Veteran LPD officer to retire after 34 years
On Monday night, Lincoln Police Officer Paul Aksamit killed the lights and glided slowly through the back alleys and vacant parking lots of southeast Lincoln.
Even the main roads were empty; he said this side of town is pretty dead by 11 p.m., when he came on duty. Still, Aksamit made sure to ease off the brakes so the lights wouldn’t flash red and blow his cover.
“Give yourself every advantage you can,” he said.
The element of surprise helped him catch burglars in the act three times during his 21 years working third shift.
On one of the last nights of his 34-year career, Aksamit, 55, crept up on locked doors and unshattered windows. That was the norm during the years he spent working nights.
But he never stopped checking.
“Paul has patience,” said Officer Alan Grell, 31. It’s a virtue he said the retiring officer imparted on him.
In April, Aksamit said, a call came out at about 3:30 a.m. that there were noises coming from the HiMark Golf Course clubhouse. When he arrived, two guys split.
One kid ran down a fairway, back toward the clubhouse and then down Augusta Drive into a homeowner’s yard. Aksamit helped bring him down, but after the pursuit, he was filled more with exhaustion than adrenaline, and he knew.
“I figured out then and there I’m too old to do this job,” he said early Tuesday as he patrolled the course during his final week; his final night was Wednesday.
This Monday, he begins a new career working as a courthouse deputy.
His wife is excited he’ll now be getting off of work at a time — 5 p.m. — when before he was just getting up and around.
He’s leery of daytime traffic, but ready for the change.
“Little different job,” he said. “Little different uniform. Brown uniform instead of a blue.”
Aksamit said he enjoyed working overnight, even though he never got “good sleep.” He got to spend time with his four kids, all grown now.
It was a career path not followed by many at LPD. For a couple years, Aksamit had more tenure than the other nine officers combined on the Southeast team’s third shift.
His badge number, which LPD issues chronologically, is 318. Grell’s is 1,558.
At 3 a.m., midshift, the two arrived at a U-Stop. They’d come from an LPD substation, where Grell secretly finished designing a letter congratulating Aksamit on his upcoming retirement, and Aksamit ploddingly typed up an incident report about a harassment call they’d just cleared.
“Hunt and peck,” he said as he stabbed at the keyboard.
They bought a couple soft drinks and sat down.
When he started, he told Grell, there were no computers. You got a gun on your first day out and officers filed reports about every call they took.
“Every single call? Wow,” Grell said.
“Was it more or less violent back then?”
“It was real bad and then it mellowed out,” Aksamit said. “Now it’s getting back.”
“How many close calls you have?”
A few, Aksamit said.
Favorite assignment?
“I think probably that sting operation,” he said of an undercover assignment at a motorcycle shop that led to the arrest of a dealer selling stolen bikes.
He grew out his hair and beard, and “looked like a real dredge of society.”
“That was a blast. Got to learn about motorcycles. Got to deal with the criminal element.”
He counted on two hands the chiefs he served under. He remembered how his old squad car was black with a white stripe, and referred to on the street as a skunk.
“We had gray shirts with these pants,” Aksamit said, looking down at a blue-striped pair of black pants. “Gray.”
“I’m surprised you had uniforms,” Grell said.
“The faces change every year, but the ribbing stays the same,” Aksamit replied.
“You need to write a book so I could read it,” Grell said. “You could type it.”
Grell mashed his index fingers into the convenience store table, and both the officers laughed.
The conversation continued as Crystal Hulsman worked the counter. Earlier in the shift, Aksamit drove by just to see if she was hanging in there by herself.
Late-night clerks like Hulsman like it when police stop by, he said. It makes them feel a little safer.
She used to heat up a batch of popcorn, just for him, until he gave it up this Lent. They still ask about each other’s kids, and gossip about work.
“He’s a really good guy,” she said. “I enjoyed his company while he was on the force, and I wish him luck.”
Reach Cory Matteson at 473-2655 or cmatteson@journalstar.com.
Even the main roads were empty; he said this side of town is pretty dead by 11 p.m., when he came on duty. Still, Aksamit made sure to ease off the brakes so the lights wouldn’t flash red and blow his cover.
“Give yourself every advantage you can,” he said.
The element of surprise helped him catch burglars in the act three times during his 21 years working third shift.
On one of the last nights of his 34-year career, Aksamit, 55, crept up on locked doors and unshattered windows. That was the norm during the years he spent working nights.
But he never stopped checking.
“Paul has patience,” said Officer Alan Grell, 31. It’s a virtue he said the retiring officer imparted on him.
In April, Aksamit said, a call came out at about 3:30 a.m. that there were noises coming from the HiMark Golf Course clubhouse. When he arrived, two guys split.
One kid ran down a fairway, back toward the clubhouse and then down Augusta Drive into a homeowner’s yard. Aksamit helped bring him down, but after the pursuit, he was filled more with exhaustion than adrenaline, and he knew.
“I figured out then and there I’m too old to do this job,” he said early Tuesday as he patrolled the course during his final week; his final night was Wednesday.
This Monday, he begins a new career working as a courthouse deputy.
His wife is excited he’ll now be getting off of work at a time — 5 p.m. — when before he was just getting up and around.
He’s leery of daytime traffic, but ready for the change.
“Little different job,” he said. “Little different uniform. Brown uniform instead of a blue.”
Aksamit said he enjoyed working overnight, even though he never got “good sleep.” He got to spend time with his four kids, all grown now.
It was a career path not followed by many at LPD. For a couple years, Aksamit had more tenure than the other nine officers combined on the Southeast team’s third shift.
His badge number, which LPD issues chronologically, is 318. Grell’s is 1,558.
At 3 a.m., midshift, the two arrived at a U-Stop. They’d come from an LPD substation, where Grell secretly finished designing a letter congratulating Aksamit on his upcoming retirement, and Aksamit ploddingly typed up an incident report about a harassment call they’d just cleared.
“Hunt and peck,” he said as he stabbed at the keyboard.
They bought a couple soft drinks and sat down.
When he started, he told Grell, there were no computers. You got a gun on your first day out and officers filed reports about every call they took.
“Every single call? Wow,” Grell said.
“Was it more or less violent back then?”
“It was real bad and then it mellowed out,” Aksamit said. “Now it’s getting back.”
“How many close calls you have?”
A few, Aksamit said.
Favorite assignment?
“I think probably that sting operation,” he said of an undercover assignment at a motorcycle shop that led to the arrest of a dealer selling stolen bikes.
He grew out his hair and beard, and “looked like a real dredge of society.”
“That was a blast. Got to learn about motorcycles. Got to deal with the criminal element.”
He counted on two hands the chiefs he served under. He remembered how his old squad car was black with a white stripe, and referred to on the street as a skunk.
“We had gray shirts with these pants,” Aksamit said, looking down at a blue-striped pair of black pants. “Gray.”
“I’m surprised you had uniforms,” Grell said.
“The faces change every year, but the ribbing stays the same,” Aksamit replied.
“You need to write a book so I could read it,” Grell said. “You could type it.”
Grell mashed his index fingers into the convenience store table, and both the officers laughed.
The conversation continued as Crystal Hulsman worked the counter. Earlier in the shift, Aksamit drove by just to see if she was hanging in there by herself.
Late-night clerks like Hulsman like it when police stop by, he said. It makes them feel a little safer.
She used to heat up a batch of popcorn, just for him, until he gave it up this Lent. They still ask about each other’s kids, and gossip about work.
“He’s a really good guy,” she said. “I enjoyed his company while he was on the force, and I wish him luck.”
Reach Cory Matteson at 473-2655 or cmatteson@journalstar.com.
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