December is the month of the low sun and short days. The city sits in mist. The streets stay damp. The sun has set behind the West Hills by the time roll call is done.
At the corner of 4th and Charity, I find Leroy. Leroy's sitting on the sidewalk. His back's against a brick building. He's raided a box of free newspapers and placed the papers in two piles. One's on fire. The other is waiting fuel.
I hop out.
Leroy's hovering, hands out, over the fire.
What are you doing?
He stares at the fire.
There is a pause. Then, he looks at me.
"Keeping warm."
Is this a good idea?
There is another pause.
His pupils are fixed. He is staring, focusing on nothing.
"Yeah."
A pair of transients round the corner. My car has attracted attention.
One exclaims, "God Damn it! What the fuck do you think you are doing!"
He looks at me. His voice changes. "Officer, I told him not to set the fire. He is not with us. Please don't judge us by him. We have nothing to do with him. We're around the corner, waiting to get into Tent City."
I look the man in the eyes.
I won't.
I need to attend to the fire.
They back away.
Leroy keeps staring at the street and says, "I'll put it out."
'kay.
He stands up and steps in the fire. He slowly shuffles across the blaze. His pant legs start to smoke and glow.
The transient says, "You're going to catch fire."
I pop the trunk to the prowler and pull out the extinguisher. I pull the pin and bark, Move.
Leroy shambles to the side.
I pull the trigger. The extinguisher smothers the flames in seconds.
The fire engine arrives. The crew is content with my effort.
It's Leroy's second fire in a month. They send out the arson investigator.
As we wait, I chat him up.
His pupils are dilated. His eyes are glassy. I don't smell alcohol, but in the cold, odors descend.
Have you been drinking?
"No."
Dope?
"No."
Are you sure you're not using?
"Yes."
His words are all monotone and soulless.
There is something missing. 20 year olds who aren't drug addicts are rarely on the street.
Leroy where's home?
"Scott's Valley."
It's a ritzy suburb in the next county. Their children aren't our regular clients.
Where are you staying?
"Tent City."
How long have you been homeless?
A couple months.
He has a jail ID.
Since you got outta jail?
"Yes."
Why were you in jail?
"People made up stories about me."
What stories did they make up?
"That I tried to kill my brother with a knife."
How old is your brother?
"Ten."
Does your mother have a protection order against you?
"Yes."
Do you have a mental illness?
"Yes."
What is you diagnosis?
"I am schizoaffective."
There is no emotion in his voice.
Are you on medication?
"Yes."
When was the last time you took your medication?
"Six months."
Should you be taking your medication?
"No."
No?
"No."
Leroy, the sign of mental illness is being unable to make good choices. This is your second fire in a month. Is that making good choices?
"No."
Should you be taking medication?
"No.
Leroy, a professional athlete works out everyday. If he stops working out everyday, his body stops working properly.
"Yes."
You have mental illness, right?
"Yes."
A person with mental illness needs to take their medication everyday. If they don't, their brain stops working properly, right?
"Right."
It's time to get back on medication.
"I will."
I walk over to the other transients.
I need your help.
They look confused. The police don't ask the homeless for help.
You guys are staying at Tent City?
"Yeah.
Leroy's staying at Tent City. This is second fire. I'm worried he'll start a fire in the tents. There's no fire suppression system in the tents, and at night a fire could spread quickly and people will be hurt.
"You're thinking about us?"
Yes.
I need you to come to Tent City with me and be my witness. I want to get Leroy 86'd.
"Yeah! I'll do that."
The people who run Tent City don't like the police. I tell the story. The transient backs me up. The organizer pretends to blow me off, but adds Leroy's name to the 86'd list.
Back at 4th and Charity, the fire investigator kicks Leroy loose. I point Leroy east and out of downtown to an indoor shelter and send a message to our Mental Health unit to put Leroy on their radar.
I'm about to clear, but head back to the transient. I motion to him and pull a slip out of my pocket. The crowd begins to gripe.
"PoPo is out to fuck with you man."
"Leave him alone. He ain't done nothing."
"Fuckin' police."
I lock eyes with the transient. I have something for you.
He looks afraid.
"What?"
It is a certificate for a free Slurpee. It's only a small and it only good until the 31st.
He's incredulous.
"You are giving something to me?"
Yes. You helped me. You took ownership of your community. I appreciate it.
"Really"
Yes.
"I'll take it!"
I pass it to him.
He shakes my hand.
His girlfriend says, "Can I give you a hug."
Sure.
Merry Christmas.
You are a good man, and a good police officer. Thank you for the job you do. Please be safe. Merry Christmas.
Posted by: Pam | December 24, 2014 at 07:33 AM
Merry Christmas Pam!
Cheers,
RD
Posted by: RD | December 24, 2014 at 10:39 AM
RD, that's awesome, thank you bro for all that you do!
God bless you & the family.
May it be an AMAZING new year!
Posted by: Lance | January 01, 2015 at 10:09 PM
A TRULY touching modern Christmas story. Thank you for sharing that. TAG
Posted by: TAG | January 20, 2016 at 02:18 PM