I received a call to report to the scene of an accident. The car had rolled over, on the Interstate.

When I arrived, the firefighters— already on the scene— ran to me and the other officer.

“He’s going to kill her,” they shouted. “He’s going to kill her!”

We ran to the car.

A male subject, in the driver seat, upside-down, was stabbing a female subject in the passenger seat.

He didn’t have a seatbelt on, but was trapped by the dashboard. She was still in her seatbelt and couldn’t find a way to get out. Besides, the window was too crushed in— she would never have fit out the side.

We tried to talk the man down.

But he was committed. He was going to kill her.

“We’re going to have to shoot him,” my partner said.

“I agree.”

We warned him over and over…

There was no way we could reach him and get him to stop. So, we both fired one bullet.

That neutralized the threat, and we were able to extract the woman from the vehicle.

👇

It got more “interesting” from there. After that, we (my partner and I) were subject to an internal affairs infestation (which we knew would happen), as well as a criminal investigation.

Somehow, I didn’t know that every officer-involved shooting would turn into that…

… and that police would be even MORE scrutinized than some of the perpetrators we kept pulling off the street, perps who were allowed “plead down” to lesser charges.

😳

We also faced potential blowback from the community. I’m a white officer, and this was a black man I shot.

Jesse Jackson and other national leaders threatened to come march the streets and protest.

The only thing that stopped it was that the woman we saved came out and declared, “These officers saved my life.”

That blew their narrative apart, that somehow this was a race-driven assault by us.

⭐️

I went that day to handle the scene of an accident.

I had not idea it would turn into all of that… or, the long-term ramifications of it.