Hurricane Wilma had come and gone. She was not a bad storm wind wise, a Category 1. There was some minor damage … trees down … wires down … street signs blown over … but nothing too bad.
By eight am I was up and outside. I got in my patrol car and started trying to make my way towards US1 and what was known as the “Triangle.”
The Triangle was the exit off the island.
At Eisenhower Drive, I was stopped cold by a river of ocean running across the island. It was running Gulf of Mexico to Atlantic Ocean. There were boats from the Garrison Bight Marina floating down the middle of Eisenhower Drive.
There was nowhere to go. I tried to box around but found myself hemmed in on all sides by ocean.
Eventually I found that I only had about 9 square blocks to work in, everything else was underwater.
We dealt with all kinds of crap that day. End of the day came, and I went home to get my head down and got about six hours of sleep.
*****
I woke up early and right back out I went. Picked up where I had left off and back into the grind.
The Keys were a mess. There is just no way to describe the amount of carnage and destruction around us. The ocean had been unstoppable, and it had encroached and destroyed everything in its path.
The girl was just part of the day – a side note really. But I was sent to her house first thing that morning.
She lived in a 2nd floor apartment and her apartment had stayed dry. In amidst all the carnage around us, this girl was okay. Her apartment had survived. In all this mess … here was this oasis.
But unfortunately, I was being dispatched because it was no longer an oasis.
She had gone downstairs and was helping a neighbor shovel mud out of the neighbor’s apartment, trying to salvage what they could.
The boyfriend came over – went upstairs – found the apartment empty and concluded his girlfriend must be cheating on him.
He proceeded to tear the place apart and break all her things.
He did a number on the apartment … cut up her furniture … broke all the lamps … knocked the dressers over … yanked out all the plants by their roots.
He tore it up proper.
I was profoundly disturbed by the senselessness of the act. I was surrounded by destruction everywhere I looked and here had been a little island of peace and calm within the storm.
The boyfriend destroyed it because of petty jealous rage and had he just checked downstairs, he would have found her in the neighbor’s apartment with a shovel in her hand.
It made me mad … the utter senselessness of the destruction. I made the decision to full court press the guy. I figured he earned a night in jail at least. I knew that he was driving a little yellow scooter wearing a blue jacket with yellow sleeves So, out I went, and I hit every spot I could come up with … family … friends … ex-girlfriends … his co-workers … anybody and everybody.
By the time I cleared the 3rd house, I was sure the word was out on the street. I was sure he knew I was looking for him because no one knew where he was. He was nowhere to be found.
And then I got the call.
It was Donnie – my swat team leader and fellow detective. He needed me to come by his house. His house had been hard hit.
I stopped looking for bad guy and rolled over to Donnie’s house to help where I could.
It turned out that his 6-year old daughter had found a little dog out in the street. The dog was a beagle mix.
She was small … soaking wet … covered in mud … and shivering uncontrollably. She was a mess.
When I walked up, Donnie had the dog cradled in his arms.
His daughter – Jordan – was standing in front of him and she reached out to pet the dog. The dog flipped and tried to bite her. Tried to nip her fingers off – hissed and snapped at her – and I thought … oh shit here we go … poor traumatized little doggie was going to be aggressive to boot.
I fully expected to get bit. I put on my leather gloves before I grabbed her. The gloves were tactical gloves, so they were designed for hard fighting. They wouldn’t completely protect me, but they would have helped for sure.
I didn’t know what I was going to do with her. Donnie said take her to the animal shelter, but I was thinking … they ain’t going to want to be burdened with this mess.
They were in the hardest hit area and I was sure they would be digging themselves out of the mud. They weren’t going to have the capacity to deal with this soggy little lost soul.
But … let’s first get past the aggressiveness and the snapping teeth and let’s get her in the back seat of my car.
One thing at a time.
So, I reached out and grabbed ahold of her.
I cradled her up like a new born infant and started to walk to my car.
Nothing … no snapping … no barking … no growling … nothing.
She cuddled up and settled right down.
I got in my front seat and was going to sit her in the passenger seat, but she wanted none of that. she wanted to stay on my lap, so I let her be.
She was still shaking uncontrollably so I rolled up my windows … turned the heater on … and pointed the vents at her because she seemed cold.
She didn’t make a sound and she didn’t move
By the time I had made the U-turn and turned left onto Flagler Avenue, she had captured my heart.
I was going to go to the ends of the earth to help this little dog.
As I drove up Flagler, I started bracing for the fight I knew was coming.
I just knew the animal shelter was going to have been hard hit.
I knew that they were going to give me static saying that they couldn’t help themselves right now let alone help this one little dog.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to play tough cop or try to sweet talk them into helping her, but I made up my mind as I drove up Flagler however it played out, I was going to go to war … the Devil himself be damned … I was going to go to war for this little dog.
I don’t know why I didn’t say fuck it and just take her home. The thought never even crossed my mind. I had tunnel vision on the fight that was coming, and I didn’t see options beyond that.
I got to the shelter and the door was open. I gathered the dog in my arms and walked through the door. Although I’m a big guy, I can be sneaky and quiet. I tend to sneak up on people on a frequent basis and I snuck up on those people.
To be fair – they were too busy to be paying much attention – so it wasn’t hard to sneak through the door.
I stood just inside the door looking around at a disaster.
To my left was a girl who was kneeling at a filing cabinet. She was pulling sloppy wet manila folders from the cabinet and throwing them in the trash. Those files were dripping wet and they were hitting the bottom of the trash can with this plunk sound.
In front of me was a guy with his back to me. He had a shovel and was shoveling mud out of the center aisle way. He was sweating buckets and didn’t look like he was making any progress.
Everything I was looking at screamed this shelter is out of commission and these people don’t have the capacity to take in lost dogs.
I figured screw it … if there is a fight to be had … might as well jump in with both feet.
I cleared my throat and said,
“Excuse me, I came across a little lost soul in my travels who needs some help and I am hoping ya’all might be able to give me a hand.”
The girl at the cabinet didn’t even turn around and I thought … oh shit, this is going to get ugly quick.
The guy with the shovel turned and looked over his left shoulder.
He looked me up and down … looked at the dog and said,
“Oh, that’s Posey.”
That’s all he said and then he went back to shoveling and ignored me.
I wasn’t sure what was going on or what had just happened.
Here I was … my little detective brain scrambling hard … trying to figure out what was going on.
I mean … I was being ignored … but not in a rude kind of way.
His looking at me and saying “oh that’s Posey” had been so matter of fact and so routine that I was thrown for a loop.
I realized that there probably wasn’t going to be as big a battle as I had thought but what am I to do in the meantime.
Do I just set Posey down?
Okay I got it … her name is Posey … and that guy only took a couple of seconds to identify Posey, so she must be familiar. But now he is back to shoveling mud and it’s as if we don’t even exist.
Uh … what now?
At that precise moment the boss of the shelter walked out a back hallway. She was facing me and was carrying something … I don’t know what … I didn’t really have time to look.
At the precise moment she walked out … I suddenly found myself trying to hang on to a squirming … yipping … twisting … bouncy … yapping little dog who clearly wanted to be put down.
Posey clearly recognized the boss.
It was one of those very rare moments in life when you are an eyewitness to pure joy.
It was pure joy … it was instant and immediate … and there was no doubt that what had been a scared little dog – unsure of her future – had just realized she was back amongst friends and that her world was going to be okay.
She squirmed so hard I couldn’t hold her … so I set her down and just let her go.
She ran across the floor and straight into the arms of the lady who dropped what she was holding and scooped Posey up in this great big bear hug. The boss immediately wanted to know where I had found Posey and I told her.
She started to tell me Posey’s story, but I couldn’t stay for long … I had to get out of there.
I caught pieces of the story as I rushed for the door … Posey had been at the shelter for almost 2 years before she had been adopted … she had been one of the boss’s favorites and they had been fast friends.
I caught the fact that they knew Posey’s owner and would get her back where she belonged. That’s about all I caught … I had to get out of there.
I didn’t want them to see me cry. So, I hauled ass as fast as I could.
It’s been almost 13 years and I still tear up when I think about that moment and the joy that little dog had when she saw her friend.
Any time I get overtaken by emotion on this job … I need a little bit of me time.
Nothing disturbs victims as bad as when they call 911 with their problems and the responding officer gets out of his car … takes one look at them … and starts to cry. It doesn’t instill a lot of confidence in your local police officer.
When I think of it, I see a SNL skit in there somewhere. Will Ferrell maybe … hello … I am Officer Ferrell … boo hoo hoo … how can I help you … boo hoo hoo … Will Ferrell just seems like the right guy.
Anyway, I took some down time … got a Diet Coke … got my emotions under control … and rolled back into the grind.
*****
It was the end of the day and I was tired.
It was hour 26 in a 32-hour block. I had gone through the emotional crap of the domestic. I had gone through the emotional roller coaster of the Posey saga. I had spent the rest of the afternoon running from one problem to the next. So many problems and so many people needing help the faces and the problems are all jumbled up and confused in my head.
I was looking forward to going home … getting a shower … and crashing on a bed.
The dispatcher came up on the radio and said the gas truck was putting out a last call for fuel.
There is one rule in a catastrophe you shouldn’t break. Keep your food, water and fuel topped off.
If you use it … replace it at the first opportunity and even if you still have 3/4 of a tank of gas left … if the fuel truck has a last call … top off.
You never know if the truck is going to make it back the next day.
So last call for fuel goes out and I was on my way to top off.
I started rolling down Flagler Avenue towards the elementary school where the gas trucks were staged.
I was waiting for the light at Flagler and Palm Ave and I was sitting there lost in thought. Thinking about an ice-cold Diet Coke and a nice cool house because my house was on a Fire Department electrical grid, I already had power back up.
I was completely lost in my own personal world.
When right in front of me … here comes a blue jacket with yellow sleeves riding a yellow scooter making a left turn.
It was right up on my grill. I couldn’t miss it. I couldn’t pretend I had missed it.
I have been looking for that Goddamn color combination all day and here it was.
Get out of here. There is no way. No fucking way I just ran into my domestic suspect on my way home after a Goddamn long hard day.
I did a quick double take … blue jacket, check … yellow sleeves, check … yellow scooter, check … okay, that’s the right color scheme so how’s the driver going to react to me.
I looked the driver dead in the eye and made eye contact. I saw it cross his forehead. I saw it in his body language as he tensed up. He was my guy and he knew it.
As he passed me, I cranked the wheel … hit the gas … and spun that big Crown Vic into the traffic lane behind him.
As I rolled around on him, he just pulled over. Where the hell was he going to go. No little 90-hp scooter was going to outrun the Crown Vic.
We came to a stop in front of the high school.
As I got out of the car and started moving towards him, he said,
“What did I do wrong officer?”
“Are you so and so?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have your ID on you?”
“Yes.”
“Let me see it … yep that’s you … you’re under arrest.”
He started crying and tried to use the sympathy card on me.
He was coming to the high school to get ice for his family and they were,
“counting on him.”
It was,
“imperative the family get ice for their food.”
He had to,
“get ice for the family and the ice truck was leaving.”
It was a half a dozen excuses in as many seconds.
I wasn’t having any of it. I looked right at him and said,
“You should have thought of your family before you decided to tear up your girlfriend’s apartment this morning … of all the mornings to have a jealous tantrum … you picked today … I have no sympathy for you … none … because if you had bothered to take 5 minutes and look for your girlfriend … you would have found her downstairs shoveling mud out of her neighbor’s apartment … trying to be a part of the solution not part of the problem … not you … you chose to be a part of the problem … you are going to jail … you earned it … so stop crying … shut the fuck up and take your medicine.”
I did not make it to the elementary school. By the time the arrest paperwork was done, the gas truck was empty and long gone. I did manage to make it home and get my Diet Coke and shower but three hours later than I had hoped.
What I remember most vividly about that day is Posey’s joy at seeing her friend and my absolute amazement at blindly running into my suspect.
I had been looking for him all day and hadn’t even come close.
I was amazed at how hard Karma must have been working to put him in front of me at the buzzer.
A one-minute delay either direction … his side or mine … and I would have missed him.
Karma