Knopp had just cleared Starbucks when he heard the alert tone.  He stopped mid-sip, set his mocha down, and began jotting down the information on his note pad.  He eyed the scone in front of him and grudgingly wrapped it in a napkin. Knopp, a large man on a large frame not known for missing many meals, suddenly took a personal dislike to these particular suspects. He placed the scone atop his mocha and walked briskly to his car.   The BOL (Be On the Lookout) was out from Atherton:  Two suspects had just burglarized several homes; they had loaded up a gold Mercedes at the last home and driven off with it.

Knopp knew the knee-jerk reaction of most cops would be to go to the crime scene area in hopes of catching the bad guys as they escaped.  He also knew that veteran cops would head for the outer perimeters, since information is always delayed.  He figured the bad guys were probably already long gone and decided to play his own hunch.  Heading to Marsh Road and 101,  he posted near the freeway and waited.  He unwrapped the waiting scone and froze mid-bite …  A “similar” coming off of Rolison Road was speeding toward the 101 southbound exit.  He quickly rewrapped the once-bitten scone and, with mouth half full, reported that he would be trying to catch up to a similar that had just headed south on 101.  Other units, knowing the next exit south would be Willow Road,  began to make their way to Willow.  They waited for Knopp’s confirmation:  5ITT390.  Knopp caught up to the gold Mercedes and immediately noted the last three digits: 390.

He knew he had the car.   When he confirmed it on the radio, the remaining units began to converge on the possible exits.

Knopp kept a distance away from the vehicle, backing off and even changing lanes—a stall tactic to give the suspects a sense of false security.  He was sure they had made him, but he decided to go about his ruse anyway.  Making believe he was on his cell phone, he acted animated in the car, never looking directly at the suspects or the vehicle.  It worked.  They held their speed. He didn’t want to initiate the pursuit without cover.  When he saw the suspects signal for westbound Willow Road, he knew they had bought his little act.  He also knew as soon as he corrected his lane and took the exit with them, the pursuit would be on.   He reported his position to dispatch and took the exit behind the suspects, applying his red light and siren; this was going to be a hard chase.  These were brazen suspects, not content with committing one burglary but daring several in a row.   He cinched his seatbelt tighter, poured what remained of his mocha out of the car window (joking to himself about the vehicular infraction he had just committed), replaced the cup in the holder, and hit the lights.

Van Buren Road runs about a mile along the west side of 101; it's crowded by a sound wall on the east side and houses on the west.  Furnished with generous speed bumps, it is the last place one would choose to initiate a pursuit.

 To Knopp it seemed like a play, as if everything were staged, all very predictable.  As soon as he hit the red lights, the gold Mercedes punched it. Knopp could see the exhaust explode from the rear pipes of the Mercedes.  The first speed bump upset everything in Knopp's car.  He didn’t know it, but the uneaten scone shattered against the dashboard and disappeared into crumbs.  By the time he hit the second bump, he was sailing at 70-plus miles per hour.  Knopp began calling out his speeds and conditions of the pursuit, as protocol required.  He knew he was at the limit of a city-street pursuit, but the "want" was solid.  When his cruiser began hitting the bumps at 90-plus, he hardly felt anything at all.  Knopp looked down at his speedometer and then suddenly began to brake and brake hard—but not because of the speed.   Van Buren dead ends (a term whose significance didn’t elude Knopp at the time).   He realized, as the suspects only increased their speed,  that they didn’t know what he knew.

When the front left fender of the Mercedes struck the cement façade at the end of Van Buren the car went airborne, corkscrewing in the air as it flew.  Knopp screamed into the radio,  “Crash, crash!”

Knopp couldn’t believe what he saw next.

The corkscrewing car was flying toward two tall trees, but the space between the trees was too narrow for a car to pass through.   The car HAD to hit one of the trees.  Knopp winced, expecting a massive crash …  Instead, the car, at a 90-degree angle, passed between the trees, appearing to Knopp as if it were some bizarre vehicular field goal.  There was no room for error, for misalignment.   The car miraculously came down on its wheels, crashing through 200 feet of brush and coming to rest feet from the cement dead end.    The bottom of the car began to break out in flames.

When two figures bailed from the burning car,  Knopp could hardly believe it.   The foot chase didn’t last long.  Menlo units had a great helper—the sound wall was a perfect defense against escape.  In an hour both suspects were in custody.  Firefighters extinguished the car blaze and Knopp walked gingerly back to his patrol car.  The impact of the speed bumps was beginning to take its toll.   When another officer came over and saw the long, sad look on Knopp's face he asked,  “Hey, why the long face?  Great pursuit and two bad guys in custody!”  Knopp looked wistfully over at the crumbs scattered over the dashboard and passenger seat.  “I’m fine … just mourning a scone …”