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It was just a hangover. I was just a cop. And it shouldn’t have been as hard as it turned out to be.
I pulled him out of the car. He'd been weaving all over the road. We were standing on the side of LaCienega Boulevard. The sun was beating down on us and I felt like a cockroach in the middle of a kitchen floor. I felt exposed, standing in the sun. My underwear felt too tight, my eyes were itchy, and my brain was not responding to stimuli.
The shades I had on weren’t really cutting the sunlight. I needed to be somewhere indoors with air conditioning, preferably with a beer.
The Bronco had been weaving so we pulled him over. The driver was pretty drunk. I could smell the booze on his breath when I pulled him out of the car. I was jealous. There was a hip flask sitting in the passenger side of the car. I reached in, picked it up, and pocketed it for later. Totally impulsive. I have no idea what came over me.
The guy didn’t even notice. My partner was standing ten feet away with his gun drawn. I told the driver to put his hands up on the side of the truck.
Cars were slowing down as they drove past on the busy street, kids with digital cameras leaning out the windows.
The driver slapped one hand up against the side of the car. I told him to put the other one up there as well. Like I said, I was hung over. Hazy. Stupid.
He only had one arm.
He was crying.
Something about men crying makes me ashamed. After that, I get angry. I grabbed his wrist and yanked it down behind his back. I snapped my cuffs off of my belt and put one of them around his wrist. He didn't even yell. It was more of a sob.
I actually reached up to pull his other arm off of the truck. Of course my hand grasped empty air. I stumbled a bit and regained my balance. Grabbing the perp’s other arm was a move I’d done thousands of times. Just reflex.
Maybe I wasn’t hung over. Maybe I was still drunk.
So I’m standing there, this perp’s only wrist in a handcuff, and I’m holding the other end of it. I look at the guy's stump of a shoulder. I look over to my partner.
He’s having trouble not laughing.
Later on, I found out that this guy was driving back from the hospital where they’d removed his arm. He was going to need lots of counseling and I sure didn’t help any. I mean, he was definitely drunk but I didn’t need to be so rough.
I blew a high number during the inquiry. I was suspended.
The question keeps occurring to me during my ‘vacation’, though. I can’t find anything in the manuals about it.
How do you handcuff a one-armed man?
tags
I pulled him out of the car. He'd been weaving all over the road. We were standing on the side of LaCienega Boulevard. The sun was beating down on us and I felt like a cockroach in the middle of a kitchen floor. I felt exposed, standing in the sun. My underwear felt too tight, my eyes were itchy, and my brain was not responding to stimuli.
The shades I had on weren’t really cutting the sunlight. I needed to be somewhere indoors with air conditioning, preferably with a beer.
The Bronco had been weaving so we pulled him over. The driver was pretty drunk. I could smell the booze on his breath when I pulled him out of the car. I was jealous. There was a hip flask sitting in the passenger side of the car. I reached in, picked it up, and pocketed it for later. Totally impulsive. I have no idea what came over me.
The guy didn’t even notice. My partner was standing ten feet away with his gun drawn. I told the driver to put his hands up on the side of the truck.
Cars were slowing down as they drove past on the busy street, kids with digital cameras leaning out the windows.
The driver slapped one hand up against the side of the car. I told him to put the other one up there as well. Like I said, I was hung over. Hazy. Stupid.
He only had one arm.
He was crying.
Something about men crying makes me ashamed. After that, I get angry. I grabbed his wrist and yanked it down behind his back. I snapped my cuffs off of my belt and put one of them around his wrist. He didn't even yell. It was more of a sob.
I actually reached up to pull his other arm off of the truck. Of course my hand grasped empty air. I stumbled a bit and regained my balance. Grabbing the perp’s other arm was a move I’d done thousands of times. Just reflex.
Maybe I wasn’t hung over. Maybe I was still drunk.
So I’m standing there, this perp’s only wrist in a handcuff, and I’m holding the other end of it. I look at the guy's stump of a shoulder. I look over to my partner.
He’s having trouble not laughing.
Later on, I found out that this guy was driving back from the hospital where they’d removed his arm. He was going to need lots of counseling and I sure didn’t help any. I mean, he was definitely drunk but I didn’t need to be so rough.
I blew a high number during the inquiry. I was suspended.
The question keeps occurring to me during my ‘vacation’, though. I can’t find anything in the manuals about it.
How do you handcuff a one-armed man?
tags