When A Toy, Is, No Longer

March 2015

Signal 0 In Progress

Armed Subject in Crowd

It's not often you get a call for service and the dispatchers are advising a subject is armed with a firearm in the middle of a public crowd. Sure, it happens a lot on TV, but they have to keep the action going to keep your attendance in check. In the real world, it happens on occasion... but when it does, you can feel everything inside you sink to the bottom of your being the moment the person on the other end of your radio advises.

“Two hotel forty-two, I show you responding to an armed subject in a crowd. Caller's advising a juvenile black male is waiving around a black pistol, unknown type, at the Sunrise Capital Apartment pool. Suspect is a juvenile black male wearing a black shirt and jeans, holding what appears to be a high caliber pistol. Suspect is waiving it around and pointing it at other people at the pool. Caller advises approximately fifty people poolside, include several juveniles ranging four to eighteen years old. Approach with caution.”

As I accelerate, knowing I'm the closest unit to the apartments, I feel my guts running to the bottom of my soul. I know this is the job. I speed through lights, both green and red, and rage at the traffic in front which hardly understands the meaning of lights and sirens behind. If only the people in front of my vehicle knew where I was headed and why I was headed there. Maybe then they'd move a little faster to get out of my way.

As I pull into the apartment complex I take a moment to remind myself, “He's just a kid. Take a breath. You got this.” I park a short distance away from the pool and approach as tactically as possible. The pool was surrounded by a small fence, only waist high. I spot an opening in the fence and walk into the pool area. Weapon's drawn. The pool is full of children and children are running around enjoying a perfect summer day. I'm about to ruin everything.

I see a group of young men and women sitting under a cabana. They're the only people in the pool area who aren't dressed for a day of swimming. As I approach I am at the low ready, a position of preparedness for the puckering moment which is about to come. I command them loudly and sternly, “PUT YOUR HANDS UP! WHERE'S THE WEAPON? WHO'S GOT THE GUN?” The look of shock and awe in their faces is exactly what I needed; it gives me the edge when they're surprised, they become less likely to react if they are in shock. Several of the children look at one particular boy who's sitting in the furthest chair. He's mine to command. “WHERE'S THE GUN?”

The thing about children is this, consequence is a word which has little meaning. Juveniles are so often incapable of understanding just what sort of consequences their actions might hold. This was one of the perfect examples.

The boy stands up and reaches under his seat, pulling out a very large, all black, heavy steel looking firearm and produces it in a manner which for a split second throws my body into reaction. He's pointing a gun directly at me. “It's just a toy.” he says, as if I have the time and distance to inspect it myself while he wields it at my body. I could feel my finger depressing the trigger as he spoke. A boy... a child no more than thirteen years old. Completely void of consequential thinking as he holds onto the most realistic looking toy gun I've ever seen.

My mind races for a moment and flashes forward, into the future. I see my life, having taken the life of a child at a pool party, and I weep. I see the news spinning a story about an unruly officer who killed a child who had nothing more than a toy in his hands. I see the parents holding a press conference alleging of racism in law enforcement and how their child should never have been put in harms way by the man.

In that split second, I release the pressure on my trigger finger and lunge at the child, throwing the brunt of my weight and Kevlar vest into the direction of his muzzle. Hoping to myself in this moment, should he take the shot, it would bury itself deep in my chest and into the protective clothing which was made to keep me breathing. I take hold of his hand and secure the weapon and immediately handcuff his wrists to one another. He takes a seat on the ground at my feet.

For a moment I pace back and forth. I see the faces of the children around me, the wide eyes of the children dumbfounded at our response who wade in the pool. One child cries in the arms of her mother. I look back at the boy as he sat on the ground. I lost it. As I screamed and yelled at him I could feel the arms of the deputies who responded as my aide grab and pull me away. My hands were shaking. If I were a cartoon character there would have been steam bellowing out of my ears and whistling loud enough to shatter windows.

I caught out of the corner of my eye two adults walking up with overly concerned looks on their faces. I approached them to find they were the boys parents. Worried they asked why their son was handcuffed at the pool and sitting on the ground. I explained the situation to them and, to my everlasting surprise, they didn't say a word.

The way the father left my company was stoic. He walked to his son in the same fashion I can remember my father walking towards me when I done goofed. With a strong purpose. As he reached his son I heard his breath tear through the wind as he screamed at his son, “You could have been killed! What in the hell were you thinking! You're done! You're grounded! You're never going outside again!”

For a second, I let myself smile. This couldn't have gone any better and could have gone so much worse. I was thankful for my training and thankful for my second guessing nature and willingness to be open minded. More so, I was lucky. This career doesn't often reward an officer who second guesses himself and often punishes him quite severely. Today I will count my blessings.