As a Police Officer there is a big difference in our world than they are for those not involved in emergency services during the holidays. Most people look forward to it because it means there will be more days off work, and more happiness spread throughout their environment. Not for Cops....for us it means that every one who drinks, will drink significantly more, much more.....domestic violence calls go up 3 fold during the holidays, as do road rage incidents, and DWI's, common assaults and disturbances go up, about the only class of crimes that go down during the holidays is sex crimes, not really sure why. But the one area that goes up the most is suicides..... during the time from about Thanksgiving to just after New Years half of the yearly total of Suicides occur, a tenfold increase. A lot of people are in emotional pain, lonely, and sad. Broken hearts seem to become infected during the holidays and make the rest of the body sick as well ( I can relate). So tonight's blog entry will be about several different suicides that come to mind during the holiday season.
Case # 1. A little back ground info to get started. While working day shift in early December I worked a non-injury traffic accident. Upon arrival I observed that it was your fairly simple rear end type collision that occurred on a major thoroughfare. While obtaining both drivers ID's and insurance information I started speaking with the male-half of the accident around 35, whom we will call Donald, who happened to be the party at fault. He went on to tell me that his father worked for the City Works department and that he was on his way to his house,as he had been staying there since the divorce, and was supposed to have a visit with his kids. I returned to my patrol car and started writing down all of the driver info, vehicle info, a short summary, and a sketch of the accident scene and I ran the drivers and vehicles for registration and wanted information ( which is standard) and was sad to see that Donald had a felony warrant out of another jurisdiction for bad checks. I felt bad about doing it, but had no choice. I had to arrest him and tow his vehicle. Donald was upset, but understood. He had recently lost his job laying carpet and said he couldn't afford anymore tickets or the vehicle tow. Part of an officers job while towing a car is to do a complete vehicle inventory to safeguard the contents. In the process of doing so I found a small bag of marijuana and an improvised smoking device (pipe). After all was said and done I had cut him somewhat of a break. I didn't charge him for the drugs or paraphernalia ( two separate crimes), nor for his expired insurance card, or for not wearing his seat belt. I had to cite him for following too closely however, but set the court date for the first week in January, giving him about 5 weeks to take care of it.
Three days later while on day shift I, along with a couple other officer were dispatched to a residence reference to a "shot's fired" call and the report that a woman's son had been shot. While running code and responding to the incident ( I was acting SGT this day) we got additional information from the caller that said that her son was in the home and had been shot and that the shooter may still be inside. She was calling from her cell phone in the driveway. This changed the entire call, we now possibly had an active shooter in a residence with a child. All of day watch along with mutual aide from other agencies kicked in and we now had about 15 cars responding. Myself along with another officer arrived first. We paired up, and I notified dispatch that we weren't waiting and we were making entry. I was afraid that there was a child bleeding to death with a violent offender and new that once SWAT arrived everything would turn into a cluster-fuck, meaning it would take them sometime to make their plan and cold be hours before they entered.....regardless in we went. What we found really shows that calls are often dispatched much differently than they actually are. In a bedroom we found a middle age white male in bed partially covered up, his thumb from his right hand was still in the trigger well and the gun lay across his chest. blood hand trickled from his mouth, nose and eye sockets. A fist size hole was on the back of his head, marking where the shot from the .410 shotgun had exited after he had stuck the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Price is Right was playing on the television, and a half eaten hot dog on a bun lay on a paper plate on his chest. A hand written, poorly written suicide note lie on the bed next to him. Next to his wallet on the dresser a yellow copy of a traffic ticket could be seen. I picked up the ticket and read it. It was then that I realized that this was Donald, and this was the ticket I had written him a couple days before. The suicide note went on to say that he felt like a failure as a man because he couldn't find a job to pay his child support, and that his heart was broken because he seldom saw his kids and that he missed his wife. He went onto say he felt overwhelmed by his legal troubles and the financial burdens he was putting on his parents, and he was upset because he could find away to pay the impound fee to get his car out.
A horribly sad day that left me feeling guilty about doing my job.
Case # 2. A small trailer park is the scene of this next call. This trailer park was located near the Bass Tracker Marine plant, and this call takes place on Christmas eve around 9 PM.
As it was the holiday season all of the brass was off and since I was the most seasoned patrolman I was acting Sgt. again. I heard north side units dispatched to a trailer park reference to a dispute. Not a code three call, but units were responding. While en route the call was upgraded to a "shots fired" call. Several different reporting persons was reporting that gunfire could be heard inside a residents. North side had 4 cars responding and I responded from south side, and two area Sheriff's deputies were responding too. On arrival we entered the trailer park from different directions. I asked the deputies to start evacuating the trailers nearest the call. The 5 of us city officer made our approach, and one of our guys was on the swat team and had some of his gear. As we neared we could hear a woman screaming hysterically from within. I instructed the SWAT officer to deploy a couple flash bangs through a window in the kitchen area and the rest of us made a static entry. We were instantly met with chaos, and disorder. In a recliner in the center of the living room was a white male missing 90% of his head. Only the lower jaw, some teeth and part of the tongue remained. In his lap lay a 30/06 deer rifle, as well as a .357 revolver. A mountain of beer and filled the living room and kitchen. Obviously he was dead, but the screaming was coming from a back room. 3 of us advanced towards the screams to find a man in his 30's laying on a bed clutching his leg and a large pool of blood was pooling under him. He had been shot in the upper portion of the leg and was bleeding profusely. Fearing an artery had been hit we used a belt to make a makeshift tourniquet to stop the blood. In the corner of the room a little girl of about 12 had blood on her was screaming, holding her ears with her eyes shut.
Now the wrap up. Two brother had been drinking beer most of Christmas eve day. At some point they ended up in an argument and the deceased subject retrieved his two guns and set in the chair threatening to kill himself, his 12 year old daughter, and his brother. According to the surviving male and the little girl, the deceased had the .357 in his left hand and had been pulling the hammer back and letting down and periodically had been putting the gun to his head, his mouth, under his chin and aiming it at his brother, stating that he would kill anyone who tried to leave. He had a gun in each hand, and was acting like he was going to put the rifle under his chin when he almost dropped it, flinching, accidentally shooting his brother and himself at the same time. We removed tooth fragments from a fall wall 40 feet down range, and this little girl had been splattered by her fathers gore, brains, and blood.
Case #3. Most people assume that a middle aged male is the most likely candidate for suicide, and they are correct, but only by a slight margin. The second largest group to kill themselves is the elderly over the age of 70.
Christmas day 2000, about 5 pm.
I was assigned to the southwest part of town and had been on patrol for about 3 hours without answering a single call, or making a single car stop. I was listening to Christmas music on the radio and was thinking about returning to the police station for some goodies. Everyone that worked day shift had brought in something to eat and we were having a "potluck" of sorts. I could hear a slice of pecan pie calling my name. As I was pulling into a parking place at HQTRS a radio call came out. "302 1844 S. 18Th Avenue, Silver Acres Apt A-4 check the well being" A back up unit was assigned as a matter of routine. While en route dispatch provided further details stating that relatives in Ceder Rapids Iowa had been trying to call their mother for a couple of days and could not get a hold of her. The subject reportedly lived alone and did not have a car and rarely left the house. Upon arrival I realized that this was a senior independent living facility for low income elderly and disable subjects. No building manager or maintenance were on site. I noticed about a weeks worth of mail in the mail box, and a package from the USPS in front of the door. I could see some lights on through the windows and could hear the TV loudly blaring. As I knocked on the front door my partner went around to the rear and did like wise. Both of us got no response and the doors and windows were locked. I had dispatch try to locate a key holder for this property and have them respond. After about 15 minutes dispatch advised that the only key holder was in Clinton Missouri and would not be responding. Faced with no other choice I used the master key that all police officers are issued....My foot. I kicked in the front door and was quickly met with the smell of death. Without even seeing the body yet I had my back up call dispatch and have the coroner respond. In the back bathroom I found an elderly lady dressed in a christmassy night gown lying on the floor. She was obviously dead as levity had set in nicely. (levity is when all of the blood and fluids in the body react to gravity after death and pool in the lower portions in the body, causing a maroonish, bluish color along the area of the body that is closest to the ground), rigamortis had set in and left the body, and decomposition had began to set in. There were no obvious signs of foul play. On the sink in the restroom was two bottles of insulin and both were empty, along with a syringe. On the wall, written in red lipstick, was one of the saddest suicide notes I had ever seen. In short the note talked about how lonely this lady was and how much she missed her late husband. She talked about how her children had ignored her for years and that she was all alone. She stated that she was taking all of her insulin and was "going to be with Jesus".
As I helped the coroner prepare to load her into a body bag we both noticed how peaceful she looked. Both of her hand were folded up under her head and it looked like she had just gone to sleep.
Since a "key holder" wasn't responding we had the fire department come out and nail some plywood over her door. The rest of the forgotten "residents' had seen what had occurred. Feeling the weight of their sadness and loneliness the other Officer and I went to Walgreen's and bought 17 boxes of Chocolate Cherry's and left a box with each resident. For the total cost of about $20 we were able to brighten the lives of those imprisoned by their age, if ever so slightly.
To be honest there is much, much more I could write. I have seen more death, horrible death and misery, than any person should.
I will save the rest for another time....
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Chapter Nine......Farewell to a friend
Today's blog entry is a somber, and yet current event one. At approximately 5:30 PM today my friend, and former co-worker Monte C. Ruby died from in the line of duty injuries received in an assault on August 2nd, 2008. (Please note that the top two photos on my blog are of Monte. The top picture was taken this year, and the second one was taken after pepper mace training in 1993)
Monte was a commissioned police officer for over 36 years in the state of Missouri. Monte's career began in 1972 as a reserve police officer for the city of Springfield. In 1978 he accepted employment as a commissioned officer with the Springfield School district and was assigned to Central High School. Central High was the most culturally diverse school in the district, and by far the poorest. Needless to say Central was the roughest assignment through out the district.
I myself was a student at Central from 1984-1988, and that is where my path first crossed with Monte's. I wasn't exactly an A student, and I was prone to suggestion, and often times that meant fights and the like. My first interaction with Monte occurred in 1986. I was with a couple friend on the back lot of Central, and we were about to assault some mouthy rich college students. Monte swarmed on us and broke it up before it started. he and I joked about that in later years.
Our paths crossed again in 1993 when Monte began working a commissioned police job with Cox Hospitals. (It may not be widely known, but Cox Hospital has it's own commissioned law enforcement officers, fully capable and professional as in area Police Department) Monte and I often worked some of the same shifts together, most usually at Cox North Hospital. Cox north was the only full-time, full service on the north side of Springfield, in the poorest area. Cox North could be a violent place, anywhere on campus, but the Emergency room was the epicenter of trouble. On a typical night Officers working there spent most of there time helping with dangerous physical altercations in the emergency department. Every crime you could imagine happened there at one time or another. Armed subjects, assaults, shots fired, sexual assaults, thefts, etc, etc......Often time shooting victims would be dropped off at the door by the shooting subject, and it was our job to apprehend them. Cox North had three different in patient psychiatric units, and a drug and alcohol rehab unit. All types of violent happenings occurred within those units. Furthermore Police Agencies within about 40 miles would bring their damaged, or otherwise injured suspects to the hospital and drop them off. So in short, Cox North was non-stop action, and dangerous. Most Officers assigned there had been assaulted more than a dozen times, and had to stay on their toes if they wanted to survive.
This past Saturday, August the 2nd, 2008, Monte Ruby was working day shift at Cox North when he received a call to the Emergency Room to assist an Officer from another agency that had brought in a violent felon for treatment, and was having trouble securing the subject.
Once arriving at the ER Monte realized it was a subject that he had dealt with for years, Jeffery Bolden. Jeffery Bolden was a couple of grades older than me in school, and had been a violent felon since before he received a drivers license.
All though the arresting agency had had to have 8 officers in subduing the suspect, and not to mention let a Police K-9 loose on him, they had only assigned one lone officer to secure the prisoner at the hospital. They originally were on a call where Bolden had been beating up his father and was trying to burn down the house when the police arrived. Of course he was naked when he fled, making apprehension even harder.
Now in the hospital, Bolden was handcuffed by both wrists to the bed rails in the ER. Having prior history with Monte Ruby Bolden taunted him. (Monte's daughter passed away in the late nineties) Bolden tried masturbating while in bed telling Monte that he was having "intercourse" with his daughter. All though the remarks were hurtful, he remained professional and tried to calm the crack addicted suspect down. The subject made remarks that he was going to kill Monte. Monte covered him up with a sheet in an effort to prevent him from touching himself, when Monte turned to walk away Bolden was able to curl on his side and delivered one powerful kick to the brain stem, upper neck area of Monte. Monte fell down but was able to come back to his feet and assist the other officers ( One SPD Officer, and another Cox Officer) restrain Boldens legs.....Within in a minute he began to stumble a bit. His partner asked him if he was ok and he answered that he was. Seconds later he collapsed unresponsive. ER staff began to work on him, and realized he was critically injured. He was transferred to Cox south to the Nuero Trauma Unit. Sometime during the 10 minute ambulance run between hospitals Monte stopped breathing on his own.
After arrival at the hospital he was put on a vent to help him breath, and testing began. Doctors soon reported the sad news that the kick had been the "golden BB" of sorts. Monte's brain stem had an uncontrolled bleed that was causing pressure on the spinal column, and was beginning to block signals from the brain to the body. Because of the location, it was inoperable, and the doctors soon reported that Monte was not going to survive.
On August 5th I went with a mutual friend of Monte's to see him in Nuero Trauma. He looked small and very fragile. Many machines were hooked up to him. His wife wore a brave face, but you could tell that she was in shock. His 14 year old granddaughter set quietly looking sad ( she is the daughter of his deceased daughter and he had been raising her). In the time I was there many family members and friends rotated through, as well as several police officers from different agencies wanting to pay their respects. Everyone was in shock.
His wife told me that Monte had worked two jobs, working 7 days a week, non-stop for the last 15 years.
Today at about 5 pm life support was stopped, and he died from his injuries by 5:30 PM.
Even knowing it was coming, when it happened it was like a shock. My former co-worker, and friend, a decent family man that always had a smile everyone, had been murdered by a cowardly, drugged out parasite of human being.
Somethings people should know about Monte. He was an avid golfer, and loved football. He had one wife for 40 years. He had a son, and a daughter. He had one granddaughter. He was loyal to his friends, and had hundreds of them. He was well known in the law enforcement community throughout Southwest Missouri.....and he will truly be missed.
Godspeed be with you Monte.............you can rest now.
Monte was a commissioned police officer for over 36 years in the state of Missouri. Monte's career began in 1972 as a reserve police officer for the city of Springfield. In 1978 he accepted employment as a commissioned officer with the Springfield School district and was assigned to Central High School. Central High was the most culturally diverse school in the district, and by far the poorest. Needless to say Central was the roughest assignment through out the district.
I myself was a student at Central from 1984-1988, and that is where my path first crossed with Monte's. I wasn't exactly an A student, and I was prone to suggestion, and often times that meant fights and the like. My first interaction with Monte occurred in 1986. I was with a couple friend on the back lot of Central, and we were about to assault some mouthy rich college students. Monte swarmed on us and broke it up before it started. he and I joked about that in later years.
Our paths crossed again in 1993 when Monte began working a commissioned police job with Cox Hospitals. (It may not be widely known, but Cox Hospital has it's own commissioned law enforcement officers, fully capable and professional as in area Police Department) Monte and I often worked some of the same shifts together, most usually at Cox North Hospital. Cox north was the only full-time, full service on the north side of Springfield, in the poorest area. Cox North could be a violent place, anywhere on campus, but the Emergency room was the epicenter of trouble. On a typical night Officers working there spent most of there time helping with dangerous physical altercations in the emergency department. Every crime you could imagine happened there at one time or another. Armed subjects, assaults, shots fired, sexual assaults, thefts, etc, etc......Often time shooting victims would be dropped off at the door by the shooting subject, and it was our job to apprehend them. Cox North had three different in patient psychiatric units, and a drug and alcohol rehab unit. All types of violent happenings occurred within those units. Furthermore Police Agencies within about 40 miles would bring their damaged, or otherwise injured suspects to the hospital and drop them off. So in short, Cox North was non-stop action, and dangerous. Most Officers assigned there had been assaulted more than a dozen times, and had to stay on their toes if they wanted to survive.
This past Saturday, August the 2nd, 2008, Monte Ruby was working day shift at Cox North when he received a call to the Emergency Room to assist an Officer from another agency that had brought in a violent felon for treatment, and was having trouble securing the subject.
Once arriving at the ER Monte realized it was a subject that he had dealt with for years, Jeffery Bolden. Jeffery Bolden was a couple of grades older than me in school, and had been a violent felon since before he received a drivers license.
All though the arresting agency had had to have 8 officers in subduing the suspect, and not to mention let a Police K-9 loose on him, they had only assigned one lone officer to secure the prisoner at the hospital. They originally were on a call where Bolden had been beating up his father and was trying to burn down the house when the police arrived. Of course he was naked when he fled, making apprehension even harder.
Now in the hospital, Bolden was handcuffed by both wrists to the bed rails in the ER. Having prior history with Monte Ruby Bolden taunted him. (Monte's daughter passed away in the late nineties) Bolden tried masturbating while in bed telling Monte that he was having "intercourse" with his daughter. All though the remarks were hurtful, he remained professional and tried to calm the crack addicted suspect down. The subject made remarks that he was going to kill Monte. Monte covered him up with a sheet in an effort to prevent him from touching himself, when Monte turned to walk away Bolden was able to curl on his side and delivered one powerful kick to the brain stem, upper neck area of Monte. Monte fell down but was able to come back to his feet and assist the other officers ( One SPD Officer, and another Cox Officer) restrain Boldens legs.....Within in a minute he began to stumble a bit. His partner asked him if he was ok and he answered that he was. Seconds later he collapsed unresponsive. ER staff began to work on him, and realized he was critically injured. He was transferred to Cox south to the Nuero Trauma Unit. Sometime during the 10 minute ambulance run between hospitals Monte stopped breathing on his own.
After arrival at the hospital he was put on a vent to help him breath, and testing began. Doctors soon reported the sad news that the kick had been the "golden BB" of sorts. Monte's brain stem had an uncontrolled bleed that was causing pressure on the spinal column, and was beginning to block signals from the brain to the body. Because of the location, it was inoperable, and the doctors soon reported that Monte was not going to survive.
On August 5th I went with a mutual friend of Monte's to see him in Nuero Trauma. He looked small and very fragile. Many machines were hooked up to him. His wife wore a brave face, but you could tell that she was in shock. His 14 year old granddaughter set quietly looking sad ( she is the daughter of his deceased daughter and he had been raising her). In the time I was there many family members and friends rotated through, as well as several police officers from different agencies wanting to pay their respects. Everyone was in shock.
His wife told me that Monte had worked two jobs, working 7 days a week, non-stop for the last 15 years.
Today at about 5 pm life support was stopped, and he died from his injuries by 5:30 PM.
Even knowing it was coming, when it happened it was like a shock. My former co-worker, and friend, a decent family man that always had a smile everyone, had been murdered by a cowardly, drugged out parasite of human being.
Somethings people should know about Monte. He was an avid golfer, and loved football. He had one wife for 40 years. He had a son, and a daughter. He had one granddaughter. He was loyal to his friends, and had hundreds of them. He was well known in the law enforcement community throughout Southwest Missouri.....and he will truly be missed.
Godspeed be with you Monte.............you can rest now.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Chapter Eight.....Children and the Devil......(warning graphic)
When I was a child I grew up with poverty, neglect, and physical and emotional abuse. I watched my mother get beaten, and use drugs. I have been tied up, beaten with an extension cord, locked in closets, and much worse. As a police officer I revisited my childhood several times a month. Meaning I responded to domestic violence calls, child abuse/neglect calls and dealt with children that had the same shell shocked look I had. I am not sure if most of you know what I am talking about so let me explain further.
In looking at my own 4Th grade school picture you will see that my skin is pale, and colorless, caused by poor nutrition, and often times hunger. There are bags under my eyes, and dark circles caused by the anxiety of another violent night at home, and not being able to sleep because of fear. My eyes are deep set, and look lifeless. There is absolutely no look of emotion about my face, and the only way you know that I am alive is because I am standing. My clothing is wrinkled, obviously a hand me down, worn and dirty. My hair is unkempt, and it is apparent that I haven't had a hair cut in a long time. Weekly as a cop I saw children just like this, and always had a soft spot for them, and a rough spot for the adult that put them in this situation.
Today I am going to share but one of many stories about child abuse from my time on the streets.
My district at the time was made up of mostly poor, and lower class wage families. Most received assistance from the state for food and shelter. Many of these families were good, and decent with some type of circumstance contributing to their dis-fortune. But I am sad to say at least an equal percentage were the result of alcohol abuse, and drug addiction, and more often than not, both. Drugs take a financial toll on a family. Addicts will sell their food stamps at a reduced rate (.50 cents on the dollar is common) so they will have money to get what they need. Presents children are given by relatives are often returned by the drug addicted parent to lets say Wal-mart, and without a receipt they receive a gift card with credit on it. Like the food stamps, they sell the gift card for a reduced rate to purchase narcotics.
I am working day shift when an assault in progress call in my district comes out. "Man beating a woman in the yard". After arriving I am greeted by a battered female with obvious injury, intoxicated, and staggering around in the yard. The male half is a fat white male, without his shirt on, multiple tattoos ( nothing against tattoos I have a few myself). He is obviously intoxicated, and is yelling and cussing. My back up goes to the female half, and I go to the male half. It's already obvious to me who the aggressor is, and that the male half is going to jail, but we go through the motions of asking the sordid details. The female is yelling "that fat motherfucker smoked all my pot"..... he becomes aggressive again and tries to shove past me to go after her again. I get him in an arm bar, and take him to the ground. He wont give me his hands, and I apply a burst of pepper mace to his face. He still really isn't cooperating, but he is no longer aggressive and I get him in cuffs. AS I am loading him into the backseat of my patrol car, I see two little faces looking out the front door. A little girl of about 5 and a little boy of about three, both in dirty clothes, and filthy themselves, with the little boy wearing a diaper only ( that obviously needs to be changed) are watching all of this. For a moment I have one of my little personal flash backs of my child hood when I see their empty eyes.......The other officer has already arranged for a sober friend of the victim to be en route to the scene to take charge of the children. I go through my typical speal with the un-cooperative victim, telling her where that we can take her and her children to a "safe-house" and how to apply for a restraining order against her other half. I also go through my speal about how children are fragile, and like sponges and that they are going to take their emotional cues from her, and that she needs to calm down and act decent so the children's fear, and anxiety will be reduced.....and the call is complete.
Two weeks later I am dispatched to the same residence for the same type of call, only this time the woman had thrown an electric frying pan with hot grease in it on the male half. Her nose is bleeding and we can't determine an aggressor so I arrest both, of course the male half was taken to the hospital first. Both were high and drunk again. Sadly enough the children witnessed this too. The little girl was crying, just sobbing and yelling for me to not to arrest her mommy. I took the children inside while other officers made the arrest. I waited with them while a relative from Camdenton was en route to take them ( about an hour and a half away). While in their home I had the overwhelming smell of dirt, stale tobacco, and sweat. I had not seen a home this dirty sense I was a child. All of the dished were dirty, and not all were in the sink. Their was mold growing on some of them, and their were live maggots on others, needless to say there were flies. Cock roaches ran free range by the thousands. Not one thing in this home was where it should be, and everything was dirty and on the floor. I looked through the fridge and found there to only be Milwaukee's best beer, and a tub of butter in the fridge. The cupboard was bare as well. I asked the little girl what they had for breakfast and she said her moms boyfriend had picked some green apples off of the neighbors tree and they had them, but they were sour. The little girl and boy shared a bedroom, and there were at least 50 dirty diapers on the floor. I
I couldn't take it anymore. I had dispatch call the responding party and have them pick the kids up at the police department, and with that loaded the kids up in my patrol car and left that shit hole of a house. I stopped at a Dollar General Store and bought them both a pair of clean shorts, and t-shirts, and underwear and diapers. I also went through McDonald's on the way and ordered them some food, and after returning back to the PD set them up in front of a TV playing the Disney channel. A dispatcher helped me clean them up, and change the boys diaper. After the grandparents arrived and picked them I called the hot-line for DFS (Division of Family Services) and reported the living conditions that the children were exposed to and suggested the children be taken out of the home. Needless to say I was devastated.
The following day I saw the mothers "boyfriend" walking down 3rd avenue. Feeling furious, I stopped my patrol car and unofficially told him to get out the kids lives, while suggesting bad things would befall him if he didn't.
He apparently didn't get the message, because I was called to the house the next day for another drunken, drug induced fight and where the POS (piece of shit) had broken the "victims" jaw. I was sad to hear also that DFS has came and gone without taken action other than a promise of a return visit in 14 days. I took the kids into emergency custody this time. As a police officer I could legally do it, but within 24 hours DFS had returned them again.
It was my day off and I got a page from the police department with "911" at the end. I hurriedly found a pay phone and called in. I was transferred to one of the Detectives who wanted to tell me that there had been another incident with the kids I was so worried about. Medical had been called to the home for an unresponsive child. When paramedics arrived they found the little girl unconscious, and bleeding from her ear, and rectum. Only the boyfriend had been home and he claimed that he had been playing with "his" children, wrestling like and she had fallen off the kitchen table. At the hospital doctors determined that she had been sodomized anally with an unknown object that had caused tearing and bleeding to her lower intestine. The bleeding from the ear was consistent with an open hand strike to the ear. The ear that was damaged was the girls right ear, that is consistent with a strike from a left handed person. The POS was left handed. He had been arrested at the seen , and the little boy had been taken into protective custody.
After several days the little girl was "out of the woods" and expected to make a full recovery. I visited her in the hospital several times. She was quiet and withdrawn. With the help of a therapist, and juvenile officer I tried to gently question her about the incident. She was too traumatized to answer, but would only say she fell, and while answering would look at the floor, and recoil into nearly a fetal position. In some of the training I have received on interrogating, and interviewing they say this is the response to someone that doesn't want to answer truthfully, and uses their body as a subconscious block, and I assumed this was the same with victims too.
POS had been released from jail after the mandatory 20 hours as the prosecutor said that there were no adult witnesses to the crime, no physical evidence, and the victim was to withdrawn to have aenough to get an arrest warrant.
Again on my day off I was paged by the PD. When I called in this time they asked me to come in, but wouldn't tell me why. 10 minutes the chief of detectives took me into his office and told me that the little girl had developed a staph infection, and had passed away. It was like lightening had struck me. I was floored. I began to sob, uncontrollably, and I punched a few holes in the drywall. I was sad, and furious at the same time. A couple of other officers were in the office were upset and crying as well, as we had all dealt with this family many times.
The detective also told me that the prosecutor said that since the staph had killed her that there would not be a charge of murder, or even manslaughter but they were "following up leads" on the Class D charge of child abuse.
10 minutes after leaving the PD, me and another off duty officer (female officer) went to the POS's house. We didn't knock, we didn't ring the doorbell. We kicked open the door, went straight to the living room where he was and began to beat him. His bitch of girlfriend called 911 I guess as soon as we came in. I wanted to kill this son of a bitch. We worked him over for about 2 minutes and left him in a pile in the floor, and then we left. Knowing we were going to get caught we went straight back to the PD.
The POS was taken by ambulance to the hospital. But other than a few cuts, and bruises he would survive.
AN internal investigation was launched, and a couple weeks later we found out our fate. I was afraid that not only would we get fired, but we may be charged with a crime. But I really didn't care, and thought it worth it.
The chief yelled at us for about15 minutes, the prosecutor yelled for 5 minutes. No charges were going to be filed. The female officer was suspended without pay for 1 day, and I was suspended without pay for 3 days. Matter closed.
After everyone left the Chief called me back in the office and closed the door. He told me that I knew his official position, but wanted me to know his private position. He said he was proud of me, and when he was a younger officer had done something similar. He asked me if anything similar were to come up in the future to talked to him first.
Just remember that the Devil doesn't always where his horns, carry a pitch fork, and have a bifurcated tale. Sometimes he is a shirtless, fat POS drinking a beer.
In looking at my own 4Th grade school picture you will see that my skin is pale, and colorless, caused by poor nutrition, and often times hunger. There are bags under my eyes, and dark circles caused by the anxiety of another violent night at home, and not being able to sleep because of fear. My eyes are deep set, and look lifeless. There is absolutely no look of emotion about my face, and the only way you know that I am alive is because I am standing. My clothing is wrinkled, obviously a hand me down, worn and dirty. My hair is unkempt, and it is apparent that I haven't had a hair cut in a long time. Weekly as a cop I saw children just like this, and always had a soft spot for them, and a rough spot for the adult that put them in this situation.
Today I am going to share but one of many stories about child abuse from my time on the streets.
My district at the time was made up of mostly poor, and lower class wage families. Most received assistance from the state for food and shelter. Many of these families were good, and decent with some type of circumstance contributing to their dis-fortune. But I am sad to say at least an equal percentage were the result of alcohol abuse, and drug addiction, and more often than not, both. Drugs take a financial toll on a family. Addicts will sell their food stamps at a reduced rate (.50 cents on the dollar is common) so they will have money to get what they need. Presents children are given by relatives are often returned by the drug addicted parent to lets say Wal-mart, and without a receipt they receive a gift card with credit on it. Like the food stamps, they sell the gift card for a reduced rate to purchase narcotics.
I am working day shift when an assault in progress call in my district comes out. "Man beating a woman in the yard". After arriving I am greeted by a battered female with obvious injury, intoxicated, and staggering around in the yard. The male half is a fat white male, without his shirt on, multiple tattoos ( nothing against tattoos I have a few myself). He is obviously intoxicated, and is yelling and cussing. My back up goes to the female half, and I go to the male half. It's already obvious to me who the aggressor is, and that the male half is going to jail, but we go through the motions of asking the sordid details. The female is yelling "that fat motherfucker smoked all my pot"..... he becomes aggressive again and tries to shove past me to go after her again. I get him in an arm bar, and take him to the ground. He wont give me his hands, and I apply a burst of pepper mace to his face. He still really isn't cooperating, but he is no longer aggressive and I get him in cuffs. AS I am loading him into the backseat of my patrol car, I see two little faces looking out the front door. A little girl of about 5 and a little boy of about three, both in dirty clothes, and filthy themselves, with the little boy wearing a diaper only ( that obviously needs to be changed) are watching all of this. For a moment I have one of my little personal flash backs of my child hood when I see their empty eyes.......The other officer has already arranged for a sober friend of the victim to be en route to the scene to take charge of the children. I go through my typical speal with the un-cooperative victim, telling her where that we can take her and her children to a "safe-house" and how to apply for a restraining order against her other half. I also go through my speal about how children are fragile, and like sponges and that they are going to take their emotional cues from her, and that she needs to calm down and act decent so the children's fear, and anxiety will be reduced.....and the call is complete.
Two weeks later I am dispatched to the same residence for the same type of call, only this time the woman had thrown an electric frying pan with hot grease in it on the male half. Her nose is bleeding and we can't determine an aggressor so I arrest both, of course the male half was taken to the hospital first. Both were high and drunk again. Sadly enough the children witnessed this too. The little girl was crying, just sobbing and yelling for me to not to arrest her mommy. I took the children inside while other officers made the arrest. I waited with them while a relative from Camdenton was en route to take them ( about an hour and a half away). While in their home I had the overwhelming smell of dirt, stale tobacco, and sweat. I had not seen a home this dirty sense I was a child. All of the dished were dirty, and not all were in the sink. Their was mold growing on some of them, and their were live maggots on others, needless to say there were flies. Cock roaches ran free range by the thousands. Not one thing in this home was where it should be, and everything was dirty and on the floor. I looked through the fridge and found there to only be Milwaukee's best beer, and a tub of butter in the fridge. The cupboard was bare as well. I asked the little girl what they had for breakfast and she said her moms boyfriend had picked some green apples off of the neighbors tree and they had them, but they were sour. The little girl and boy shared a bedroom, and there were at least 50 dirty diapers on the floor. I
I couldn't take it anymore. I had dispatch call the responding party and have them pick the kids up at the police department, and with that loaded the kids up in my patrol car and left that shit hole of a house. I stopped at a Dollar General Store and bought them both a pair of clean shorts, and t-shirts, and underwear and diapers. I also went through McDonald's on the way and ordered them some food, and after returning back to the PD set them up in front of a TV playing the Disney channel. A dispatcher helped me clean them up, and change the boys diaper. After the grandparents arrived and picked them I called the hot-line for DFS (Division of Family Services) and reported the living conditions that the children were exposed to and suggested the children be taken out of the home. Needless to say I was devastated.
The following day I saw the mothers "boyfriend" walking down 3rd avenue. Feeling furious, I stopped my patrol car and unofficially told him to get out the kids lives, while suggesting bad things would befall him if he didn't.
He apparently didn't get the message, because I was called to the house the next day for another drunken, drug induced fight and where the POS (piece of shit) had broken the "victims" jaw. I was sad to hear also that DFS has came and gone without taken action other than a promise of a return visit in 14 days. I took the kids into emergency custody this time. As a police officer I could legally do it, but within 24 hours DFS had returned them again.
It was my day off and I got a page from the police department with "911" at the end. I hurriedly found a pay phone and called in. I was transferred to one of the Detectives who wanted to tell me that there had been another incident with the kids I was so worried about. Medical had been called to the home for an unresponsive child. When paramedics arrived they found the little girl unconscious, and bleeding from her ear, and rectum. Only the boyfriend had been home and he claimed that he had been playing with "his" children, wrestling like and she had fallen off the kitchen table. At the hospital doctors determined that she had been sodomized anally with an unknown object that had caused tearing and bleeding to her lower intestine. The bleeding from the ear was consistent with an open hand strike to the ear. The ear that was damaged was the girls right ear, that is consistent with a strike from a left handed person. The POS was left handed. He had been arrested at the seen , and the little boy had been taken into protective custody.
After several days the little girl was "out of the woods" and expected to make a full recovery. I visited her in the hospital several times. She was quiet and withdrawn. With the help of a therapist, and juvenile officer I tried to gently question her about the incident. She was too traumatized to answer, but would only say she fell, and while answering would look at the floor, and recoil into nearly a fetal position. In some of the training I have received on interrogating, and interviewing they say this is the response to someone that doesn't want to answer truthfully, and uses their body as a subconscious block, and I assumed this was the same with victims too.
POS had been released from jail after the mandatory 20 hours as the prosecutor said that there were no adult witnesses to the crime, no physical evidence, and the victim was to withdrawn to have aenough to get an arrest warrant.
Again on my day off I was paged by the PD. When I called in this time they asked me to come in, but wouldn't tell me why. 10 minutes the chief of detectives took me into his office and told me that the little girl had developed a staph infection, and had passed away. It was like lightening had struck me. I was floored. I began to sob, uncontrollably, and I punched a few holes in the drywall. I was sad, and furious at the same time. A couple of other officers were in the office were upset and crying as well, as we had all dealt with this family many times.
The detective also told me that the prosecutor said that since the staph had killed her that there would not be a charge of murder, or even manslaughter but they were "following up leads" on the Class D charge of child abuse.
10 minutes after leaving the PD, me and another off duty officer (female officer) went to the POS's house. We didn't knock, we didn't ring the doorbell. We kicked open the door, went straight to the living room where he was and began to beat him. His bitch of girlfriend called 911 I guess as soon as we came in. I wanted to kill this son of a bitch. We worked him over for about 2 minutes and left him in a pile in the floor, and then we left. Knowing we were going to get caught we went straight back to the PD.
The POS was taken by ambulance to the hospital. But other than a few cuts, and bruises he would survive.
AN internal investigation was launched, and a couple weeks later we found out our fate. I was afraid that not only would we get fired, but we may be charged with a crime. But I really didn't care, and thought it worth it.
The chief yelled at us for about15 minutes, the prosecutor yelled for 5 minutes. No charges were going to be filed. The female officer was suspended without pay for 1 day, and I was suspended without pay for 3 days. Matter closed.
After everyone left the Chief called me back in the office and closed the door. He told me that I knew his official position, but wanted me to know his private position. He said he was proud of me, and when he was a younger officer had done something similar. He asked me if anything similar were to come up in the future to talked to him first.
Just remember that the Devil doesn't always where his horns, carry a pitch fork, and have a bifurcated tale. Sometimes he is a shirtless, fat POS drinking a beer.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Chapter Seven....Officer down.
When you are in law enforcement, most of your friends are in law enforcement as well. Even friends you had before you were a cop. Certain personalities tend to attract like minded people for friendship. My best friend from high school on was a guy named Shane McDonald. I had been a police officer for about 5 years when Shane decided he was going to move to Portland Oregon to pursue a career in law enforcement as well. He had been gone now for a couple of years, but we still remained friends. I had flown out there a couple times, and he had flown back to Springfield a couple time. Well tonight he was back, and doing a ride-along with me during my shift at work.
It was late September, 1998 in the early evening. The evening air had a crisp quality about it that suggested fall wasn't too far off. It had been a busy shift, as this was a Friday evening, but Shane and I had been doing a lot of catching up. I am on the very north end of the city limits on 65 HWY when I hear another officer in a two man car call out 10-37 at the Center Park. 10-37 means officer needs assistance. A few seconds go by and an officer energized by adrenaline comes over the radio stating that there is a man down covered with blood near the boat ramps, with an hysterical woman ( later id'd as his wife) standing over him and screaming. I hear other cars come over the radio, including the watch commander ( Lt. Cole ) stating that they are en route to assist. Even though there several other units on the way I decide I will start to it as well. My spidey sense is telling something is out of the ordinary. I turn on my lights and sirens, do a U-turn in across the median, and I am soon cruising at about 100 MPH. Even at this speed it is going to to take at least 5 minutes to get to the area, giving Shane and I time to discuss the call. After a couple minutes a very panicky sounding officer comes over the radio again. I recognize his voice as one of the newer officer, and you can hear his voice cracking as he speaks. He states "301 is down, 301 is down".....well this dramatically changes everything about the response to the call, as well as my own adrenaline dump. 301 is the assigned radio number of the Chief of police for my department. The "hysterical" woman is his wife Susan, whom always bakes cakes for the officers for there birthdays, retirements etc, etc. These people are not the strangers that we have been taught to remain antiseptic towards, and stoic. These people were part of our family, the brotherhood of blue........30 seconds goes by and the new Officer comes over the radio saying that another officer is doing CPR on 301. In the back ground I can hear a lot of unorganized commotion.
If there is one ability that defines me it is this. I react VERY well under pressure. I am able to make decisive actions that are usually right. I am able to see the bigger picture and make sure we have the resources available for what ever task we face. I wait impatiently for about 30 seconds for a Sergeant, or the Lieutenant to start giving commands. After nothing but radio silence I do what I do. I act. I radio dispatch and tell them to start a medical Helicopter. I tell dispatch, per my authority ( which I had none, but people tend to listen when you act like you know what your doing) to go ahead and have the 2200 hours patrol watch come on duty ASAP. I instruct them to have the police chaplain called in, and our public relations officer. Not bad for 5 minutes in a flying police car.
Upon arrival I see the most unorganized mess of a critical incident you can imagine. I notice several patrol cars with there doors left open. A couple county guys are present too. knowing we are going to need an LZ for the helo which is 5 minutes out, I have the two county guys, and my friend Shane ( dressed in shorts, and a t-shirt) start moving patrol cars onto a nearby softball field ( game in progress). I run to where the Chief is. His wife is in a spasm of suffering with two officers trying to comfort her. 3 or 4 officers are standing around in shock, and two are fumbling about trying to do CPR. The Officer giving chest compressions is doing OK, but the officer giving mouth to mouth is freaked out, and understandably as he has been friends with the Chief for a decade, and had not yet given a single successful breath, as he was using a defective mouth piece. I push Olin aside and tell him I will take over. I throw the mouth piece away, sweep the mouth, remove his false teeth, and begin CPR. To get the entire picture you should know this. Besides the regular fluids one may have in their mouth, bile and stomach contents often get forced into the mouth during the compressions, and not to mention that when the chief fell, his lip had been busted, and with every chest compression was bleeding. Through all of this I did what I was taught to do. one point during this the Chief did make some noises, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Paramedics soon took over, the helo arrived and he was life Flighted to the ER at St. Johns hospital. Two other officers took the Chiefs wife by patrol car, running code all of the way, actually beating the helicopter to the hospital!
After the helo left I was left with a mouth that tasted of ass ( not that I know what ass taste like). I needed to wash my mouth out. The only thing I could find in my patrol car to do that with was a bottle of saline fluid from the first aid kit.......better than nothing.
I returned to the station to await the results, but there is no rest for the weary. Over the next 6 hours ( me working 3 hours late) I alone was dispatched to 15 calls. It was one of the busiest nights I have ever spent in law enforcement. Not one those nights where the calls are past stealing, or barking dogs. These were assaults in progress, assault on officers, shots fired....you name it. But at the end of my shift I learned the sad news. Chief Steve Marler had passed away. He was 55 years old, and had been concealing the fact that he had been having heart trouble for sometime.
I had to attend a mandatory debrief, and an offer to see a psychologist, which of course I refused.
Over the next 24 hours I got very little sleep, we, meaning the police department, had a funeral to plan.
The funeral was a very respectful end for a person that had dedicated 34 years as a police officer. Over 1000 police officers attended the funeral, from as far away as Cape Canaveral Florida.
The part that touched me most during the service was when one of his sons spoke. his son was about 30 years old, and simply said in front of a giant crowd, as he began to cry, " I miss my Dad. I love you Daddy." I cant say if there was a dry eye in the crowd or not, because my eyes were to filled with tears to see.
Here is the Policeman's Prayer.
"The Final Inspection"
The policeman stood and faced his God,Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining. Just as brightly as his brass.
"Step forward now, policeman.How shall I deal with you? Have you always turned the other
cheek? To My church have you been true?"
The policeman squared his shoulders and said,"No, Lord, I guess I ain't, Because those of us who
carry badges can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays, and at times my talk was rough, and sometimes I've been
violent, Because the streets are awfully tough.
But I never took a penny, That wasn't mine to keep....Though I worked a lot of overtime When
the bills just got too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help, Though at times I shook with fear. And sometimes, God
forgive me, I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place Among the people here. They never wanted me around Except to
calm their fear.
If you've a place for me here, Lord, It needn't be so grand. I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't.....I'll understand.
There was silence all around the throne Where the saints had often trod. As the policeman
waited quietly, For the judgment of his God.
"Step forward now, policeman, You've borne your burdens well. Come walk a beat on Heaven's
streets, You've done your time in hell."
Author Unknown
It was late September, 1998 in the early evening. The evening air had a crisp quality about it that suggested fall wasn't too far off. It had been a busy shift, as this was a Friday evening, but Shane and I had been doing a lot of catching up. I am on the very north end of the city limits on 65 HWY when I hear another officer in a two man car call out 10-37 at the Center Park. 10-37 means officer needs assistance. A few seconds go by and an officer energized by adrenaline comes over the radio stating that there is a man down covered with blood near the boat ramps, with an hysterical woman ( later id'd as his wife) standing over him and screaming. I hear other cars come over the radio, including the watch commander ( Lt. Cole ) stating that they are en route to assist. Even though there several other units on the way I decide I will start to it as well. My spidey sense is telling something is out of the ordinary. I turn on my lights and sirens, do a U-turn in across the median, and I am soon cruising at about 100 MPH. Even at this speed it is going to to take at least 5 minutes to get to the area, giving Shane and I time to discuss the call. After a couple minutes a very panicky sounding officer comes over the radio again. I recognize his voice as one of the newer officer, and you can hear his voice cracking as he speaks. He states "301 is down, 301 is down".....well this dramatically changes everything about the response to the call, as well as my own adrenaline dump. 301 is the assigned radio number of the Chief of police for my department. The "hysterical" woman is his wife Susan, whom always bakes cakes for the officers for there birthdays, retirements etc, etc. These people are not the strangers that we have been taught to remain antiseptic towards, and stoic. These people were part of our family, the brotherhood of blue........30 seconds goes by and the new Officer comes over the radio saying that another officer is doing CPR on 301. In the back ground I can hear a lot of unorganized commotion.
If there is one ability that defines me it is this. I react VERY well under pressure. I am able to make decisive actions that are usually right. I am able to see the bigger picture and make sure we have the resources available for what ever task we face. I wait impatiently for about 30 seconds for a Sergeant, or the Lieutenant to start giving commands. After nothing but radio silence I do what I do. I act. I radio dispatch and tell them to start a medical Helicopter. I tell dispatch, per my authority ( which I had none, but people tend to listen when you act like you know what your doing) to go ahead and have the 2200 hours patrol watch come on duty ASAP. I instruct them to have the police chaplain called in, and our public relations officer. Not bad for 5 minutes in a flying police car.
Upon arrival I see the most unorganized mess of a critical incident you can imagine. I notice several patrol cars with there doors left open. A couple county guys are present too. knowing we are going to need an LZ for the helo which is 5 minutes out, I have the two county guys, and my friend Shane ( dressed in shorts, and a t-shirt) start moving patrol cars onto a nearby softball field ( game in progress). I run to where the Chief is. His wife is in a spasm of suffering with two officers trying to comfort her. 3 or 4 officers are standing around in shock, and two are fumbling about trying to do CPR. The Officer giving chest compressions is doing OK, but the officer giving mouth to mouth is freaked out, and understandably as he has been friends with the Chief for a decade, and had not yet given a single successful breath, as he was using a defective mouth piece. I push Olin aside and tell him I will take over. I throw the mouth piece away, sweep the mouth, remove his false teeth, and begin CPR. To get the entire picture you should know this. Besides the regular fluids one may have in their mouth, bile and stomach contents often get forced into the mouth during the compressions, and not to mention that when the chief fell, his lip had been busted, and with every chest compression was bleeding. Through all of this I did what I was taught to do. one point during this the Chief did make some noises, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Paramedics soon took over, the helo arrived and he was life Flighted to the ER at St. Johns hospital. Two other officers took the Chiefs wife by patrol car, running code all of the way, actually beating the helicopter to the hospital!
After the helo left I was left with a mouth that tasted of ass ( not that I know what ass taste like). I needed to wash my mouth out. The only thing I could find in my patrol car to do that with was a bottle of saline fluid from the first aid kit.......better than nothing.
I returned to the station to await the results, but there is no rest for the weary. Over the next 6 hours ( me working 3 hours late) I alone was dispatched to 15 calls. It was one of the busiest nights I have ever spent in law enforcement. Not one those nights where the calls are past stealing, or barking dogs. These were assaults in progress, assault on officers, shots fired....you name it. But at the end of my shift I learned the sad news. Chief Steve Marler had passed away. He was 55 years old, and had been concealing the fact that he had been having heart trouble for sometime.
I had to attend a mandatory debrief, and an offer to see a psychologist, which of course I refused.
Over the next 24 hours I got very little sleep, we, meaning the police department, had a funeral to plan.
The funeral was a very respectful end for a person that had dedicated 34 years as a police officer. Over 1000 police officers attended the funeral, from as far away as Cape Canaveral Florida.
The part that touched me most during the service was when one of his sons spoke. his son was about 30 years old, and simply said in front of a giant crowd, as he began to cry, " I miss my Dad. I love you Daddy." I cant say if there was a dry eye in the crowd or not, because my eyes were to filled with tears to see.
Here is the Policeman's Prayer.
"The Final Inspection"
The policeman stood and faced his God,Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining. Just as brightly as his brass.
"Step forward now, policeman.How shall I deal with you? Have you always turned the other
cheek? To My church have you been true?"
The policeman squared his shoulders and said,"No, Lord, I guess I ain't, Because those of us who
carry badges can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays, and at times my talk was rough, and sometimes I've been
violent, Because the streets are awfully tough.
But I never took a penny, That wasn't mine to keep....Though I worked a lot of overtime When
the bills just got too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help, Though at times I shook with fear. And sometimes, God
forgive me, I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place Among the people here. They never wanted me around Except to
calm their fear.
If you've a place for me here, Lord, It needn't be so grand. I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't.....I'll understand.
There was silence all around the throne Where the saints had often trod. As the policeman
waited quietly, For the judgment of his God.
"Step forward now, policeman, You've borne your burdens well. Come walk a beat on Heaven's
streets, You've done your time in hell."
Author Unknown
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Chapter Six..... Things go thump in the night.
Over my years as a police officer I have been dispatched, as you can imagine, to a multitude of different type calls for service. Many of which, end up being entirely different once you arrive and ask a few questions of the caller, and observe a few of the details. There are many causes for the discrepancies involving reported calls. Many times, and the most often reason for inaccurate dispatching is that the RP (reporting party) is under the influence of alcohol, or drugs. Other times it can be the subject’s age, or mental capacity. Also adrenaline caused by emergency situations is very powerful, and can cause one RP to report something totally different than another RP.
On this particular night in the mid 1990’s, I was working the “graveyard” shift (11:30 pm until 08:00 am) as the “float car” for the northern district of our suburban county. The county is compromised of about 450 square miles. The northern district is compromised of two zones. Zone 1 (west) and Zone 2 (east), with a floating “cover” car for back up, and an occasional reserve deputy working. Not to mention the Highway Patrol, and the officers in the smaller municipal agencies on the outer periphery.
At about 0100 hours I heard dispatch assign a call to the Zone 1 car reference to a “check a person” call. The address given was in the extreme northwest corner of the county, near the county line. The zone 1 car acknowledged the call and advised he was en route. I advised dispatch that I was also en route, and I was about 20 minutes out.
I had some trouble finding the address, as it was a several hundred acre farm, in a desolate area of the county off of an unmarked gravel road. As I finally pulled up to the residence, I realized that I had been to this home the year before but in daylight. On that occasion it was in reference to a “natural” death call. The 80 something male had expired in his sleep, and had been found by his wife of over 50 years. A sad call for the widow, but fairly routine in my world.
In walking up to the residence I realized that this lady making the call was indeed the same lady I had seen from the year before. Thinking to myself that she must have seen some teenagers running amuck (as they often did in this part of the county) I asked the Deputy that was already on scene what was going on. He stated that Widow Johnson had been to a church bazaar in Springfield, and had stayed late helping the other ladies clean up the church, and prepare it for worship services the following morning. Afterward she had gone to Denny’s for coffee with her friend's. She arrived at her home just a little bit past midnight. Her drive-way is a long and winding gravel road of about ¼ of a mile long. She said that she had observed a large dark shadow about 200 feet in front of car at one point, but assumed it was one of the half dozen or so cows that she kept as “pets” crossing the roadway. As she pulled up near her home and turned the car off, she had to reach in to the back seat to get her purse that had spilled in the floor. As she was gathering up the items from the floorboard she felt her car shake violently, and had the sensation that the rear of her car was “up in the air on a tire jack”…..she opened her door and stepped out. She said she was startled to see a “large male Sasquatch” holding the rear of her car about 18 inches off of the ground. She said that she screamed, and the “Sasquatch" screamed as well dropping the car. She said she ran for the door to her house, and that she could hear the screaming beast run into her “old barn”. While awaiting our arrival she said that she heard several loud thumps from the barn and thought he may still be within.
The other Deputy and I looked at each other and both had a small grin on out faces. But the grins quickly disappeared when we checked the rear or her late 80’s Ford Taurus, and found several black hairs, that were coarse and about 2 inches long. We collected a few and placed them in an evidence bag. Also there was obvious smudging and indentions on the rear bumper area of the car. We felt somewhat relieved when we saw that she did have a few Holstein cows around, and thought that maybe it was possible that one of these 1000 lb cows had simply rubbed against her car, and that she had simply been startled by that, especially in the dark and at this late hour.
We spoke with her and had her fairly reassured when we heard some scuffling noises from the barn. Much the kind of sound you would expect to hear from maybe a horse or cow in a stall would make. Old lady Johnson stated that she just wouldn’t be able to sleep unless someone checked the barn before we left. The other Deputy quickly said with a smile, that he would stay here and protect the RP while I searched the barn. How brave of him..........jerk.
I went to my patrol car feeling slightly apprehensive, well that’s a lie. I was feeling a little fearful, as I had grown up in a generation that had been “taught” by television that Bigfoot was real, and I was now convinced that I had one trapped in a barn……and it was “spooked” no less. As I loaded my 12 gauge shotgun with “slug” rounds (slugs are a 1 ¼ ounce chunk of lead shaped in a conical fashion that are extremely powerful projectiles) a highway patrolman pulled up. I felt a little relieved knowing that I wouldn’t have to search the barn alone, but I did feel a little foolish telling the trooper why we searching it.
After relating the story to this stoic, unblinking trooper he replied with a simple one word answer in a drawn out southern drawl. “Shit!” He then proceeded to the trunk of his patrol car where he pulled out an H&K 93 7.62nato (.308) assault rifle, and inserted a 30 round magazine, working the action and placing a live round in the chamber. His next words were a simple “let’s go” and off we went.
After a very tense 20 minute search of the barn and the surrounding out-buildings, we returned to Widow Johnson and gave her the all clear. She thanked us and told us she would be keeping her shotgun near the bed on this night.
The trooper and I met up for breakfast at a Waffle House in our district about 0430 hours that morning, and both quietly admitted that if a cow, dog, or donkey had suddenly appeared during our search that we probably would have blasted it! We both admitted that we believed it possible that something like “Sasquatch” may exist, and were both pretty pleased with not discovering one!
On a subsequent note, over the course of several months, the Sheriff’s office received a couple dozen “sighting” reports, and numerous calls about high pitch screaming. The unusual hair we recovered was sent to a local universities Anthropology lab for testing. The results stated that the hair was not from any know indigenous mammal in North America. The Missouri Conservation Department found a deceased 200 lbblackbear about ten miles from this location, but made a statement that basically said that their agency believed this bear was the source of the sightings, but they had no real comment on the noises other than the local zoo had had a couple peacocks escape several months ago...............
Who knows what shook old lady Johnson’s car that night! All I know is that this lady had lived in the forest of Missouri for 60 plus years and wasn't easily spooked.
On this particular night in the mid 1990’s, I was working the “graveyard” shift (11:30 pm until 08:00 am) as the “float car” for the northern district of our suburban county. The county is compromised of about 450 square miles. The northern district is compromised of two zones. Zone 1 (west) and Zone 2 (east), with a floating “cover” car for back up, and an occasional reserve deputy working. Not to mention the Highway Patrol, and the officers in the smaller municipal agencies on the outer periphery.
At about 0100 hours I heard dispatch assign a call to the Zone 1 car reference to a “check a person” call. The address given was in the extreme northwest corner of the county, near the county line. The zone 1 car acknowledged the call and advised he was en route. I advised dispatch that I was also en route, and I was about 20 minutes out.
I had some trouble finding the address, as it was a several hundred acre farm, in a desolate area of the county off of an unmarked gravel road. As I finally pulled up to the residence, I realized that I had been to this home the year before but in daylight. On that occasion it was in reference to a “natural” death call. The 80 something male had expired in his sleep, and had been found by his wife of over 50 years. A sad call for the widow, but fairly routine in my world.
In walking up to the residence I realized that this lady making the call was indeed the same lady I had seen from the year before. Thinking to myself that she must have seen some teenagers running amuck (as they often did in this part of the county) I asked the Deputy that was already on scene what was going on. He stated that Widow Johnson had been to a church bazaar in Springfield, and had stayed late helping the other ladies clean up the church, and prepare it for worship services the following morning. Afterward she had gone to Denny’s for coffee with her friend's. She arrived at her home just a little bit past midnight. Her drive-way is a long and winding gravel road of about ¼ of a mile long. She said that she had observed a large dark shadow about 200 feet in front of car at one point, but assumed it was one of the half dozen or so cows that she kept as “pets” crossing the roadway. As she pulled up near her home and turned the car off, she had to reach in to the back seat to get her purse that had spilled in the floor. As she was gathering up the items from the floorboard she felt her car shake violently, and had the sensation that the rear of her car was “up in the air on a tire jack”…..she opened her door and stepped out. She said she was startled to see a “large male Sasquatch” holding the rear of her car about 18 inches off of the ground. She said that she screamed, and the “Sasquatch" screamed as well dropping the car. She said she ran for the door to her house, and that she could hear the screaming beast run into her “old barn”. While awaiting our arrival she said that she heard several loud thumps from the barn and thought he may still be within.
The other Deputy and I looked at each other and both had a small grin on out faces. But the grins quickly disappeared when we checked the rear or her late 80’s Ford Taurus, and found several black hairs, that were coarse and about 2 inches long. We collected a few and placed them in an evidence bag. Also there was obvious smudging and indentions on the rear bumper area of the car. We felt somewhat relieved when we saw that she did have a few Holstein cows around, and thought that maybe it was possible that one of these 1000 lb cows had simply rubbed against her car, and that she had simply been startled by that, especially in the dark and at this late hour.
We spoke with her and had her fairly reassured when we heard some scuffling noises from the barn. Much the kind of sound you would expect to hear from maybe a horse or cow in a stall would make. Old lady Johnson stated that she just wouldn’t be able to sleep unless someone checked the barn before we left. The other Deputy quickly said with a smile, that he would stay here and protect the RP while I searched the barn. How brave of him..........jerk.
I went to my patrol car feeling slightly apprehensive, well that’s a lie. I was feeling a little fearful, as I had grown up in a generation that had been “taught” by television that Bigfoot was real, and I was now convinced that I had one trapped in a barn……and it was “spooked” no less. As I loaded my 12 gauge shotgun with “slug” rounds (slugs are a 1 ¼ ounce chunk of lead shaped in a conical fashion that are extremely powerful projectiles) a highway patrolman pulled up. I felt a little relieved knowing that I wouldn’t have to search the barn alone, but I did feel a little foolish telling the trooper why we searching it.
After relating the story to this stoic, unblinking trooper he replied with a simple one word answer in a drawn out southern drawl. “Shit!” He then proceeded to the trunk of his patrol car where he pulled out an H&K 93 7.62nato (.308) assault rifle, and inserted a 30 round magazine, working the action and placing a live round in the chamber. His next words were a simple “let’s go” and off we went.
After a very tense 20 minute search of the barn and the surrounding out-buildings, we returned to Widow Johnson and gave her the all clear. She thanked us and told us she would be keeping her shotgun near the bed on this night.
The trooper and I met up for breakfast at a Waffle House in our district about 0430 hours that morning, and both quietly admitted that if a cow, dog, or donkey had suddenly appeared during our search that we probably would have blasted it! We both admitted that we believed it possible that something like “Sasquatch” may exist, and were both pretty pleased with not discovering one!
On a subsequent note, over the course of several months, the Sheriff’s office received a couple dozen “sighting” reports, and numerous calls about high pitch screaming. The unusual hair we recovered was sent to a local universities Anthropology lab for testing. The results stated that the hair was not from any know indigenous mammal in North America. The Missouri Conservation Department found a deceased 200 lbblackbear about ten miles from this location, but made a statement that basically said that their agency believed this bear was the source of the sightings, but they had no real comment on the noises other than the local zoo had had a couple peacocks escape several months ago...............
Who knows what shook old lady Johnson’s car that night! All I know is that this lady had lived in the forest of Missouri for 60 plus years and wasn't easily spooked.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Chapter five............Hell
Most of the things I have and will write about the times I spent as a police officer effect me in some fashion, but the incident I write about tonight is different. It is the single worse incident that I have ever been involved with, and was the beginning of the end of my career as a police officer. I still today suffer emotionally from this incident and doubt I will ever recover from it. This incident is my Achilles heel, it ended me in a sense. I encourage you to not read this if you want to be spared from my pain.
Early April 2000. A warm summers evening. I am working with a great bunch of guys this night. My good friend Tom, and a new officer, whom I helped get hired that I worked with at the Sheriff's department I had previously been employed, and a couple other officers that I liked, along with Susan Cole, the commander of the patrol division whom was a great boss. It was within an hour of the end of my shift and I was in a great mood. I had made a couple great arrests that night, one a felony warrant for kidnapping. I had made a routine traffic stop for speeding 51 in a 35 mph zone, and through a simple license check discovered that the driver was wanted for kidnapping, and the icing on the cake, the 23 year old ex-girlfriend he had kidnapped was in the car. This arrest went textbook style, and the victim was unhurt. I simply had a hunch about this nervous driver and followed it, and later received a letter of merit for this arrest. It's not often that you get to be pro-active about the safety of others, as police officers are most often the reactive end of a crime committed. I also made a car stop early that evening, out on the state highway in which I found 2 pounds of methamphetamine, which is an astronomical amount of meth, and my largest meth seizure ever. I was on top of the world, and I later received a written letter of commendation from the Missouri Highway Patrol. I was truly feeling like everything was great in my world.
Later that evening I was in the parking lot of Police Headquarters talking with a fellow officer when I overheard a medical call dispatch medical to an address in the 900 block of south 11th street reference a baby not breathing. I ended my conversation and advised dispatch that I was en route. I knew I was only about a mile and half from that call and may be able to be of help before the ambulance arrived. I activated my lights and siren and took off, as I pulled up to the address I realized I had responded to 11th avenue, and not 11th street................My mouth dropped open as I realized I had responded to the wrong address. I had always feared being sent to this type of call and I was now even more horrified that I had made a mistake that was going to take me three or four extra minutes to fix.
I finally arrived on the block, which was entirely dark without street lights, and the house wasn't illuminated at all, but I found the address. I was hoping this call would be like others I had been to that were dispatched just like this and that the baby would be breathing and just sick. As I walked through the front door my vision immediately zoomed in on a middle age woman holding a baby of about 6 -10 weeks old, dressed only in a diaper, that was entirely limp in her arms, with it's head back in a horrible angle. The babies skin tone was a blueish tan color, and it was obvious that the baby was in full cardiac arrest. I took the baby from the lady who identified herself as the grandmother and told me the baby wasn't breathing. My entire attention was focused on just the baby. I had just attended a CPR refresher course that had changed the way you were supposed to do CPR on an infant. No longer were you supposed to cradle the baby in your arms, but you were to lay the baby on a hard surface much like an adult. I had given CPR to maybe 10 or 12 adults prior to this, and to one 4 year old, but never an infant, much less a human this fragile. Often times during regular CPR you will break ribs in an effort to resuscitate them, so I was justifiably afraid of giving CPR to an infant. But I had no choice and knew the baby would die if I didn't. So I began. 30 chest compressions given with your index finger and middle finger, pressing about one inch down rapidly, followed by two breaths which involved no more air than you can hold in your mouth, as a full breath would burst the infants lungs. I call dispatch and inform them I have an infant in full cardiac arrest and to have the hospital start the medical helicopter. Two minutes of me performing CPR on this tiny baby and I stop to check for life signs. No feeling of breath on my cheek pressed near the babies mouth. No feeling of a pulse checked on the inner thigh of the baby. I resume CPR and it is at this point I realize that the mother is standing there with the grandmother crying. There is also a young child wearing a diaper about 2 years old standing on a nearby sofa watching me and crying....... I tell the mother to take the 2 year old out of the room, and tell the grandmother to go outside and watch for the ambulance.......and then continue with this horrible task....... I realize that during the time I am performing CPR I am talking out loud to the baby saying "breath baby, breath" and " come on baby, you can make it" finally a first responder from the volunteer fire department comes through the door, and luckily for me it is a firefighter whom I think is decent. Unfortunately he was paralyzed with fear and didn't know what to do, and was no more qualified than me to help this child. But luckily I didn't feel alone now, and felt like maybe there was a chance..........Within a couple minutes the ambulance arrived but the look on the paramedics face when he came through the door didn't comfort me as he immediately ran back to the ambulance. A couple minutes later he was back, and took over for me. He told me he wanted me to lead the ambulance to a nearby landing zone for the medical helicopter. I took the mother with me and with the ambulance following me code three responded to the landing zone that had already been secured by the fire department. I learned that the baby was a girl, a girl named Kathleen Moore and had been born in February 2000 and that they called her Katey. The mother was a single mother named Leslie, and what can I say, she was beside herself, as any parent would be with their child dying right before their eyes.
The helicopter took over care. I checked with my boss, Susan, and told her I was going to drive the mother to St. Johns hospital. Off we went. I averaged a steady hundred miles per hour on the highway, and it was only about a ten minute ride to the hospital. The mother wept all of the way, and it was then I noticed that she was wearing only her pajamas, which made me feel even more sad for her, as I knew the baby was gone, and I tried to comfort her. Upon arrival to the ER at St. Johns we entered, and her ex-husband and ex-mother in law were waiting for her. The father was freaked out by the fact that I (the police) were there. I assured him it was only routine. I left her with people that loved her and went into the ER to wait the babies arrival. Quickly the baby was brought in to a single pediatric trauma room. the doctor , two nurses, and a medic all worked on the baby tirelessly. Sadly to say the baby didn't survive. Soon after the babies passing, a minister entered and was speaking with us all, as the nurses un-hooked IV's etc, and cleaned the baby up so the family could see her. I had to ask the doctor all of the routine questions. Any obvious signs of abuse, neglect, etc, etc...and of course there were none. I must have been putting off signals I didn't realize because the minister asked everyone in the room if they were alright, and then looked directly at me and asked me if I was alright. I wasn't but said that I was........He then asked me to go with him to tell the family the bad news, which I did........and was the single most horrible thing I have been apart of. After receiving copies of the hospital paper work I left the ER. AS soon as I got behind the wheel of my patrol car I lost it......I was crying so hard I could not see clearly, and could not clearly talk. It took several minutes before I could see clearly enough to leave. 15 minutes later and I was back in my city, and 5 minutes after that I was at the police department....... I stood outside the door for about 30 seconds steadying myself before I entered. When I went in everyone in the squad room could tell ( and there were about 5 or 6 officers present) that I was upset. A corporal ask me if I were alright, and I said "no" and with that started crying.....I felt ashamed that I showed my feelings in front of the other officers.... The lieutenant took me aside, and told me I could go ahead and go home if I wanted, and that I could submit my report the next day. I immediately left, and, sadly enough did what I usually did to hide my pain, I drank. I drank enough beer to pass out and sleep.
Early the next morning I got a phone call from an angry medical examiner telling me that I was required to submit my report, and that I had to meet him at Cox south hospital, in the morgue, to document the autopsy...........My nightmare had began again. So I arrived and did my duty. I took photographic evidence, and written documentation of the autopsy of this child. I was forced to watch them cut, gut, and defile this innocent angel in a emotionless manner...................there is something dehumanizing about watching when they remove the heart, and weigh it, remove the brain and weigh it, and look at the contents of the stomach, and weigh them as well, and then throw all of the pieces away, through a hole in the center of the examining room table...
I had to return to the home where the baby lived the next day, to gather extra details for the child death review board, and going through the details, I learned that the Mother, Leslie, had put Katey down for bed at 8:30 PM after feeding her 4 ounces of formula. Leslie checked on her at 9 pm and found her unresponsive and blue..............I recovered a specimen from the babies bed of a gray colored matter that was later described as formula....
The results of the autopsy, and the child death review board ruled that the death was an accident and most likely the result of aspirated formula caused by the infant sleeping on her back and vomiting........A week later, on my birthday no less, I received a medal, and letter of commendation from the police department for my life saving efforts, which only made me feel worse. I also found out that this child was the grandchild of a Greene County Deputy I knew well.
BUT........the bottom line is this...... I have never been the same since this night. I feel guilty about this babies death. I drove a total of an extra 35 blocks because I made an error in the address of this home. I feel like I am responsible for this child's death, this little girl "Katey" to her family, might have had a chance if I had paid more attention and hadn't screwed up......to this day I visit her grave in Springfield on a regular basis, and often times talk to her and leave her toys appropriate for her current age............What else can I say, this incident can still make me cry, and I think of it often.
Early April 2000. A warm summers evening. I am working with a great bunch of guys this night. My good friend Tom, and a new officer, whom I helped get hired that I worked with at the Sheriff's department I had previously been employed, and a couple other officers that I liked, along with Susan Cole, the commander of the patrol division whom was a great boss. It was within an hour of the end of my shift and I was in a great mood. I had made a couple great arrests that night, one a felony warrant for kidnapping. I had made a routine traffic stop for speeding 51 in a 35 mph zone, and through a simple license check discovered that the driver was wanted for kidnapping, and the icing on the cake, the 23 year old ex-girlfriend he had kidnapped was in the car. This arrest went textbook style, and the victim was unhurt. I simply had a hunch about this nervous driver and followed it, and later received a letter of merit for this arrest. It's not often that you get to be pro-active about the safety of others, as police officers are most often the reactive end of a crime committed. I also made a car stop early that evening, out on the state highway in which I found 2 pounds of methamphetamine, which is an astronomical amount of meth, and my largest meth seizure ever. I was on top of the world, and I later received a written letter of commendation from the Missouri Highway Patrol. I was truly feeling like everything was great in my world.
Later that evening I was in the parking lot of Police Headquarters talking with a fellow officer when I overheard a medical call dispatch medical to an address in the 900 block of south 11th street reference a baby not breathing. I ended my conversation and advised dispatch that I was en route. I knew I was only about a mile and half from that call and may be able to be of help before the ambulance arrived. I activated my lights and siren and took off, as I pulled up to the address I realized I had responded to 11th avenue, and not 11th street................My mouth dropped open as I realized I had responded to the wrong address. I had always feared being sent to this type of call and I was now even more horrified that I had made a mistake that was going to take me three or four extra minutes to fix.
I finally arrived on the block, which was entirely dark without street lights, and the house wasn't illuminated at all, but I found the address. I was hoping this call would be like others I had been to that were dispatched just like this and that the baby would be breathing and just sick. As I walked through the front door my vision immediately zoomed in on a middle age woman holding a baby of about 6 -10 weeks old, dressed only in a diaper, that was entirely limp in her arms, with it's head back in a horrible angle. The babies skin tone was a blueish tan color, and it was obvious that the baby was in full cardiac arrest. I took the baby from the lady who identified herself as the grandmother and told me the baby wasn't breathing. My entire attention was focused on just the baby. I had just attended a CPR refresher course that had changed the way you were supposed to do CPR on an infant. No longer were you supposed to cradle the baby in your arms, but you were to lay the baby on a hard surface much like an adult. I had given CPR to maybe 10 or 12 adults prior to this, and to one 4 year old, but never an infant, much less a human this fragile. Often times during regular CPR you will break ribs in an effort to resuscitate them, so I was justifiably afraid of giving CPR to an infant. But I had no choice and knew the baby would die if I didn't. So I began. 30 chest compressions given with your index finger and middle finger, pressing about one inch down rapidly, followed by two breaths which involved no more air than you can hold in your mouth, as a full breath would burst the infants lungs. I call dispatch and inform them I have an infant in full cardiac arrest and to have the hospital start the medical helicopter. Two minutes of me performing CPR on this tiny baby and I stop to check for life signs. No feeling of breath on my cheek pressed near the babies mouth. No feeling of a pulse checked on the inner thigh of the baby. I resume CPR and it is at this point I realize that the mother is standing there with the grandmother crying. There is also a young child wearing a diaper about 2 years old standing on a nearby sofa watching me and crying....... I tell the mother to take the 2 year old out of the room, and tell the grandmother to go outside and watch for the ambulance.......and then continue with this horrible task....... I realize that during the time I am performing CPR I am talking out loud to the baby saying "breath baby, breath" and " come on baby, you can make it" finally a first responder from the volunteer fire department comes through the door, and luckily for me it is a firefighter whom I think is decent. Unfortunately he was paralyzed with fear and didn't know what to do, and was no more qualified than me to help this child. But luckily I didn't feel alone now, and felt like maybe there was a chance..........Within a couple minutes the ambulance arrived but the look on the paramedics face when he came through the door didn't comfort me as he immediately ran back to the ambulance. A couple minutes later he was back, and took over for me. He told me he wanted me to lead the ambulance to a nearby landing zone for the medical helicopter. I took the mother with me and with the ambulance following me code three responded to the landing zone that had already been secured by the fire department. I learned that the baby was a girl, a girl named Kathleen Moore and had been born in February 2000 and that they called her Katey. The mother was a single mother named Leslie, and what can I say, she was beside herself, as any parent would be with their child dying right before their eyes.
The helicopter took over care. I checked with my boss, Susan, and told her I was going to drive the mother to St. Johns hospital. Off we went. I averaged a steady hundred miles per hour on the highway, and it was only about a ten minute ride to the hospital. The mother wept all of the way, and it was then I noticed that she was wearing only her pajamas, which made me feel even more sad for her, as I knew the baby was gone, and I tried to comfort her. Upon arrival to the ER at St. Johns we entered, and her ex-husband and ex-mother in law were waiting for her. The father was freaked out by the fact that I (the police) were there. I assured him it was only routine. I left her with people that loved her and went into the ER to wait the babies arrival. Quickly the baby was brought in to a single pediatric trauma room. the doctor , two nurses, and a medic all worked on the baby tirelessly. Sadly to say the baby didn't survive. Soon after the babies passing, a minister entered and was speaking with us all, as the nurses un-hooked IV's etc, and cleaned the baby up so the family could see her. I had to ask the doctor all of the routine questions. Any obvious signs of abuse, neglect, etc, etc...and of course there were none. I must have been putting off signals I didn't realize because the minister asked everyone in the room if they were alright, and then looked directly at me and asked me if I was alright. I wasn't but said that I was........He then asked me to go with him to tell the family the bad news, which I did........and was the single most horrible thing I have been apart of. After receiving copies of the hospital paper work I left the ER. AS soon as I got behind the wheel of my patrol car I lost it......I was crying so hard I could not see clearly, and could not clearly talk. It took several minutes before I could see clearly enough to leave. 15 minutes later and I was back in my city, and 5 minutes after that I was at the police department....... I stood outside the door for about 30 seconds steadying myself before I entered. When I went in everyone in the squad room could tell ( and there were about 5 or 6 officers present) that I was upset. A corporal ask me if I were alright, and I said "no" and with that started crying.....I felt ashamed that I showed my feelings in front of the other officers.... The lieutenant took me aside, and told me I could go ahead and go home if I wanted, and that I could submit my report the next day. I immediately left, and, sadly enough did what I usually did to hide my pain, I drank. I drank enough beer to pass out and sleep.
Early the next morning I got a phone call from an angry medical examiner telling me that I was required to submit my report, and that I had to meet him at Cox south hospital, in the morgue, to document the autopsy...........My nightmare had began again. So I arrived and did my duty. I took photographic evidence, and written documentation of the autopsy of this child. I was forced to watch them cut, gut, and defile this innocent angel in a emotionless manner...................there is something dehumanizing about watching when they remove the heart, and weigh it, remove the brain and weigh it, and look at the contents of the stomach, and weigh them as well, and then throw all of the pieces away, through a hole in the center of the examining room table...
I had to return to the home where the baby lived the next day, to gather extra details for the child death review board, and going through the details, I learned that the Mother, Leslie, had put Katey down for bed at 8:30 PM after feeding her 4 ounces of formula. Leslie checked on her at 9 pm and found her unresponsive and blue..............I recovered a specimen from the babies bed of a gray colored matter that was later described as formula....
The results of the autopsy, and the child death review board ruled that the death was an accident and most likely the result of aspirated formula caused by the infant sleeping on her back and vomiting........A week later, on my birthday no less, I received a medal, and letter of commendation from the police department for my life saving efforts, which only made me feel worse. I also found out that this child was the grandchild of a Greene County Deputy I knew well.
BUT........the bottom line is this...... I have never been the same since this night. I feel guilty about this babies death. I drove a total of an extra 35 blocks because I made an error in the address of this home. I feel like I am responsible for this child's death, this little girl "Katey" to her family, might have had a chance if I had paid more attention and hadn't screwed up......to this day I visit her grave in Springfield on a regular basis, and often times talk to her and leave her toys appropriate for her current age............What else can I say, this incident can still make me cry, and I think of it often.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Chapter Four......The other side....
As a police officer you develop a sixth sense if you will. I call mine, my "spidey" sense.......and mine was extremely acute. I had a certain ability about me as a police officer that others did not. No matter the day of the week, the time of day, or my location I could find a "scumbag" or otherwise trouble to get in.....I was affectionately dubbed a "dirt magnet" by my fellow officers for my afore mentioned gifts/abilities.......
It's late fall, near dusk, probably about 5 pm when I observe a gold colored older Ford Probe pull out from the parking lot of the "Church of Christ". Normally this wouldn't raise any red flags with me but as the Probe pulled out, it was accelerating heavily, breaking traction (peeling out) and nearly losing control as it swerved into the south bound, inside lane of travel and quickly was driving about 50 MPH in a posted 35 mph zone. I pulled within a hundred feet of the vehicle, just close enough to read the license plate. I called the information in to dispatch, which always starts with your radio number, mine being 302........so the call sounded something like this.......302 rolling 28/29 check southbound 22nd and J hwy......which means "Officer Miles was requesting information about the vehicles registration and a stolen check on a moving vehicle, and by giving the location usually means an impending vehicle stop. I usually ran vehicle plates, if I had time, before making a car stop so I might have the heads up if the vehicle were stolen, or the registered owner might be a dangerous felon......The return came back on this car as "no stolen" to a "John Doe" on a 1989 Chevy.....This let me know that the plate was on the wrong vehicle, and was just one more reason for caution. I let the sector car for the district I was in that I was going to be stopping this vehicle shortly, and if not busy requested that they assist. The car was now approaching a red stop light, and I planned after the light turned green, that I would initiate the stop, but the Ford Probe's driver had other plans. He ran the solid red stop light at 50 MPH, and narrowly missed cross traffic. Apparently this guy was going to force me to stop him before I wanted to. I slowed at the red light, turned on my emergency lights an siren, and safely pulled through the intersection. The probe instantly bolted, quickly accelerating up to near 70 mph, and it quickly turned on the first cross road. I informed dispatch that I was now in pursuit and my speed and location. The radio sounded an emergency radio tone and then the following traffic...."Officer needs assistance, vehicle pursuit at such, and such location"......3 units responded that they were en route to assist. After about 2 miles I quickly realized that the driver of this vehicle was out of control, and the charges I had did not out weigh the threat to the public on and near the streets, so I terminated the chase. But as luck would have it, the probe crashed into a parked car as it tried to negotiate a fast turn onto a side street, just as I radioed I was terminating. The driver instantly bolted, and I was now in foot pursuit. It was now surprise to me to see my suspect didn't have a shirt on, and had the balding leftover of a mullet flowing behind him. ....(just a quick interruption to my story, and this is primarily to new officers that may be reading this, if someone your dealing with doesn't have a shirt on, 9 times out of ten they are going to fight you, run, or otherwise be the focus of your attention, it's like a red-neck warning system, so I suggest when arriving on a call to find a shirtless subject, go a head and cuff them as soon as you can)..... I quickly caught the subject within a block or so. Even when bad guys are thinner and younger than you, they are rarely in good cardio shape and rarely have any ability to run further than a couple hundred yards. The cuff's went on smoothly, and the winded dirt bag starts yelling that he wasn't driving (even though he was the only in the car and I saw him behind the wheel). As I walk him back to my patrol car he starts the tough man strut, telling me how lucky I am that he's in handcuffs of he would "fuck you up"......I remind him that he was cowering like a frightened kitten when I caught him....... I can tell this guy is under the influence and soon discover this is an all to common arrest for me.........the care is not stolen, but the license plates are, he has no insurance, he has a revoked driver's license with a ten year denial, and numerous misdemeanor traffic warrants, child support warrants, and for failing to appear warrants. Also radio advises me he has an active restraining order against him, and that a sheriff's deputy will be en route to my location to "serve him". He is about 22-24 years old, 5 ft 10, 140 lbs. Dirty, smelly.....lots of poorly done tattoo work let's me know that he has been in prison. His dirty blond hair, is actually dirty.......He soon starts the familiar crying act as he sits in the cage of my patrol car, he also begins the all to often begging for a last cigarette, and saying how thirsty he is.......I deny the cigarette and his asking for water is a sign that he is under the influence of drugs......More often that not, people on street drug's, especially meth tend to be dry mouthed, with white crusties on the edges of their lips, and they tend to be incredibly thirsty..........He finally quiets down during the 10 minute ride to the jail. As I open his door and grab him, to stand him up, I notice that his skin is cold and clammy, as well as sweaty, even though it's maybe 65 degree's in my patrol car. I also notice that his speech is increasingly becoming slurred, and he seems to be getting to the top of his high.........
As I am waiting to release him to a booking officer, I take his pulse.....it's about 45 beats per minute...........I took it again 5 minutes later, this time it was 140. I tell the in-take medical officer, they tell me that I am going to have to take him by the ER to get him medically cleared before they can accept him.
Arriving at the ER, I have them assist me in getting the subject inside.......My prisoner starts being disruptive and starts spitting, and threatening staff, so the nurses decide to bypass triage, and take him directly to a room. His behavior worsens, and the medical staff place him in leather restraints, and they put a spit mask on him. Over the next ten minutes, as they are working on him, his pulse fluctuates from 30 beats per minute to almost 200, also his blood pressure is going back and fourth as well. AS they are hooking up an IV to him they tell me that he has most likely over-dosed and ask if we had found anything at the scene, which we hadn't but I tell them I suspected meth use within the last few hours......at this point the medical staff seems fairly concerned with him, but everyone is still joking around. Cops and emergency room staff see each other often enough that you are usually on a first name basis with each other. The prisoner's eye's start to roll up into his head by now, and his talking to himself when he loudly and clearly blurted out " No, no.....no I'm not ready. Don't take me, don't take me!" and then he immediately flat-lined..............Now I have seen people die before this, and a lot of already dead people, but this was different. Immediately the air in the patients room became cool, and thick. You could feel that there was a presence there, and that "they" were there to take him..........The medical staff tried to revive him for about 40 minutes, with no success......
Everyone was quiet after this, and we were all a little bit freaked out. We all knew that something from "the other side" had walked amongst us, and taken him. It was really creepy to consider, but the angel of death had been there and chosen him, and not us. One thing that really bothered me was that this guy really didn't sound like he wanted to go with them.......and I pondered that maybe he wasn't going someplace good.....
I had to call my supervisor, who notified detectives, and the medical examiner....anytime you have an "in-custody" death of a prisoner it is a big thing.....after an exhaustive review it was determined that I had not done anything wrong, or contributed to this subjects demise and that he had died from a massive over dose of methamphetamine taken probably as he was fleeing from me......
Up until this point in life I really wasn't sure if I believed in life after death, but after this I did for sure, and it scared me......I felt sorry for this guy, and wondered to myself how different he and I really were. What little things in his life had sent him down this road, and what a waste it was. Somewhere there were children that called him dad, and someone who called him son.
It's late fall, near dusk, probably about 5 pm when I observe a gold colored older Ford Probe pull out from the parking lot of the "Church of Christ". Normally this wouldn't raise any red flags with me but as the Probe pulled out, it was accelerating heavily, breaking traction (peeling out) and nearly losing control as it swerved into the south bound, inside lane of travel and quickly was driving about 50 MPH in a posted 35 mph zone. I pulled within a hundred feet of the vehicle, just close enough to read the license plate. I called the information in to dispatch, which always starts with your radio number, mine being 302........so the call sounded something like this.......302 rolling 28/29 check southbound 22nd and J hwy......which means "Officer Miles was requesting information about the vehicles registration and a stolen check on a moving vehicle, and by giving the location usually means an impending vehicle stop. I usually ran vehicle plates, if I had time, before making a car stop so I might have the heads up if the vehicle were stolen, or the registered owner might be a dangerous felon......The return came back on this car as "no stolen" to a "John Doe" on a 1989 Chevy.....This let me know that the plate was on the wrong vehicle, and was just one more reason for caution. I let the sector car for the district I was in that I was going to be stopping this vehicle shortly, and if not busy requested that they assist. The car was now approaching a red stop light, and I planned after the light turned green, that I would initiate the stop, but the Ford Probe's driver had other plans. He ran the solid red stop light at 50 MPH, and narrowly missed cross traffic. Apparently this guy was going to force me to stop him before I wanted to. I slowed at the red light, turned on my emergency lights an siren, and safely pulled through the intersection. The probe instantly bolted, quickly accelerating up to near 70 mph, and it quickly turned on the first cross road. I informed dispatch that I was now in pursuit and my speed and location. The radio sounded an emergency radio tone and then the following traffic...."Officer needs assistance, vehicle pursuit at such, and such location"......3 units responded that they were en route to assist. After about 2 miles I quickly realized that the driver of this vehicle was out of control, and the charges I had did not out weigh the threat to the public on and near the streets, so I terminated the chase. But as luck would have it, the probe crashed into a parked car as it tried to negotiate a fast turn onto a side street, just as I radioed I was terminating. The driver instantly bolted, and I was now in foot pursuit. It was now surprise to me to see my suspect didn't have a shirt on, and had the balding leftover of a mullet flowing behind him. ....(just a quick interruption to my story, and this is primarily to new officers that may be reading this, if someone your dealing with doesn't have a shirt on, 9 times out of ten they are going to fight you, run, or otherwise be the focus of your attention, it's like a red-neck warning system, so I suggest when arriving on a call to find a shirtless subject, go a head and cuff them as soon as you can)..... I quickly caught the subject within a block or so. Even when bad guys are thinner and younger than you, they are rarely in good cardio shape and rarely have any ability to run further than a couple hundred yards. The cuff's went on smoothly, and the winded dirt bag starts yelling that he wasn't driving (even though he was the only in the car and I saw him behind the wheel). As I walk him back to my patrol car he starts the tough man strut, telling me how lucky I am that he's in handcuffs of he would "fuck you up"......I remind him that he was cowering like a frightened kitten when I caught him....... I can tell this guy is under the influence and soon discover this is an all to common arrest for me.........the care is not stolen, but the license plates are, he has no insurance, he has a revoked driver's license with a ten year denial, and numerous misdemeanor traffic warrants, child support warrants, and for failing to appear warrants. Also radio advises me he has an active restraining order against him, and that a sheriff's deputy will be en route to my location to "serve him". He is about 22-24 years old, 5 ft 10, 140 lbs. Dirty, smelly.....lots of poorly done tattoo work let's me know that he has been in prison. His dirty blond hair, is actually dirty.......He soon starts the familiar crying act as he sits in the cage of my patrol car, he also begins the all to often begging for a last cigarette, and saying how thirsty he is.......I deny the cigarette and his asking for water is a sign that he is under the influence of drugs......More often that not, people on street drug's, especially meth tend to be dry mouthed, with white crusties on the edges of their lips, and they tend to be incredibly thirsty..........He finally quiets down during the 10 minute ride to the jail. As I open his door and grab him, to stand him up, I notice that his skin is cold and clammy, as well as sweaty, even though it's maybe 65 degree's in my patrol car. I also notice that his speech is increasingly becoming slurred, and he seems to be getting to the top of his high.........
As I am waiting to release him to a booking officer, I take his pulse.....it's about 45 beats per minute...........I took it again 5 minutes later, this time it was 140. I tell the in-take medical officer, they tell me that I am going to have to take him by the ER to get him medically cleared before they can accept him.
Arriving at the ER, I have them assist me in getting the subject inside.......My prisoner starts being disruptive and starts spitting, and threatening staff, so the nurses decide to bypass triage, and take him directly to a room. His behavior worsens, and the medical staff place him in leather restraints, and they put a spit mask on him. Over the next ten minutes, as they are working on him, his pulse fluctuates from 30 beats per minute to almost 200, also his blood pressure is going back and fourth as well. AS they are hooking up an IV to him they tell me that he has most likely over-dosed and ask if we had found anything at the scene, which we hadn't but I tell them I suspected meth use within the last few hours......at this point the medical staff seems fairly concerned with him, but everyone is still joking around. Cops and emergency room staff see each other often enough that you are usually on a first name basis with each other. The prisoner's eye's start to roll up into his head by now, and his talking to himself when he loudly and clearly blurted out " No, no.....no I'm not ready. Don't take me, don't take me!" and then he immediately flat-lined..............Now I have seen people die before this, and a lot of already dead people, but this was different. Immediately the air in the patients room became cool, and thick. You could feel that there was a presence there, and that "they" were there to take him..........The medical staff tried to revive him for about 40 minutes, with no success......
Everyone was quiet after this, and we were all a little bit freaked out. We all knew that something from "the other side" had walked amongst us, and taken him. It was really creepy to consider, but the angel of death had been there and chosen him, and not us. One thing that really bothered me was that this guy really didn't sound like he wanted to go with them.......and I pondered that maybe he wasn't going someplace good.....
I had to call my supervisor, who notified detectives, and the medical examiner....anytime you have an "in-custody" death of a prisoner it is a big thing.....after an exhaustive review it was determined that I had not done anything wrong, or contributed to this subjects demise and that he had died from a massive over dose of methamphetamine taken probably as he was fleeing from me......
Up until this point in life I really wasn't sure if I believed in life after death, but after this I did for sure, and it scared me......I felt sorry for this guy, and wondered to myself how different he and I really were. What little things in his life had sent him down this road, and what a waste it was. Somewhere there were children that called him dad, and someone who called him son.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Chapter Three........A most horrible day.
An important part of being a police officer is influencing and controlling the flow of traffic with one goal in mind.......safety. The safer people are while operating their car's and trucks, the less people die while in transent. But, as we all know, people live very hectic lives, and there are dozens of things to distract otherwise safe drivers. The repetitive motion of driving, as we have all done thousands of times, becomes second nature, and often we take our safety for granted. On average in the United States, 45,000 to 50,000 people dies each year in traffic accidents, and several hundred thousand more are seriously injured. As so, each police officer works dozens of accidents each year.
During my first year as a police officer, actually in my second month, and just days after being released from field training, and on my own, I was dispatched to my first serious vehicle accident ( and little did I know at the time, the most horrific I would ever see in my entire career). The call came out like this " Injury accident, 13 Hwy, and T hwy, possibly people trapped". It was a clear day in late summer, early afternoon. I activated my lights and sirens and punched the accelerator. I felt excitement go through me. Running lights and sirens is always an adrenaline rush, but especially when you are a rookie, and you really look forward to it. Not that you look forward to the calls, but look forward to a justified reason to drive warp speed......While I was en route a veteran State Trooper radioed me to let me know he was not to far off and was going to stop by and assist. He knew I was a rookie and may need the help, and I was glad to hear he was responding.
Upon arrival I knew it was going to be bad. Traffic was at a standstill, and just east of the intersection I observed a gold in color, early eighties model station wagon upside down, with heavy front end damage and the roof partially crushed. In a nearby ditch, on it's side, was a concrete mixer truck, the concrete mixer truck that had ran the flashing red light and struck this car. A crowd had gathered and several good Samaritans were running towards me even before I could get my patrol car stopped. A man wearing a UPS uniform told me there was a man and kids in the car, and that the cars roof had collapsed too much to get them out, and that he thought the driver might have a broken back, but every one was conscious. Then he gave me the bad news: the gas tank had been punctured and most of its contents had been spread on the vehicles now smoking undercarriage. My face flushed and I could feel true fear shoot through me. I had always feared this situation while I was in the academy, and I wasn't sure I was up for it now. I radioed in to dispatch that I needed the fire department to respond ASAP.......I also radioed the trooper who was responding, and I am pretty sure that my voice was trembling, told him I needed him to "get here as quick as you can"........... I got the fire extinguisher from the trunk of my patrol car, and sat it about 40 feet from the station wagon, and then approached the drivers side of the car. The UPS driver was an immense help, and retrieved his own fire extinguisher from his delivery truck, and had a couple onlookers get theirs as well. Just in case I thought. I tried to open the drivers door, but it was a futile effort. I lay on my stomach and looked inside. The driver was a male in his 30's, clean cut, thin. He was in an awkward position on his side, sort of pinned beneath the the dash and crushed windshield. I could see an obvious compound fracture to his lower leg, as I could see bone protruding from his pants leg, and there was blood around it. He also had many facial lacerations, but most were superficial, head wounds tend to bleed a lot wether they are serious or not, and the amount of blood isn't always a good indicator of the severity of the injury. I yelled in at him, and was startled to get a response. He was conscious and coherent, and considering the situation, fairly calm. He told me his name was Mark, and I told him my name. I just wanted to keep him calm until we could get him extricated. I could see two kids about 3 and 5 in the middle of the back seat dangling from seat belts. Both were crying, but appeared otherwise, uninjured. I could reach the seat belt of one and undid it. This child was a girl of about 5 and she crawled towards her father until she could physically touch him. He was verbally trying to sooth her. Now the second child was a boy of about 3, whose crying increased with his sister moving away from him. I couldn't reach the latch to his seat belt, and the vehicle was too crushed for me to get inside, but I was able to cut the seat belt with my pocket knife, and the little guy was able to crawl up to where his sister was and partially lay on her. I became aware of the highway patrolman that was now next to me "what do you think Rick" he said, through a half smile that I am sure was only for my benefit, as he too went down to his stomach next to me. I could hear sirens of the fire trucks in the distance, and felt a wave of relief wash over me......and then something weird happened...
I heard a strange almost bass like whoosh, and the loud sigh of the crowd, I also could feel the air around me move upwards towards the sound. The gas on the undercarriage had combusted, and the slow motion explosion was sucking all of the nearby air towards it. I jumped back, as did the trooper. The father in the car knew what had happened and began yelling for us to get his kids out. The entire underside of the car's belly was completely on fire, as was a sizable area of nearby grass. For the moment the interior of the car was not on fire. I felt incredibly helpless and afraid, for a brief moment I feared I would run away, but I didn't. Myself, along with the UPS driver and another man deployed our fire extinguishers. A fire extinguisher works pretty well, and we did get some knock down of the flames, and I thought we just might be able to put it out. But, fire extinguishers don't last for ever, and after about 10-15 seconds we were out, and the fire came back alive. When car's burn there are all kinds of weird sounds. As tires heat, then burn they hiss and pop, and pockets of lubricant, and oil burst. The fire began to burn through into the car. At this point the fire had been burning for about 30 or 40 seconds. I could hear the fire trucks getting closer, and could physically see them coming up the highway. A sick feeling shot through to the core of my being, they weren't going to make it in time. As the fire started in the vehicles interior, the father and kids began to scream for us to get them out, mostly the dad screaming to get his kids out. The trooper and I, along with the UPS driver went into a frenzied attack on the vehicle trying to pry the doors open with a tire tool, and make enough room to get the kids out. The fire was in the back, working it's way towards the front, quicker and quicker, and almost methodically advancing with a steady pace. The smoke was thick, but drifting up as it does, wasn't building up enough to mercifully take these people. I couldn't believe what was occurring right in front of me. I was a police officer, and my job was to make the world safe for others, and to save people from harm, I was a superhero, and super hero's never fail. The heat was getting intense, I was able to grab a leg of one of the kids, and I am not sure which child but I began to yank, and with that the child was screaming, I felt something in the child's leg give way, realizing later that I probably had broken it, but to no avail, I was only causing the kid more pain, and making him/her more fearful in their last moments of life. The fire began to overtake them. The trooper was braver than me ( he had kids and I didn't, and I think this played on him heavily), as the people inside began to burn I considered for a brief moment of shooting them, I know this sound crazy but it went through my mind that it would be more humane, and I would want someone to do that for me and my family, but I was either thinking to rational, or I was a coward but I didn't do it. But the trooper was still reaching into the car, grabbing whatever he could, pulling back handful's of melted skin, and we ( the ups driver and I) had to finally drag him back away from the car when his uniform blouse caught fire and his skin was actually smoking and peeling. An odd thing happened as the fire got closer, and began to take these victims. The children stopped screaming and crying before the fire touched them, and I'd like to think that their guardian angels took them before the fire did. The fire department arrived about 30 seconds after the car was fully involved, and had the fire out in short order. But it didn't matter at this point, this family was gone.
I was in shock after this. I realized that my uniform shirt was melted ( polyester), and that I had several small burns, and a couple large enough to blister. The trooper had received second and third degree burns to his face, arms, and hands in his effort to save this family. He was life flighted to a Springfield burn unit, and I found out later that all though he did recover physically from his injuries, he was never the same again and took a partially disability retirement for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The UPS driver also had a few small burns. I never got his name, and I really wish I had. He placed himself in danger, and it wasn't even his responsibility or job. I guess he answered to something higher than a job title, he was human, and a decent man. I never got to thank him.
I took a couple days off work after this wreck, and did what I did to hide my emotions. I went out and got drunk with my Non-Cop friend (became a cop later) Shane in a downtown bar, and tried to pick a fight. I ended up passed out, and sick.
Even though it's been almost 17 years since this wreck happened, I still feel somewhat ashamed of the fear I felt, and the fact that I wasn't able to save them. If I learned any hard lessons from this event, it was that police officers aren't super hero's, and that you can't save everyone that needs saving.
During my first year as a police officer, actually in my second month, and just days after being released from field training, and on my own, I was dispatched to my first serious vehicle accident ( and little did I know at the time, the most horrific I would ever see in my entire career). The call came out like this " Injury accident, 13 Hwy, and T hwy, possibly people trapped". It was a clear day in late summer, early afternoon. I activated my lights and sirens and punched the accelerator. I felt excitement go through me. Running lights and sirens is always an adrenaline rush, but especially when you are a rookie, and you really look forward to it. Not that you look forward to the calls, but look forward to a justified reason to drive warp speed......While I was en route a veteran State Trooper radioed me to let me know he was not to far off and was going to stop by and assist. He knew I was a rookie and may need the help, and I was glad to hear he was responding.
Upon arrival I knew it was going to be bad. Traffic was at a standstill, and just east of the intersection I observed a gold in color, early eighties model station wagon upside down, with heavy front end damage and the roof partially crushed. In a nearby ditch, on it's side, was a concrete mixer truck, the concrete mixer truck that had ran the flashing red light and struck this car. A crowd had gathered and several good Samaritans were running towards me even before I could get my patrol car stopped. A man wearing a UPS uniform told me there was a man and kids in the car, and that the cars roof had collapsed too much to get them out, and that he thought the driver might have a broken back, but every one was conscious. Then he gave me the bad news: the gas tank had been punctured and most of its contents had been spread on the vehicles now smoking undercarriage. My face flushed and I could feel true fear shoot through me. I had always feared this situation while I was in the academy, and I wasn't sure I was up for it now. I radioed in to dispatch that I needed the fire department to respond ASAP.......I also radioed the trooper who was responding, and I am pretty sure that my voice was trembling, told him I needed him to "get here as quick as you can"........... I got the fire extinguisher from the trunk of my patrol car, and sat it about 40 feet from the station wagon, and then approached the drivers side of the car. The UPS driver was an immense help, and retrieved his own fire extinguisher from his delivery truck, and had a couple onlookers get theirs as well. Just in case I thought. I tried to open the drivers door, but it was a futile effort. I lay on my stomach and looked inside. The driver was a male in his 30's, clean cut, thin. He was in an awkward position on his side, sort of pinned beneath the the dash and crushed windshield. I could see an obvious compound fracture to his lower leg, as I could see bone protruding from his pants leg, and there was blood around it. He also had many facial lacerations, but most were superficial, head wounds tend to bleed a lot wether they are serious or not, and the amount of blood isn't always a good indicator of the severity of the injury. I yelled in at him, and was startled to get a response. He was conscious and coherent, and considering the situation, fairly calm. He told me his name was Mark, and I told him my name. I just wanted to keep him calm until we could get him extricated. I could see two kids about 3 and 5 in the middle of the back seat dangling from seat belts. Both were crying, but appeared otherwise, uninjured. I could reach the seat belt of one and undid it. This child was a girl of about 5 and she crawled towards her father until she could physically touch him. He was verbally trying to sooth her. Now the second child was a boy of about 3, whose crying increased with his sister moving away from him. I couldn't reach the latch to his seat belt, and the vehicle was too crushed for me to get inside, but I was able to cut the seat belt with my pocket knife, and the little guy was able to crawl up to where his sister was and partially lay on her. I became aware of the highway patrolman that was now next to me "what do you think Rick" he said, through a half smile that I am sure was only for my benefit, as he too went down to his stomach next to me. I could hear sirens of the fire trucks in the distance, and felt a wave of relief wash over me......and then something weird happened...
I heard a strange almost bass like whoosh, and the loud sigh of the crowd, I also could feel the air around me move upwards towards the sound. The gas on the undercarriage had combusted, and the slow motion explosion was sucking all of the nearby air towards it. I jumped back, as did the trooper. The father in the car knew what had happened and began yelling for us to get his kids out. The entire underside of the car's belly was completely on fire, as was a sizable area of nearby grass. For the moment the interior of the car was not on fire. I felt incredibly helpless and afraid, for a brief moment I feared I would run away, but I didn't. Myself, along with the UPS driver and another man deployed our fire extinguishers. A fire extinguisher works pretty well, and we did get some knock down of the flames, and I thought we just might be able to put it out. But, fire extinguishers don't last for ever, and after about 10-15 seconds we were out, and the fire came back alive. When car's burn there are all kinds of weird sounds. As tires heat, then burn they hiss and pop, and pockets of lubricant, and oil burst. The fire began to burn through into the car. At this point the fire had been burning for about 30 or 40 seconds. I could hear the fire trucks getting closer, and could physically see them coming up the highway. A sick feeling shot through to the core of my being, they weren't going to make it in time. As the fire started in the vehicles interior, the father and kids began to scream for us to get them out, mostly the dad screaming to get his kids out. The trooper and I, along with the UPS driver went into a frenzied attack on the vehicle trying to pry the doors open with a tire tool, and make enough room to get the kids out. The fire was in the back, working it's way towards the front, quicker and quicker, and almost methodically advancing with a steady pace. The smoke was thick, but drifting up as it does, wasn't building up enough to mercifully take these people. I couldn't believe what was occurring right in front of me. I was a police officer, and my job was to make the world safe for others, and to save people from harm, I was a superhero, and super hero's never fail. The heat was getting intense, I was able to grab a leg of one of the kids, and I am not sure which child but I began to yank, and with that the child was screaming, I felt something in the child's leg give way, realizing later that I probably had broken it, but to no avail, I was only causing the kid more pain, and making him/her more fearful in their last moments of life. The fire began to overtake them. The trooper was braver than me ( he had kids and I didn't, and I think this played on him heavily), as the people inside began to burn I considered for a brief moment of shooting them, I know this sound crazy but it went through my mind that it would be more humane, and I would want someone to do that for me and my family, but I was either thinking to rational, or I was a coward but I didn't do it. But the trooper was still reaching into the car, grabbing whatever he could, pulling back handful's of melted skin, and we ( the ups driver and I) had to finally drag him back away from the car when his uniform blouse caught fire and his skin was actually smoking and peeling. An odd thing happened as the fire got closer, and began to take these victims. The children stopped screaming and crying before the fire touched them, and I'd like to think that their guardian angels took them before the fire did. The fire department arrived about 30 seconds after the car was fully involved, and had the fire out in short order. But it didn't matter at this point, this family was gone.
I was in shock after this. I realized that my uniform shirt was melted ( polyester), and that I had several small burns, and a couple large enough to blister. The trooper had received second and third degree burns to his face, arms, and hands in his effort to save this family. He was life flighted to a Springfield burn unit, and I found out later that all though he did recover physically from his injuries, he was never the same again and took a partially disability retirement for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The UPS driver also had a few small burns. I never got his name, and I really wish I had. He placed himself in danger, and it wasn't even his responsibility or job. I guess he answered to something higher than a job title, he was human, and a decent man. I never got to thank him.
I took a couple days off work after this wreck, and did what I did to hide my emotions. I went out and got drunk with my Non-Cop friend (became a cop later) Shane in a downtown bar, and tried to pick a fight. I ended up passed out, and sick.
Even though it's been almost 17 years since this wreck happened, I still feel somewhat ashamed of the fear I felt, and the fact that I wasn't able to save them. If I learned any hard lessons from this event, it was that police officers aren't super hero's, and that you can't save everyone that needs saving.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Chapter Two.........Old people love a show.......
Working Sunday day shift can be one of the most grueling, boring assignments in law enforcement. But heh, someone has to do it. Rarely are the any calls of substance. At best you may get a call reference some vandalism committed the night before, toilet paper in a tree, houses egged, or "Lorraine is a slut" spray painted on a car (no offense Lorraine). If you feel like hunting ( running radar for speeders) the early morning church crowd likes to drive like their chasing Jesus. It's amazing how well schooled a minister can be at obscenities when you hand him a ticket for going 83 in a 65.
This Sunday was like most others I had worked. Briefing had been at 5:30 Am, which was incredibly early considering I had been out Saturday night until at least 1 am, trying to find my next ex-wife. A quick run through McDonald's, and I had perched along my favorite stretch of highway. Over the next 3 hours I had stopped 15 cars, and written 6 tickets, making zero friends. I was now cruising the back roads enjoying the only jewel of Sunday work. American top 40, with Kasey Casem. The radio jerks me back to reality, and away from the lyrics of "Ace of Base"......"The morning kettle cafe.......424 W. Elm....Disturbance, intoxicated subject creating a disturbance, refusing to leave". As per protocol two units are assigned to this call. It just so happens that on this day, I was assigned to this district..........as I drive the two miles to get to the call I think to myself about the clientele that this particular restaurant has. I am not sure I have ever seen anyone there under the age of 60. This is one those types of cafes that close at 3 in the afternoon........I picture two old intoxicated women squabbling over widower Johnson..........As I walk in I am met with the aroma of cooked bacon, scrabbled eggs, and maple syrup.......and not to mention the scent of an intoxicated asshole, who had, at some point earlier....defecated in his button fly britches..........the only voices I can hear are coming from the southwest corner of the place........A slurred mix of profanity coming from an imposing figure of a male of about 6 ft 1 and 250 lbs. A full, unkempt beard topped off with a swirling mess of a head of hair. The shrill voice of the waitress arguing with him stops when she sees me approaching. I could tell from this subjects demeanor, size, and my "Spidey sense" that I was about to have my hands full, and that caution was the word of the day. As I had entered the cafe my back up on the call had radioed me letting me no they were just finishing up a code 2 at headquarter..........which means like "going" number two in the restroom.
I approach the table and try to stall for time, allowing my back up more time to get there. I start with a friendly approach "hey buddy, what's going on today?" Which is quickly met with a "fuck you cop" and a slam of a fist on the table. My stance is canted somewhat to the side and both of my hands are up sort in a calm down stop position, which is exactly where they should be when you are confronting someone hostile. All though my body language says I am prepared to tussle I still am speaking in fairly quiet tones saying things like (It's OK, just relax, what ever the problem is we can work it out)....again the right fist slams on the table and he lunges towards me, but it is a feint. I notice that his left hand is out of my view, most likely under the table. Becoming keenly aware that the apex of this situation was not going to await the arrival of back-up, and fearing that he may have a weapon I reach the hair on his head with my left hand, and his rising right arm with my right and jerk/slam him from the booth (action is faster than reaction, so it's always important to be in charge of the direction of any physical combat, other wise you are reacting which leads to losing, or worse) As I lie on top of him, my right arm is wrapped around his neck, I reach up with my left had and hit the button on my lapel radio microphone and say 10-37. 10-37 is the code an office sends out to let others no he/she is in trouble and needs immediate help, or in layman's terms, the shit has hit the fan. I can feel this subject begin to get up, even with my 210 lbs on top of him, yelling he will kill me. I can also tell that this subject is heavily muscled. You never want to lose the advantage in a struggle because you must always remember that there is already one gun involved in the fight. Your own, at which of all police officers killed in a year nearly %30 are killed with their own gun. As he starts to rise I spread my legs out to keep my sense of balance and control over him, he is thrashing like a wounded bear, and I can can hear table falling and glass breaking. With my free left hand I deliver a couple of punches his kidneys, which gets a grunt out of him, but not much else.....I am yelling during this fight...."Stop fighting, stop resisting" which is more out of habit than anything else. I still have a firm grasp of him, now with my left arm around his neck, I get my pepper mace free and and am able to spray a couple good shots right in his face......Now he is coughing, grunting and really pissed off. The mace is working on me as well, We continue to struggle and he is able to rise to one knee pulling himself up along the edge of a booth occupied by horrified old people. I again punch him a couple of times, this time in the side of the face, which seems to work better. His left arm is still tucked up under him and with his right arm he is grasping at the silverware on the table. Not wanting to be stabbed by any of this I take drastic measures. I grab a bottle of Heinz ketchup from the table and hit him in the side of the head with it, at which it broke. This blow really slows him down, and I am able to get him to the floor and get his right hand in handcuffs, he is still in the fight though, and is curled up on his side with his left hand somewhere under neath him. I can finally start to hear sirens in the distance, but my focus is still on him and the fact that I don't have control of one of his hands, I have the cuffed arm in an arm lock and with my other hand, I am smashing his kidneys yelling (give me your other arm, give me your other arm), at this point back up comes tearing thru the door, I yell ( I cant get his other arm, he must have something) Now Olin leaps through the air ( olin is 6ft and 235 lbs) and lands on this guy as well, We continue for at least 30 more seconds to no avail. We just can't get his other arm up. By this time 2 more officers were there, and we get him to his feet, at which point I make a startling, and comical, not to mention relieving revelation.........................He only has one arm.
So, in the end, Justice was served, and this one armed bastard would never return to "The Morning Kettle" cafe. Local rumors, within the AARP crowd, ran amok. All that was to be said was, that out police department did not discriminate against the disable.
This Sunday was like most others I had worked. Briefing had been at 5:30 Am, which was incredibly early considering I had been out Saturday night until at least 1 am, trying to find my next ex-wife. A quick run through McDonald's, and I had perched along my favorite stretch of highway. Over the next 3 hours I had stopped 15 cars, and written 6 tickets, making zero friends. I was now cruising the back roads enjoying the only jewel of Sunday work. American top 40, with Kasey Casem. The radio jerks me back to reality, and away from the lyrics of "Ace of Base"......"The morning kettle cafe.......424 W. Elm....Disturbance, intoxicated subject creating a disturbance, refusing to leave". As per protocol two units are assigned to this call. It just so happens that on this day, I was assigned to this district..........as I drive the two miles to get to the call I think to myself about the clientele that this particular restaurant has. I am not sure I have ever seen anyone there under the age of 60. This is one those types of cafes that close at 3 in the afternoon........I picture two old intoxicated women squabbling over widower Johnson..........As I walk in I am met with the aroma of cooked bacon, scrabbled eggs, and maple syrup.......and not to mention the scent of an intoxicated asshole, who had, at some point earlier....defecated in his button fly britches..........the only voices I can hear are coming from the southwest corner of the place........A slurred mix of profanity coming from an imposing figure of a male of about 6 ft 1 and 250 lbs. A full, unkempt beard topped off with a swirling mess of a head of hair. The shrill voice of the waitress arguing with him stops when she sees me approaching. I could tell from this subjects demeanor, size, and my "Spidey sense" that I was about to have my hands full, and that caution was the word of the day. As I had entered the cafe my back up on the call had radioed me letting me no they were just finishing up a code 2 at headquarter..........which means like "going" number two in the restroom.
I approach the table and try to stall for time, allowing my back up more time to get there. I start with a friendly approach "hey buddy, what's going on today?" Which is quickly met with a "fuck you cop" and a slam of a fist on the table. My stance is canted somewhat to the side and both of my hands are up sort in a calm down stop position, which is exactly where they should be when you are confronting someone hostile. All though my body language says I am prepared to tussle I still am speaking in fairly quiet tones saying things like (It's OK, just relax, what ever the problem is we can work it out)....again the right fist slams on the table and he lunges towards me, but it is a feint. I notice that his left hand is out of my view, most likely under the table. Becoming keenly aware that the apex of this situation was not going to await the arrival of back-up, and fearing that he may have a weapon I reach the hair on his head with my left hand, and his rising right arm with my right and jerk/slam him from the booth (action is faster than reaction, so it's always important to be in charge of the direction of any physical combat, other wise you are reacting which leads to losing, or worse) As I lie on top of him, my right arm is wrapped around his neck, I reach up with my left had and hit the button on my lapel radio microphone and say 10-37. 10-37 is the code an office sends out to let others no he/she is in trouble and needs immediate help, or in layman's terms, the shit has hit the fan. I can feel this subject begin to get up, even with my 210 lbs on top of him, yelling he will kill me. I can also tell that this subject is heavily muscled. You never want to lose the advantage in a struggle because you must always remember that there is already one gun involved in the fight. Your own, at which of all police officers killed in a year nearly %30 are killed with their own gun. As he starts to rise I spread my legs out to keep my sense of balance and control over him, he is thrashing like a wounded bear, and I can can hear table falling and glass breaking. With my free left hand I deliver a couple of punches his kidneys, which gets a grunt out of him, but not much else.....I am yelling during this fight...."Stop fighting, stop resisting" which is more out of habit than anything else. I still have a firm grasp of him, now with my left arm around his neck, I get my pepper mace free and and am able to spray a couple good shots right in his face......Now he is coughing, grunting and really pissed off. The mace is working on me as well, We continue to struggle and he is able to rise to one knee pulling himself up along the edge of a booth occupied by horrified old people. I again punch him a couple of times, this time in the side of the face, which seems to work better. His left arm is still tucked up under him and with his right arm he is grasping at the silverware on the table. Not wanting to be stabbed by any of this I take drastic measures. I grab a bottle of Heinz ketchup from the table and hit him in the side of the head with it, at which it broke. This blow really slows him down, and I am able to get him to the floor and get his right hand in handcuffs, he is still in the fight though, and is curled up on his side with his left hand somewhere under neath him. I can finally start to hear sirens in the distance, but my focus is still on him and the fact that I don't have control of one of his hands, I have the cuffed arm in an arm lock and with my other hand, I am smashing his kidneys yelling (give me your other arm, give me your other arm), at this point back up comes tearing thru the door, I yell ( I cant get his other arm, he must have something) Now Olin leaps through the air ( olin is 6ft and 235 lbs) and lands on this guy as well, We continue for at least 30 more seconds to no avail. We just can't get his other arm up. By this time 2 more officers were there, and we get him to his feet, at which point I make a startling, and comical, not to mention relieving revelation.........................He only has one arm.
So, in the end, Justice was served, and this one armed bastard would never return to "The Morning Kettle" cafe. Local rumors, within the AARP crowd, ran amok. All that was to be said was, that out police department did not discriminate against the disable.
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