I read a recent entry on the blog of Beat and Release that was an all too familiar and rather disgusting aspect of the job. That entry inspired me to relate my own war story. A story that actually gave me the chills on a hot summer day.
It was a scorching, humid, August day in the southeast. I was working afternoon patrol shift as a solo unit. It was 1600 and I'm checking on duty. A day shift car calls me and asks me to come to his location. It doesn't sound like it's a major issue, I just figure he's going to brief me on some happenings in the hood.
Yes, it was the hood alright. The ghetto. Hookers, trannies, drug dealers, drunks, and some of the nastiness looking buildings and homes you've ever laid eyes on. Now mind you, some of these older folks had been there 20-30 years, back in it's prime, and before it deteriorated all to hell.
For the sake of identity, I'll refer to the day shift officer as "E."
E gives me the address and I am all too familiar with the street. This street in question abuts behind a diner that is a busy place for drug deals and addicts to shoot, snort, smoke or whatever. Sometimes even a sleazy sex deal would go down in this busy little alleyway. This diner is open 24/7 and I hated going in there. Not because of the scum that patronized the establishment, but because it was filthy and smelled bad. If a police car pulled up, they'd scatter like roaches. The manager only called us when he needed to because he liked to remind us we were bad for business.
E just wanted to pass on something. When I get there, he says he was dispatched to this DOA just before end of shift and was asking nicely if I would take it, since he had some appointment or other and well, we didn't get paid over-time. He would owe me one. Sure, I agreed and he began to brief me on it.
He says these concerned next door neighbors called police because they had been feeding the old guy's German Shepard the last few days and they hadn't seen old man "Smith" for some time. They were quite naturally distressed over his well being. E knocks on the doors and peers in windows. He can't see. It's extremely dark and all the windows are covered over to probably keep the heat out and both doors are locked. It's a very old building and undoubtedly, no AC. Old man Smith's car is still there too.
Well, it seemed like exigent circumstances to him, considering the info he obtained from the neighbors, so he kicked in the front door. Cheesy lock, rotted wooden door. It didn't take much to force it open. He said he knew when the door opened, what it was. He didn't have to explain it any further. (I don't care what anyone said during the Casey Anthony trial, decomp of a human body smells. It's a smell you never forget.) E said he backed away and followed procedure by calling a supervisor and notifying the ME. Until we could prove otherwise, it was a crime scene and no one could enter. Me, young bravado that I was, wanted to go check it out. E told me I didn't want to. He had a look in his eye, and with a cigar always tucked to one side of his mouth, insisted I should wait outside for the ME. Besides, you couldn't see anything and there was no electricity. He had checked the meter. It wasn't running. I asked him if he had used a flashlight to look around. Nope, didn't have one. Damn day shift people! Don't they think that they might ever go some place where it might be dark? Well, mine was in the car and I grabbed it.
I walk up on the porch and open the door. I can only open it so far. There was something blocking it. I hadn't yet turned on my flashlight, but I heard a distinct noise. I heard a crunching noise and what little daylight was let in with the door open, it looked like the floor was moving. I lit up my flashlight to scan the room. I swear, I blinked hard, 2 times, thinking I was seeing things. My mouth dropped open and I started holding my breath from the smell. My light caught the old man's body, dead in his chair, the usual hoarding items, including car tires and big bags of dog food. It was hot, it stunk, and the place was wall-to-wall roaches, rats and what other vermin that came out to munch on the dog food and the old man's body. There were millions and you just knew, this place will eventually be condemned and torn down. It will never be habitable again.
I closed the door and shuddered at the thought of helping the ME get the body out and doing something to this "crime scene." E, with his cigar firmly clasped between his teeth said, "Told ya so." As I was walking off the porch, I was dancing, stomping, brushing myself off, hoping none of the creepy crawlies had jumped on me. I made E look in my head and check behind me. He wished me luck and left the scene. I stayed in my air-conditioned car. Parked far away... in the street.
When the ME showed up, I gave them the heads up and handed them my flashlight. One peer inside, and 2 faces with raised eyebrows, went back to their van and suited up in their haz mat gear. Head to toe they covered themselves and then had to borrow my flashlight. They asked me if I wanted to go in with them, smirks on their faces. I politely refused and said that I would wait outside.
By this time, with a police car and ME wagon outside, the usual 2 legged street vermin were waking up and starting to gather outside to check out the action. When they see the ME folks in full Haz mat gear and struggling with a gurney that had a body on it, the street scum's brains are lucid enough to realize somebody died. I found it amusing to notice a few people actually walking away in disgust when the ME people stopped in the street to check the gurney and themselves for bugs and the like before they put the old man in the van.
Even though the old man was covered with a sheet, the smell and the body fluids seeping through the sheets told you he was starting the liquefy. I thought to myself that this is a guaranteed way to disperse a crowd.
Cause you know in da ghetto, they's always a crowd when the po-leece show up.
In case you wanted to know, he died of natural causes. The house was condemned and it took some time for it to be torn down. Once it was clear the house had been abandoned, it became a magnet for drugs and sex.
To this day, I see one "Palmetto Bug" (a flying cockroach that can be as big as 2 inches), I get the chills and go on a killing spree or just give them the right of way. I'm here to tell you, they are fast and don't die easily. And well, shooting the creepy little bastards can be kind of problematic.
It was a scorching, humid, August day in the southeast. I was working afternoon patrol shift as a solo unit. It was 1600 and I'm checking on duty. A day shift car calls me and asks me to come to his location. It doesn't sound like it's a major issue, I just figure he's going to brief me on some happenings in the hood.
Yes, it was the hood alright. The ghetto. Hookers, trannies, drug dealers, drunks, and some of the nastiness looking buildings and homes you've ever laid eyes on. Now mind you, some of these older folks had been there 20-30 years, back in it's prime, and before it deteriorated all to hell.
For the sake of identity, I'll refer to the day shift officer as "E."
E gives me the address and I am all too familiar with the street. This street in question abuts behind a diner that is a busy place for drug deals and addicts to shoot, snort, smoke or whatever. Sometimes even a sleazy sex deal would go down in this busy little alleyway. This diner is open 24/7 and I hated going in there. Not because of the scum that patronized the establishment, but because it was filthy and smelled bad. If a police car pulled up, they'd scatter like roaches. The manager only called us when he needed to because he liked to remind us we were bad for business.
E just wanted to pass on something. When I get there, he says he was dispatched to this DOA just before end of shift and was asking nicely if I would take it, since he had some appointment or other and well, we didn't get paid over-time. He would owe me one. Sure, I agreed and he began to brief me on it.
He says these concerned next door neighbors called police because they had been feeding the old guy's German Shepard the last few days and they hadn't seen old man "Smith" for some time. They were quite naturally distressed over his well being. E knocks on the doors and peers in windows. He can't see. It's extremely dark and all the windows are covered over to probably keep the heat out and both doors are locked. It's a very old building and undoubtedly, no AC. Old man Smith's car is still there too.
Well, it seemed like exigent circumstances to him, considering the info he obtained from the neighbors, so he kicked in the front door. Cheesy lock, rotted wooden door. It didn't take much to force it open. He said he knew when the door opened, what it was. He didn't have to explain it any further. (I don't care what anyone said during the Casey Anthony trial, decomp of a human body smells. It's a smell you never forget.) E said he backed away and followed procedure by calling a supervisor and notifying the ME. Until we could prove otherwise, it was a crime scene and no one could enter. Me, young bravado that I was, wanted to go check it out. E told me I didn't want to. He had a look in his eye, and with a cigar always tucked to one side of his mouth, insisted I should wait outside for the ME. Besides, you couldn't see anything and there was no electricity. He had checked the meter. It wasn't running. I asked him if he had used a flashlight to look around. Nope, didn't have one. Damn day shift people! Don't they think that they might ever go some place where it might be dark? Well, mine was in the car and I grabbed it.
I walk up on the porch and open the door. I can only open it so far. There was something blocking it. I hadn't yet turned on my flashlight, but I heard a distinct noise. I heard a crunching noise and what little daylight was let in with the door open, it looked like the floor was moving. I lit up my flashlight to scan the room. I swear, I blinked hard, 2 times, thinking I was seeing things. My mouth dropped open and I started holding my breath from the smell. My light caught the old man's body, dead in his chair, the usual hoarding items, including car tires and big bags of dog food. It was hot, it stunk, and the place was wall-to-wall roaches, rats and what other vermin that came out to munch on the dog food and the old man's body. There were millions and you just knew, this place will eventually be condemned and torn down. It will never be habitable again.
I closed the door and shuddered at the thought of helping the ME get the body out and doing something to this "crime scene." E, with his cigar firmly clasped between his teeth said, "Told ya so." As I was walking off the porch, I was dancing, stomping, brushing myself off, hoping none of the creepy crawlies had jumped on me. I made E look in my head and check behind me. He wished me luck and left the scene. I stayed in my air-conditioned car. Parked far away... in the street.
When the ME showed up, I gave them the heads up and handed them my flashlight. One peer inside, and 2 faces with raised eyebrows, went back to their van and suited up in their haz mat gear. Head to toe they covered themselves and then had to borrow my flashlight. They asked me if I wanted to go in with them, smirks on their faces. I politely refused and said that I would wait outside.
By this time, with a police car and ME wagon outside, the usual 2 legged street vermin were waking up and starting to gather outside to check out the action. When they see the ME folks in full Haz mat gear and struggling with a gurney that had a body on it, the street scum's brains are lucid enough to realize somebody died. I found it amusing to notice a few people actually walking away in disgust when the ME people stopped in the street to check the gurney and themselves for bugs and the like before they put the old man in the van.
Even though the old man was covered with a sheet, the smell and the body fluids seeping through the sheets told you he was starting the liquefy. I thought to myself that this is a guaranteed way to disperse a crowd.
Cause you know in da ghetto, they's always a crowd when the po-leece show up.
In case you wanted to know, he died of natural causes. The house was condemned and it took some time for it to be torn down. Once it was clear the house had been abandoned, it became a magnet for drugs and sex.
To this day, I see one "Palmetto Bug" (a flying cockroach that can be as big as 2 inches), I get the chills and go on a killing spree or just give them the right of way. I'm here to tell you, they are fast and don't die easily. And well, shooting the creepy little bastards can be kind of problematic.
5 comments:
that's crazy. hopefully I won't get nightmares... you are a really good writer!
Yep. I have spent hours investigating inside scenes like that only to get in the car at end and find maggots crawling up my pants.
I swear I became phobic after that. I was always checking to make sure I didn't pick up any hitch hikers.
I can understand that.
I used to live in Jax, FL and we had a bug problem. I'd go to sleep in the bedroom and wake up in the living room - the bugs moved me out and took over my bed. :)
Seriously, my cat Dante kept the apartment clean. I'd come home and every once in a while he'd have one on the floor, playing with it. Eventually Dante would kill it and I'd clean up. How's that for a roommate!
I spent enough time going to calls in roach and rat infested homes and apartments that I promised myself that I would not live with them! I have done my utmost in southern pest control prevention to keep just about everything that crawls at bay...but those Palmetto bugs can fly and it takes only a second for them to fly in an open door. They are resistant to most everything except a big, heavy shoe! And that may take a couple of whacks...followed quickly with crime scene clean up!
My mother told me once that I used to play with bugs as a kid. Now they're all my enemy!
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