SEPTEMBER 21, 1984 - SHIELD 4721
“Shield 4721, come in to Operations… Operations to Shield 4721”
I remember that radio transmission as if it was coming over the air this very minute.
I was working in the plainclothes Citywide Task Force, Transit Police Department. It was September 21, 1984. I was working with my steady partner, Jimmy, who came to the Task Force from District 33 the same time I did. We were two white-shield plainclothes cops working a “Train Patrol” post in the Bronx. We were looking to make arrests and write summonses. The Task Force was the department’s career path into the Detective Division. Anyone from Transit will recall the Task Force and “Dunlap’s Pie” – the measuring stick created by Capt. John Dunlap to evaluate the Police Officers, and ultimately rank them for entrance into the Detective Division – and the gold shield.
Jimmy and I had just stepped off a southbound #4 train at 161 Street. With Yankee Stadium as the backdrop, we were writing two summonses for people smoking on the train. The Task Force of the Transit Police was doing quality-of-life enforcement as a means to repressing crime long before it was chic to do so.
“Shield 4721, come in… Operations to Shield 4721”.
I recognized the identifier immediately; Shield 4721 was PO Irma “Fran” Lozada. I recognized the shield because I worked with Fran in District 33, where we went after we graduated the Police Academy in the spring of 1982. Fran was still working in District 33, in the Anti-Crime assignment that I left behind to take the Task Force spot I was in. If you wanted to be a detective, you had to go to Task Force. I was there, Fran stayed in District 33. She went for the interview, and was approved for the Task Force the same time I was. We would have gone to Task Force and partnered up, having worked together in District 33, but she was talked out of the move by a current boyfriend from District 1. The work in Task Force was ridiculed by him, and she listened. Fran stayed in District 33, I left for the Task Force.
When you understand the radio system of the Transit Police at that time, you understand how it was that I was monitoring this radio transmission. I was in the Bronx, Fran worked Brooklyn. Why was this coming over the air?
The Transit Police radio system was a simplistic one; there were only two radio frequencies. One frequency for the above-ground RMP’s, a second for all the other portable units on patrol. One frequency, with many different repeaters and antennas throughout the transit system. The dispatcher would activate the closest antenna for the unit he was broadcasting to. The dispatcher in Brooklyn would activate the Brooklyn antennas; in the Bronx, the Bronx antennas. All radio broadcasts over the same frequency, but only those radios closest to the underground antenna would receive the broadcast (in theory). Much has been written about the transit police radios; their operability was always an unknown, at best. Anyway, if you were above ground – as I was in the Bronx at the time – you could pick up all sorts of radio transmissions from the outdoor antennas. Hence, I was receiving the Brooklyn broadcast in the Bronx.
“Shield 4721, come in to Operations”.
They would never receive a reply to that call. Shield 4721 could not answer her radio because she lay dead in a vacant, weeded lot in Bushwick. She was shot with her own gun, after pleading for her life, by a low life whose only other claim may be that he shares a similar name to a Yankee great.
Fran Lozada was the first female police officer to be killed in the line of duty in New York City. She chased a chain snatcher from the train at the Wilson Avenue station of the “L” line, as we had done times before. She was alone at the time; in plainclothes, working in Anti-Crime, she was separated from her partner. Had they split up for their meal period, with plans to reunite at the end of meal? Had they been separated when they entered the train en-route back to the command for meal? Does it really matter? What remains undisputed is that Fran chased the culprit from the station onto Cooper Avenue, through a lot next to the train tracks, into a weeded area. She chased him because she was a cop. That’s what she did, alone or not. The Transit PD Communications Unit received no radio broadcast from Fran; maybe she was in a radio dead spot, maybe she never got to her radio. The fact remains that after a chase, then using a ruse that she was looking for a lost dog, she confronted the thief at gunpoint in an empty lot. When she tried to cuff him – alone – she was overpowered by the creep. Court records indicate that she pleaded with him. He shot her to death with her own gun and fled.
She lay in the garbage strewn lot behind a cemetery building for several hours.
I was seated in the District 11 Office inside the 161 Street Station, with my partner, completing our paperwork, when we learned that a female cop in Brooklyn was found dead. The report said she had been missing, and after several hours of searching, she was found in an empty lot, the victim of gunshot wounds. We learned it was Fran, and hitched a ride with two PBA Board Members who were heading to District 33. Their plans to make a PBA election speech before the roll call had quickly changed. We drove there in a Board Member’s VW bug; a somber and silent ride.
I was at the lot, and saw Teddy, the District 33 cop I shared an RMP with times before. Teddy was the low keyed, experienced cop that let nothing bother him. Teddy was a practical joker who opened himself up to the rookies. He was assigned to an RMP that night, his regular post, and when I saw him I instantly knew he was the cop who found Fran in the lot. Years later, when I ran into him at a Home Depot, we chatted for a good fifteen minutes. Neither of us could bring up that night.
A Lieutenant who later became Chief of the Transit Bureau grabbed me by the arm, and walked me away from the scene. “You don’t want to go in there, John”. When he was a Sergeant in District 33, it was he who teamed Fran and myself up in plainclothes, when the District Captain was worried about two people still on probation (we were the first class with an 18-month probation period) working in plainclothes. We showed him he made the right choice by coming back having written a book of summonses the first night, and with two collars the next night. He walked me away from the scene.
I was standing in the street when I learned the scant details of what happened. She was working with her regular partner, who now had become the target of blame by some of his peers. I can’t even think about that.
I spoke with the Desk Officer when I called from the Bronx. The Desk Lieutenant was a solid professional; a great cop, and the one who talked me into making the move to Task Force. He convinced me the chance of a gold shield was there at Task Force; he couldn’t convince Fran of the same. He was still there on the Desk when I got to District 33. A lot of finger pointing was to be done soon: why was there a delay in commencing an all-out search, who notified whom, things to that effect. After that night it’s safe to say that he would never be the same again.
I was there when the Sergeant cleaned out Fran’s locker. Your personal belongings placed in a plastic garbage bag. No one ever wants that task.
I was there when her partner walked back into the District from that horrific night. I watched him walk into the command, around the desk, and commence filling out his overtime slip. He filled out his overtime slip. I wished I had the nerve to do what another cop did on the street with him.
Fran’s killer was caught quickly. Some great detective work went into a canvass that produced a witness; some greater detective work went into convincing the witness to tell what she saw. These same detectives picked up the creep, and conducted a great interview that included an admission that would help send him to jail for the rest of his life. A senseless killing. What a waste.
“Shield 4721, come in… Operations to Shield 4721”….
POLICE HISTORY: 1855
I remember that radio transmission as if it was coming over the air this very minute.
I was working in the plainclothes Citywide Task Force, Transit Police Department. It was September 21, 1984. I was working with my steady partner, Jimmy, who came to the Task Force from District 33 the same time I did. We were two white-shield plainclothes cops working a “Train Patrol” post in the Bronx. We were looking to make arrests and write summonses. The Task Force was the department’s career path into the Detective Division. Anyone from Transit will recall the Task Force and “Dunlap’s Pie” – the measuring stick created by Capt. John Dunlap to evaluate the Police Officers, and ultimately rank them for entrance into the Detective Division – and the gold shield.
Jimmy and I had just stepped off a southbound #4 train at 161 Street. With Yankee Stadium as the backdrop, we were writing two summonses for people smoking on the train. The Task Force of the Transit Police was doing quality-of-life enforcement as a means to repressing crime long before it was chic to do so.
“Shield 4721, come in… Operations to Shield 4721”.
I recognized the identifier immediately; Shield 4721 was PO Irma “Fran” Lozada. I recognized the shield because I worked with Fran in District 33, where we went after we graduated the Police Academy in the spring of 1982. Fran was still working in District 33, in the Anti-Crime assignment that I left behind to take the Task Force spot I was in. If you wanted to be a detective, you had to go to Task Force. I was there, Fran stayed in District 33. She went for the interview, and was approved for the Task Force the same time I was. We would have gone to Task Force and partnered up, having worked together in District 33, but she was talked out of the move by a current boyfriend from District 1. The work in Task Force was ridiculed by him, and she listened. Fran stayed in District 33, I left for the Task Force.
When you understand the radio system of the Transit Police at that time, you understand how it was that I was monitoring this radio transmission. I was in the Bronx, Fran worked Brooklyn. Why was this coming over the air?
The Transit Police radio system was a simplistic one; there were only two radio frequencies. One frequency for the above-ground RMP’s, a second for all the other portable units on patrol. One frequency, with many different repeaters and antennas throughout the transit system. The dispatcher would activate the closest antenna for the unit he was broadcasting to. The dispatcher in Brooklyn would activate the Brooklyn antennas; in the Bronx, the Bronx antennas. All radio broadcasts over the same frequency, but only those radios closest to the underground antenna would receive the broadcast (in theory). Much has been written about the transit police radios; their operability was always an unknown, at best. Anyway, if you were above ground – as I was in the Bronx at the time – you could pick up all sorts of radio transmissions from the outdoor antennas. Hence, I was receiving the Brooklyn broadcast in the Bronx.
“Shield 4721, come in to Operations”.
They would never receive a reply to that call. Shield 4721 could not answer her radio because she lay dead in a vacant, weeded lot in Bushwick. She was shot with her own gun, after pleading for her life, by a low life whose only other claim may be that he shares a similar name to a Yankee great.
Fran Lozada was the first female police officer to be killed in the line of duty in New York City. She chased a chain snatcher from the train at the Wilson Avenue station of the “L” line, as we had done times before. She was alone at the time; in plainclothes, working in Anti-Crime, she was separated from her partner. Had they split up for their meal period, with plans to reunite at the end of meal? Had they been separated when they entered the train en-route back to the command for meal? Does it really matter? What remains undisputed is that Fran chased the culprit from the station onto Cooper Avenue, through a lot next to the train tracks, into a weeded area. She chased him because she was a cop. That’s what she did, alone or not. The Transit PD Communications Unit received no radio broadcast from Fran; maybe she was in a radio dead spot, maybe she never got to her radio. The fact remains that after a chase, then using a ruse that she was looking for a lost dog, she confronted the thief at gunpoint in an empty lot. When she tried to cuff him – alone – she was overpowered by the creep. Court records indicate that she pleaded with him. He shot her to death with her own gun and fled.
She lay in the garbage strewn lot behind a cemetery building for several hours.
I was seated in the District 11 Office inside the 161 Street Station, with my partner, completing our paperwork, when we learned that a female cop in Brooklyn was found dead. The report said she had been missing, and after several hours of searching, she was found in an empty lot, the victim of gunshot wounds. We learned it was Fran, and hitched a ride with two PBA Board Members who were heading to District 33. Their plans to make a PBA election speech before the roll call had quickly changed. We drove there in a Board Member’s VW bug; a somber and silent ride.
I was at the lot, and saw Teddy, the District 33 cop I shared an RMP with times before. Teddy was the low keyed, experienced cop that let nothing bother him. Teddy was a practical joker who opened himself up to the rookies. He was assigned to an RMP that night, his regular post, and when I saw him I instantly knew he was the cop who found Fran in the lot. Years later, when I ran into him at a Home Depot, we chatted for a good fifteen minutes. Neither of us could bring up that night.
A Lieutenant who later became Chief of the Transit Bureau grabbed me by the arm, and walked me away from the scene. “You don’t want to go in there, John”. When he was a Sergeant in District 33, it was he who teamed Fran and myself up in plainclothes, when the District Captain was worried about two people still on probation (we were the first class with an 18-month probation period) working in plainclothes. We showed him he made the right choice by coming back having written a book of summonses the first night, and with two collars the next night. He walked me away from the scene.
I was standing in the street when I learned the scant details of what happened. She was working with her regular partner, who now had become the target of blame by some of his peers. I can’t even think about that.
I spoke with the Desk Officer when I called from the Bronx. The Desk Lieutenant was a solid professional; a great cop, and the one who talked me into making the move to Task Force. He convinced me the chance of a gold shield was there at Task Force; he couldn’t convince Fran of the same. He was still there on the Desk when I got to District 33. A lot of finger pointing was to be done soon: why was there a delay in commencing an all-out search, who notified whom, things to that effect. After that night it’s safe to say that he would never be the same again.
I was there when the Sergeant cleaned out Fran’s locker. Your personal belongings placed in a plastic garbage bag. No one ever wants that task.
I was there when her partner walked back into the District from that horrific night. I watched him walk into the command, around the desk, and commence filling out his overtime slip. He filled out his overtime slip. I wished I had the nerve to do what another cop did on the street with him.
Fran’s killer was caught quickly. Some great detective work went into a canvass that produced a witness; some greater detective work went into convincing the witness to tell what she saw. These same detectives picked up the creep, and conducted a great interview that included an admission that would help send him to jail for the rest of his life. A senseless killing. What a waste.
“Shield 4721, come in… Operations to Shield 4721”….
POLICE HISTORY: 1855
What today would be called a precinct, in 1855 was called a ‘Police District’ .
Each district had the same geographical boundaries as the ward it took its number from.
The alderman from that ward recommended to the mayor who should be appointed to that ward’s corps.
Patrolmen from that police district or ward were required to be residents of that ward and were appointed for a term of good behavior. Consequently that ward’s corps resembled the ethnic makeup of that ward.
Even though they worked out of a certain ‘Police District’ they would say they were assigned to that (the number) ‘Corps’ rather than say they worked out of a certain precinct. There were twenty two wards in the city, each had its own ‘police districts’ or ‘corps’.
Chief Matsell established the “Reserve Corps” in 1853 as an elite unit of approximately 100 of the best and most competent patrolmen and sergeants.
By 1855 it numbered approximately 150 men. They were assigned to the chief’s office and other high profile assignments such as detective duty, the courts and various other details, etc. On occasion, the reserve corps would fly to various areas of the city and were used for duties similar to those performed by today’s Borough Task Forces.
EDITOR'S NOTE:
Regular viewers of this blogspace will note the lack of recent activity here.
Normal business demands, as well as the demands of summer (all good!) and others have kept me from my regular posting here. If anyone's noticed, I'm sorry.
Anyway, as we enter a new season, I continue to look out for material that I think would be interesting to post. This requires me to do a lot of reading and research, which I have not done over the past summer months. Of course, if anyone has any material they would like to contribute, please send them along. I'm always looking for help.
Hope everyone's summer has been great! Let's get back to work!
