It’s funny to think back over your life and remember stories that are “unshareable”.  Stories that are burned into your memory but for the life of you you cannot think of how this would ever come up in conversation.  I’ve got a couple and I’ll be posting them over the next few days.

“The sad suicide”

As a rookie cop you have conflicting emotions when it comes to calls that come in from dispatch.  Part of you hopes for the murder/burglary/big “case” call while knowing that this is real suffering taking place.  It’s wierd when being excited to do your job cannotes that other’s are experiencing pain.  That said, I remember being called to a “possible” suicide and feeling excited.  Really in a cop’s daily life it’s not that often you’re the primary on a “questionable” scene.  So hoping for both the best and the worst we rolled up to the hotel.  My training officer and I were directed to the second floor and as we hit the landing you could smell it.  We rounded the corner only to be met by an EMT that just gestured to an open doorway.  The smell in the room was gag inducing.  Surveying the scene, it was a typacal two bed hotell room.  However there was “something” on the walls, one of the beds was ‘disturbed” and “soiled”(and I mean “soiled”), and there was a man kneeling against the sink.  We came upon the man and after a quick look in the bathroom we quickly shut the door because that’s where most of the smell was coming from.  A cursory examination indicated no foul play so we decided to leave the room and wait for the ME.  On the way out we noted the two cases of Coors, the three bottles of Jack Daniel’s. and the SIX bottles of Crown Royal all drunk.  All this pointed to death by alcohol poisoning. (At a certain point the body loses control and tries to “get rid of” the alcohol by any means necessary, through any means necessary hence the walls, “soiled” bed, and bathroom)

So I went downstairs to get His girfriend’s statement while we waited for the ME.  This poor elderly woman had been supporting this man.  She was the widow of a retired Naval commander and had “helped” this man out “from time to time” because He said He was a veteran.  A check of the deceased’s ID showed that He had never served.  He was in His late 50s and was completely living a lie telling everyone that He was a former Marine.

Finally the ME showed up and examined the body, “I’ve got to see the front of Him.”  My training officer just looked at me and said, “You’re up rookie.”  So donning what was kind of like a hospital gown with long sleeves and gloves I approached the body.  You have to understand this guy was well over 250lbs and I’m at best 145.  So I basically had to hug him trying to get a grip through slippery latex in order to try to lift the body back.  As I strained back trying not to think how the cold flesh felt the ME ducked down to take a look.  “HHHHUUUUUHHHH”  THE GUY BREATHED OUT!  (Because He died in the position He did, His lungs were still full of air)   Both the ME and Me lept back thoroughly freaked out.  “FFUUU##$$%%%!!!!!!!”  (By the way this is the only time in my life where I thought that expletive was completely justified and have never felt convicted in any way.)  After that there was NO WAY I was gong near that body again.  Fortunately I shifted Him just enough to allow the rattled ME to examine and it was ruled a suicide.  We waited for the Coroner guys then left the scene.

“You want to get some dinner?”  My training officer said as we pulled away.  I gave Him a nasty look then said (to His newfound respect), “Sure.” (Maybe this is one of the reasons I’m in love with Chic-fil-A)


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