Wednesday, January 24, 2007

gimme a gun!

I was training with the police department in D.C. with my colleague, Adam. Adam had been in the force for a year, so he had been issued a sidearm. I, on the other hand, was a new recruit, so I received no weapon. Anyway, our orders were to guard a high-profile prisoner who would most-likely get off when he went to trial. We were inside the large prison one night when Adam told me our prisoner was plotting an escape later that evening. I volunteered to sit outside his cell all night to prevent this from happening, but Adam swiftly refused. He wanted the prisoner to escape so that we could arrest him again, this time with heavier charges. The escape would surely convince the judge that this guy needed to be in prison.
We waited until the time was right, and then we headed outside. We wanted to apprehend the perp immediately upon his escape to lower the risk of losing him. I went to the west side of the building, and Adam headed east. We couldn’t request any backup, because it would be found out that we knew what was taking place and took no action to stop it.
As I trudged across the front lawn, I saw him emerge from the side of the building. He saw me in an instant and took off at a fantastic pace. He was a thick, bald, Caucasian guy, and was fast for his size. As I started to chase him, I recognized another man walking down the street ahead of me. I couldn’t remember why, but he looked familiar. I ignored this impression and yelled for him to help me stop the perp. He looked up at me, and then began running toward me. It was then that I remembered why he looked so familiar…I had prosecuted him earlier that year. So now, here I am chasing my prisoner while being chased by someone else.
Suddenly, I’m out of breath and standing on the front steps of a building with both perps on the ground. A fellow officer is also on the ground. Adam is with me on the steps and hands me a weapon. I also see two pistols lying on the ground. Our prisoner (the guy I was chasing) reaches for one of the guns and starts to aim it at me. I tell him to drop it or I shoot. As he continues to lift his arm, I pull the trigger. It rapidly fires 8 times in succession before I can release the trigger. I didn’t realize it was an automatic weapon! I look down to realize I was holding a gas-powered nail-gun…that had the safety on! Nothing had shot out of it. The guy smiles at me when he realizes he hasn’t been shot and starts to aim at me again. Now the officer on the ground grabs him from behind to try to retrieve the gun. I release my safety and pull the trigger again and riddle the guy full of tiny finishing nails. They slow him down enough for us to relieve him of his weapon and cuff him.
The next day at headquarters, I am finally issued a gun…a tiny, snub-nosed pistol that holds about 3 rounds. Well, I guess it’s better than a nail-gun…

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