[Taxacom] non-Linnean police codes

[Daniel Janzen]

Va. State Police Swap '10-4' For 'Message Understood'

By Mary Beth Sheridan
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, November 13, 2006; Page A01

Since the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, local governments have spent 
millions on high-tech radios to improve communication among police 
forces. Now, Virginia is taking the next step: changing the very way 
cops talk.

Starting this month, Virginia State Police have banned the "10 codes" 
used by generations of officers to flag everything from murders to 
bathroom breaks. Gone is the language of "10-4" and "What's your 
10-20 [location]?"

The codes are as much a part of police culture as badges and coffee. 
But over time, individual police departments have adapted the codes 
in their own ways, creating confusion when they have to work together 
-- such as on Sept. 11.

Eager to avoid such mix-ups, Virginia's government has become one of 
the first in the nation to try to eliminate traditional cop talk. For 
months, officials in Richmond have worked with police and 
firefighters to come up with a substitute for 10 codes, finally 
deciding on a statewide "common language protocol."

In other words, English.

Police have reacted with a certain amount of 10-32 (alarm).

"My first reaction was, 'You've got to be kidding me,' " said Trooper 
Steve Mittendorff, 26, as he patrolled the Dulles Toll Road early 
this month. "How am I going to stop using something I've been using 
all these years?"

The switch reflects why it is so challenging for the U.S. Department 
of Homeland Security to create a national emergency response system. 
If someone sets off a dirty bomb at the Pentagon, Arlington County 
police might be on the radio with officers arriving from Fairfax 
County, Alexandria, the District or Maryland.

To Arlington police, "10-13" means "officer in trouble." To 
Montgomery County police, the same code means "request wrecker." Even 
everyday police commands can get lost in translation: In Alexandria, 
"10-54" refers to an alcohol sensor. For Virginia State Police, it's 
livestock on the highway.

"It's nuts," said Chris Essid, who is leading Virginia's campaign to 
get all police and firefighters to switch to plain English. "I had no 
idea how attached people became to codes."

A Simpler Time

The 10-code system started catching on in the 1920s, when police 
radios had only one channel. Officers needed to bark out information 
succinctly to avoid tying up the system. But over time, a Babel of 
codes developed.

The jumble wasn't such a problem when police were on different radio 
systems, or were not as tuned in to the potential for apocalyptic 
disasters. But five years ago, as law enforcement agencies rushed to 
the Pentagon, they found that sometimes they were speaking in 
different tongues.

Local "police were talking 10 codes. So were the Pentagon police. The 
FBI have their own little 10 codes," said Capt. Richard Slusher, 
communications officer for the Arlington Fire Department. "You didn't 
know what they were talking about."

Usually such mix-ups are just an inconvenience. But the potential for 
trouble is clear. A few years ago, an agent with the federal Bureau 
of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives called in a "10-50" 
while working in Maryland, police said. To Montgomery police, that 
means "officer down." Squad cars rushed to the scene -- to discover 
that, in the agent's code, "10-50" meant traffic accident.

After Sept. 11, federal Homeland Security officials required first 
responders to use plain English in events involving other agencies. 
But many officers like to keep the codes for day-to-day use within 
their departments.

Some officials, though, said they fear such officers will revert to 
their own 10 codes under the stress of a disaster. That's why 
Virginia Gov. Timothy M. Kaine (D) decided to urge all first 
responders to switch to plain language full time.

But getting rid of 10 codes has met considerable resistance from some 
officers. At stake are efficiency, safety and professionalism. Not to 
mention cool.

"The jargon is one of the things that sets the cops apart," said Tim 
Dees, a former police officer who is editor of Officer.com, a Web 
site run out of Beltsville. Not that police officers are alone, he 
noted: As shown by numerous TV shows, doctors and lawyers also love 
to snap out their jargon.

"It adds," he said, "a certain mystique."

A Tough Transition

The day after Virginia State Police entered the plain-English era, 
Mittendorff was patrolling on the toll road. Night was falling, and 
the radio was squawking with news of rush-hour accidents.

Occasionally, a baritone voice would mutter a "10-46" (disabled 
vehicle) or "10-27" (requested license check).

"Everyone is trying to remember plain language," mused Mittendorff, 
an earnest officer with a Marine-style buzz cut. "I've been trying 
all day, and I keep slipping."

He pulled onto the side of the road, behind another cruiser with 
flashing red and blue lights. The driver, Trooper Jason Thomasson, 
29, had just finished writing a traffic ticket. He and Mittendorff 
reminisced about the old 10 codes.

"I think they were a lot easier," said Thomasson, leaning on his 
friend's cruiser. "You can rattle it off a lot faster."

Mittendorff said he worries about troopers encountering greater 
danger now that their coded language has been stripped bare for 
anyone with a police scanner to understand.

"The public never knew what we were talking about," he said.

Virginia officials said they have created a simple set of four 
signals for cases in which police officers need to get radio 
information confidentially -- for example, if a suspect is on a 
terrorist list. As for the secrecy of the old 10 codes, Essid said, 
that's largely a myth.

"A lot of these codes are on the Internet," he said.

Still, traditional cop talk will not disappear easily. Officials in 
the Washington area have been talking for months about taking a 
common approach to the issue, but it hasn't happened. Montgomery has 
gotten rid of codes, but Prince George's County hasn't. D.C. police 
have kept a handful of 10 codes.

Even in Virginia, the record is mixed. Alexandria police tried to 
abolish codes a decade ago but reverted. The codes were more 
effective, said Lt. James Bartlett, a spokesman, and they limited the 
time long-winded officers were on the radio.

But, clearly, the attraction goes beyond efficiency.

"It's just our own little language," said another officer on the 
Alexandria force, Capt. Hassan Aden. He uses 10 codes so 
instinctually that his 4-year-old son has picked them up. When the 
boy has soccer practice, for example, Aden says: "Hey, come on, we've 
got to 10-18," or hurry. Dinner is "10-7 time."

His police officers switch to common language when working with other 
departments. Still, after years of code, they must make a conscious 
effort to speak plain English.

"It's like a different language," he said.