ASHLAND — What does a typical shift for an Ashland Police officer look like?
I spent 12 hours over two days with a couple young Ashland Police officers in January to get a sense.
On the first shift, there were guns, drugs, some excitement on South Street and speed enforcement.
The second shift brought a dying deer, a dead body, a bomb scare and a bag of trash — and more speed enforcement.
Below are my notes, organized in chronological order, edited only for clarity.
Jan. 19
“Day” shift (6 a.m. to 6 p.m.) with Officer Adam Srnis. Age: 25. I rode with Srnis from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.
Srnis has been with APD for 2 1/2 years. “It’ll be 3 in October,” he tells me. He’s chipper, walks quickly, with purpose. Lt. Jerry Bloodhart described him as “another one of our go-getters.”
Srnis is working “rove” today. This means he can patrol anywhere in the city. He likes to go to the north side of the city to look for drugs, expired plates, etc.
Patrol units are divided into south, north and rove.
10:15 a.m.
We stopped at a T in the road on the north side. “We should probably pick that up.” He got out of the car and picked up a bag of trash, set it aside.
10:20 a.m.
Parked at a church parking lot on Claremont Avenue, across from Little Caesars. The driver had put a fictitious tag on his plate. The guy, it turns out, had a new plate, but put a new tag mistakenly on an old plate. The vehicle was registered to him, he had insurance. No ticket written. “He made an honest mistake,” Srnis said.
10:45 a.m.
“Deceased person” comes over the scanner.
A deep sigh from Srnis.
“Man, I really don’t like DOAs,” he said, using the acronym for Dead on Arrival.
The person had been found dead in his apartment by his landlord. The landlord told police the tenant’s mailbox had been piling up. The landlord finally decided to take him his mail and check up on him. That’s when he found him lying on his stomach, his head propped by his forearm.
The man’s ex-wife was at the scene. She said she hadn’t heard from him for a while, but that it wasn’t unusual because he was known to withdraw periodically. But not hearing from him for more than a few days was a bit unusual.
The man was a musician and liked to collect arrowheads. “He was a history buff,” the ex-wife said.
Srnis said when police respond to a DOA call, they work to secure the scene, while looking for any signs of nefarious activity.
They then have to wait on the scene for a medical doctor, preferably a family doctor or physician, to validate a death certificate. Sometimes it takes hours for this to happen, Srnis said.
If a medical doctor cannot be reasonably reached, which was the case on this call, police can request the county coroner to sign off. Once this happens, police can call the family’s preferred funeral home and wait for the funeral home to send someone to transport the body.
“In the waiting, police have to have a presence at the scene,” Srnis said. “And to help with moving the body, if that’s needed.”
After a little more than an hour on the scene, Officer Kara Pearce tells Srnis he can leave and that she’ll stay to see it through.
In all, Pearce was on the scene for five hours before the funeral home from Shelby picked up the body and transported him.
1 p.m.
Traffic stop for an equipment violation (the driver’s muffler was hanging down close to the road.)
The driver said her boyfriend drove it the other day and thought maybe it happened when he was backing out of the driveway. Srnis wrote her a warning.
1:45 p.m.
A man named Larry called 9-1-1 about a suspicious package he received. On the way, Srnis said police have dealt with Larry before.
“Oh Larry. He’s a character, you’ll see,” he said.
Larry — holding a half bottle of beer, cigarette hanging from his lips — told Srnis he had evicted someone, and he thought that someone was wanting to blow him up now.
Srnis asked if he could open the package, which sat unopened just inside Larry’s front door. Larry gave him permission, so he picked it up and walked it out to the sidewalk. As Srnis is carrying it, Larry says:
“You ever in the service?”
“No, sir.”
“Well that’s why. You a dumb (expletive) opening that. Or just a crazy (expletive).” Laughter from Larry.
“I lived a good life,” Srnis replied.
Srnis uses a pocket knife to cut the tape holding the package shut. Larry takes a step back. He shakes his head at me, dragging on the cigarette.
Inside is a pull-string backpack emblazoned with Home Depot’s logo. Srnis hoists it up, shows Larry.
Again, Larry shakes his head. “Anything in there?”
Inside the backpack is a small box labeled “pulse oximeter,” a can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, a highlighter-orange mug and a blanket.
“Well that’s weird,” Larry said, now standing over the package. He asks Srnis to deliver the package to a bar where he thought the evicted tenant frequented. “Maybe he needs this stuff.”
Srnis politely told Larry he wasn’t a mailman, wished him a good day and left.
2:10 p.m.
Stopped at East Liberty Street to use radar and run plates. Srnis was looking for speeders. The speed limit there is 25.
“Henry Robert George 3962.” This is the way Srnis reads license plates as he types them into his computer.
“That tag is way expired.” He turns around and catches up. He calls it in to dispatch. “83 to dispatch.”
“Go ahead.”
“Traffic stop. Silver Hyundai, expired plates. One occupant.”
Through the pandemic, he tells me, people didn’t have to renew tags. So police have been seeing that a lot lately.
“But this one was coming up on two years. It expired Feb. 10, 2020.”
She doesn’t own the car, it belongs to her boyfriend. But she’s still responsible. Wrote her a ticket. $163. “But it’s waiverable.”
“That’s why I don’t like driving other peoples’ cars,” he said.
2:45 p.m.
A call came in on an injured deer. Doe in the road. Someone hit it off U.S. 250. When we got there, we saw two cars. An unmarked detective’s car and a state highway patrolman. As soon as we opened our doors, we heard a gunshot. Detective John Simmons had just shot the deer.
“Sorry to steal your thunder there, Srnis. It was miserable. I had to put her out of her pain.”
Deer is off the road. Work is done.
3:15-3:45 p.m.
We go to Goasis to use the restroom and to buy some food to take back to the station. I buy a chicken sandwich from Popeyes. Srnis buys a salad with ranch dressing.
On the way back to the station, Srnis calls in to dispatch.
“83 to dispatch.”
“Go ahead.”
“2325.”
He tells me those are the sweetest four numbers because they mean “lunch break at the station.”
During lunch, we catch up to Kara Pearce, the other officer who responded and took lead on the DOA scene.
She took photos of the dead man, showed me and Srnis. She keeps photos like this on her phone “to show trainees because they need to know what they’re getting into, and what’s possible when dealing with a dead body.”
Srnis does not like dealing with dead bodies. The smell, the flies, the images. He bought a salad because he couldn’t bring himself to eat meat after seeing the DOA earlier that day.
Bantering, they exchange stories of the dead bodies they had seen over the years.
One of the memorable ones was of a man who had been dead for a while. Summer. Very hot inside. “The guy had melted into the floor,” Srnis said.
“Yeah that one was bad,” Pearce said.
Pearce remembers another story: a man had died while taking a shower. The water kept running until it overflowed into the apartment and down the walls of the person who lived below.
“He was in rough shape when they found him. And that one smelled really bad,” Pearce said.
Pearce handles dead bodies the way a medical examiner handles them. Like an organism, an object of science. That’s probably how she copes with it.
With Srnis … it’s harder for him to do this.
4 p.m.
Helping on a traffic stop that led officers to the Circle K gas station, where the driver had pulled up to a gas pump.
The driver had a suspension on his license. Woman passenger did too. She knows Srnis from previous interactions. (He was serving her then boyfriend with an indictment. He had to kick in the door, busted up her face pretty badly. He felt bad, but he didn’t know she was still behind the door after she closed it in his face.)
Both have a history of drug use. Meth. One officer searched the car. Srnis patted her down, found nothing.
As the other officer searched the car, which belonged to the young woman’s mother, Srnis and the two in question began to banter. At one point, Mansfield Police Department came up — the man and young woman said they had encountered officers in Mansfield before.
“They’re brutal man,” the man said, who had just lit a cigarette.
The young woman agreed, telling a story about an officer who was “rude” to her.
“Yeah, compared to Mansfield, Ashland police is like daycare,” the man said, laughing.
I asked Srnis about this reputation Ashland police have. He said, “I don’t know, I can only speak for myself: I just try to treat people with respect.”
The other officer who searched the car found nothing illegal in it. It belongs to her mother. They left it at the gas station at Smith Road and Claremont Avenue. The man and the young woman walked home.
4:30 p.m.
Using radar on Hillcrest Drive. Didn’t make any stops. No one speeding more than 5 mph over the 35 limit.
4:50 p.m.
Lawrence. Checking up on him after a call earlier in the day for assault. He did not have an arrest warrant out for him. Shortly before officers showed up to his home, he and his mother had some words and she left.
“This guy never answers his door,” Srnis said as he approached the driveway.
Officer Pearce was already there, knocking on the door and telling him they just wanted to talk to him.
Police knocked for 10 minutes.
Lawrence did not answer the door.
This is the second and final part of a series documenting a typical shift on the Ashland Police Department. Click here to read the first part.
