A horrible scene

Recently I have been asked, by more than one of my rabid followers, to tell and write about more of the experiences I have had during my career as a cop.

Initially I was reluctant.

There really is nothing worse than hearing a couple of dinosaurs gather around and talk old school shop.

“Hey Bill, remember when they used to drop us off downtown without a radio and no partner”….

The worst part is when you start to hear the same old stories told over and over again, each time a new embellishment added to make the old timer a legend in his own mind.

I would never put my readers through such misery.

The following story is one that I have yet to reveal until now.

Please, if you are squeamish or have small children near, proceed with caution.

A crash I would never forget 

It was the summer of 1996 and I was still green.

It’s at about the 2 year mark when cops start to think they have seen it all. I had been on for a little over 2 years and was beginning to feel salty.

Until that afternoon when they dispatched me to a motorcycle crash at one of our busier intersections.

After coming up on the scene, my brain was having a hard time making sense of what I was seeing.

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It didn’t take long for me to figure out what had happened. After talking to a few witnesses, it was obvious that speed played a major factor.

The motorcycle had tried to beat the light but lost control. The driver of the bike over corrected and proceeded to wrap himself and the bike around a pole.

The motorcycle was almost un-recognizable.

No other vehicles or people were hit during the crash.

The scene literally looked like a bomb had exploded.

The driver

Although the scene resembled that of absolute destruction, remarkably, the driver appeared to have escaped serious injury.

How could this be?

For safe measure he was transported to our local hospital by medics for numerous abrasions and pain in his left foot.

I stayed at the scene and began the usual things cops do at vehicle crashes; talk to witnesses, take measurements etc.

My Sergeant would soon show up and ask me if anyone was dead. When I told him no, he got back in his patrol car and left.

While taking photographs of the mangled bike and pole, I noticed something odd lying on the ground next to the curb.

When I bent over to take a closer look, I realized instantly what it is was.

A human toe.

A perfectly, well defined human toe. I frantically grabbed my radio and blurted out to the Medics to check the drivers foot.

At first they thought I was playing some sort of sick joke but they soon realized the truth.

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The driver, most likely in shock from the gruesome injury, was in fact missing the big toe to his left foot.

Later, after reconstructing the accident, the driver had struck the curb with such force, before impacting the pole, that it severed his  left big toe.

Without really thinking, I grabbed the toe and told one of the businesses nearby to get me a small box and some ice.

I wrapped the toe in a cloth and gently placed it into the box with ice.

I then took off running towards the Medics and ambulance that was only a few blocks away. Once I caught up with them, I opened the back door and jumped inside.

I then yelled loudly to the driver of the ambulance to hit the gas and go.

The driver immediately put the ambulance in gear and…..

Nothing.

It died.

He tried several more times to start the ambulance but it would not start.

I was in a situation that no cop ever wants to find himself in.

I didn’t know what to do. In a nut shell, I froze (not in an actual nut shell, if one that big even existed).

That’s when I got on my radio and called my Sergeant. He always knew what to do.

Always.

After telling him what had happened and that we were broke down, there was a long pause.

He then began to speak, which was a great relief, not only to me but the poor driver who was watching all of this unfold.

My Sarge said, “just calm down rookie, I’ll call you a toe truck.”

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