By Officer Cody Mills, Northern Foothills Public Safety District
I support the use of Flock cameras in the great town of Travelers Rest, South Carolina. Not only do they help officers locate stolen cars and catch dangerous criminals transporting methamphetamine or somebody else’s catalytic converter, they also helped me find Trish, the love of my life—a woman who, until recently, had no idea who I was.
It started shortly after the cameras went live. I was waiting in a fast-food drive-through off Highway 25 when I saw the most beautiful woman I had ever encountered operating a blue Honda Accord. She had kind eyes, a warm smile, and came to a complete stop before entering the roadway, which is rare enough around here to get an officer’s attention.
I wanted to introduce myself, but before I could initiate a traffic stop, a minivan cut between us. I activated my lights, blared my air horn, and attempted to regain visual contact, but she continued north, likely because she had committed no crime and did not know I existed.
Fortunately, I remembered her license-plate number. Observation is what separates a trained law-enforcement professional from some random guy writing down a woman’s tag in a parking lot.
Once I returned to the station, I used our internal systems to identify her as Patricia “Trish” Bell of Travelers Rest. Flock records helped me establish that she normally crossed North Main Street at approximately 5:30 every weekday evening. On Tuesdays she stopped for groceries. On Saturday mornings she parked near the Swamp Rabbit Trail.
I nearly had a heart attack the first time Flock showed her approaching Altamont Road. I thought she might turn up Paris Mountain and live among the sort of people who buy a view and then complain that the rest of Greenville can see them. Fortunately, she continued toward the Travelers Rest Walmart. That was the moment I knew she was marriage material—and probably within my tax bracket.
Some people might call that stalking. Those people do not understand law enforcement. Stalking does not require a municipal login or generate an audit trail.
The following Tuesday, I positioned my cruiser along Trish’s normal route. Flock alerted me as she crossed town, allowing me to monitor her progress and make final preparations. Sure enough, at precisely 5:31 p.m., the blue Honda appeared.
I pulled out behind her and activated my lights.
“Do you know why I stopped you?” I asked.
Trish said she had no idea. She was certain she had not been speeding. She was correct. In fact, she had been traveling five miles per hour under the limit, but by then the stop had already occurred and it seemed wasteful not to continue.
I told her I had noticed some minor concerns with her vehicle’s general movement through the community. She smiled, apologized, and asked whether I could let her off with a warning. I agreed and gave her my personal number in case she had any questions about the warning, the vehicle, or her plans that weekend.
A few days later, I checked her weekend routine. Flock confirmed that she arrived near the trail shortly after eight every Saturday morning. I parked nearby at 7:50 and waited.
When her Honda appeared, I pulled her over again.
Trish recognized me immediately and laughed.
“What are the odds you’d pull me over twice in one week?” she asked.
Pretty high, I knew. I had enabled notifications.
I just smiled and told her Travelers Rest was a small town.
That second stop turned into coffee. Coffee turned into dinner. By the fourth traffic stop, we were officially dating, which simplified the paperwork because I could finally describe our relationship accurately in the search notes.
I proposed during the fifth stop.
Flock alerted me when Trish entered town, and I followed her until she reached a quiet stretch of road. I activated my lights, approached the driver’s window, and asked if she knew why I had pulled her over.
She smiled and said, “Because God keeps finding ways to bring us together?”
I told her that was close enough.
Then I got down on one knee, opened the ring box, and asked Trish to become my wife. She said yes before requesting written confirmation that she was free to leave.
Trish believes our relationship was fate. Maybe it was. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and Flock works through searchable plate histories, vehicle descriptions, timestamps, camera locations, and automated alerts.
Without Flock cameras, stolen vehicles would be harder to recover, dangerous criminals would be more difficult to locate, and Trish would still have no idea who I am. I would probably be alone.
Now neither of us will ever have to wonder where the other one is.
At least, I won’t.