A story from retired Officer Don Heyfron

In 1969 Vietnam and the People's Park Rebellion were constants in the news. Winterland and the Avalon Ballroom were in full swing. The Zodiac murders quickened our pace on cold, dark, foggy nights. And oh, a police officer named Donald Heyfron decided to leave the Berkeley police force to come to Menlo Park.

Some 30 years later, Heyfron was Menlo Park's most senior patrol officer and one of its most respected. From Heyfron’s treasure trove of information, trivia, and wonderful stories, it was hard to choose one to share.  Here is one of my favorites.

The year is 1971.

No one saw anything unusual. No one, that is, except Heyfron. Something was bothering him and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Yes, once again, the serial burglar had eluded them. He had ransacked the house, removed all the small valuables, and vanished before police or witnesses could identify him. For weeks it had been the same story—failure after failure. It was like chasing a ghost—a greedy ghost.

Heyfron insisted on rechecking the house. He signaled the other two officers, and together they systematically explored every foot of the residence. Discouraged, Heyfron sat down on the rear stoop, glancing around the enclosed back yard and watching the barking German shepherd tethered near the bottom of the steps. The dog had not stopped barking the entire time they were there. Heyfron sat watching the dog for some time and eventually was joined by the other officers.

"What are you waiting for, Heyfron, the bad guy to come back?" In their collective frustration, they tried to figure out how they had missed him this time. They had been just minutes away, they had proceeded to the scene on different paths, and the search had been systematic. So how could they have missed him? Again!

When the sergeant showed up and saw them all sitting on the stoop, he said, "You guys waiting for him to come back?" They all laughed, embarrassed.

On the way out of the yard Heyfron suddenly stopped in his tracks. What was wrong with this picture? Heyfron froze.  The dog! Why would the homeowner have tethered his dog? The yard was secure, and the fence was high. Odd. This yard was neat—too neat to be the playground of the anxious dog that hadn't stopped yelping and tugging on its leash since their arrival. And another thing seemed strange: no trace of "dog" anywhere in the yard—no holes, no scratch marks on the door, no water or food bowls anywhere. No one had noticed it. No one except Heyfron, that is, and he was already devising a wild scheme.

The sergeant looked at him as if he were crazy. "Let me get this straight, Heyfron.  You think this dog belongs to our serial perp? And you want to let him go? You want to chase this mutt through Belle Haven in hopes that he’ll lead us to the suspect?"

The other cops already knew about Heyfron. His long shots always seemed to be shorter than everyone else's. They kept quiet.

Heyfron outlined his plan while the chain-smoking sergeant listened skeptically. They all watched as the sergeant extinguished his cigarette rather deliberately and then motioned to let the dog go as he returned to the sanctuary of his vehicle.

Heyfron and the other two officers were relieved to see the dog slowly lope down the sidewalk. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. What a sight: three cops jogging behind a dog that was trotting down the street. The only difficulty they encountered was when some citizens, thinking the officers were chasing the German shepherd, attempted to capture the animal for them. The collective growling of the three cops quickly dissuaded the Good Samaritans.

The dog finally slowed to a walk and came to a stop in front of 1331 Carlton. By this time, all three police officers were out of breath as they stood staring at the house where the German shepherd had decided to stop. They wondered if this male dog with the large brown eyes sitting before them had indeed found his way home or if he had decided to pay a visit to a girlfriend on the way …

Heyfron approached the front entrance to the house and knocked on the door. A young man in his early twenties answered. The three cops recognized him immediately: Shelton Gibbs. Gibbs had been convicted of burglary on numerous occasions.

Heyfron asked if the dog that was now jumping up and down on Shelton belonged to him. Gibbs denied it. The more he pushed the dog down, the more the dog thought it was a game and the more animated he became. Finally, Gibbs lost his temper and ordered the dog down—using the the dog’s name. Immediately obeying, the dog sat, froze, and awaited another order.

Gibbs, realizing what had just happened, began to laugh; they all began to laugh. Gibbs fell to his knees and began hugging his dog. "Just my luck to have a police dog!"