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
Monday, May 26, 2008
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
