few years ago, while supervising a Drug Recognition Expert (DRE) task force
in the Central Jail, I noticed that one of the students was really cute.
I didn’t know his first name, but his nametag revealed his last name. We talked for
several hours, and I remember that he carried 14 magazines of ammunition
– on his hip, in his pocket, and on one ankle. He was a little strange,
but very interesting and easy to talk to. I spoke with him several other
times over the next few months while he was obtaining his certification,
but never did find out his first name.
In March 2002 I attended an instructors' meeting prior to an upcoming
weeklong DRE school. There were a dozen or so instructors that would be
teaching together over the next week, and my new friend was one of them.
He had apparently passed the student phase and gone on to become an instructor.
I sat in the meeting room across the table from him, thinking how sexy he
looked in his leather jacket, white T-shirt, blue jeans and motorcycle boots.
I found out later that this was a look he was “trying out” and it didn’t
really suit him. He got teased a lot that day and called “the Fonz.”
All the classes were team-taught by the instructors, and the purpose
of the instructors' meeting was to sign up for classes and work with your
partner instructor in preparing for the lessons you would be teaching over
the next week. I signed up for a few classes with partners that I regularly
taught with. Then, I signed up for a really boring class that no one else
wanted to teach. The Officer-in-Charge of the DRE program asked who else
wanted to teach this class. There was dead silence for a few seconds (no
one wanted this boring class), and then my new friend said he would teach
it with me.
The day before the class, I asked some of the other instructors what
my new friend’s first name was. No one knew. Then, finally, someone told me it was
Kirk. I found Kirk in the instructor room, sitting by himself and reading
a book. I sat down next to him on the pretext of discussing our class, and
we started talking. And we talked. And talked. In fact, we talked for the
next two days and were rarely apart during the school.
On the last day of the school, Kirk came up to me as I was heading to
the parking lot, handed me his phone number, mumbled something and practically
ran away. I called him that night. Two days later, on March 10, 2002, we
had our first date. We went to lunch at Ruby’s, a 50s style diner on the
pier in Huntington Beach and then took a walk on the beach. It was very
On March 10, 2003, Kirk took me to Huntington Beach for our one-year
anniversary. We took a walk on the beach, where he gave me a ring box with
a piece of paper inside that said, “Your ring here.” He asked me to marry
him. I said yes. If he tells the story differently, ignore him.