THE INCIDENT
"The law without force is impotent."
Blaise Pascal
In Keith's own words:
On --/--/96 at approximately 2200 hours, my career changed.
I had to kill a man.
The incident is imbedded in my mind and repeats constantly like a scratched record. I have no remorse whatsoever for the man that tried to kill us that night. I can tell you though, that I am not excited, nor do I feel good or happy about the whole thing. My emotions are in overdrive. Two days have passed and I have finally come down from the adrenaline rush and my body has now experienced complete exhaustion. I have slept for almost two days. A couple other officers involved boast about the ineffectiveness of going to the mandated shrink visit, but I feel that it is somewhat necessary and may help me understand certain feelings.
The incident: 2200 hours, I am at the station with my partner and we hear the all common "beep, beep, beep" of the radio. "all units...armed 211 just occurred at the ------ restaurant, ----- S. ------ Ave. Suspect described as a male black, 30 years, bald head, brown shirt, armed with a chrome handgun, last seen on foot Northbound on ------ Ave."
I don't even budge. Another 211 (robbery). I continue typing. My partner says, "Keith you want to roll on that?" Next I hear on the radio, "Sam5 (who is in an unmarked car) I am following a possible suspect in a white Mercury, northbound ------ Ave....he is a male black with a bald head." "Alright Shim, let's roll" I say to my partner. "Sam5 we are now eastbound on -- ------- Blvd approaching ----- Ave." Now we are rolling code-3 to catch up. "Sam5 we are now northbound ------- approaching ---th St." Shim is driving, I am passenger, and we are now with Sam5, another Sgt. in a marked car, and two other marked units (both 2 man cars). The suspect takes a quick eastbound on ---th St., then a quick northbound on the access road. Sam5 behind the suspect, and two marked units behind him take the standard felony stop position. The Sgt. in front of us stays on ------- Blvd. like we do, then he cuts up the drive to the access road, cutting off the suspect vehicle. I see the suspect's car slow down and the door opens. My last words to my partner are, "Here we go, he's bailing out!" Shim stops our unit on ------- Blvd. near the curb, parallel with the suspect who is about 30 ft away.
As I bail out, the suspect comes out with a chrome .357 in hand and takes two shots straight ahead at the Sgt. who cut him off. My mind races. "He is shooting at the police," I thought. I had the green flag, a clear shot, parallel with the suspect, with no cover. I take two or three shots as I scurry for cover. The other officers behind the suspect also fire. His body is jerking and dancing as our rounds penetrate it. Slow motion and silence. Very slow motion. Then the suspect turns west towards my partner and I. I can see the muzzle flash from his weapon as he continues his turn to the south and fires more rounds at the officers. I am still shooting looking for cover, trying to survive. The silence is deafening. I only hear very soft sound of "pop, pop....pop." The suspect turns back to the north, still shooting, still taking rounds, running in front of Shim and I. I drop a knee and crouch down behind a concrete city trash bin. The suspect still has the gun pointed in our direction and he fires random rounds. I think.....fuck.......Keith this guy is not going down, you have to kill this guy.....relax. I take a half of a deep breath, stop shooting, focus on the front site, align the back, put the suspect in the back drop, and slowly squeeze off about six rounds, smoothly following the suspect to the ground. I watched my first three rounds, in slow motion, enter his torso. Silence. Deafening silence.
We were alive, he was not. "Thank God," I thought (and I am not religious). I am in a total trance. An uninvolved officer grabs me by the shoulders, shakes me and says, "Are you alright?" "Yes," I reply. "Did you shoot?" "Yes....I think I killed him." Adrenaline, anger, joy, relief, disdain, questions, dehydration, mental trauma.
The Sgt. that cut off the suspect took a .357 round through the windshield and into the driver's side head rest, as well as a couple other rounds. Luckily, he bailed out unscathed; I thought he was dead. Another officer that was standing in the V of his door, took a round in the driver's side front head light. I don't think our car was hit, but I don't know and don't much care; we are alive. I am home for Christmas this year. That was the only gift I wanted.
I don't boast and I don't laugh. I only hope that Sandra can still support me in my career. I guess I could understand if she couldn't take it anymore. The worrying, being home alone, thinking if I might not return. I may have just justified her fears and feelings. She has helped me through it though, and I believe that she will continue to.
I you are a cop who has taken a life, you know what I feel. If you are a cop who wants and waits for the day to shoot, you are not thinking too clearly because it is not what you may think.
This was the real thing. Not a game...
Law Enforcement is one of the most unique professions in the world. Officers, deputies and special agents from across the country are given badges and guns and the power to take a person's liberty away. The repsonsibility of being a peace officer is unsurpassed in any other profession besides perhaps education (educators), judges, or the presidency. Officers put their lives on the line every time they step out of the station but are often greeted by the citizens they police with an extended hand that fails to display all five fingers. While working in South-Central Los Angeles, I personally have been shot at, spit on, punched, kicked, almost run over, cussed at, and falsely accused of everything from civil rights violations to grand theft just to receive my salary.
Police work is often highly respected and highly disrespected. We live our lives working in a glass fishbowl that is closely watched my the public and members of the media buy rarely offered all the food that we need to survive. Yet, I still love the job. It gets in your blood. Looking down on a gang member who has been shot in the head, or the bloody violence of a drug deal gone bad quickly becomes surreal and does not shock the senses. You learn not to get personally involved in order keep your sanity. What does bother me is driving my patrol car slowly down the street on a bright summer day and waving to a five year old who kindly returns the gesture by sticking his right thumb into the air, extending his index finger of the same hand in my direction, closing his left eye to aim as the make believe gun points in my direction. The silent yet exaggerated words sound out to the tone of "pow....pow....pow" as I am smoothly followed in his sites and emotionally struck by the gesture and the bullets. Dad, who is an O.G. and on parole for robbery, sits on the porch and smiles knowing that he has hurt me and that his boy is following his lead. I try to laugh at the irony of thinking how I will one day possible put my ass on the line for this father who will call and trust that I will capture the suspects who have killed his son.
Leave the insanity in jail at the end of the day.
Come home to the love of your family and friends
with a happy heart and a smile on your face;
it is perilous to look too closely into the darkness,
whatever your motivations may be,
and there is yet much good
in the world,
my friend.
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