Today’s Truth of the Matter

is that I don’t want to do this anymore.  I don’t want to be stuck at this desk, looking at these monitors, trying to fill hours and dealing with all the crap everyone dishes out.  I’m sick of it – weary and disenchanted.  As one of my friends in Florida would say when things went FUBAR: “I don’t want to play anymore.”

I don’t want to care about students who get so drunk they pass out – will they make it home safe? will they suffocate on their own vomit? will they be in a fight? will they be raped because they take stupid risks?

I don’t want to worry about my officers – will they make it home safe? will this next traffic stop be the one that gets them injured or killed? are they in a good mood? are they prepared for when the shit hits the fan? can they depend on me? can I depend on them?

We picked up someone the other day on a warrant – they had a history of being a child molester.  As I was reading the warrant information I felt so disheartened and angry that this person was out on the streets in the first place.  People do their time and they get out but then they re-offend or offend in some other manner and who loses? the victim of course.  The person doesn’t care if they go back to jail – they know they’ve made it through once so they can do it again.

But each new offense has another new victim who must fight their way through something that no one should ever have to do.  If that offender had never gotten out, there would be no more victims.  I don’t care if the person did do their time – obviously it didn’t cure them or deter them from going back to prior behaviors.  I know, so what do we do…keep people locked up forever?  Obviously we can’t do that either.

Some days Nietzsche’s saying about looking into the abyss rings so true with me that I shudder at it all.  Evil walks amongst us and while so many people can wear blinders to it, I see and hear about it almost every day I work.  I’m so jaded and poisoned.

Granted, I am very tired and this has not been a good day.  Maybe once I am refreshed from a good, long, peaceful slumber I will feel ready to face the masses again – ready to battle evil – and summon my herculean concentration to keep everyone safe.

I know what my sister will say – “get your book published and you can stop working that job.”  Ohhhh, if only it were easy to do.

Tempted

I am so tempted to request off at 11pm both Monday and Tuesday night – at least Tuesday night.  But I tell myself the problem I have those two nights each week is not going to go away so just have to deal.  How pitiful is it that my coworker who works 11pm-3am Wed-Fri and I both want to go home every night at 11pm to avoid a certain person? But we both just have to suck it up and work.

There are way too many things this person does that drives us both insane – working with her makes us down, agitated and want nothing more than to go home and drink till we can wash her memory out of our brains if only for a few days.

But nothing a person can do about it – such is life and we all have people we have to put up with even if we would rather not.  I work with her 416 hours each year – if I had that much vacation time, I would just about consider using it all to keep me from working with her – really, it would be medically necessarily to keep from going insane.

I wonder if we could get our boss to allow us to take those hours leave without pay? LOL. Probably not.

Not Bad

Tonight wasn’t that bad at all busy wise.  We were slower than either of us thought we would be.  Not that we didn’t have stuff to do, we did but there were lulls too where we spent time visiting.  It is almost over and I can’t wait to go home.

I’m watching the sky go from dark to light blue, it is good to see the change because it means this shift has come to an end.

I heard a rumor that one of our dispatchers might quit in the near future.  I was talking to a coworker and we were trying to figure out who would take what then.

It would be my opportunity to switch to days so my sleep pattern would normalize.  I would keep, probably, my same three days off too.  I’m not sure I want to go to days but the other positive thing is I wouldn’t work with certain people ever again unless I worked over time.  There are certainly positive things for changing.

My coworker would want my schedule then because then she could have 3 days off plus would limit her hours working with certain people too.  We both think this would make us happier in the long run.

I don’t know – guess we will have to see what happens in the future before we decide who will take what.  I am assuming, maybe incorrectly, that the three regular shift people who have seniority over me would not want to switch their shifts.

Anyway, we had several arrests tonight, several fights, etc., but nothing too exciting that we couldn’t handle.  My replacement should be walking in any time now – makes me smile. 

Oops-a-daisy

Guess I should have taken a little bit of time to write a post tonight.  Not that I had a lot of time but I did have some in which I played Chain Rxn on Facebook – somehow seeing all those balls exploding made me feel less tense.  Course, I’m on the second playing of it now and I’m finding it is making me tense again so I need to stop working on that.

We were very busy tonight – lots of people arrested for a variety of things.  As always, I was so thrilled that I worked with Kelsey because she is fast and smart so we didn’t get swamped except for when we first logged on.  That was because football was still going on with all of it’s problems – neither of us had worked football before so we were flustered, me more than Kelsey.  Thankfully, Cindy came in to assist us and explain football so that helped a lot.

Cindy also informed us that, much to our relief, we will have a more seasoned operator with us when we have our night game.  I can’t imagine being thrown into that whole mess without some sort of training and guidance.  I know the day shift got to have one for the last two home games so it is only right and fair that we get one as well.  Our night game is the 10th of October…ugh.

Overall we didn’t have a bad night – I rather enjoyed it.  The time flew by – even the past four hours since Kelsey has been off work really went fast.

I plan on going home, walking the dogs and then going to bed hopefully for the entire day.  I am tired and the headache I got from the mayhem the first hour I worked last night is still with me despite 7 Advil over the course of the night.  Really am anxious to go.  I promised the dogs I’d make sausage gravy over biscuits this morning but I think I’ve changed my mind.  It does sound good but I’m too tired to do the work.

Visited a great site last night when I had a second – I added it to my blogroll so check it out.  It is called Adventures in Writing.  Happy Sunday everyone!

Body Found

Well, they found Annie Le’s body and I was right – she never left the lab.  I told my coworker I bet they’d find her body in there somewhere – a false ceiling or sub-floor kind of thing.  It ended up being in a wall that housed conduit between floors but I just had a feeling she was there somewhere.

For one thing, with all those cameras around and throughout the building, if she had left – even forcibly – something would have shown up on one of them.  If someone snuck her out, they still would have had to put her in something big enough to carry her which would have been on the cameras and therefore suspicious.

What kind of sick individual kills someone and stuffs them in a wall? Plus, a key card was needed to get into the lab so finding a suspect shouldn’t be that hard, should it? Of course, when the fire alarm went off she might have started out of her office and someone forced her back in but again, that would show up in the key card file.

Yes, she could have let someone in – I know our security system shows every time the door is opened, even from the inside going out – so somehow this would show up as well.  We know she didn’t stuff herself in the wall so who else had access? Who else logged into that bldg? What visitors had received passes?

Plus, why was she killed? We won’t have an autopsy report right away to know if she was sexually molested – if not, then this had to be someone jealous of her in some fashion.  It also had to be someone familiar enough with the lab to know the spot was there to stuff her in.  It seems like a crime of passion to me – whether hate, jealousy, love, anger, whatever – it doesn’t seem premeditated because one; it was a very public place and two; who plans to kill someone in the middle of the day? Not many people.  Plus they wouldn’t do it in a place where disposal of a body is so limited.  Granted it took the police six days to find it but find it they did.

My heart goes out to her folks and family.  What a horrible thing to have to face when they were so ready to celebrate her wedding.

Tonight’s Catch

We pulled over a young man tonight due to a tail light infraction.  When the officer requested the young man’s ID, the kid offered one that was obviously fake.  So they asked him for his “real” one – he produced another fake.  Eventually, he gave them his actual license – which of course put him under the legal age for drinking but he was obviously impaired.

Well, eventually the officer got him down to the station where he took another breath test – it registered .138 which is well over the legal limit in Iowa.  Once the kid realized he wasn’t going to get out of being arrested – he started spilling his guts.  He admitted to the officer that the id’s were fake and told him he purchased them for $150 each on the internet.  Of course this guarantees him an arrest for presenting a fake id to an officer.  Had he said he didn’t know they were fake, we would have been hard pressed to prove he did other than he had them in his possession.  Each ID was from a different state – one was obviously a fake and the other one was a little better quality but still pretty obvious.

The kid ended up going to county for the night – he called his dad and let him know what was going on too.  Apparently he was driving a Porsche so it was hard to feel sorry for him.   Anyway, it goes to show that a lot of kids don’t even know how to break the law well.  I’m sure he’ll get more practice in his young life before he gains the wisdom of age.

Oh My God

We were so swamped tonight that neither Kristen nor I got a break of any length of time.  It was insane…seriously.  At one point we looked at a building on a street corner through one of our cameras and we couldn’t even see the store front of the building – only people.  There were literally thousands of people out tonight in the downtown area.

There were so many fights, assaults, drunks, and rowdy people that it was nonstop even after the bars closed for over an hour.  My coworker got off at 3am but she could have easily stayed till 4am because we were still so busy.

What made it worse is the number of units on because between them and the guards, they kept walking all over each other’s radio traffic.  Also, our radios and computers weren’t working right so things kept getting hairy as we tried to get keep track of everything.

If my coworker hadn’t been here and I had to do tonight all by myself – I think I’d be seriously considering finding a new job.  Everyone was getting so testy.  Even the jail staff were getting irritated with us.  One of our arrestees got sick over there so they were angry with us.  We ended up calling an ambulance over for the guy but then he assaulted the ambulance driver and got away.  We re-caught him a few blocks away.  What a mess.

My coworker took tomorrow night off – I am hoping it is dead but with the holiday being on Monday, who knows?

Reflections of a Demented 911 Dispatcher

Got this off the internet – really made me laugh (sorry it was a mess for a few hours but I had an apt and didn’t want to bookmark it to do later so did a quick cut and paste:

Thirty-one years of wild requests, screwy questions, bizarre behavior and outrageous demands have left me with a permanent twitch and an uncontrollable craving for chocolate. Don’t get me wrong. Working as a 9-1-1 dispatcher can be very rewarding. BUT – some days I felt like the whole world was nuts. I mean, c’mon who in their right mind calls 9-1-1 for the winning lottery numbers? Huh? On a normal day my calls ranged from this winner:

A hysterical woman yelled,”My bird is in a tree!” Sometimes I really can’t help myself, so I said, “Birds have a tendency to do that, ma’am.” The woman screeched, “No! You don’t understand. My pet parakeet is in the tree. I’ve just got to get him down.” Like I said, not a clue. “I’m sorry ma’am, but we don’t get birds out of trees.” The woman then cried, “But… But…what about my husband? He’s up there, too!” Okey-dokey. One rescue unit coming up.

To this champion: A man whispered, “Who won the Tommy Hearn fight?” I whispered back, “Sorry, don’t know.” “You don’t! I thought the police were supposed to know everything,” the caller exclaimed in disgust and hung up. Wonder where he got that idea?

My grin died a sudden death as an officer shouted for backup at a local fast food restaurant. An instant later he hit his officer’s alert button and yelled, “Step it up!” Okay, this was so not good. No one hurts my guys. I quickly relayed his location to other officers and started a supervisor. The officer keyed his radio again and shouted, “White male…” His radio stuck in the transmit position, the sounds of fists hitting flesh and the grunts of a no-holds-barred fight rang in my earpiece. And then to my utter disbelief in the background I heard, “Welcome to Jack-In-The-Box. May I take your order?” I wanted to yell no, my officer is getting the crap kicked out of him in the drive-thru lane but this guy was persistent, “Wanna try our new chicken fingers?” Finally after what seemed to be an eternity, I heard the wonderful sound of sirens. And the relentless Mr. Jack-In-The Box tried again, “How about one of our special combo meals?” Later my bruised and battered sweetheart of an officer brought all of us a bunch of chicken fingers. Courtesy of Jack-In-The-Box, of course. The job does have its perks.

One of which is indigestion and heartbreak. Melody, a fellow dispatcher, answered a 9-1-1 line and heard a woman shout, “My ex-husband is banging on my door and I have a restraining order against him.” The crash of breaking glass was followed quickly by the woman screaming blue bloody murder. Shots rang out and the woman’s screams were abruptly replaced by children’s sobbing. The woman’s six year old daughter picked up the phone. “My mom said that if anything happened, I could call 9-1-1. Can you please hurry? I’m really scared.” A dispatcher can’t allow her rage and grief to affect her job. That kid needs help and it’s up to you to get it for her. So, you stuff all those feelings deep down inside you and do your job.

And Melody, a true professional, sucked it up and did a terrific job. Her voice was calm, soothing, “What happened to your mom?” The child cried, “A mean man broke all the glass and shooted a gun. My mom fell down. I don’t know where I live, can you find me?” Melody quickly typed in the information. “Sure I can. I’ve got police officers coming to help you. Who else is in the house with you, honey?” The little girl sobbed, “My brother and sister. She’s a baby. My mom got blood on her and she won’t wake up.” Melody’s fingers flew over the keyboard, “Okay, are any of you hurt?” The child answered, “No. Are the people coming really nice?” Melody reassured her, “Yes, honey, the police officers are very nice. They are gonna come and help you out, okay?”

A professional 9-1-1 dispatcher must be able to deal with rapidly changing situations and maintain her calm at all times. And some days that can be pretty darn hard. I was reaching for my stash of chocolate when my next call came in. Her voice low and worried, a woman announced, “There’s a strange woman in my bathroom taking a bubble bath.” A bubble bath? Are you kidding me? “You have no idea who she is, ma’am?” The woman said, “No. I really had to pee and when I opened the bathroom door this bitch yelled, ‘Close the damned door. I’m taking a bath here!’ So, I grabbed her clothes and called 9-1-1.” Our well-scrubbed burglar got whisked to jail. Some days catching the bad guys is too easy. Some days eating a handful of Tylenol is easy, too.

 My headache kicked up a notch when a belligerent man called and said, “I want to report my four year old son missing.” “Ok sir, how long has he been missing?” The man snapped, “Four years.” I have to admit, I was a bit curious. “Is there a reason you haven’t called before now?” There was a slight hesitation, then he replied, “I’m starting to get concerned, ok?” Wow, four years and now he’s concerned? “Where was the last place you saw him?” “Panama,” he hissed. “Panama,” I parroted incredulously. “Have you made a report with the officials in Panama?” His hostility increased, “No.” “I’m sorry sir, but we can’t take a missing person report for someone in Panama.” He snarled, “Let me talk to someone who knows what they’re doing, because you obviously don’t.”

Some citizens of our fair cities have absolutely no idea of what an officer can or cannot do. They aren’t plumbers, electricians, alligator wrestlers (don’t ask) or allowed to shoot down low flying aircraft. We have to educate them. I know. I know. It’s an unending task. But we can do it. No! Wait! Tearing out your hair leaves those funny bald spots. We. Can. Do. It. Really. Would I lie to you?

Spilling My Guts

I turned toward the voice – it was a young man who identified himself as a reporter for the Herald Tribune there in Sarasota.  He wanted to know if I had a few minutes to answer some questions.  I almost said no but a part of me felt that 911 was given a bum rap and this could be the way to correct that.

We stepped to the end of the hall where three officers sat taking a break from the trial.  I answered all of the questions – how did the call make me feel? What ran through my head when the phone went dead? It went on for about twenty minutes.

I told him about the stresses of 911 – how a person answers a call that is horrible, helps do what they can, disconnects only to take the next call which potentially could be as ghastly as the last one.  I told him how we make a connection with the caller – even calls that only last a few minutes.  We take on the responsibility for helping that caller the moment we answer the phone.  We aren’t machines – we care about each emergency call and want to save everyone.

The reporter seemed flabbergasted that the staff involved in Denise’s call didn’t get to go home right after taking it – shouldn’t the supervisors sent us home due to the stress? I shook my head – we stayed, it was our job to be there and to keep answering phones.  We couldn’t stop – it isn’t like 911 calls can go to voice mail for us to pick up at our leisure.  My shift didn’t end until 11pm – Denise’s call came in at 6:14pm.

I won’t say I didn’t get up from my cubicle and go out of the room crying – I did and I spent awhile crying before I could compose myself enough to go back in to continue my job.  I have had people die on the phone with me, had people discover a loved one who committed suicide, had people who were choking, children whose parents find them not breathing, etc., etc., etc.,  You do the best you can do, hang up and take the next call – heart break and personal drama have to take a backseat to that.

The reporter took about five pages of notes as I praised the 911 call center under the umbrella of the Sarasota Sheriff’s Office – they are an awesome group, their training is very in depth, and we bond quickly into a family like atmosphere.  My supervisor on shift that night was incredible – she knew exactly what to do and did it.  She had to notify North Port PD to alert them to the kidnapping and notify the entire state because we had no idea where Denise was.  She did a phenomenal job and when it was done, she sat and cried with me.  No one, unless they are put in that situation, can understand the feeling of total helplessness one feels when a call doesn’t have the outcome we try so hard for.

Everyone in that room stood poised, ready to jump in the moment we had a location to rush too.  Officers were on the alert immediately and everyone wanted to help.  It was so difficult to have to stand by and do nothing.

Once the reporter had everything he needed, we shook hands and parted ways.  I have no idea if talking to the press was the right thing to do but it felt good to explain how much we all tried for a successful conclusion to this call. 

I headed to the lawyer’s office to pick up my travel bag and change into shorts before going to the airport.  One the way up the elevator, indeed the whole building, briefly lost power which gave everyone inside the small square box a moment of panic.  Luckily it kicked back on very quickly and we arrived safely at our destination.

I had a few minutes before the cab (um…executive sedan) arrived so I sauntered over to Tropical Smoothie on Main Street for a Tidal Wave.  I hadn’t had one in over a year – it was delicious.  The walk over was very hot but I cooled off a bit with the iced drink and then walked back in the heat.  By the time the executive sedan had arrived, I was sweating up a storm again.

The ride to the airport was spent listening to the driver tell me very graphically how his cousin was murdered a decade or two ago and how that trial went.  He said that murderer is p for parole soon – I hope the guy doesn’t get it because the murder was rather gross.  My driver dropped me off at American Airlines gate more than four hours before my flight.  I was starving so decided to check out a restaurant.

Into the Lion’s Den

Even as I took my seat the Defense was on their feet to object to my very presence.  They were adamant that the tape not be played but the Judge waved their objections aside impatiently.  He reminded them that he had already ruled on this point last week and wasn’t about to address it again now.

The Defense requested a side bar so the judge hit a button that filled the room with a loud humming noise so no one could hear what the lawyers were arguing over in front of him.  I glanced over at the Defense table and inadvertently made eye contact with the Evil One.  I tried to project all my hatred and anger into my glare as our eyes locked – I wanted to see even a small signal of remorse.  But my righteous anger could not penetrate the swirling fog of evil that surrounded him.  There was no remorse, no guilt, no shame in those cold eyes glaring back at me.  I almost think he was enjoying the attention.

Regretfully I couldn’t hold the stare.  The power goes to the one who holds the stare – it is weakness to be the first to look away.  I loathed being the weak one but his malevolence was boring a hole into me psyche.  Niche’s saying  about those who deal with monsters must make sure they do not become a monster and if one stares too long into the abyss, the abyss stares back, popped into my head and I had to look away.

Karen brought me back to the warm folds of impending justice – I wrapped myself in Justice’s reassuring blanket.  As I sat there feeling very self-conscious and not liking how the lawyers and Judge talked about me as if I wasn’t in the room, the Prosecutor put up a form on an overhead projector and started asking me to point to stuff.  This wasn’t in our pre-trial briefing – I wasn’t sure what I was suppose to do.  As I stood to point with my finger at something, she said “use the laser pointer.”  I had no idea what she was talking about.  The only thing near me was a box of Kleenex and a pen.

Blushing with inadequacy, I noticed the pen wasn’t a pen at all but a little laser so I picked it up and pushed on the clip thinking the light would come on.  It didn’t.  I foolishly said I didn’t know how to work the thing to which I swear I heard snickers in the crowded room.  I was mortified that I was behaving so stupidly.  How could the jury believe I’m competent to take 911 calls if I can’t work a damn laser pen??? I took a deep breath, glanced the pen over and figured out how to make it work but the whole thing made me feel even more self conscious and foolish.

I started answering all the standard questions the Prosecutor threw at me – my name, where I lived now, where I lived at the time of the call, where I worked now, where I worked then, etc.  Almost right away the Defense was on their feet again to object to something.  The Judge ordered the Jurors out of the room so he could listen to the lawyer’s arguments and render a decision on what the jury would be allowed to hear. 

The objections were in regard to the transcript of the tape.  The Defense objected to the idea of a transcript – probably because it revealed even more what a cold bastard the Evil One was.  I was questioned about a few things on the transcript – asked to clarify things I said.  A couple of times they argued about something I said on the tape and I wanted to interrupt them to tell them the answer but I’m not allowed to speak unless spoken to…hmmm…is it because I’m a woman? Just kidding.

The Judge told the Defense that I certainly could tell who said what because I was, of course, there at the time of the call.  The Defense said they still wanted it on the record that they objected.  Whatever.  Then, because the Judge ruled the transcript could be introduced as an evidence aid (not evidence itself), the Defense started tearing it apart over things they wanted omitted.  One of the things they wanted out was the last two lines when I’m saying “don’t…don’t…Kris, I lost her.  He got the phone away and hung it up.  Can I call it back?” in utter panic.  The Judge agreed it wasn’t germane to the call so that was to be stricken from the transcript and the tape had to be stopped before that part could be heard.  It wasn’t important anyway.

The Defense wanted an earlier part where I said I thought Michael King (ie Evil One) didn’t know she had the phone and that she couldn’t hear me talking to her because she didn’t have her ear pressed against it, taken out of the transcript but the Judge refused.  He declared that to be important and that, if I as the 911 operator perceived that she had the phone and he didn’t know, then the Jury could hear it.  It really is evident in the call anyway.

Because the Defense kept standing up to object to every little thing in the transcript, the Prosecutor’s staff said we should go through it page by page to make sure we got a ruling on every sentence so there wouldn’t be any objections while the tape was playing.  The Judge seemed pleased with this idea so they began the process of dissecting the call while I sat there in the witness box with nothing to do.

Unfortunately, that gave me time to let my eyes wander around the courtroom…