Chapter 8: The End of Training (Please Continue Reading)

Because he didn’t have a driver’s license, he asked the staff at the dealership to drive his car back to his apartment.

Ao Xi took the bus to the Temple City Station of LASD. As he entered, he saw Susan still at the front desk.

“Hi, Susan, you look even more beautiful today. I’m here for training.”

Susan laughed. “That makes me happy. If I didn’t already have a boyfriend, I might have considered you.”

Seeing Susan’s weight—well over two hundred pounds—gave Ao Xi a start, though outwardly he could only say, “What a pity.”

They chatted for a while. Susan found the forms Ao Xi had filled out last time and helped him complete anything missing.

Then she handed him a firearm permit application to fill out, registered his fingerprints and ID, ensuring that once he finished firearms training at the station, he’d receive his permit. He was now, in a way, halfway considered one of their own; otherwise, the process would have been much more complicated: first, a trip to the station to pick up the application, a second to submit it and take fingerprints, a third to submit documents, a fourth to collect the permit, and a fifth to register the firearm’s serial number. The Americans really didn’t care for efficiency.

Susan then led Ao Xi to a large office, knocked, and said, “Wally, this is the reserve deputy sheriff here for training. Can you start with him now?”

A middle-aged white officer stood up. “Of course.”

He came over to shake Ao Xi’s hand. “Thank you for choosing to join LASD as a reserve deputy sheriff. It’s a wonderful decision.”

“Absolutely. I’ve always thought so.”

Wally took Ao Xi to a small conference room and began with basic introductions, explaining the differences between state police, county sheriffs, and city police in the U.S. Only then did Ao Xi realize how American law enforcement was structured.

He wondered, with such divisions, who took charge when a case arose? Would responsibilities be clear, or would there be buck-passing?

He asked, and Wally answered readily, “The 911 command center can track the real-time location of every state, county, and city officer. They’ll dispatch the closest officer to respond according to the caller’s report or a request for backup. So, in that moment, it doesn’t matter what agency—it’s whoever’s nearest goes first.

“Once on scene, if the case is significant and moves into investigation, then it’s assigned by jurisdiction, and detectives or specialized teams take over.”

Ao Xi suddenly understood—it was just like back home: command center dispatches officers for minor incidents, while major cases go to detectives.

Seeing Ao Xi grasped the idea, Wally explained more about LASD’s internal structure: a central headquarters and 23 patrol stations, each led by a captain and deputy captain, several lieutenants supervising frontline deputies, with Level II and Level I deputies as the backbone, and regular patrol officers as the foundation.

Other units, like the Special Operations Bureau, would be discussed later.

Mark and Wally were both Level II deputies—veterans with over five years at LASD, qualified to train new officers and reserves.

Thus began systematic training. The reserve deputy sheriff program lasted eighteen weeks, typically every Saturday from 6 a.m. to 3 p.m., totaling 184 hours—much less than full-time police academy training.

Subjects included law enforcement basics and legal knowledge, firearms training, criminal law, weapons management, drug control, emergency response, unarmed self-defense, and so on. Afterward, reserves could join community patrols, deter crime, respond to vacation home alarms, conduct park and school safety checks, report and remove graffiti, handle non-hazardous patrol tasks, fulfill city/county service requests, search for missing children, assist firefighters, direct traffic, and patrol on foot or by vehicle.

However, that program was designed for part-time reserves. Ao Xi intended to go full-time, so he could train every day, so long as he met the hour requirements. Mark and the others were happy to train him at the station.

Patrolling in Los Angeles was risky. Policing was just a job—if you could work safely and still get paid, why not?

Ao Xi took the theory courses seriously, since this was all new to him. Firearms training, however, he felt confident in. After all, his handgun skill was already Level 2—higher than Mark’s, perhaps.

But to avoid shocking them, Ao Xi only showed that he was naturally gifted and improved quickly. Mark and the others were amazed, saying he shouldn’t be a cop but try out for the Olympic shooting team instead.

One day, just after finishing a round on the range, checking his firearm, Wally casually asked, “Why do you want to be a reserve deputy sheriff? I heard you want to fight crime.”

“Yes, I have an irreconcilable hatred for evil.”

Was this a test? Ao Xi wasn’t surprised. A foreigner coming to America just to be a cop—if not full-time, then as a reserve, and wanting citizenship to become full-time; it’d be stranger if no one was suspicious.

Wally looked skeptical. “Are you serious?”

“Of course. I want to be a policeman all my life, to fight crime forever!” Ao Xi said, switching to another pistol, loading it, and firing at the target.

Wally shrugged and let it drop.

During his training, Ao Xi managed to obtain both his driver’s license and his gun permit.

He took some time to buy a Glock 19 Gen5 from a gun shop, since the station didn’t provide firearms to reserves—they were notoriously stingy—so he had to buy his own, register its serial number, and he’d be allowed to use it.

The reason for picking that model was simple: he already had one at home and was familiar with it. Getting a second meant no need to learn a new weapon.

The next day, driving his own Cadillac XT4, Glock at his waist, keys jingling in his hand, he strolled past Mark at the station.

Mark, who drove a Corolla, was so annoyed he stormed out with his hat to start his patrol.

Noticing this, Wally checked with Susan about Ao Xi’s situation and, learning that he’d bought an apartment and car outright, glanced meaningfully at Ao Xi’s silhouette but stopped asking why he wanted to be a cop.

Some rich people just have their quirks.

Time flew by. Ao Xi’s reserve deputy sheriff training was soon complete. After his records were reviewed and filed, and after he paid for his uniform, gear, and all sorts of equipment, he officially became a probationary reserve deputy sheriff. As long as he accompanied officers on patrol for a few days without incident, he’d be fully certified.

Ao Xi was excited, but couldn’t help complaining about LASD’s policies. What kind of system was this? Not only did they not provide equipment, they didn’t even provide uniforms.

His annoyance faded, though, once he learned how much a reserve deputy sheriff earned per month.

Part-time reserve deputies had to work at least 20 hours per month, receiving a grand total of $50 monthly, plus a $300 annual stipend.

Other reserves said the average yearly out-of-pocket expenses for a reserve deputy sheriff amounted to $5,000 to $7,000.

No doubt, the Americans really knew how to make things difficult.

The U.S. police system, unlike at home, is divided into federal police like the FBI, state police like the California Highway Patrol, county sheriffs like LASD, city police like LAPD, and township police like Banshee Township PD. There’s no strict hierarchy—just different jurisdictions—so officers can completely ignore the FBI if they wish.

The county sheriff’s boss is called the Sheriff, and all other county deputies are called Deputy Sheriffs. Internally, they’ll use rank titles, but to the public, it’s fine to call any county deputy “Deputy Sheriff.”

City police, like LAPD, are called police. The differences between city, county, and state police lie in uniforms and badges. If you’re unsure, just call someone “Officer.”

The LASD system is generally split into full-time officers, academy trainees, reserve deputy sheriffs, and auxiliary officers.

Full-timers and trainees need no explanation. Reserve deputy sheriff doesn’t mean “in reserve for promotion”—it means part-time. It’s for those who, after finishing their main job, still have the time, energy, and desire to serve. After training, they can become reserves.

Reserve police receive only a token supplement—no way to support a family on it.

Auxiliary officers, or volunteers, are also part-time—suitable for those who want to try policing for fun but have even less time. There’s no set schedule, just show up when you can. The symbolic annual salary is $1—a year.

Because part-timers aren’t on the official payroll, yearly personnel budgets don’t cover them. They must buy everything themselves: uniforms from the department, tactical gear from sporting goods stores.

Regulations vary by state; some states give part-time officers full police powers—carry a gun, make arrests, just like full-timers. Some grant limited powers, others none—they can only assist.

People choose to be part-time officers not for the money, but for the experience, without having to shoulder all the responsibilities and risks. Of course, some truly don’t care about the money and do it full-time for love of the job.

Fortunately, LASD’s gear looked sharp. Ao Xi donned his uniform—khaki shirt, green pants, badge pinned, tactical belt strapped on, pistol, magazines, handcuffs, pepper spray, first aid kit—everything but a radio, since he was only auxiliary.

Besides the full kit, there was an unexpected bonus. During training, he received a system notification:

Constitution +1

Specialized Driving Level 0: A specialized improvement over ordinary driving skills; your level is just at entry.

Hand-to-Hand Combat Level 0: Even with a gun, hand-to-hand skills are vital. Please work to improve.

Police Procedures Level 0: Forget it, you’d better not respond to calls alone—you’ll get complaints and lose your job.

This showed him that high-level training could improve his abilities—he didn’t have to rely solely on the system.

With that, Ao Xi was eager to finally prove himself, but days went by without a call for support.

Reserve deputy sheriffs aren’t assigned shifts like full-timers. You can only go on patrol when the department has a staffing shortage and calls you in. There were plenty of reserves in Los Angeles, and they preferred to summon more experienced ones first.

This made Ao Xi anxious. Training was finished, but no work? Did I buy this uniform for nothing? Was the department just a front for a clothing store?

But there was nothing he could do except wander the streets, getting to know the area.

One day, his phone suddenly rang.