Nothing to Report (8 page)

“I remember one particular Easter Sunday. I was still a footman in the squad and had not been assigned a seat in any sector yet so I was basically a fill-in to any empty seat. I had not even met my future partner Frank yet.

“Until then, Frank had been in another squad and worked with another cop. As a fill-in, I walked foot posts, flew on details, and often was assigned the dreaded switchboard. On this particular day I was assigned to Sector K, which was a solo, also known as a one-man car. The 120
th
had one-man cars back in those days, even though we were a considered a busy house, although those same one-man cars were not the one-man report cars that exist today, and we responded on all kinds of calls, including gun runs as well as family disputes.

“On this particular day I had to respond on what I thought was a routine fender bender but it turned out to be one of the most horrifying calls I have ever handled,
”
said the lieutenant as he stared at the road ahead of them. After hesitating a moment, the lieutenant reached for yet another cigarette and glanced at the man beside him. This was when Charlie suddenly realized the lieutenant had been chain smoking ever since he said he was going to tell his story.

They passed the old Weiss Glass Stadium on Richmond Terrace and the boss told him to pull in and drive underneath the deserted bleacher stands.

The stadium itself had been dismantled years before but the old dilapidated bleacher stands were still there. The area junkies used the place as a local shooting gallery and prostitutes brought their Johns there for their quickie lays and blow jobs.

The lieutenant was killing two birds with one stone on this location. He had chosen to make a visit here because the area had been classified as a cooping prone location. The other reason, Charlie soon found out, was the lieutenant had to take a leak. The boss urinated while staring at the center of the arena, which had held wrestling cards long before the World Wrestling Federation was even dreamed about.

With a reminiscent gaze, the lieutenant told Charlie how, as a kid, he remembered seeing the world champ,
Antonino Rocca, fight for his title against Gorgeous George in the same arena.

It was a different world back then.

The lieutenant got back into the car and Charlie put the car in drive, taking them back on patrol.

“Where was I, Charlie?” the lieutenant asked.

“You were going to handle an accident,” Charlie replied.

“Oh, right.”

It was about 11:45 A.M. and I had just finished my third cup of coffee down by Sailor Snug Harbor. I wasn’t in the coop but
it’s quiet down there and always a good place to do reports or crosswords.

Easter Sunday in the 120
th
usually meant a fairly quiet morning, but I have never been lucky with Easter Sunday in this precinct. The radio dispatcher called me first not only because the job was in my sector but because it was a perfect job for a one-man car.

“120
th
King,” called Central. I answered the call by stating I was standing by.

“King, respond forthwith to Castleton Avenue and Clove Road on a report of a vehicle accident. Injuries may be involved,” the dispatcher from Central directed. Without hesitating, I turned on my lights and sirens and headed west onto the Terrace, turning left on Clove Road when I reached it.

The lieutenant hesitated before adding, “I don’t think there’s a cop alive who enjoys going to vehicle accidents. At least I know I don’t.”

When I was heading south up Clove Road I received yet another disturbing call from
Central stating that numerous calls were coming in and for me to put a rush on it.

As I approached the busy intersection, I saw flashing red and white ambulance lights reflecting off of store windows. There were also crowds of people everywhere, both lining the streets as well as on street corners. Most were civilian bystanders who were totally useless and not assisting in any way. I maneuvered the RMP into the Gulf gas station so as to not block any emergency vehicles that were responding. I also didn’t want to get blocked in if I had to move out of there in a hurry.

Before I got out of my car, I saw the blood and bodies strewn everywhere. It looked more like a train wreck than a vehicle accident. Blood was on the sidewalk, the street pavement and sprayed all over the storefront windows and facade. It looked as though the B.F. Goodrich tire store on the corner had gotten the brunt of the splattered blood and the scene reminded me of grotesque photos I had seen of the St. Valentine’s Day massacre.
The EMS team from St. Vincent’s Hospital was there, too, doing their best to attend to the more serious victims. One of the EMT’s was on his radio calling for more buses to respond to the scene and I quickly called for the sergeant, asking him to have the Accident Investigation Unit also respond ASAP. It was pretty evident that this was a very serious accident and the possibility existed that someone was injured seriously and very likely might die. The next thing I requested was for additional sectors to respond to assist me with traffic and crowd control.

I walked over to the EMS people for an update. They informed me that they were going to transport two victims immediately to the emergency room and two additional ambulances were en route to the scene. Then they asked me if I could transport another victim in my RMP. I explained to them that I was a solo operator but they said another technician would ride with me while I drove. I walked over to my car and moved it until it was adjacent to the ambulance, then I reached over and opened my right front passenger door.

The technician got in while cradling a little girl who looked to be about seven years old. She was wearing what once was a beautiful white dress but was now splotched with large, crimson blossoms. On her hands she wore matching white gloves which were totally smeared in blood. Looking at her from head to toe, I noticed she had on a single, black satin shoe on one foot and her curly blond hair was caked in blood which was beginning to coagulate. She was barely alive.

Lt. A. sighed. Charlie glanced to his right, not surprised to see that the lieutenant was visibly shaken. The boss’s eyes were beginning to well up but Charlie didn’t know what to say or do.

“Lou, do you want coffee or anything,” he asked quietly.

“No. I’m okay,” Lt. A. answered, his voice low and husky with sadness.

After an endlessly long minute, he seemed to compose himself and lit another cigarette. After a few deep drags, he continued with his story.

The injured girl had gotten to me, but I swallowed my emotions and floored the gas pedal to get her to the hospital. I must have been doing 100 miles an hour on the straight away. When we arrived at the loading dock of the emergency room, the technician next to me asked me to carry the little girl while he ran in to prepare the hospital staff for her.

For a time Charlie didn’t think the lieutenant would finish his story, but after a while, he continued.

I gently took her in my arms and carried her in. Before I got through the doors, her head shifted and I realized that the under part of her head was almost totally gone. As I made my way into the brightly lit building, that little angel opened her beautiful blue eyes for just a second. That’s when she found my eyes. I would swear she looked at me, right at me, but looking back now, especially after all these years, I don’t think she was actually looking at me; I believe it was some kind of reflex action. That night though, right then and there, just seconds after the gaze which filled my soul, I saw that little angel’s eyes roll back into her head just like I’ve seen so many times when someone is going out of the picture. I have no doubts that she died on the spot, right there in my arms.

He took another drag of his nearly demolished cigarette.

Oh, they worked on her for a long time, for such a very long time. They’ll do that if the victim is young. Those doctors took that little girl’s heart right out of her chest and actually massaged it with their hands. They tried everything, but everything wasn’t good enough. She died that night, and I truly believe I was the last person she saw on this fucking earth. Me, some fucking stranger in a blue uniform who did not even know her name!

The lieutenant’s body shook as a sob erupted from somewhere deep in his throat. His eyes fully welled and the tear drops began to fall, leaving crooked, shiny trails on his cheeks. He fell silent and turned his head towards his window, eventually using his sleeve to wipe away the tears. Charlie respected Lou’s need for
silence as Lt. A. lit another cigarette and drew in heavily, taking the acrid smoke deep into his lungs. The cigarette seemed to calm him down a little and finally, after several long minutes without words, he began speaking about the little girl again.

“You know, Charlie, I never even got a chance to talk to her and tell her that everything would be okay. When it was over and she was declared deceased, I went out to the ambulance loading bay and bawled my eyes out. We were all crying including the nurses and even some of the doctors. That innocent, little angel made quite an impact on many of us.

“One nice nurse walked over to me while I was in the loading bay and asked if I was okay. I explained to her that I had a little girl the same age and with blond hair, too. Charlie, that night it was like carrying my own little girl into that hospital and watching her die,” sobbed the lieutenant again.

He lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply, held it in for a while then slowly exhaled through his nose.

“The agony of that Easter Sunday will live with me forever,” he said quietly.

“I learned about the details of the accident when I returned to the precinct at the end of my tour and, believe it or not, there was only one car involved in that awful, bloody accident. A black woman was learning to drive. Can you believe that? She was learning how to drive on fucking Easter Sunday morning! She just had to have lessons on Easter Sunday! Damn, she didn’t even have a learners permit! The fucking car was unregistered and she had no insurance. The fucking schmuck teaching her didn’t have a license, either. He’d also been drinking and was as high as a kite.

“The driver had come down Clove Road, headed for Castleton Avenue. A beautiful, innocent family with a mother, father and seven children, all dressed in their Easter finery, were walking to church along the sidewalk adjacent to the B.F. Goodrich tire store. According to eye witnesses, the woman had a red light but must have stepped on the gas instead of the brake pedal because she shot across the intersection, pinning the father and three of his kids up against the side of the building.

“Both the father and one of his innocent little boys died.
They were the two that were rushed first to the hospital. Three more people died that Easter Sunday morning, including my little angel. I absolutely hate Easter Sundays in this fucking precinct and I’ll tell you why someday.

“When I got home from that Easter Sunday shift the first thing I did was grab my daughter and give her such a big hug and a kiss. In fact, I held onto my baby girl so tight that my wife thought I was going to crush her. Her little mouth was so sticky from eating chocolate the Easter Bunny had delivered the night before in so many beautifully wrapped baskets. I cried and thanked God for that moment and, believe it or not, I never told my wife about the accident,” admitted Lt. A. as his story concluded.

The remainder of the tour was fairly busy but the lieutenant remained quiet after reliving his Easter Sunday tragedy. He seemed to smoke more than his usual amount, especially once his story was told, lighting one cigarette after another the entire night.

As the silence surrounded them during their tour, Charlie thought about Terry, searching for an excuse to tell Annette why he wasn’t coming home right away when he got off work. After he and the lieutenant had signed out, he went directly upstairs and changed into his civilian clothes. As he listened to some of the guys talking about how they were going to stop at old man Harry’s bar on Van Duzer Street, Charlie had to purposely avoid looking at his family’s pictures that were taped to the inside of his locker. Although he was guilt ridden, it didn’t stop him from thinking with the head between his legs instead of the one on top of his body.

Seven

Old man Harry’s place opened early and the guys on the late tour liked to stop there once in a while to have a few brews before going home. Cops who did 4x12's stopped after work and so did the 12x8 crew. The beer they consumed always helped them sleep during the day.

Charlie could have called Annette and explained to her that he was just going to stop off for a few with the guys but it meant he would have to come home smelling like a brewery. Instead, he decided to tell her he made a DWI arrest, which was a good excuse because the
Staten Island Advance
never published particulars about drunk driving arrests, unless there was a fatality involved.