
The calls keep coming in. Some idiot gets caught trying to steal a car, and now the owner is beating the shit out of him. Another guy pulls a knife on a bouncer when he’s told that that he can’t take his three beers to go (he takes them). There’s talk of an overdose, updates from the World Cup, notices about impaired drivers, a woman on a bike being followed by a car, and someone who’s just bought a length of hose after losing his will to live. There’s a bar fight. Another bar fight. And another. And another. A 40-year-old male takes a spill down a flight of stairs.
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With pale eyes and complexion, buzzed light hair, stocky builds, and matching cowboy hats, the partners could be brothers—and they are, in a way. They don’t play good cop/bad cop as much as they take on the roles of decent cops, giving breaks where they’re due and treating assholes as they deserve to be treated.“The beat is old school police work at its best,” Kelly says. “Our job is to walk and talk —we’re the face of the force.” Discretion, he adds, is the name of the game. If a guy has an open beer or a joint and he cooperates, they’ll let it slide. If the dude is belligerent, they’ll come down on him hard.“We know our areas and we know the people in them,” Kelly says. “There’s no other kind of police work that I’d rather be doing.”*We’re strolling down 17

Two dudes—sans western wear—come right at us, beers in hand. They see the cops and freeze. “Oh shit,” one says. “Officer, I’m—”
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He’s stinking drunk, so the cops call DOAP—the Downtown Outreach Addictions Program. DOAP works with the police and EMS, running a shuttle service to the city’s Alpha House shelter. “The folks at DOAP are worth their weight in gold,” Bassett says. “As soon as we find a guy like this, they’re our responsibility. They’re vulnerable, right? They could get robbed or assaulted, or they could choke on their own vomit. And it’s better for these guys to go to a shelter than spend the night in jail. Less paper work for us too. And they like the DOAP folks a hell of a lot more than they like us.”
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DOAP shows up. Two women in a minivan. They help the guy in. He seems relieved to see them. “Crazy night, eh?” Kelly asks one of the women. “Oh, It’s fun!” she says. She gives the cops hand sanitizer and rubber gloves before getting back in the van and speeding away.We walk five paces—no more—and there’s another dude drunk and out and sleeping on the cement: a guy with a ratty goatee and a faded Mötley Crüe t-shirt. Dean calls DOAP and we wait. People pass by. Some laugh. Others try to take pictures. “What a loser,” one says. “Oh fuck,” says another. The chorus continues. “Check out this idiot.” “Poor dude.” “Nothing to see here,” Kelly says. “He’s just Stampeded out.”
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