I'll sue you

A while back I arrested this guy.
I don't remember his name or even what I arrested him for. All I remember is what a belligerent jack-ass he was. Cursing and yelling. He was compliant enough to not get himself into any more trouble than he was already in, but he would not stop running his mouth.

I'm not an emotional person but he was really irritating me and other than getting his biographical information I didn't talk to him. While waiting to see the magistrate he continued his litany of verbal abuse as I wearily rolled my eyes in an attempt to find my happy place. Finally he says "I'm gonna sue your ass." Not a new or original threat by any means, everyone threatens cops with civil litigation. I just leaned close to him and whispered into his grimy little ear "I hope you do."

He stops talking and just looks confused as I explain "I'll counter sue your dumb ass, You'll be so in debt to me I'll own your children's children."

....????....???....

I guess he didn't know what to make of either the statement as a whole or the calm natured delivery, but he shut up for the first time since I had picked him up. He couldn't do anything but stare at the floor the rest of our time together.

Summer 2001

I wiggle my legs to make sure they're still attached.

My car has finally stopped and landed, upside down. I realize I'm hung in a tree. My car teeters forward then back. I'm hanging by my seatbelt. I move my arms, wiggle my fingers.

I exhale.

My airbag has deployed and deflated. A white powder fills the passenger area and collects on the roof below my head. I see the ground six feet beneath me.

My career is over, I think as I sweep the mic off the roof underneath me to call it in.

I'm speeding down the road, blue lights flashing, siren screaming. A burglary in progress. I cross the narrow bridge. The road is unfamiliar to me. I near the address I'm headed to and turn my emergency equipment off.

My heart is Racing. Pure adrenalin. Two cars enroute to back me up. I come into a turn. My tires find the loose gravel in the road and I begin to fishtail. I turn into it but begin to swing wildly in the other direction. I try to correct, and spin all the way around. After three wide fishtails I turn into and and just lock the steering wheel. I'm now in the wrong lane of traffic, 70 MPH and traveling backwards. I hear crunching metal as I hit the guardrail. That's good it will slow me down, I think as my car leaves the ground. It's so slow. I watch the steering wheel break open as it expels the airbag. Like riding a roller coaster, I think to myself. The airbag slowly inflates. I watch as it nears my chest. My car twists through the air. I see the guard rail beneath me through my drivers side window. It's sliding by impossibly slowly. The airbag wiggles and slowly begins to deflate. My car goes over the guard rail. Time speeds up. I hear a loud CRUNCH and my car abruptly stops. I collect my thoughts. I wiggle my legs to make sure they're still attached.

Slow night, I think as I pass a 24 hour gas station. I wave at the clerk. She waves back. The call comes in, a burglary in progress. I've never heard of the road this call is on. I use our car to car channel to get directions. Two cars check enroute to back me up. I'm speeding down the road, blue lights flashing siren screaming.

Dead in a ditch

I can smell the putrescent decay from here...

I'm at least a hundred and fifty yards away and I can Still smell it. It's hot and humid today. The end of July always is in the south. "I hate the summer here" I think as I stretch the yellow DO NOT CROSS. CRIME SCENE. tape between the weathered fence posts on either side of the road.

I see my Sergeant down there. He's motioning for me. I respect my sergeant. He's a smart, loyal man. He looks, to me, like agent fox mulder from the x-files show. I duck under the crime scene tape and walk towards him. The gravel crunches and puffs of dust spiral into the air under my feet as I take each step on the gravel back road. The sergeant walks toward me holding his nose. "Can you stay down here for a minute?" he asks. "I need to get some fresh air."
"Sure. Where is it?" I say.
He just points at the woods as he continues walking to my car.

What smells unpleasant at a hundred and fifty yards has become unbearable in the ten feet of separation I now have between myself and the body. I walk to the edge of the woods and there it is.

"MY GOD!" I think. It doesn't even look human any more and I wonder how long its been here, festering in the hot sun and humid air.

It is black, charred looking and splotched with large yellow pockets of what I imagine to be puss. It's bloated to near bursting and seems to be bent in half. It might be laying face down, but it's hard to tell what's what.

It's full of maggots. The body writhes with them just under the slick skin's surface. I can't tell if they're trying to eat their way further in or make their way back out. I decide maybe they are happy where they are. Feasting. There are a few of them squirming hungrily on top of the skin. Trying to eat their way in to join their brothers and aid in the natural order of life and death.

I know that when they move the body it will split open and fall apart gushing a mixture of thick ooze and maggots onto the ground. I'm glad my shift is near end and I won't be here for those festivities.

The body is neither recognizable as male or female. Indistinguishable as to race. I wonder who it was in life. I imagine someone has been missing them. Somewhere I imagine a child, spouse, mother, father or all of the above is hoping their loved one isn't lying dead in this ditch, perhaps they've been pacing the floor waiting on this corpse to walk in the door any minute now. Hoping. Praying.

Whoever this is has become the cliche parents try to scare their teenagers with. The time tested "You'll end up in a ditch dead somewhere."

I wonder what this person did that was so unforgivable they had to be ended like this. I imagine it is one of our local drug addicts.

My shift ends and I go home, talk to my six year old son about the evils of drugs. He rolls his eyes and says "I know all this already daddy. You already told me about it." I give him a hug and he goes to his room to play with his toys and I worry, knowing that someday someone will offer him drugs. I hope at that moment he remembers all the talks we've had about this and he makes the right decision. I don't ever want to pace the floors wondering if he's in a ditch somewhere on a dirty back road. My baby discarded like an animal.