Whether hiding in the darkness of a starlit night, or searching for shadows to escape the revealing light of day, chances often are that someone is planning to commit a crime, thinking they will never be caught, believing they are invincible, pitting themselves against laws they hope they have outsmarted. But they don't count on the Patrol Deputies, men and women who risk their lives every day and night to use all their training and knowledge to stop them.

From the moment a Deputy radios Dispatch with his call sign and badge number, and goes 10-41 to begin his tour of duty, he only knows one thing. Today will not be the same as yesterday. He also might say a quick prayer that he returns safely to go 10-42 at the end of his shift, because he knows there is no such thing as a routine day on patrol.

The patrol car is the Deputy's office. In it, he has everything he needs to deal with any situation on the road. But with "his" car being used by another Deputy on each shift, he has to be constantly transferring his equipment from his personal car to his patrol car at the beginning and end of each shift. Things tend to get forgotten or misplaced, no matter how carefully he checks them. Sometimes the deputy gets lucky and finds them again; other times he doesn't.

Deputies go out four shifts in a row, for 10 hours a day or night, dealing with whatever they find with whatever they have. And they all want what each other has. They share ideas and talk endlessly about the latest things that will make their lives on the streets easier and safer.

Every shift is a mixture of adrenaline rush, boredom and routine. It's just the nature of the job. They spend hours behind the wheel, driving around, always on the alert, scanning for any sign of trouble or suspicious activity. They observe things the average person would completely miss when both are looking at the same scene. They see things at night that even the most careful observer fails to notice. Masters of multi-tasking, they have to read maps, follow directions that make little sense, and find roads that seem not to exist; and all while listening to the radio, waiting for the emergency call from Dispatch that will pull them from their routine and send them running "hot" to a location that could be around the corner or miles away, to a potentially life and death situation for both the victim or them. Sometimes they are pulled from calls in progress to head toward an emergency. Their mental focus shifts instantly; they have to maneuver through traffic at high speeds while mentally preparing themselves for what they may find when they arrive at the location. Sometimes they are called off and sent back to complete their previous call. Then they resume patrol, waiting for the next call for service, partly hoping it will be routine, partly hoping for excitement, but accepting whatever comes their way.

Supermen. That's how the public sometimes sees them. Sometimes deputies wonder what the word means. People look to them as problem-solvers, but they're only human, in every meaning of the word. They have the knowledge and training to take the necessary initial action, then they write up the reports that are passed along to investigators and others who can hopefully solve the complainant's problem. But people who have suddenly been thrust into a world of fear, pain or intimidation look to the Deputy as the person who can keep them safe, not realizing how little he can really do.

Deputies are the initial responders, the first contact a victim has with law enforcement. People trust that the deputy will solve their problems, and are often disillusioned by the help they are given. But in every case, the Deputy does the best he can. Sometimes, secretly, he wishes he could do more, but he has to move on to the next case. They have to harden themselves against what they see every day. Sometimes that spills over into their personal lives. Little affects them, because they've seen worse on the job. Yet sometimes a call touches them. Sometimes they can make a difference. Helping a woman escape an abusive situation. Bringing her to a safe shelter. Children touch their hearts and they will do everything they can to protect abused children. Some deputies carry stuffed toys to give to children who have nothing. The joy in the child's eyes is reward enough. In my county, the deputies deal in areas where some people live without electricity or running water, yet the people go to school. Occasionally, the smile of a mother who is struggling against all odds to make a good home for her children remains with a Deputy forever. Makes him wish for a way to make a difference for a family with nothing. But to make a difference would make her a target for the criminal element also living in the same area. Deputies live for the chance to make a real difference. For even one person. For the chance to turn despair into hope. To restore shattered dreams. To help one person believe again. Sadly, reality often proves otherwise. And they must go on.

Trust is a precious commodity for deputies. It is not easily found, nor given lightly. Friendships are rare, except among other law enforcement people. It is hard for outsiders to understand the difficulties deputies face. Shifts change every two months, days off change every month. Deputies never get enough sleep or get errands done on time. Many have to rely on other people to help out if they have to work overtime, get called in unexpectedly on their days off, or have to testify in court on their days off. They treasure what time off they actually have for themselves, notwithstanding the normal demands of family and friends. They are master jugglers of schedules, often late, often missing out on things they really want to do for themselves. They live on dreams of what they hope to do … someday … when they have time.

Deputies take notes faster than most people. They are inundated with information on each call and have to instantly sift through it to gather the pertinent facts. They have to write directions given by Dispatchers while they are driving. They have to write reports quickly and accurately, have a working knowledge of good grammar, be skilled typists and have legible handwriting, even when rushing to finish writing reports while supervisors are sitting in the car next to them, waiting anxiously to move on to the next call.

Deputies have to be experts at assessing situations and instantly offering solutions. In this area, they have to be bi-lingual, able to switch from English to Spanish at any moment. They have to be psychologists and comforters, yet stay detached so they can do their jobs. They have to have the physical stamina to chase suspects and take them down, transport them to jail, then come back out and do it all again.

As a buffer against the harsh realities of the streets, deputies have unique senses of humor. Sometimes they are playful, sometimes they will play jokes on each other. Those moments are rare and too brief before reality returns. Their pay never goes far enough; off-duty work cuts into their free and family time. Sometimes the off-duty work can turn dangerous, but most times it is routine. All they lose is sleep. But it is part of the reality of the job. So are special volunteer assignments, holiday work, security details at events. If a Deputy hopes to advance in his career, he needs to take extra training on his days off, and accept extra assignments, such as Field Training Officer. As an FTO, he has the opportunity to share his knowledge with the deputies just graduating from the Academy. It is his chance to make a difference for one deputy. To teach him the skills that will hopefully keep him safe on the streets.

As the end of shift nears, deputies hope they don't get a last-minute call that will keep them out beyond their ending time. All they want to do is return to the office, file their reports and go home. Get some rest before they have to do it all again the next day or night.

Grateful for having survived another shift on the streets.