When I was a police officer with Costa Mesa Mike was a K9 officer that I worked with. Whenever I needed a dog Mike was there to assist. In fact, I learned a valuable lesson from Mike one time. Here’s what happened back in the late 1990s:
I responded to a burglar alarm at a manufacturing business on Hyland Avenue at 01:28 hours. The front door window had been smashed and the venetian blinds that were on the other side of the door were a tangled mess.
“This is the Costa Mesa Police Department! Make yourself known or we will send in the dog!” Delgadillo yelled into the jagged hole.
He let Nero, his German Shepherd, bark for several seconds to intimidate anyone that might still be inside the darkness. When there was no reply we made entry into the building.
“Stay close behind me,” Delgadillo ordered me while keeping his focus on the beam of light in front of him. Both of us had our pistols at the low ready position and proceeded through the building.
A couple of seconds later He knelt down and unleashed his police dog. Nero, already leaning hard in the direction he wanted to go and whining for freedom, bolted immediately once the clasp was released. In less than two seconds he disappeared from our sight deep into the interior of the building.
For about ninety seconds Officer Delgadillo and I slowly went past one working space after another sweeping each side of the room in searching patterns of light.
We had not heard any noise from the dog. It was as if he vanished, and Delgadillo never called out to him. It was as if he had launched a fire-and-forget missile. The dog was dangerous, and he was roaming around somewhere in the building.
As we walked through a long hallway I had drifted about six feet behind Delgadillo. All of a sudden, with urgency in his voice, he said, “Wagner, you better get back on my ass!”
A chill went down my spine. I did not know much about K9 procedures at the time, but I knew by the sound of his voice that somehow I was in immediate danger.
I quickly picked up my pace and a second later I was literally pressing by shoulder up against Delgadillo’s back, and just then I heard sound of dog toe nails tapping on the tile floor behind me. I felt a hot blast of air from the dog’s nose on my trousers as he brushed past me and face forward. I had made it to Delgadillo’s side before he took a bite out of me. A dog like his can rip your flesh from the bone.
How did this dog get behind us? I tried to understand. I never heard him moving through the building, and I didn’t even know that there was a way he could circle around and come up behind us.
“These dogs don’t know what a uniform means. You need to stay with me so Nero knows that you are with me and not the suspect,” Mike mentored me.
We never found the burglar inside the business, but it was a good education for me on what to do during a building search with a K9 and his handler.
Mike Delgadillo is survived by his parents, brother, and children: Ivy, Noah, Sierra, and Quinton (ages 13-20).
Rest In Peace Mike.