December,2008
SFC HEADQUARTERS DOCTRINE
"Read by Thousands Round' the World!"
20 December 2008: “Flying Free in the Frays of a Fracas." And Other Alliterations of Christmas
This is the Christmas time and its time to spread good cheer. In this holiday spirit we dust off this great Christmas carol of family love and togetherness.
" ‘Twas Christmas day and all through the town, not a creature were stirring…except the Belamy Brothers who were beating the Be-Jesus out of each other…
Christmas day, 1977. I was on patrol with Gary Billings. Day shift. It was customary for we uniformed unfortunates back then on holiday duty, to work “out of the house,” so to speak. That meant one made roll call and briefing at the beginning of the tour, and then could spend most of the day at home with their family, but ever ready by the phone, squad car outside, to answer any calls. This is not an uncommon practice in the good ol' days, in police departments across the country on such big holidays. Might still be true in some places? And there were always some Christmas day calls, a few accidents, domestic disturbances, etc. Only the most evil of cops were out hunting their daily traffic ticket prey…but then you know how the sick and obsessed are. Back then, Gary and I were single guys and we decided to just “drive around” as if it were any usual day. Gary was the senior officer on the shift back then- a position entitling us to rove the whole city, usually backing up other officers on calls, then being dispatched when all other units were tied up. But this Christmas we decided to try and handle as many calls as possible ourselves, and let our friends stay at home near the yuletide (whatever the hell a yuletide is).
So when the radio call came out about trouble at the Bellamy Brothers house, we went straight away. The brothers, Jeremy and Joe, both in their twenties were chronic problems and would, a decade later, score big sentences for violent crimes. Jeremy sold crack for years and eventually killed someone. Joe did a little dope and just robbed people. In the seventies they were just blossoming thugs, experimenting with law breaking. I became one such experiment.
The neighbors, trying best to enjoy their yuletides, had reported a front yard Belamy family brawl. The brothers were arguing and bashing it out. The parents took sides and the three sisters were there to add piercing screeches to the overall holiday soundtrack. As we pulled up, the brothers were pushing and yelling at each other. Dismounted, I got between them, palms out shoving Joe back by way of an open palm to the throat area, and I held him at bay with this hand. Gary marched right up to Jeremy and well…started his “Jack Webb” routine – you know, that whole robotic, riot-act reading thing in a monotone voice. Jeremy took one look at him and belted him right, square in the Jack Webb nose. Glenn launched back like a solid piece of wood, his gold-rimmed glasses ejecting into the air. Bam! He hit the turf, apparently knocked cold. Okay! Lonely are the brave! Just in case you ain't keeping score, that'll be me...versus the Bellamys.
Jeremy turned his beady eyes next to me. He rushed me, and I got a palm across his chest too! So there I was, tottering between the brothers, stretched out and in the middle of a big squeeze. Honestly I don't know if they were after me or still after each other. But I got the gut feeling they would kick anybody's ass at this point, since Gary was already out cold on the lawn, like a stump. I turned to Jeremy and pushed back hard, then spun and punched Joe right in the throat. Joe staggered back up against a big elm tree, gripped his neck, whereupon he remained gagging and gasping. The three sisters, the father (who, looking back, I think was secretly rooting for me) and the boisterous mother (who was not our side) circled us in a chorus of curses.
Jeremy's arms flailed away at me, which I was able to batter away as best I could, but he did get a few deflected shots in on me. I was able to step in and trip him down onto his back, in a mixed-bag, unidentifiable, takedown technique. Jeremy landed on his back hard with me on one knee above him. I snatched his right arm as he tried to hit me in the face and tried punching him back, but he used his other arm to take out the sting and deflect each of my shots. Then with the fingers of his free hand busy pushing against my face, my new free hand got the cuffs off my belt and I cuffed that big left arm. One limb down. One to go. Glass half-full? Or half empty?
Suddenly a screaming banshee leapt half on my arm, half on my back. Spider monkey style. It was the big, fat Bellamy mama. Cussing me, she yanked on my arm and pulled hunks of my hair off my head! I shoved. She tumbled back and ripped my grip free of the handcuffed hand. Jeremy's emancipated arm quickly clocked me a good one in the jaw. Me no likey. Cause it was a good one as I recall. I saw the Constellation Orion for a second. The loose, open end of the cuff smacked the top of my head. Unfortunately the cuff end was open. It cut into my confused head.
As momma and I rolled back, me landing between her open legs, her house dress way up to her butt. It was an ugly scene. She scratched at my face and pulled even more of my long Glen Campbell hairdo. AND she held me back. I tell ya' she was a spider monkey! Worse, Jeremy was still down and kicking viciously at my legs. I spotted Gary slide an unsteady leg up under himself to stand up. Given my “rear mount” predicament, I got a little pissed when he stumbled away from me and back over to the squad car!
Big momma and I wrestled while Jeremy bolted up to his feet and started after me. He circled to stomp me as I pulled free from his Spider Momma. Gary got there just in time to scoop up one of Jeremy's arms before it pummeled down on me and it spin Jeremy off his course. Then I scrambled to get up. As Gary wrestled with Jeremy in a wide spiral dance, I had to grab the last hand-grip of the mother and pry it free of me. Thank God she didn't wrap those hairy legs around me! Once up, we double-teamed Jeremy into both cuffs this time. I beat his torso pretty wild and good with punches, and we chunked his angry, Christmas-ass face down on the frozen ground. Now who'se kicken' who, Santa? Jeremy was down for the count.
Next, Gary raced over to “ol coughen' Joe” gagging back by the elm tree. As he shackled Joe, two squad cars roared up. Seems Gary's little dash away from me was a dash back to our squad car to get on the radio and make a quick call for back up. A fine idea! I guess that's why he was the senior janitor in this social sanitation business we're in.
We marched the scuffling brothers into the back seats of the squad cars. The shift Sergeant took a look at my messed up uniform and hair, than a hard look at big Spider Monkey Momma, then back at me. “No,” I said, “no, let's not arrest her.” Tough decision, since she was 10 feet away streaming artistic quatrains of curses right into our faces, and probably had evidence (my Glenn Campbell hair) still stuck to her fingers. And, my face flesh under her fingernails. But it was Christmas! She was protecting her…babies! Albeit scumbags. Hellions. That, and ahhh really…and who needs the extra paperwork of a third arrest?
Joe was still gasping, but calm. I must admit that early on my so-called, police career I was a throat-puncher. Like a young fool, I didn't really understand just how dangerous it was to punch around the windpipe of somebody's neck. And good God it worked so well. But I settled in for the carotid artery strikes, which many cops called the Brachial Plexus Stun, and stayed away from the windpipe. I swear it's a wonder I didn't kill somebody, but each time, like Joe, they recovered. Imagine killing somebody on Christmas Day! And Jeremy was busted up real good by that point. He fought us and we kicked his ass until he stopped kicking back. Simple use of force.
Back then, if people were injured while fighting us during an arrest we didn't even give them so much as an aspirin. They sat in their city and county cells and suffered. So soon sat these Bellamy brothers, ensconced in our piss-ridden, foul, city cells, awaiting a trip to the similarly adorned county jail cells. But the rest of this yuletide afternoon Gary and I did spent at the hospital, having been ordered there by our lieutenant when he saw our blood trickles. Me on my forehead, Gary's from his nose. It wasn't much really, but he knew his official obligations. “Check up!” He ordered. Damn! I said, “LT, we are okay!” To no avail. Neither if us wanted the stigma of a trip to the hospital.
Garry and I felt like idiots being wheeled around in the mandatory wheel chairs for exams and x-rays, all precautionary requirements. Routine. It's no wonder we avoided reporting injuries whenever possible. That, and the subsequent harassment from one's …for lack of a better term…peers…
“Ohhh, does Hocky-Wocky have a whittle boo-boo on his wee, whittle head?” And the inevitable, “Did Gary boy hut' his nosey when the big bad man knocked him…ON HIS ASS!” HA! HA! HA!
Or in this case…HO! HO! HO! This would go on for days until the next troop scored an injury and then focus shifted upon them.
I got a few butterfly stitches from the open end of the cuff tearing my scalp. You would think all that VO-5 hairspray would protect my scalp, at least just a bit! Few know that the most common “edged-weapon” injury to a police officer is from the open teeth of a handcuff - his own or that of his buddy's - flying free in the frays of a fracas. At one point Gary and I found ourselves wheeled into a hallway, sitting about 20 feet apart in our wheelchairs, our nurses having abandoned us momentarily while in route to our perspective “treatments.” We stared at each other silently for a moment, then… “Merry Christmas Gary,” I said.
“Merry Christmas Hock,” he said.
Naahhh…we didn't say any such damn thing to each other. I thought it would sound nice and “holiday-ish” for you all here and now. Actually, we cussed up the fucking Bellamy clan like big dogs.
…and so, boys and girls, to ALL a good night. And that's my Christmas Story, a little something to warm up your yuletides- whatever in Sam Hill they are.
Adios, amigos +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
1 December thru 18 December, 2008:
Folks, I am off for the month. The blogs will return 1 January. Meanwhile, Merry Christmas and all that stuff....
Al Gore says the world is a burnen' up! There's a financial crisis on every street corner between here and Hong Kong.
The entire galaxy is in a painful price fix. Everything ain't what it was and ain't gonna' be what its supposed to be.
The USA election looks like a poor choice and I smell higher taxes in air. Good God man, Click here!
So every dang DVD and book is on major sale, starting now until we dodge that bullet.
Good God man, Click here!
Adios, Amigos, +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
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