RIDE-ALONGS DUE FOR OVERHAUL

Robbyn Burger imagined the character in her developing
comic screenplay as a female cop, and to lend the part authenticity
she did what any good writer would do - research.

On a ride-along with a female Denver police sergeant, Burger watched
scene after depressing scene of domestic violence. She heard the
complaint of a street woman who'd spent good money for a vial of crack
cocaine, only to find it was ground-up peppermint candy.

By shift's end, Burger had all the gritty detail she
needed.

"I changed the main character's occupation after that," she says with
a chuckle. "I thought it would be lot funnier if she was a dentist."

Burger, like thousands of citizens over the years, came away from the
Denver police ride-along program with a new appreciation for police
work.

That's how ride-alongs are supposed to operate.

But loose oversight of the program in Denver has opened it to
criticism.

Particularly damaging was last week's revelation that Colorado Rockies
second baseman Mike Lansing rode with a SWAT team during a botched and
fatal "noknock" drug raid last September - and his presence was
concealed from investigators for 10 months.

Then came an admission from Denver police that other celebrity
ballplayers - and other ride-along participants, including members of
the media - have shadowed officers without the required paperwork.

Denver has tightened its policy on ridealongs, yet it still lags
behind some other cities.

San Diego police, for example, are governed by a four-page list of
procedures.

"It's probably the best tool we have to educate first-hand on what the
officers experience," says San Diego department spokesman Bill Robinson.

San Diego has a waiting list for riders, who must either live or work
in the neighborhood they want to patrol. The program has remained
popular despite a 1985 incident in which a gun battle left one police
officer dead and wounded a second officer and the ride-along observer.

Author (and ex-cop) Joseph Wambaugh has ridden often with San Diego
police. And actor Dustin Hoffman, stopped by an officer while walking
downtown looking grubby and unshaven, was so impressed by the
officer's courtesy that he rode along on a patrol, Robinson says.

TV personality Geraldo Rivera spent time in San Diego taping a show on
narcotics raids, and wanted to go through the door with officers as
they served a warrant on a suspect, Robinson recalls. Not happening,
police said.

"We don't take them out with SWAT," Robinson says.

Departments in Dallas, Houston, Texas, and Seattle also prohibit SWAT
ride-alongs.

"Never," says John Leggio of Houston police."

"Not on a "no-knock' raid," adds Seattle police spokesman Clem Benton.
"That person is going to get in the way."

Just outside Denver, the undercover North Metro Drug Task Force
sometimes takes riders.

Sgt. Jim Gerhardt estimates the task force has about 20 a year, mostly
officers and detectives from member agencies but occasionally a
civilian police employee, victim advocate, family member or friend.

In Arvada, deputy police chief Ted Mink says his department averages
30 ride-alongs a month from the citizen police academy, prospective
job applicants and police chaplains.

Mink accepts that some officers find ride-along duty
annoying.

"Most of them feel it's their "office,' and they don't like anyone
invading their space," Mink says. "But it's something they have to do.
We think it's very valuable to have people . . . get a firsthand view
of police practices and policies."

Denver patrol Sgt. David Dawkins enjoys the interaction with
citizens.

"I think for me it was fun just to let people know what they see in
the movies is much different than what happens on a daily basis,"
Dawkins says. "It's not 24-7 excitement all the time. There are other
things police do during the day, and some of it's just picking up
paperwork downtown, getting the car fixed."

Many departments target ridership for individuals or groups that may
ultimately be of benefit to law enforcement. Houston, for example,
offers ride-alongs to grand jury members.

"So people making decisions as far as criminal acts have some
awareness of seeing an evening in Houston through the eyes of a police
officer," Leggio said. "Riding along with police is not an amusement
park ride. We're not a ride at AstroWorld."

In Denver, policies have come and gone, and at turns have been
enforced and ignored. Retired officer Steve Metros, a former district
commander, recalls that Denver started screening participants in the
early 1980s, and also adopted a once-a-year guideline to deter
gratuitous repeat visits.

"But that wasn't followed closely," he says. "The captain and even the
division chief could make exceptions. Relatives would ride, or someone
in the community, a banker or a businessman.

"Then it got carried away, and certain people would bring their
squeeze along." Metros says traffic offenders with an ax to grind
would try to ride along frequently to see how officers wrote tickets.

"Lot lizards" - another name for cop groupies - would use the program
to get a little closer to the uniform.

At that point, Metros recalls, policy was tightened to require
captains' approval for ride-alongs. The department also began running
background checks.

"It went relatively well," Metros says. "Then, like anything else, the
rules weren't followed that closely as time went by." Policies for
ride-alongs have proved flexible to a fault over the years, and that
may be why longterm gains in public goodwill have been suddenly
countered by the current criticism of lax oversight.

"I think we could monitor it a little better, make sure it's approved
up and down the chain," says Dawkins. "But I'd hate to see them get
rid of it."