Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Death



When there is an emergency in Van Buren County, dispatchers press a button at the dispatch center that sends out an emergency tone to every State, County, or Township car.  This emergency tone blares in every portable radio and car radio in the county.  I don’t know why, but the pitch is a high pitched warble that fluctuates between a piercing scream and an erie mournful  wail. The hair on the back of my neck stands up every time I hear it.  The tone itself can stop any one in their tracks…If I’m at the post when the tone goes out, I whip out my pen and start writing on my hand or whatever is closest.  If I’m driving in my State Police patrol car, regardless of if I’m on the highway or regular road I pull off to the side of the road and begin plugging in the coordinates on my computer.


On this certain day, myself and my partner were at the post at around 4:45 A.M on a Sunday  morning, doing report writing, gun cleaning, and doing a few odd things before our shift ended.  For a Saturday night, the night had been a steady flow of arrests and busy per usual.  I remember us both being exhausted as we set in doing our report writing at our respective computers.  However, the day shift wouldn’t check in for a couple more hours, so we were still the only car on in the two counties for the State.

I remember the emergency tone as it came through  my ear piece that was connected to my radio-that shrieking, screaming, wail and my hands froze mid typing.  The dispatcher on the end droned out “911 call of single vehicle into a tree,  unknown injuries,  called in by an off duty township firefighter.”

My partner radioed up our coordinates and waited for a response as we headed toward our already running patrol car.  We knew that jurisdiction issues would arise and we would be taking the crash.  “Van Buren to 51, looks like you’re going to be our closest car if you could head that way.  “En route from the post,” my partner responded.

It’s interesting when you’re dealing with high stress situations, you quickly find out what you’re made of.  As I activated our emergency lights and siren and screamed out of the parking lot into the darkness, my partner was calmly talking on the radio as if he were having a casual conversation with a friend.  Above the scream of the siren, the roar of wind, it’s impossible to hear anything, much less think.  I still was able to pick out certain details dispatch was telling us.  Car fire…unknown if occupied…  I looked at my speedometer…100 mph…110 mph…120 mph…130 mph…finally the 2010 bright blue Ford Crown Vic that we punished every night hit her final gear and settled into a cruise…. 130 mph was going to be the fastest we were going…Inwardly I cringed and wished we had a Dodge Charger as those hit 150 mph like it was an every day speed….every mph faster I went I figured would be a chance to save someone.



My adrenaline was rushing but on the outside I tried to not show it.  My partner and I were conversing of simple strategies.  “I’ll get the med kit, you get to the car.” “CPR and then stabilize.”  Already Van Buren advised us that fire and an ambulance were en route to the scene.  I covered 15 miles in a matter of minutes…As we rolled up on the scene, a dark county road, my brain processed everything in real time.   Our emergency lights danced off the canopy of trees that were overhead, and off to the right side of the road around a single tree, I saw a metal object-twisted, charred, and disfigured.   Small flames licked around a metal object that was completely wrapped around the base of a 2 foot tree.  There was smoke everywhere, as if someone had set off one of those fog machines that football players run through.  I flicked off my siren and left my lights on as to alert others to our location. 

“Van Buren County, this is 51, you can show us on scene.”  My partner and I rushed up to the car, our blue and red lights from our patrol car penetrating through the smoke.  Through the smoldering smoke I could barely make out anything inside.  The heat coming off the vehicle was incredibly hot. Everything inside the car was black and cooked, like the inside of a grill catastrophe.  The vehicle was completely wrapped around this small, 2 foot tree, like a bow around a Christmas gift.

The first thing I smelled was something burning…it took a minute, but I figured it out… burning flesh.  It’s a smell that is unmistakable.  It’s thick, and hangs in air, penetrating and clinging to everything that it comes in contact with.  I braced myself as I worked from the front of the car around to the trunk.

The second thing that I felt was death.  I eventually located the body, pinned back in the trunk.  The impact had caused the driver to get pushed through the backseat and into the trunk.  My brain couldn’t grasp how forceful of an impact it was.  The body was burned badly, and the only thing I could make out was bleached white ribs and teeth…it’s like it wasn’t a real human being, like a body from the TV show “Bones.”  Immediately I grabbed onto that thought.  “It’s not real.”

My partner in the meantime had confirmed for himself what I had already discovered.  He ripped the license plate off the vehicle and after the scene was secure with fire, ems, and other police officers, we went to track down, identify, and notify whoever it was in the vehicle.  My bright orange medical kit was in the front seat, mocking me as I looked at it.  I threw it into the trunk and slammed the lid shut.  Frusturation had set in for both of us.

The actual crash site in the daylight
The vehicle license plate came back to a house less than 3 miles away.  “They were three miles away from home…what a cruel joke.”  Outwardly my partner and I knew it was a job we had to do.  We tried to joke with each other as we had in many circumstances as we drove to the house.  This was different.  No jokes could cover this one.  The home whose driveway we rolled into was modest.  Nothing special.  One thing I did notice was several vehicles in the driveway.  My partner cussed aloud.  I felt his frusturation.  After spending over an hour and a half at the scene, emotionally exhausted, we knew were about to deal with a ton of family.

Inside I was heavy hearted.  At 6 A.M. we were about to deliver news on someone’s front door that someone was gone from this world.  The door opened to a middle aged man in his 50’s.  His face was marked with confusion. “Sir, can we come in and talk to you?” He cordially invited us into his living room, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Inwardly I could still smell the smoke and burning flesh on my uniform. 

Do you know a Diego Rodriguez?” His face was marked with confusion. “Yes, that’s me.” My partner shot a glance at me and I shot a look back at him. “Ummmmm, what do we do now?
“Sir, who was driving your car last night?”
 “My daughter.” 
“Is she here?”
“She went out last night, let me check.”
He left and trudged to a nearby room and knocked on the door.  “Maria, the cops want to talk to you.”
Inwardly I prayed for a response…”Maria!?”
A few moments later a college aged girl rushed from the room, on full alert.
“What happened!” She gushed out. “Ma’am, who was driving the vehicle last night.”
My heart sank to the pit of my stomach as I watched her frantically call her boyfriend who had dropped her off a few hours earlier.   She explained that she had received a text from him saying that he was only a few minutes away from home.  
By this time, 5 other siblings, a set of grandparents, an uncle, and both parents were all sitting down in the living room with solemn looks on their faces as they watched their family member frantically call every person she knew was with him.  Every report came back “No, he’s not here, he said he was going to your house.”
She crumbled to the ground sobbing, clutching the phone to her chest as my partner told her that her boyfriend was dead.  Her family members all sat in shock,  3 of her siblings holding her as she wailed.  I still remember those cries.


Next we had to track down his family and inform them.  We gave the girlfriend strict instructions to not contact the family until we had notified them.  As we pulled into the driveway, the sun was just coming up. My partner pulled over the car.  His face was grim. I already knew… “Don’t worry man I’ll do this one.”  I told him. He nodded and put the car back in drive.  Even in hairy situations, we had always maintained a pretty good attitude about things.  This one for some reason had sunk in with both of us.

 I remember the 4 stairs I climbed felt like an eternity.  I remember knocking on the door and meeting another 45, proud looking, man with jet black hair.  He already knew something was wrong.  “He didn’t come home last night,” he told me in a soft tone, that had an accent to it.  “Is he ok.”  As he spoke these words, I knew that he knew that his son was dead.  A thousand, charged, non-verbal communication signals were going back between us in those three to five seconds.  I’m sure the look on my face said it all.  They teach you on death notifications, to be straight to the point.  So I was.  My heart broke for him. “No he is not. I’m sorry sir, but your son, Jamie, is dead.” 

A father’s love for his son was on full display as this man cried on his hands and knees on his porch.  As we pulled away, I remember thinking that the worst feeling in this world was being a parent and having to bury your own child.

I wanted to destroy my uniform as I came home midafternoon.  I could still smell the burning flesh.  I was exhausted and mentally drained.  I took a shower and went to bed.  I ended up staring up at the ceiling for 3 hours replaying the body, cries, and the pain that these family members displayed.  I remember thinking “Someone just died, and I can’t even show any emotions.”  Frustrated with myself, I went to the gym and took it all out on a set of weights and a 7 mile run.  Still nothing.  I had no feeling left, I was numb. I showered again, ate and tried to sleep. Nothing.  This process continued.  I was awake for two days straights while my brain processed it all.

Peace was only achieved when the good book was opened.

“Hebrews 4:16-Let us then approach God's throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”

That was the first verse I read two days later and the last one too; as I passed out for 12 hours straight in deep sleep.