On TV, if an innocent citizen is threatened by a criminal, the cops spare no expense protecting him–or her.

If s/he’s really lucky, s/he’ll get protection from no less than the Top Cop HImself–such as Steve McGarrett (on Hawaii Five-O) or Elliot Ness (on The Untouchables).

If you think that’s how real-life cops operate, you’re in for a shock.  Especially if you have to entrust your life to them.

Consider the case of a friend of mine I’ll call Bill.

Bill was shopping in a Home Depot in Daly City when his cell phone rang.  Assuming it was someone he knew, he casually answered it.

The caller proved to be someone he didn’t know.  More ominously, it was someone he wouldn’t want to know.

“You got my friend kicked out,” he said.  “And I’m going to get you.  I know who you are and where you live.”

Bill explained–truthfully–that he hadn’t gotten anyone kicked out.  For a few moments he had no idea who the caller might be talking about.

Then he remembered: About two months earlier, an aggressive psychopathic tenant had been evicted from his apartment building.  Bill hadn’t had anything to do with the eviction.

True, the property management company supervising the complex had tried to recruit him to testify in a lawsuit against the psycho-tenant.  But Bill had wanted nothing to do with the case.

There were some risks just not worth taking–especially when a man who routinely threatened others lived only two floors below.

Still, the tenant had clearly been told by someone else that Bill had played a role in his eviction.  Just days before he was to move out, he shouted at Bill: “I’m being evicted, and you’re responsible for it!”

The next day, by unfortunate coincidence, Bill again ran into the psycho-tenant, who shuted: “I’m being evicted, and I’m sure that makes you happy!”

So now, as Bill listened to the unknown caller making his threat, he felt 99% certain that even if he didn’t know the caller, he knew the man on whose behalf he was calling.

Bill stayed calm, trying to draw the caller into giving some specific information.  But the caller refused to be tempted, and Bill hung up.

Thinking it over, Bill was worried: His cell phone number was known to only a few people–and certainly not to the evicted tenant.  Someone had clearly gone to a great deal of trouble to find it.

For the moment, he took some heart in that the caller’s number showed up on his cell phone.  No doubt the police could quickly trace it, he assumed.

(He soon found out they couldn’t.  The number was to a Google phone exchange, which could be used by callers who didn’t want to reveal their actual number.)

As soon as Bill returned to San Francisco, he visited a police station and made out a report to a uniformed officer.

Later that day, he called the station to provide more information.  He was connected to an Inspector Jones (not his real name).

In the police world, an Inspector is a figure of real authority and prestige.  The word “inspector” will open doors that may well be closed to other police officers.

So Bill assumed he was dealing with the elite of the San Francisco Police Department (SFPD)

To his surprise, Jones asked if he had filed a report of the incident with the Daly City Police Department.

“No,” Bill said.  He had simply been visiting Daly City when the call came in.  No one had assaulted him in Daly City  And he believed the call had almost certainly come from San Francisco.

“Well,” said Inspector Jones, “you must file a report with the Daly City Police Department.  Otherwise, we can’t (that is, won’t) help you.”

Bill asked: ” Can I make the report over the phone?”

“No,” said Jones, “it has to be made in person.”

Bill: “I don’t have a car.  I don’t know where the Daly City Police Department is.”

“Well, we can’t help you until you do it,” said Jones.

So Bill called the Daly City Police Department.  A female officer soon came on the line.  Bill outlined the reason for his call.

“Did you file a report with the SFPD?” the officer asked.

“Yes,” said Bill.

“Then you don’t need to file one with us,” said the officer.

“Are you certain?” asked Bill.

“Yes.”

Now Bill was not so much worried as angry.  He re-dialed the SFPD–but this time, at a far higher level: The Office of the Chief of Police.

he didn’t expect to speak with the Chief himself.  But that wasn’t necessary.  It would be enough for him to reach someone who worked directly for the Chief.

Police department are quasi-military organizations.  They are rigidly hierarchial.  At a police station, a captain wields Godlike authority over everyone beneath him–detectives, sergeants, uniformed officers.

And if a captain wields Godlike authority over his subordinates, the Chief is the uniformed version of God to everyone else in the department.