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.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Chapter One "I Love a rainy night, I Love a rainy night"............not
Most of the time I enjoyed working 3rd shift, for me this was 2130 to 0600. I loved it for many reasons. Traffic is usually much lighter during these hours, making it easier, and quicker to respond to calls for service. If there was an alarm at a business during these hours, there was a greater chance that it was a "real" call, meaning that the "burglary" alarm probably wasn't false, and involved actual criminals. The last best thing about 3rd shift was that there was usually a lot of diverse criminal activity which usually had died down by about 0300. From the hours of 0300 to 0600, usually gave me time to get all of my paper work done, and catch a bite to eat.
Tonight would be different, and horrible.....
I arrived at headquarters for 2130 hours briefing about 10 minutes early. I sat in my personal car cursing the fact that I was too "macho" to carry an umbrella with me, as it was literally raining buckets. A quick run to the side door, and I was inside. After getting my gear bag, and rain coat from my locker, I made my way to the squad room for briefing. Pretty soon we were all present and the briefing began. The briefing tonight is being given by Corporal Roy Atkins, as our Squad Sergeant was on vacation. The briefing pretty much goes the same every night. A quick intelligence sheet read to us about certain areas of town being targeted by criminals, or trends occurring, and a mention of all stolen cars in the metro area from the hot sheet, as well as wanted subjects. Half-way through, and I am informed that I am acting Corporal for the next week. This means two good things for me. I wont be assigned to work in a sector, instead being north side supervisor and floating the entire north side, and receiving $1.35 an hour extra. Next Cpl. Atkins tells us that the National Weather Service has issued a flash flood warning for our area until 0200 hours. A grumble could be heard throughout the room. Rain, on the overnight shift, is a real call killer. Calls for service drop off to almost none, as it seems that cold rain even bugs the criminals. So I had 8 hours of boredom to look forward too. At least I was getting paid.
The night was slowly passing by. I had been making the best of it by listening to a little "Coast to Coast AM" radio with Art Bell, whom specializes in a talk show about UFOs, Ghost, Bigfoot, and the like. It was about 0100 hours and the rain showed no sign of letting off. We had a rookie officer working district 3 tonight, and district three has a bridge that goes several feet under water when it floods. I radioed him and asked him to check it, and to let me know what he found. A few minutes later he radioed me back and told me that the bridge was at least 4 feet underwater and the current was really fast. I told him to stay there and block off the crossing in case any cars came through while I returned to the station to get some barricades to properly block it off.
We blocked off both sides of the bridge. The barricades were the ones that are reflective orange and white stripped, with the flashing amber light on top. Pretty hard to miss.
The rest of the night passed by slowly, and the rain had finally stopped. Being about 5 am I had the Officer assigned to 3 go by and check the bridge , to see if if we could get it open before the morning rush. A few minutes later an excited voice comes over the radio "I need help at the bridge, there is a car under the water" As I turn on my lights and siren I advise dispatch to start an ambulance, and Fire department. I also tell them to call a larger city nearby. and ask for mutual aid assistance with their water rescue unit. I am soon advised that water rescue is tied up with another rescue.
I could feel the adrenaline pulse through me. It was going to be up to us. As I arrived I quickly jumped out. I was hoping that the rookie officer was wrong. I made my way to the waters edge. About 10 feet out and 30 feet from the bridge I could make out a large dark shape. The sun had not risen yet, and my flashlight beam was having trouble cutting through the water. Then I saw concrete proof. I could make out a turn signal flashing . I still had hope that the car was abandoned, and the driver/owner just had not reported it yet. That hope soon abandoned when fire personnel said that they could see an arm coming from a window that appeared to be moving. The car appeared to be on its passenger side, about 4 feet under. Our fire department had no plans or capability for this scenario. So I did as I always do. I acted. I quickly took off my gun belt, and tried wading into the water. Before I was knee deep the current knocked me down, and I had to retreat. Fire personnel tied a rope around my waist, and I went back in again. This time I made it almost to my waist and the water took me down again. I knew the clock was ticking for whom ever may be in the car. It just isn't in me to sit back and let somebody die. The water had lowered some and you could now walk on the bridge. Another officer asked me about using a winch from the fire truck to lower me in from upstream. So in the water I went again. About ten minutes had elapsed since I had arrived. This time I was able to stand on the side of the car with only about a foot of water over my feet. I got on my hands and knees and stuck my face into the water ( which was really cold , as this was late March), I reached in and felt long hair, so I pulled. The driver didn't budge. I stuck my upper torso into the car and found the seat belt buckle, and released it. I grabbed the driver and pulled her out. As I broke the surface with her, fire had already started the winch, and I was quickly near the bridge with a half a dozen hands reaching for her. It was then that I noticed she was a she, and young. Probably 16 at most, and wearing a McDonald's uniform.
I was afraid someone else may be in the car, and I knew people more capable than me were taking her, I went back to the car, and in again. Thank God there wasn't.
I was physically, and emotionally spent, and cold. 20 minutes of the paramedics working on her, and they were off. I soon found out that she was pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital. Identification removed from her car showed her to be a 16 year old Jill McNichols, with an address 2 miles from the bridge. Knowing what came next I returned to the station and changed into a clean uniform.
A part of police work, a bad part, that is seldom shown on television is that we are the bearer of bad news in almost every bad situation. Now I could have gotten out of this, since I wasn't assigned to district three, but I felt the Officer working this district to junior to take this responsibility on alone.
It now being about 6:30 am, and the sun was on the rise, we could make out the address 3324 Roark Valley road. We pulled into the driveway of a yellow ranch style home. On the trip to the home the rookie and I spoke. All though I wasn't much older, me 29 and he 25, I had 9 years police experience and he had less than a year, and he was quite nervous. This was also the first dead person he had seen, other than a natural death call, and he had never been on a "Notification". I explained to him that it was important to be sensitive, but also just as important to give straight, direct, information as quickly as possible, also to be compassionate, but somewhat stoic. We knocked on the door, which was soon answered by a middle age man whom I recognized as the owner of a local flower shop. He greeted us with a warm smile, and it was apparent he recognized me as well, as he quickly shook my hand and invited us in. As we stepped in, he asked if could get us a hot cup of coffee. I told him "no thank you" and informed him we there in an official capacity. He looked a little puzzled and asked if something had happened at the store. I asked him if he had a daughter named Jill who worked at McDonalds. He said he did, and asked what she had done. At that point I reached out with my right hand, placing it on his shoulder and told him " I am sorry to inform you that your daughters vehicle was washed off a low water bridge returning home from work. She was discovered about 5 am, and I am sorry to say all efforts at resuscitation failed, and that she did not survive".........a total look of bewilderment came across his face........and with that his wife yelled from the back room "who is at the door?", as he began to tear up, he said with a look of desperation on his face, that he couldn't tell his wife and could I please do it......and with that, I had to repeat the entire story. Before it was over we were all crying. (so much for stoic), and we soon left this kind family to deal with their grif in private.......neither one of us spoke on the return trip to the police department.
On my way home I stopped at my ex-wife's house, and asked her to see my daughter Allison, who was 4 at the time. Allison was still asleep, but I sat in a chair near her bed and held her hand for about 15 minutes, and wept.
Never again does the sound of a stream remind me of anything peaceful, I become quiet near them, and many that observe me might think I am lost in a peaceful moment, really I am standing on the bank of a stream many years before, in the dark feeling desperate.......
When I see the driver's side turn signal illuminated on the rear of red Chevy Cavaliers, it makes my pulse increase.........
Life isn't always beautiful.
Tonight would be different, and horrible.....
I arrived at headquarters for 2130 hours briefing about 10 minutes early. I sat in my personal car cursing the fact that I was too "macho" to carry an umbrella with me, as it was literally raining buckets. A quick run to the side door, and I was inside. After getting my gear bag, and rain coat from my locker, I made my way to the squad room for briefing. Pretty soon we were all present and the briefing began. The briefing tonight is being given by Corporal Roy Atkins, as our Squad Sergeant was on vacation. The briefing pretty much goes the same every night. A quick intelligence sheet read to us about certain areas of town being targeted by criminals, or trends occurring, and a mention of all stolen cars in the metro area from the hot sheet, as well as wanted subjects. Half-way through, and I am informed that I am acting Corporal for the next week. This means two good things for me. I wont be assigned to work in a sector, instead being north side supervisor and floating the entire north side, and receiving $1.35 an hour extra. Next Cpl. Atkins tells us that the National Weather Service has issued a flash flood warning for our area until 0200 hours. A grumble could be heard throughout the room. Rain, on the overnight shift, is a real call killer. Calls for service drop off to almost none, as it seems that cold rain even bugs the criminals. So I had 8 hours of boredom to look forward too. At least I was getting paid.
The night was slowly passing by. I had been making the best of it by listening to a little "Coast to Coast AM" radio with Art Bell, whom specializes in a talk show about UFOs, Ghost, Bigfoot, and the like. It was about 0100 hours and the rain showed no sign of letting off. We had a rookie officer working district 3 tonight, and district three has a bridge that goes several feet under water when it floods. I radioed him and asked him to check it, and to let me know what he found. A few minutes later he radioed me back and told me that the bridge was at least 4 feet underwater and the current was really fast. I told him to stay there and block off the crossing in case any cars came through while I returned to the station to get some barricades to properly block it off.
We blocked off both sides of the bridge. The barricades were the ones that are reflective orange and white stripped, with the flashing amber light on top. Pretty hard to miss.
The rest of the night passed by slowly, and the rain had finally stopped. Being about 5 am I had the Officer assigned to 3 go by and check the bridge , to see if if we could get it open before the morning rush. A few minutes later an excited voice comes over the radio "I need help at the bridge, there is a car under the water" As I turn on my lights and siren I advise dispatch to start an ambulance, and Fire department. I also tell them to call a larger city nearby. and ask for mutual aid assistance with their water rescue unit. I am soon advised that water rescue is tied up with another rescue.
I could feel the adrenaline pulse through me. It was going to be up to us. As I arrived I quickly jumped out. I was hoping that the rookie officer was wrong. I made my way to the waters edge. About 10 feet out and 30 feet from the bridge I could make out a large dark shape. The sun had not risen yet, and my flashlight beam was having trouble cutting through the water. Then I saw concrete proof. I could make out a turn signal flashing . I still had hope that the car was abandoned, and the driver/owner just had not reported it yet. That hope soon abandoned when fire personnel said that they could see an arm coming from a window that appeared to be moving. The car appeared to be on its passenger side, about 4 feet under. Our fire department had no plans or capability for this scenario. So I did as I always do. I acted. I quickly took off my gun belt, and tried wading into the water. Before I was knee deep the current knocked me down, and I had to retreat. Fire personnel tied a rope around my waist, and I went back in again. This time I made it almost to my waist and the water took me down again. I knew the clock was ticking for whom ever may be in the car. It just isn't in me to sit back and let somebody die. The water had lowered some and you could now walk on the bridge. Another officer asked me about using a winch from the fire truck to lower me in from upstream. So in the water I went again. About ten minutes had elapsed since I had arrived. This time I was able to stand on the side of the car with only about a foot of water over my feet. I got on my hands and knees and stuck my face into the water ( which was really cold , as this was late March), I reached in and felt long hair, so I pulled. The driver didn't budge. I stuck my upper torso into the car and found the seat belt buckle, and released it. I grabbed the driver and pulled her out. As I broke the surface with her, fire had already started the winch, and I was quickly near the bridge with a half a dozen hands reaching for her. It was then that I noticed she was a she, and young. Probably 16 at most, and wearing a McDonald's uniform.
I was afraid someone else may be in the car, and I knew people more capable than me were taking her, I went back to the car, and in again. Thank God there wasn't.
I was physically, and emotionally spent, and cold. 20 minutes of the paramedics working on her, and they were off. I soon found out that she was pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital. Identification removed from her car showed her to be a 16 year old Jill McNichols, with an address 2 miles from the bridge. Knowing what came next I returned to the station and changed into a clean uniform.
A part of police work, a bad part, that is seldom shown on television is that we are the bearer of bad news in almost every bad situation. Now I could have gotten out of this, since I wasn't assigned to district three, but I felt the Officer working this district to junior to take this responsibility on alone.
It now being about 6:30 am, and the sun was on the rise, we could make out the address 3324 Roark Valley road. We pulled into the driveway of a yellow ranch style home. On the trip to the home the rookie and I spoke. All though I wasn't much older, me 29 and he 25, I had 9 years police experience and he had less than a year, and he was quite nervous. This was also the first dead person he had seen, other than a natural death call, and he had never been on a "Notification". I explained to him that it was important to be sensitive, but also just as important to give straight, direct, information as quickly as possible, also to be compassionate, but somewhat stoic. We knocked on the door, which was soon answered by a middle age man whom I recognized as the owner of a local flower shop. He greeted us with a warm smile, and it was apparent he recognized me as well, as he quickly shook my hand and invited us in. As we stepped in, he asked if could get us a hot cup of coffee. I told him "no thank you" and informed him we there in an official capacity. He looked a little puzzled and asked if something had happened at the store. I asked him if he had a daughter named Jill who worked at McDonalds. He said he did, and asked what she had done. At that point I reached out with my right hand, placing it on his shoulder and told him " I am sorry to inform you that your daughters vehicle was washed off a low water bridge returning home from work. She was discovered about 5 am, and I am sorry to say all efforts at resuscitation failed, and that she did not survive".........a total look of bewilderment came across his face........and with that his wife yelled from the back room "who is at the door?", as he began to tear up, he said with a look of desperation on his face, that he couldn't tell his wife and could I please do it......and with that, I had to repeat the entire story. Before it was over we were all crying. (so much for stoic), and we soon left this kind family to deal with their grif in private.......neither one of us spoke on the return trip to the police department.
On my way home I stopped at my ex-wife's house, and asked her to see my daughter Allison, who was 4 at the time. Allison was still asleep, but I sat in a chair near her bed and held her hand for about 15 minutes, and wept.
Never again does the sound of a stream remind me of anything peaceful, I become quiet near them, and many that observe me might think I am lost in a peaceful moment, really I am standing on the bank of a stream many years before, in the dark feeling desperate.......
When I see the driver's side turn signal illuminated on the rear of red Chevy Cavaliers, it makes my pulse increase.........
Life isn't always beautiful.
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