A story from Sergeant Jim Simpson

Jim Simpson is a sergeant who has been with the Menlo Park Police since the late '70s; he has spent the lion's share of that time in investigations, his passion. His casual gait and affable personality have been responsible for defusing numerous critical situations. A Menlo Park resident, he is extraordinarily dedicated to serving and protecting his community.  He related the following incident to me years ago when I was a rookie, and I was amazed. I still recall this story every time I make a stop on the freeway …

Oscar Cawly was killed instantly. It might just as well have been Simpson; he was standing only inches away when it happened. The interesting twist in the story of Cawly's death was that telling the truth might have saved his life. Unfortunately, he chose poorly, and it cost him his life.

It was a normal traffic stop, the kind Simpson had made hundreds of times before. The minor traffic infraction might have gone excused except Cawly couldn't find his driver's license. Then he couldn't remember his birth date. When Cawly stammered while trying to recalll his own phone number, Simpson asked him to exit his vehicle and walk over to the patrol car. Cawly continued to change his story as the two men walked away from the speeding traffic of Highway 101. As much as Simpson hated being out on 101, he disliked "stories" more. With each fresh excuse Cawly dug himself deeper and deeper.

When Simpson caught Cawly in his third lie, he quickly held up his palm to Cawly's face. "This is called the Name Game," Simpson said. "I have seen it played by the best. And you, my friend, need a lot of practice."

Cawly stared at Simpson and then at his own shoes. He rubbed his mouth nervously and said, "You see, I got this warrant …"

Simpson listened unsympathetically. He reached in his patrol car and removed his cite book. Cawly continued his "confession" and offered his real date of birth. "I was going to take care of it, but then, you know, stuff came up." Simpson relayed the fresh information to Dispatch and awaited confirmation. Cawly continued, "I'm definitely gonna take care of it this time, Officer."

When Dispatch confirmed the warrant on Cawly, Simpson shook his head. "You know, if you had been straight with me about this from the beginning, I might very well have given you a break. The warrant isn't that serious. But you lied. When you lie, you go to jail."

Simpson recalls hearing the noise—a muffled bang that would haunt him for many years.  His eyes darted toward the freeway behind him. Seeing nothing, he quickly turned back to Cawly. Cawly was gone. The passenger door of the patrol car was bent completely forward—so far forward, in fact, that the door handle was smashed into the front fender. Suddenly Simpson saw an image that froze his senses. Cawly, who had been standing next to him only moments ago, was now rolling and tumbling along the border fence line, 50 feet away! Nothing made sense; it all seemed to be happening in slow motion. Simpson rushed toward Cawly. Within ten feet he knew he was too late. Cawly was already dead. Simpson stood frozen for a moment, trying to make sense of the senseless.  Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw the killer …

Dennis Foley could feel the shudder in the wheel. The back of his big-rig garbage truck began to bounce. From his passenger-side rear-view mirror he watched in horror as a set of his dual rear wheels dislodged from a rear axle and began to pass him on the right …

Simpson watched as the killer wobbled to a halt. The 200-pound ring of rubber and steel came to rest not far from Cawly's body. When Simpson made sense of the emerging facts, he began to shudder. Mere inches had separated him from death. The tire had struck Cawly square in the back. At 65 miles an hour, a 200-pound wheel would have the power of a cannonball.

It struck Simpson later: had Cawly only told him his real name, he'd still be alive ...