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.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
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.
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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