Chapter 3: The Aftermath

The world came back and I immediately wished it would go away again. I was on my back, and could hear and smell a familiar environment.

"Damn! I'm in ER again."

This was getting to be too much of a habit. I've lost count of the number of times I've been in this or similar circumstances, both during my Army years and after.

I opened my eyes, and sure enough, there I was on a gurney and fully wired up, beeping merrily away. An IV was stuck in my left arm and what looked like plasma and whole blood was feeding the line.

My left leg felt like it was in a vice, with pulsing pressure on my thigh. I turned my head to the right and there was my faithful honey, sitting in a chair.

"Hi, honey," I croaked.

Heather looked up and frowned at me.

"Oh, oh," I thought, "I'm in trouble again."

She stood up, walked over and looked down at me.

"You just have to jump without thinking, don't you? Can't wait for the Cops? Think you are one, still?"

"Jeez, give me a break," I thought.

"How are the woman and kid?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"The woman is in surgery and the little girl is here in ER. It looks like she will be OK."

"Now, back to you, the cops will be in shortly to chat with you. They have your gun and all your clothes. They aren't too happy about the slaughter in the alley."

"Yeah, I know it will make a lot of paperwork for them and the brass will have to answer to the community for the killing of young innocents, who were just misunderstood." I said.

"You got it!"

"Look honey, you know in this state, anytime there is a homicide, there will be a Grand Jury convened to examine whether charges should be brought, and against whom they will be brought. Did they take my billfold?"

"No, I have it."

"Open it up and pull the cards in the right hand card pocket," I said.

She pulled them out.

"Ok, you see that attorney referral card? Go outside and dial the number, and tell them I have been involved in a shooting incident and to get us an attorney, ASAP. Meanwhile say nothing to the cops at all. Just tell them you want an attorney."

She left and I let my head fall back.

"Man, you can't win in these situations," I thought. "What was I supposed to do? If I waited for the cops that woman would be dead for sure, if it isn't too late already and what about the little girl? What would they have done to her?

"I didn't just start shooting; in fact if I had I wouldn't have a hole in my leg now. It was that hesitation, calling out to them, that lost me the advantage I could have had.

"If it had been one of my Army operations, they would have been taken out before they knew I was there. I was trying to be a cop again and let the perp have the first shot. Oh well, it will sort itself out. You have to do what you know is right and accept the consequences."

I closed my eyes and went into quiet mode; saving energy for what I knew was coming later.

I must have drifted off because I woke up to little butterfly kisses all over my face.

"I hope that's Heather," I thought.

Opening my eyes I was relieved to see it was her.

"Did you get an attorney?" I said.

"Yup, his name is Harold Thompson."

"What did he say?"

"He said just what you said. Don't say anything, give his name as your attorney and he is on the way here."

"Great! That's one detail taken care of. By the way, how long has it been since any medical folks have been in here?"

At that point, just like magic, the inner door popped open and in came a nurse and a doctor.

"Hey doc, when can I blow this pop stand?" I asked.

"Not today."

Then he proceeded to tell me that the bullet had entered the outside of my left thigh front to back and lodged near my hamstring. They had been able to remove it and pack the channel with antibiotics.

The bullet had hit a major blood vessel, but luckily for me, it was a vein, and although it bled heavily, I would be OK. If it had been an artery I probably would have bled out. Luckily the major arteries are to the inside of the leg.

I would be kept for continued IV treatment overnight, and if I didn't develop a fever overnight and the wound looked OK, I could go home tomorrow.

"Meanwhile," he said, "you have visitors."

The nurse opened the outside door and in trooped a uniformed police officer and a plainclothes detective. They didn't look happy.

"Mr. North, we would like to have a few words with you," the plainclothes detective said.

I responded, "I have retained an attorney and will not speak to you at this time without my attorney present. His name is Harold Thompson, and he should be arriving shortly if you would care to wait outside for him. Have a good day."

They both looked at me with a blank look and turned to Heather.

Heather said, "I have retained an attorney and will not speak to you at this time without my attorney present. His name is Harold Thompson."

They looked at each other, shrugged, and left the room.

Let me take a moment to clear up some misconceptions people have about our criminal justice system. It is the function of the police to determine if a crime has been committed, identify the victim, locate a likely suspect, and to gather enough evidence to give the prosecuting attorney a good chance of a conviction.

Nowhere in this process is it necessary for them to decide if the suspect is really guilty, only gather enough evidence to charge him. Police are very busy. They don't have time to go deeply into the incident due to lack of time and manpower.

Let's take a simple example. You, your lovely wife, and your two lovely children are snug upstairs in your beds. It is 2 AM. You are awakened by a loud crash.

You come groggily awake and realize it sounds like your front door has just been smashed in. You leap out of bed wearing only your tighty whiteys, and grab your glasses from the bedside table.

You keep a 12 gauge shotgun in the closet, and you grab it and pump a 00 buck round into the chamber. You move from your upstairs bedroom while your wife is trying to call 911 from the bedside phone.

Turning on the hallway light, you see a large male individual with a handgun, coming up the steps, to the bedroom area. You think of your children sleeping in the next room and worry they will pop out into the hall into the path of the gunman.

You raise your shotgun, yell at him to stop, and see him come up with his pistol. You fire and he falls backward landing on his back at the bottom of the stairs. He isn't moving.

You think to go down and check him but fear there may be others with him. Your wife calls out that the police are on the way and she is on the phone still with 911.

You wait for the cops, standing there with the shotgun in your hand while your wife babbles to the 911 operator.

The cops arrive. They have drawn handguns and shotguns out. They tell you to drop your weapon and you comply.

The next thing you know, you find yourself in handcuffs, in your tighty whiteys, in the back of a squad, on the way to jail. Why? Look at it from the cops' point of view. They know only what they see. A dead guy is in your house lying at the bottom of the steps. You are standing there holding a shotgun that was likely the weapon used.

It's simple. They have a victim and they have a suspect. Let the detectives, prosecutors, and courts sort it out. By the way, everything your wife was babbling about to the 911 operator was taped, and they are trained to ask the right questions.

Why is this so? Think of the possible scenarios the cops could see in this situation. Is it really perhaps the wife's lover shot by you, a jealous husband? Is it a jealous wife who came home and found you, her husband, with your male lover and she shot your lover? It happens. Did you catch your daughter's boyfriend in her room and shoot him in a rage? This happens too. Is the handgun the dead guy is carrying planted? Is it an intruder in a home invasion as it appears?

It can go on and on. The cops are responsible to preserve the scene, arrest a suspect, and safeguard evidence. They are also trained to get you off balance and talking. Well the truth can't hurt you, right? WRONG! Anything you say, and you are in an emotional state, can and will be used against you. They want a suspect. They want to get closure and go home to their families. They don't care if you can't.

So, now we know why we don't talk to the cops, especially if we are innocent. I was getting pretty tired and all the excitement wasn't helping my other medical issues. I was getting increasing angina and buzzed for a nurse.

"Hey, could I get a nitro here?"

The nurse consulted with the doc and they decided to put a nitro drip in my IV cocktail.

Things quieted down for awhile and they came to whisk me off to a room. I asked about the woman and they told me she was out of surgery and going to a room.

I asked if it would be possible to be placed in a room near hers and they said, "Sure, no problem."

After arriving at my room, they tucked me in with their usual professional way of whisking you from the gurney to the bed on the count of three. I wish I had a nickel for every time that has happened to me.

Heather took up her usual station in the chair next to the bed and took out her Palm Pilot and started reading one of the many books she kept on it. With a husband like me she had to be prepared to wile away the boredom of times just like this.

I too, could have read one of the books I have on my Palm Pilot which I had loaded with just about everything my favorite author, Robert A. Heinlein, wrote. Reading his stories soothes me. Instead, I closed my eyes and went over the events of the day in my mind.

The sound of voices in the hall roused me. I looked up and saw three people enter the room. I knew two of them, they were the detective and uniformed officer from the ER.

The other man approached me and said, "Mr. North, I'm Harold Thompson, your attorney. These gentlemen would like a word with you and I will stay and advise you, if you will talk to them."

I responded, "Fine with me, as long as you are here. Talk away, gentlemen."

The plainclothes detective stepped forward. "I didn't get a chance to introduce myself earlier; my name is John Woschick, of the Hilldale PD. Before you get riled, I want to tell you that you are a video star."

I looked at him and said nothing but my brain was racing.

"Oh shit," I thought, "I bet there was video surveillance in that loading area. Oh well, in retrospect I think it would be to my advantage."

I said nothing.