One of their fellow officers, somewhat incongruously, was a member of a squash and tennis club on the Main Line where I tended bar. The Fox show COPS was just in development, and this outfit was featured in the pilot (something like that). The club member invited me to tag along with the guys for a while, with a story in mind for some publication. But there was competition for my time and what would pay for it, and the story was never written, to my lasting regret. Because dear God it was an insane story. Like the predawn raid (for which I was given a Kevlar vest) when they all went bursting into a crackhouse rowhome, leaving the entrance uncovered. Who’s got the front door? I shouted, because I had learned a couple things by then. “You do.” (1989)