Blood Secrets: Chronicles Of A Crime Scene Reconstructionist - Plot & Excerpts
Dad hoped I would do the same, but my heart was elsewhere. I was determined to become a cop. I was also eager to go to college. When my uncle Wes and aunt Louise Chamless offered to let me live with them rent-free in Los Angeles if I attended school there, I seized the chance. In the fall of 1961, I packed up my Chevy and drove straight to Southern California, stopping just long enough to refuel. As soon as I had settled in there, I headed down to the police station—a wide-eyed, eager nineteen-year-old—and asked for an application. “Sorry, kid,” the desk sergeant told me. Nineteen, I learned, was two years too young to become a cop. Disappointed but with no other choice, I channeled my energy into studying instead. I spent the next two years at East Los Angeles Junior College, where I earned my associate degree in 1964. Then, with the help of a Johnson administration grant, I enrolled at Cal State at Los Angeles, majoring in police science and administration. Veteran cops from police departments in the area would show up regularly to guest lecture and serve as adjunct professors, and I would listen spellbound to their tales of thwarted robberies and special investigations, hoping one day to be working cases like those myself.
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