Wednesday, August 6, 2014

I Think My Feelings Are Hurt

The other night I went on a barricaded suicidal guy. He had called his mom and asked her to buy him a car (never mind that he's in his 40s), and she said she would but not today because she was busy. So our boy said "Fine, I'll just kill myself then", and mom called us.

This is a guy we've dealt with before - meth junkie, highly volatile, hates cops, and in the past has barricaded himself in his apartment with guns. So, we take him kinda seriously. Several cops go into the apartment hallway and talk to the guy through the door, while I draw the short straw and get posted outside to watch the windows.

It's cold and windy, and I took my coat, hat and gloves home last week because winter's over, right? And my partner won't stop talking about how badly he has to pee. After about an hour the inside cops get our guy to open the door, and they cuff him up to take him to the hospital for his psych eval.

So, now I'm standing near the outside door to the building, and as they bring him past me, he stops, turns, looks right at me, and screams, "Fuck you, you fucking pig!" I couldn't think of one clever retort, so I just stood there.

Oh, and we found out later that mom isn't helping things by contributing to the car fund - our boy's last suicide attempt was by crashing a car into a wall.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Your very presence brings out the best in them!