I'm covering Carroll, on Beggar's and 18th. A drunk goth gal in a corset and safety pinned pants is raging. When I arrive, she's armed with a whiskey bottle, wielding it like a club. Seeing my prowler, she launches forward shrieking in a primal scream, "I hate you!" Her left hand finds the passenger side door and starts to swing the bottle to the window.
I exit to enrage. The goth circles the front of the Ford to fight.
And then, I grab her. I pin her biceps to her sides and say,
You will not use force or I will force on you.
She's stunned and stands in place. I see the healed cut marks on her wrists.
I cock my head, look around her, and address Carroll,
Wanta grab her?
Carroll had been standing back, mouth open, staring, but she quickly closes. Grabbing the gal, she disarms the drunk, dropping the bottle so it shatters on the street.
As we go to cuff, the gal arches her head back set to head butt Carroll.
I intercede, grabbing the goth's neck and pressing down until she's in a squat and unable to move.
As we lead her, crying, to Carroll's car, a woman screams down from the fourth floor of a walk up, "You stupid bitch! That's what you get for fighting the police!"
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