Lights flashing, he pulls slowly to the side of the road. He reaches for his microphone on his shoulder and informs dispatch that he has arrived on the scene as he throws his car into park. He rushes to the black Jeep Cherokee that is on its side, roof pressed up against the concrete barrier, steam rising from the hood. Climbing up onto the side of the car to look in he finds only one passenger. He evaluates the scene, hoping that backup and the ambulance will arrive soon. Knowing that time is of the essence he moves to the back window. Using his baton, he strikes the glass watching as it crashes into innumerable pieces below him.
They clatter as they fall, like crystal confetti.
Pulling himself forward he leans into the car and reaches his hand to the seat in front of him. “Male subject, 25-30 years old, brown hair, glasses, wearing a blue polo and blue jeans” rattles through his brain. He runs his hands along the seatbelt until he finds the warm neck just above the end of the polo’s collar. He searches, fingers rooting for life.
”Damn it”, he says as he continues to reach around adjusting his feet as he finds himself sliding back down the side of the vehicle.
Sirens wail in the distance.
He presses on, hoping, praying for a sign. He finds nothing.
He pulls himself up from the window. He looks behind him to find another officer running his way, while the ambulance nears in the distance. Knowing that help is near, he turns and lowers his entire body into the side of the car. He is standing on broken glass, crouched between a large duffle bag and computer. He reaches both hands this time, one to hold the head in place, the other to again look for a pulse. Still nothing.
Help arrives.
“I can’t find a pulse. We have to get him out of here.” He says as the other officer begins working. The door is opened and hands cover his.
“We’ll take it from here.”
He looks into the face of a first responder as he removes his hands. He again begins cataloguing “No cell phone in sight, picture of a young woman with blonde hair on the dash, no car seats…”
He pulls the duffle bag with him as he exits the vehicle and returns to his car.
Another fatality.
The second this month.
The sound of his radar gun begins to ding as he watches a white car in the distance approach. The accident yesterday brought him back here again, hoping that he will be able to encourage other drivers to slow down, just by the presence of his car. This car is not slowing and as it passes by, he flips on his lights and pulls in behind.
The white, Toyota Camry, pulls to the side of the road. The officer checks carefully and then exits his vehicle. He can tell as he approaches that the female in the driver’s seat is upset. He knows he will not receive a warm welcome, but he puts on a kind face as he taps lightly on the window. He can very nearly see the steam of anger rolling off her as she rolls the window down.
“Good afternoon ma’am.” He says, “Do you know how fast you were going?”
“No why don’t you tell me.” She responds angrily.
“Well,” composure kept, “you were going 65 and the speed limit is 50, it’s really important to slow down for these turns.”
“I drive this canyon every day and I know the turns very well. I have a meeting to get to today.”
“Can I get your license and registration, please.”
She reaches beside her, in haste, and returns the papers to him.
He returns to his car, checking the information in his computer, and begins writing her a ticket. He doesn’t like doing this and makes sure to adjust the number down, hoping that her insurance increase won’t impact her every month. He thinks of the accident last night and looks up to see the anger the woman’s face in her rear view mirror as she talks aggressively on her cell phone.
No doubt she is blaming him. Most likely this event will make the social media in the form of “Cops in the canyon pulling everyone over-jerks,” or “I was only going maybe five over, seriously I can’t believe him.”
He will take this, even though it isn’t his job. Instead he will know that even though she doesn’t, he may have just saved her life. The man last night was only going five over. He doesn’t want to respond to another accident with her in it.
He returns to the car handing over the paperwork and the ticket. She rudely signs as he tells her that he reduced the speed. “I hope you slow-down in the future ma’am.” He says as she swallows his words with the closing window.
Returning to his car, the wind of a close passing semi-truck take his words, “Your Welcome” as she likely calls him a four letter word back into the cell phone. Maybe tomorrow she will slow down, and maybe tomorrow instead of responding to her accident, he will get to go home on time and have dinner with his family.
well written. An interesting view, from the other side. we often don’t think about how an officer feels. just that we are late or in a hurry and were pulled over. “) Thank you.