Officer Thomas Coombs walks softly in some of Cincinnati's grittiest neighborhoods.

        For most of his three years on the force, Officer Coombs has pulled graveyard shifts in Cincinnati's downtown, west-side and Over-the-Rhine neighborhoods. He endured the riots of April 2001. He's been shot at a few times, and he gets spit on and griped at.

        Still, this self-described “dorky white guy” feels alive, at home, on the beat. He hates that cops are regularly criticized. Most, he says, are like him: good guys trying to do a good job.

        Officer Coombs is cheerful, quiet, compact, with close-cropped hair and an unassuming manner. His handshake is firm, his smile easy. He loves his job, he says, even when it's not exciting.

        Monday night's shift, when I rode along, was as cool as the weather.

        At roll call, officers lined up to inspect weapons; each officer took out the magazine of his 9 mm Smith & Wesson handgun and reloaded.

        Supervisors read aloud from bulletins handed down from previous shifts — who's missing, what vehicle is being sought, who was robbed. The dozen uniformed and plain-clothed officers were told to be careful. Sunday night, someone took shots at two officers in Winton Terrace, and a robber stole a store owner's gun.

        Officer Coombs, a 32-year-old father of three with one on the way, noted the faces of fallen officers, men killed on duty whose photos adorn District 1's walls. New officers memorize the names and circumstances of each death. Many rely on rituals.
       

Ritual and superstitions

        “You get superstitious,” he says. “Everybody sits in the same places at roll calls. My wife always says the same things: "Have a good night.' Her mom always says, "Be careful,' and makes me look at her to show her I've been paying attention.”

        Officers wear bullet-resistant vests under their shirts. They wear the vests and weapons belts even for physical training and exercise. The vests itch sometimes.

        Officer Coombs and his partner, Officer Todd Pierson, usually ride together. When they don't, they're like an old married couple, using cell phones to check on each other, offer encouragement or a joke.

        Officer Coombs' first tasks this evening were to check on some parking meters, and then a murder witness' home and business to be sure there had been no retaliation. There was none.

        The officer added a self-assigned task to that list: Locate a prostitute who hadn't shown up at court earlier Monday morning.

        An ex-boyfriend beat her several weeks ago and was jailed, but she didn't show for his trial. Officer Coombs, who had stayed several hours after his shift to testify, promised the judge he'd find her.

        We drove through mostly deserted streets near downtown. Officer Coombs looked out for a couple of women who were closing their convenience store for the night. They waved.

        An elderly bag lady who nightly assures police she's waiting for her ride wandered by.
       

Trying to avoid force

        Officer Coombs knows the closing times and drink specials of every bar in the area. He swings by the largest ones several times at closing to help convince partyers to go home.

        This night, he overheard, via shoulder radio, two other officers request back-up. He sped up and, in less than two minutes, pulled behind their patrol car. Officers ordered three baggy-panted youths out of a stolen car with their hands in the air. Officer Coombs provided cover with his gun pointed down at his side.

        It's his way, he says, to avoid using force until necessary. “I never wanted to be that officer people hated.”

       Denise Smith Amos can be reached at 768-8395, or e-mail damos@enquirer.com.
       

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