We responded to a shooting in McDonald Quarters. The victim, who we'll call Dew Drop Rhodes, had been shot with a .38 caliber pistol. He'd been taken to the hospital, before we arrived, by friends.
At the hospital, emergency workers said it looked like Dew Drop had been hit five times in the torso. Four were still in him, one having worked its way out while he lay on the gurney.
A detective returned to The Quarters, to work the case. An arrest was made, statements taken, crime scene work done. We'd been there about two hours, when up walks Dew Drop. Said did we need anything. If not, he was tired and wanted to go to bed. We were stunned. This is a man who just a few hours before had been shot five times. Dew Drop said the hospital wanted to keep him overnight, but he'd raised so much hell, they'd let him go home.
I'm okay, he said, taking off his shirt to show us, just a few bandages.
And it was so. He had a few patches here and there, but that was all. I'd seen more damage after a kindergarden rumble.
The ER doc said Dew Drop's wounds had barely penetrated his skin, evidenced by the one that fell out on the gurney on its own. Explanation? Who knows. Might've been old ammo. Defective ammo. It was the same stuff cops were all using: .38 Special, 158 grain, round-nose lead slug. We hated it. At it's best, this stuff wouldn't stop a peed-off gerbil.
This was all the evidence I needed we were underpowered. Although it was strictly against regulations, I upgraded to a custom, hotter load shortly thereafter. Gradually, everyone else did, too. As the old cop saying goes: Better to be judged by twelve than carried by six.
At the hospital, emergency workers said it looked like Dew Drop had been hit five times in the torso. Four were still in him, one having worked its way out while he lay on the gurney.
A detective returned to The Quarters, to work the case. An arrest was made, statements taken, crime scene work done. We'd been there about two hours, when up walks Dew Drop. Said did we need anything. If not, he was tired and wanted to go to bed. We were stunned. This is a man who just a few hours before had been shot five times. Dew Drop said the hospital wanted to keep him overnight, but he'd raised so much hell, they'd let him go home.
I'm okay, he said, taking off his shirt to show us, just a few bandages.
And it was so. He had a few patches here and there, but that was all. I'd seen more damage after a kindergarden rumble.
The ER doc said Dew Drop's wounds had barely penetrated his skin, evidenced by the one that fell out on the gurney on its own. Explanation? Who knows. Might've been old ammo. Defective ammo. It was the same stuff cops were all using: .38 Special, 158 grain, round-nose lead slug. We hated it. At it's best, this stuff wouldn't stop a peed-off gerbil.
This was all the evidence I needed we were underpowered. Although it was strictly against regulations, I upgraded to a custom, hotter load shortly thereafter. Gradually, everyone else did, too. As the old cop saying goes: Better to be judged by twelve than carried by six.
No comments:
Post a Comment