The little guy near the front row is a dead ringer for Barney Fife, Sheriff Andy Taylor’s bungling deputy from Mayberry. This real-life character wears a real police uniform loaded with patches and pins. On his belt is the usual: 9mm semi-automatic, spare ammo clips, handcuffs, plus a set of nunchaku used in martial arts.

We’re at the Police Academy and this feisty rookie, we might as well call him Barney, is sitting on the second row in a "police legals" class.

At the instructor’s podium is Jim Kirby, a retired FBI agent, and the state’s leading authority on Fourth Amendment rights — the Constitutional provision that guarantees "the right of the people to be secure...against unreasonable searches and seizures...."

For a cop, the Fourth Amendment is of singular importance if duties are to be performed properly. Barney is bored as Lawyer Kirby writes on the blackboard such Fourth Amendment terms as "curtilage" and "expectation of privacy."

What Barney really wants is to learn about handcuffing and forcible take-downs. He longs for the weapons range, and the pursuit driving course. Barney is so excited this morning he just blurts out: "How much more time are we gonna waste on this Fourth Amendment crap? When do we start learning how to be real po-leece?"

Quicker than you can rack a 12-gauge shotgun, Lawyer Kirby spins around, nearly swallowing his cheek-full of Redman tobacco. Kirby glares a hole through Barney but doesn’t euthanize him — to Kirby’s credit. Instead, Kirby is a model of restraint.

What about Barney? Well, he finally gets his turn on the weapons range and the driving range. Wouldn’t you know? Barney can’t shoot any better than he can pass police legals. Instructors on the driving range wonder how Barney ever got his regular driver’s license.

All that becomes moot half way through rookie school. Barney quits, mumbling, "I can make more money hanging drywall with my brother-in-law."

The rest of the class applauds, and Lawyer Kirby is delighted over Barney’s career change.