Raindogblue

On the Jaw

 

In the Alphabet District, on Second, in the doorway of defunct business, I gave two 4 ml doses of Narcan to man with ACAB tattooed on his jaw and 5150 on his eyebrow. He started breathing, woke minutes later, and limped onto the gurney to recover at the hospital. 

 

 

 

Ray's Off Fourth

 

 

Ray is raging again. He is the perfect storm of meth and mental illness. As we roll up, he runs up to Heartbreak and Shotte, screaming, "Who called you? I'm going to fight you."

As he points at their car, he stays, "I know you and I know you!. That is one and two!"

He sees my prowler and charges, and then stops as he sees me. 

He yells, "I like you!"

Ray yells to the spectators, "These cops are my friends. One, Two, Three! They will protect me."

Ray you got to go home.

Shotte and Heartbreaker endorse the idea and more.

It takes a minute for Ray to find his keys and gather his shoes, but he leaves and causes no more disturbances downtown for the night. 

 

 

 

 

On 5th

 

Somebody won a foot pursuit with a 20 year old tonight, and he might be over 50!

 

 

Ending Scrums

 

 

From my last use of force review, 

 

"Officer RD used physical strength to secure the suspect safely in the patrol car. He arrived quickly to assist officers that had been struggling with the suspect for several minutes."

 

 

 

 

 

Thursday's Scrum

 

Snake Charmer had a trainee for a few days. She had her trainee respond to my calls, so the new officer would get into a use of force. Today, the trainee went to Nights, and missed my regular Thursday scrum.

 

 

On Fourth, On the 6th Floor

 

Dale is dead. He's not breathing. His face is blue. There's a cap at his shoulder, a needle at his elbow. He used a speaker cord as a tie-off. 

I pull out the narcan from my med bag, remove the packaging, and put the expelling end in his nose. I press the plunger.

In a five count, Dale breathes. It's snorting, snoring breath, but he's breathing. 

By the time fire arrives, I canned the rig and pulled his ID from his pocket. 

They give him an IV and two more doses down the line.

Twenty-five minutes later, he's awake and talking, lucky his "date" called dispatch to keep him alive.

 

 

Rule #65

 

If a man in crisis is naked and sitting in a smeared patty of his own shit, there is a greater incentive to de-escalate. 

 

 

An Elude

 

On 19th, prowler pointed southbound, I watch a shiny Mercedes blow the mid-light red from west to south two car lengths from my ram bar. I flip on the overheads and sirens. The red car takes the first left and accelerates.  As I follow, the car passes a pick-up stop at the stop sign. I kill the sirens, the lights, and announce the elude on the radio as the Mercedes brakes hard avoiding, t-boning a black car on 18th. As soon as black car clears, the Mercedes launches east and then south on 17th. 

By policy, I cannot purse. A few of us area check to no luck. 

The car is registered to a homeless man, who is an armed career criminal. 

I park, write up a report documenting the incident, and BOLO the car, before clearing for calls. 

 

 

 

 

Doesn't Want to Be a Victim

 

Chicago Mike has long retired and has been working as a clerk at the front desk.

Last night, at the end of shift,  he asks, "Hey RD, are you busy?"

I'm finishing up a DUII, "Nah, what up?"

As I walk up, his head turns to man prone on the reception bench. 

"This guy just came in. He says he's been stabbed."

I look at the man. His black shirt is soaked in blood. The beach wood bench is starting to be smeared with blood.

I click my mic, "8 David 3."

The dispatcher repeats my call sign.

"8 David 3, the precinct has a walk-in stabbing victim. Send a night car and code three medical."

Chicago Mike hands me a pair of gloves as I head out into the lobby and the desk's scissors.

I begin cutting his shirt off. He's been stabbed twice in the chest, once in the shoulder, and twice in the hand.

EmDee and Piton arrive and try to interview the victim. 

He gives me his name and date of birth, but will only say he was stabbed in the dark. He didn't see a thing. 

The man only wants medical attention. He doesn't want to be a victim. 

 

 

By June

 

On 11th, I’m taking to Joe. His back is question mark. Shirtless, I can see a noose tattooed around his neck. Ever other inch on his arms is a scarred, dime sized pit: an abscess long healed. He has two unhealed on his left arm. Joe is skeletal thin. A scrum would break his arm. Unmedicated, he is in a spiraling mental health crisis. The world is his delusion. His meth addiction exacerbates his antics exponentially.

I put him on a hold tonight.

Today, he’s already been booked and release on a VRO. Jail recog’d him without bail. The hospital might keep him a few hours longer. Due to his behavior, he’s being evicted from his housing. By June, he’ll be another transient screaming on the street.