Ok ladies and gents, gather 'round. I'll share another story.
Fair warning: If you're not familiar with the term gallows humor/blue humor, google it, think it over and decide whether or not to continue. This story isn't as light hearted as the last few.
Installment 1: http://imgur.com/gallery/fV4D0
Installment 2: http://imgur.com/gallery/k2ZWJ
Installment 4: http://imgur.com/gallery/a8SJZ
Installment 5: http://imgur.com/gallery/h4BLz
Installment 6: http://imgur.com/gallery/Qk5rD
Installment 7: http://imgur.com/gallery/M6KdQ
Installment 8: http://imgur.com/gallery/f0irf
AMA part 1: http://imgur.com/gallery/IcQ83
AMA part 2: http://imgur.com/gallery/wMZa9
It was about 1930 hours, I'd been on duty for about an hour and a half. I was returning from a transport of dropping someone off at the county detention center when I was dispatched to an apartment complex on a "Nature Unknown".
"Nature Unknown" is a call that comes in, and for whatever reason the dispatcher can't figure out what's going on, or the caller won't or can't tell them, but dispatch knows that something is wrong.
My partner and I are both running code (lights and siren), and we arrive at about the same time. Just before arriving on scene, dispatch updates us that this is a "Party down." This is usually a medical or intoxicated person that has literally fallen down or is down/passed out, etc.
I'm met by the roommate in front of the building who is the party that called 9-1-1. I'm trying to ask him what's going on, but English is not his first or second language. I'm not mad at him, I only speak two languages: English, and Bad English – so he's got me beat. But he's talking rapidly, and he's upset, and gesticulating wildly, and frankly he's not making a **** bit of sense.
But at the time, I needed info and the quicker the better. I finally got him to stop talking for a minute and I asked one simple question: "Where?" I wanted him to point or tell me an apartment number, but in times of stress; people often do odd things.
He didn't say a word, he turned on his heel and SPRINTED into the apartment building. I followed quickly, with my partner right on my heels.
The roommate gets to the door and tries to open it. I move him down the hall to safety, unsure what exactly is going on. I turned the door handle and the door to the apartment swung inward.
As it swung open, I saw a guy in his early twenties, laying on his back not moving, just inside the door.
I saw that he was wearing a white undershirt, and there were eight red circles on his chest and stomach that were slowly getting bigger. I saw that he still had on socks, but no pants, no underwear. He was basically dressed like Donald Duck, if someone had shot Donald Duck in the chest eight times.
We drew our sidearms and stacked up to clear the rest of the apartment to ensure that there weren't any suspects or more victims somewhere.
As we moved passed the victim on the ground, my partner and I both did a double take. "Was that a….Yep. He's wearing a condom."
In reality it was probably less than a second, but it felt like we stood and stared for much longer than that. (Stressful events often induce sensory distortions in people: quieter than normal sounds, slowed time perception, tunnel vision, etc.)
We entered the residence, and found no other people, but I saw several bullet holes in the walls of the bedroom.
We returned to the victim, and unsure if he was dead or not, I quickly donned a pair of nitrile gloves and began applying pressure to as many of his wounds as possible, while checking for a pulse.
The EMTs must have been close because as soon as we advised Dispatch that the scene secure they were there in a heart beat. They scooped up the victim and raced him to the hospital.
Unfortunately he did not survive.
We had secured the roommate as a witness, and notified detectives who were on scene doing their detecting thing.
My partner and I were standing outside the apartment, keeping the crime scene secure. (Television is bullshit: not just anyone, cop or civilian can go waltzing under the crime scene tape into a homicide scene.)
The lead detective comes up to my partner and I and says: "Somebody said he was *****, but wearing a condom?"
"Yeah." I said.
My partner looks the detective straight in the eye and says: "One things for sure… he wasn't going to die of AIDS."
The detective chuckled and headed into the apartment.
I laughed and looked at my partner, with a "Wow. That was ******* dark. Bravo." look.
The CSI tech standing nearby looked at us like we'd slathered our ***** bodies in peanut butter and went running through a dog park.
As it turned out, we were able to quickly identify a suspect in the homicide. The roommate told us that the victim didn't have a lot of friends, and kept mostly to himself, going to school and coming home.
But a girl had recently showed up over the last few days and been showing a lot of interest in the victim, which was unusual.
We identified and found her, and she confessed all within about 36 hours. Her motive: she thought he had money. I will never understand what in the **** put that thought into her head:
He lived in the same **** hole apartment building as the couple from "Highway Divider of Love". He drove a 15 year old beat up car, and was a student.
But her gold digging *** seduced him, and right in the middle of them getting jiggy, she went full snuff-film. Shot him several times, took the keys to his car, and his tax return money: all $1000.00 or so dollars of it; and left.
She's in prison now, and will be for a very very long time.
The detective told me later: "Y'know, in all of my 35 years, I've seen some crazy ****. But I've never seen a dead guy greet St. Peter wearing a party hat."
Before anyone gets too rustled over the jokes, know this: We were alone. Just cops and CSI folks. The family, the roomate, everyone else was outside.
Cops see some seriously messed up ****. Sometimes we make jokes about it, because it helps us cope. If we didn't, we'd end up burnt out, ate up alcoholics, like TV portrays us to be. We don't do it to the families, or the victims, because that would be heartless and unprofessional.
This is tiny glimpse what we sometimes do to cope with the onslaught of concentrated depravity, sadness, anger, danger, ****, filth, and garbage that we're bombarded with. If you don't like it, be a big boy/girl and hit the right arrow.
Thanks for reading everyone.
Be good to each other, it's a crazy world out there.
More to come.
I've also got an AMA, I'm working on. If you've got a question, send it to me. I'll try to work it in.
Read more: http://imgur.com/gallery/lMjIP