One of those officers was my gorgeous wife, who I was partnered with that night. The other two were bosses I will respectfully refer to as Opie and Dupa.

I would storm the gates of Hell with a bucket of water for these two bosses, mentors and brothers of the craft. They had been my bosses when my wife and I were undercover with the Special Investigations Unit. I always knew they would back me, but also guide and correct me when I made a mistake.

Cops are human and therefore sometimes make mistakes. It empowers police officers to know they will be supported by their command staff if they make an honest mistake while acting in good faith and trying to do their best for the citizens they serve.

On this particular evening, the police department got a call from a local motel about a suspicious person. The maid noticed some odd activity from the man, woman and dog occupying the room. The man renting the room always answered the door with a .45 pistol in his hand. And his van was always backed in a parking space near his room.

My wife and I were in uniform and snuck up to run the license plate on the van. The registration showed the vehicle owner was a fugitive with a felony warrant from a western state for safecracking (using explosives to open a safe). There was also an “officer safety caution” on this warrant, meaning the person wouldn't be easily arrested.

Quoting Johnny Cash, my partner and I “devised a plan that would be the envy of most any man.” Our plan involved calling our old boss Dupa, who was still in his undercover/surveillance assignment. He would park his undercover car close to the front of the fugitive’s van, turn on his hazard lights and walk toward the motel desk. 

The desk clerk would then call the fugitive’s room and tell him someone just crashed into his van and the other driver wanted to exchange insurance information. This plan would get the fugitive out of his room and into an area that could be controlled by overwhelming firepower from three directions (my partner, Dupa and I) and nowhere to run.

That part of the plan worked flawlessly. The safecracker was arrested without incident and never had a chance to draw the pistol tucked in his waistband.

What happened next, while amusing, could have cost my other mentor his ear or worse and adversely impacted my heretofore unblemished career. 

After we arrested the safecracker, we spoke to his wife and found no other weapons were in the room or van. The fugitive’s wife would follow us to the station. The fugitive and his wife had informed us they were cooperating with a federal “alphabet agency” that would be arriving soon to take them “away.”

Once in police lock-up, as I booked this affable crook, we were talking and he was very candid about his vocation. He was a thief who used explosives to open safes and steal jewelry for an organized crime family.

He also told me there was some detonating cord (also known as “det cord”) in his van, and he didn't want his wife getting arrested with it. Detonating cord looks like clothes line, but it is used as a fuse or initiator for high explosives. Det cord is very explosive itself and is sometimes wrapped around trees to instantly fell them.

Opie was the patrol station commander that night, and I asked him for assistance. He knew what det cord looked like and would search the van with me.

I got the keys to the van and unlocked the passenger side door. With flashlight in hand, Opie opened the door and began looking between the front seats. I was heading around to the driver’s side door. Suddenly, my wife and the fugitive’s wife came running out the front door of city hall yelling something about “Duke.”

I saw Duke about the time Opie sensed him. Perhaps it was the dog’s breath on Opie’s left ear. Maybe it was the controlled slowly building and menacing growl of the attack trained Rottweiler, but Opie moved slowly at first and then rather swiftly. He pulled his head out of van, shut the door and got away from Duke’s really large bright white teeth, which were visible as he snapped and snarled.

Opie yelled, “Kinsey…” and then unleashed (pun intended) a long string of expletives questioning my lack of intelligence, parentage, and accusing me of some abominable acts against nature. I apologized but couldn't stop laughing since Opie was still in one piece and was now laughing with me.

We retrieved the det cord without further incident after our wives (mine and the fugitive's) quieted old Duke and took him for a walk. An hour later, a member of the federal “alphabet agency” came to the station and whisked the safecracker, his wife and Duke out of Ann Arbor.

I learned an important lesson: pay attention to details (like Duke) for officer safety.

Lock it up, don’t leave it unattended, be aware and watch out for your neighbors.

Rich Kinsey is a retired Ann Arbor police detective sergeant who blogs about crime and safety for AnnArbor.com.