Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Once you're hooked, you're hooked...



Went through some training last month designed to help keep us up to speed on various situations that might arise in an arrest scenario that we might be involved in. Keep in mind, that unlike a road patrol officer, who might be making an arrest by themselves, or with a single officer for back up, whereas we normally go out in teams of at least five agents when serving warrants and are serving them in residences, not on the roadside. While we are by no means, a SWAT team, we do go in with a plan, with designated people to gain entry, contact, cover, and agents detailed to secure the perimeter.

The last scenario of the day, had myself playing cover to a veteran agent as we proceeded to clear the house, our entry agent having gained us access, and controlling the several non-hostile civilians who happened to be in the front room, with the aid of a perimeter agent.

My contact agent opens a door, with me right behind her, and I hear shouting and see the glint of light on a blade. I draw my weapon, and take a couple of steps to the side, giving myself a clear line of sight to the potential target, while still be able to cover my contact agent, and gain myself a bit of cover if needed. Unnecessary it seems. the veteran agent cleared leather like greased lightning, and drilled the suspect who was approaching her, while waving a large sword in an aggressive manner.

Good shoot, by the book, etc...guy isn't dead. He's laying on the floor, moaning and clutching his chest with his right hand, while his left hand still menaces with the sword. This is where it really comes home, how realistic some of this training can be, and how involved you can become in the false reality of the training. The veteran agent was shocked by what she had done, and immediately began apologizing to the suspect for shooting him, and telling him everything was going to be OK. Myself, being a bit more cynical, and focused on covering my contact agent's butt, moves in, and steps on the guys left wrist, and disarms him. Then, since I've got a wrist trapped under my boot, I go ahead and slap a cuff on it, and then manhandle the guy over onto his chest, until I can get the other wrist in cuffs. Showing a bit of compassion, I do apologize for any additional pain I might be causing him, and assure him that as soon as I get the cuffs on, I'll get EMS there double-quick.

My primary focus on on getting this guy safely into custody, without anything else going pear-shaped, so it's a minute or so before I realize that the veteran agent is asking why I'm cuffing the guy. I explain that he's under arrest, so I'm cuffing him. The reply is, "But he's been shot!" Doesn't matter. If I have a warrant for your arrest, and I'm in physical contact with you, the cuffs are going on, regardless of your condition, we'll sort it out once EMS, the local officers, and a supervisor arrives. By the book. It's not my fault the guy got shot, nor that he had a warrant for his arrest, I'm just doing my job, and I'm not going to risk myself, the agent I'm covering, or anyone else responding to the scene by not doing it right.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago. I've got a a guy on my caseload that's due to report to me, let call him Chuckles. So I get this phone call, before report day, it's Chuckles girlfriend, or baby momma, or friend-girl, or whatever she's being called. She tells me that Chuckles has bench warrants, and that "He needs to sit down for a minute." I kid you not, they've apparently been arguing, so she thinks he needs to sit down and think about things for a bit. Whatever her motivations are, I'm happy for the heads-up.

Chuckles comes in to report, we go through the formalities, and then I tell him I need to check something in his file, and step to the back. Whereupon I immediately called the local County Warrants office, and confirmed that they did in fact have an active warrant for Chuckles. They stated a unit was on it's way to pick him up, and I told him I would hook him up and await their arrival. At this point, I remember that we're operating pretty much on a skeleton crew, and I need at least one other person there when I hook this guy up. I grab Goose, who is still on light duty due to a dog bite incident. Goose dutifully informs me that he is on light duty, and can't be involved in any arrests, even though he's usually the first on to volunteer to get in the middle of something, he's actually toeing the agency line. I don't feel like hunting down someone else, so I tell him to just stand there and look menacing, I'll do all the work. I hook Chuckles up, no problems, Goose grabs me an evidence bag as I begin emptying out the guys pockets, making sure he doesn't have anything illegal on him before we sit down to wait on County to arrive.

As I'm taking the watch off of Chuckles wrist, I notice that his hand is sweaty, and I don't mean just a little wet on the palm from being nervous, but big beads of sweat all over his hand. I draw back and observe that the formerly calm Chuckles, is now covered in giant beads of sweat. This probably isn't going to end well. Chuckles starts exclaiming about how he has to go to the bathroom. Luckily, the bathroom is maybe eight feet from where I take my reports, I escort him there, and as I turn to look back at Goose, Chuckles starts going on about how I need to let him loose before he craps himself, because he's got a weak bladder. Yeah, you read that right, he's going to crap himself, because he's got a weak bladder.

I tell him that I can't do that, because once he's hooked, the cuffs stay on. Once County gets here, if they want to loose him up, that's their decision, but for now, he just needs to suck it up, County will be here in a minute or three. At which point Chuckles plops down on the toilet lid, and begins spewing chunks.

No I've worked Crime Scene, and I've been around everything from backed up toilets and unwashed bodies, to weeks old Decomps, and about the only thing I really can't stand being around, is Puke. Here's Chuckles, spewing away, and I turn to Goose and tell him to go get a supervisor.I may have gotten a little frantic in my demand for a supervisor, but hey, it's puke, and Casey doesn't do spew.

Supervisor comes, decides to call maintenance to send a cleaning crew for the room, and County takes Chuckles into custody, and transports him to jail. Funniest moment was probably when the little lady from HouseCleaning came walking in with a handful a paper towels to clean up the mess. I was still dealing with Chuckles, but I have it on good authority that the supervisor looked at her, and said, "honey, you're going to need more than that." :)

Anyway, it kind of brings home the point, that once you hook somebody up, there is no un-hooking them, unless there's a radical change in circumstances, usually involving the orders of someone several pay grades above yours. Bleeding or Puking, or anything in between, if we have a valid warrant, you're getting hooked, and someone else can straighten it out later.

Take care all, and be safe out there.


Casey

1 comment:

commoncents said...

INTERESTING POST!

I just wanted to say I really like your blog. Keep up the great work!!

Steve
Common Cents
http://www.commoncts.blogspot.com