Trial by fire for Lodi’s new police chief

Sierra Brucia took over as police chief less than two months ago, on May 1. And so far, it’s been a bumpy ride. First, the novel coronavirus lockdown punched a huge hole in his department’s budget. Seven officer positions will remain vacant until further notice. The cuts were necessary when businesses had to close and the sales tax faucet slowed to a drip.

Then the bad actions of some police officers a thousand miles away made it tough to be a cop anywhere in the nation — even Lodi. Several peaceful protests demanding changes in police practices have come to town as a result. Then there have been calls to dismantle and defund police departments across America.

Brucia admits it’s a heckava way to begin a new job.

Defund or dismantle the police department? That’s the question on everyone’s lips, it seems. While there have been no calls to dismantle LPD, there has been some very casual talk about “defunding” it. Brucia says that, to some extent, his department has already defunded itself over the years. For example, code enforcement is handled by civilians assigned to the police department. Gang interventions are done by civilians, he says. Their community liaison officer is assisted by two part-time civilians when working with the homeless. Even before that, the department “defunded” parking meter enforcement to civilians and did away with providing police escorts for funerals years ago. Remember that?

The chief also says, “We have eliminated the carotid restraint from our force options, (and) we have never authorized chokeholds.”

Brucia hasn’t had any calls to pull his troops out of local schools, as other cities have. However, he says he sent a letter to LUSD asking if they still want his officers on campus. He says of the community resource officer program, “That’s what the community wanted” 20 years ago when the program started. But the world has changed.

The chief credits the department’s ongoing community-oriented policing efforts with helping to keep the peace during turbulent times like these. “We’ve built very good relations with the community over the past 30 years,” he says.

What does concern Brucia is his officer staffing levels. It’s now back to what it was in the early ‘90s. That’s 30 years ago. Recruiting new officers is another story. He says that only one in 100 applicants (that’s one percent, folks) actually make it all the way to become an officer. Half or more fail their background investigation. What’s more, 29 percent of those hired by Lodi PD fail their field training. With all that’s going on these days, attracting good candidates will probably get even harder. But even when things are looking bleak, there’s always a bright spot, even for police. Last week Costco donated tubs of breakfast goodies for employees, and another couple dropped off seven boxes of doughnuts. Last weekend someone also plastered the department’s community room windows with paper hearts containing messages of love and support. Just to show their blue pride and appreciation.

IN THE DETAILS: You probably drive by it every day without noticing. Alamo Ford’s auto detailing shop is tucked way back in a fenced-off parking lot along Lockeford, near Sacramento street. Although his name sounds like an auto dealership, Alamo has been detailing cars for over 50 years. And did I mention that he’s 90 years old? He works by himself at his very humble quarters that some would call a shack. Alamo got into the auto detailing business right out of high school, working for a car wash on Cherokee Lane. He commutes to Lodi from his home in Stockton almost every day. Retirement? Naw. “I won’t stop working because I was always taught to work hard,” he says.

UP IN SMOKE: Not only will there be no Independence Day celebration at Lodi Lake this July, but the sale of fireworks by nonprofit organizations won’t be happening, either. Lodi Fire Chief Gene Stoddart blames COVID-19 for the cancellation. “Unfortunately, fire admin staff was heavily focused on securing very hard to find PPEs and creating operational protocols. … That focus on public safety did not leave time to manage this event.”

HOME SWEET HOME: Perhaps you’ve noticed there are many more homeless encampments around town lately (thanks, COVID crud). They are in parks and other public rightsof-way. One place in particular stands out. About 10 tents or so have sprung up on an abandoned railroad trestle that straddles Highway 99 near Lodi Avenue. Caltrans sought to prevent access to the overcrossing by installing large vertical posts at the opening, but that has only served to make the site more secure for tent dwellers. The Take Back Lodi group has started cleanup efforts again and may be knocking on those doors soon.

SPORTS REPORT: If you ever played tennis at the now-defunct Sun West Swim and Racquet Club on Cochran Road, maybe you remember the covered cabanas (two-sided benches) on the tennis courts. Nancy Hennefer snagged all three of them while the facility was being dismantled. She wanted to give them to the city so they could be installed on the pickleball courts at Kofu Park. They sat in her driveway for over a year, but the city never picked them up. So, she ended up donating the now-historical artifacts to the Newman Swamp Rats Trap Shooting Club. “A little bit of Sunwest/Twin Arbors lives on!” she says.

LOOKN’ BACK: Back in the day, it was not unusual for a Lodi police officer to finish his career without ever having to pull his gun from its holster, except for practice. Crime involving weapons was fairly rare in Lodi back in the early ‘70s, but one day Officer Lee Cannon found himself looking down the barrel of a suspect’s gun. Cannon was dispatched to Snyder’s Pharmacy on Cherokee Lane for a robbery in progress. After arriving on scene, Cannon rounded the corner of the building and came face-to-face with the suspect. Both the suspect and Cannon had guns drawn. Cannon, a country boy from Oklahoma with a distinctive twang to his voice, calmly convinced the robber to put his weapon down. Cannon told the Sentinel at the time, “I got there and the guy ran out with the loot in one hand and a gun in the other. … He was only about 30 feet away.” Cannon told the paper that the situation was not rattling — until the suspect was apprehended and driven away. “You don’t get scared until it’s over with,” said Cannon at the time. “Then you start shaking.” Cannon retired from the police department in October, 1986. He died 13 years later in Lodi at the age of 67.

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