Something wasn’t quite right.

After all, that’s what Officer Micah Stegall is trained to look for — things a normal person wouldn’t see.

So when he saw the white car jump out about 50 feet in front of him, he quickly punched down the gas pedal and easily caught up to the car in front of him.

At first, it seems like no big deal. The car’s license plate isn’t properly illuminated, so Officer Stegall flips a switch and bathes the darkness in an explosion of red and blue.

The driver quickly pulls over.

Stegall gets out, flashlight in hand, and walks over to the car. It’s nothing more than a routine traffic stop.

Even though it’s a typical night in Lawrence, Stegall is always ready for the unexpected.

6:03 p.m.

This Friday, Stegall, a seven-year veteran, is working the evening shift, from 3 to 11 p.m. He’s the “260” unit tonight, which means he can go anywhere in the city and respond to any call.

But he likes to stay near downtown and East Lawrence, where most of the action is, he says.

His shift so far has been slow, but things on the weekend don’t usually pick up until late in the night, Stegall says.

“Around 12 or one in the morning, the alcohol starts to take effect,” he says. “Then things start to happen.”

Still, Stegall appears alert, almost expecting anything to happen at any second, no matter how serious or trivial that might be.

6:19 p.m.

Ding!

The car’s computer lets out a sharp bell-like sound. Dispatch has received a call and sent it to Stegall.

It’s an alarm in a bank at Iowa and 23rd Streets.

“It’s probably a false alarm,” Stegall says coolly.

When he arrives, other officers tell Stegall the alarm appears to have been tripped on accident.

Serious things, such as a bank robbery or murder, don’t happen in Lawrence very often, Stegall says. But when, or if, they ever do, Stegall and all other officers are trained to respond in a heartbeat.

Relying on the other officers in serious situations is a necessity.

“When things do happen, you have to rely on the people you work with,” he says.

After leaving the bank, Stegall heads back toward East Lawrence, waiting for another call to come in.

Ninety-seven percent of the time, Stegall’s shift is just like this — waiting for something to happen.

“The other three percent are situations where most people are running away and we’re going in,” he says.

Skepticism about any situation, especially that three percent, is also something that officers are trained to have.

“When I first started, my training officer told me never to trust anyone in that kind of situation,” he says. “Because they’re probably lying to you.”

7:45 p.m.

After patrolling East Lawrence, Stegall heads across the river through some of the hot spots, looking for signs of crime.

As he drives through neighborhoods, people standing on the street peer into his car, often times greeting him with a wave or a smile, especially kids.

“Everyone likes to look at us and see what we’re doing,” he says.

Respect for the people he serves is central to Stegall’s role as an officer. Often, he makes friendly conversation with people, even if they’re caught breaking the law.

“If you show respect, you get respect,” he says.

10:35 p.m.

It’s well into the night now and Stegall is driving down Massachusetts Street, alert and on the lookout now that people are starting to come outside.

Something catches his eye.

He backs up behind a parked car and flashes his lights.

It’s nothing too major, just a kid caught urinating in the street. These things, along with MIP’s, are typical of the college and party scene, Stegall says.

“College students can cause their fair share of trouble,” he says.

After issuing a citation, Stegall gets back in his car and heads back into East Lawrence.

His shift is almost over and not too much has happened.

“That’s the thing,” he says. “You have to work whether it’s dead or hopping.”

10:46 p.m.

As it turns out, the routine traffic stop was a little unexpected, especially for the passenger in the back seat with a $500 outstanding warrant.

Dispatch calls Stegall on his radio and gives him the go-ahead to arrest him, so he asks him to step out of the car, cuffs him and puts him in his patrol car.

“When you arrest someone, you get all different kinds of reactions from people,” Stegall says. “This guy was obviously upset, but was still cordial.”

After the arrest, Stegall heads back to the police station for a copy of the warrant and then out to the Douglas County jail to book his 10-15, the police code for an arrestee.

11:40 p.m.

It’s the end of a long day.

Stegall’s shift is over, so he goes back to the police station to finish paperwork.

After that, it’s back home to his wife and 15-month-old son.

“In the end, this is a job and I enjoy it,” he says. “Do I feel like I saved the world? No. But I look forward to coming to work everyday.”