DWN

Inspiration is where you find it I guess, and inspired by my "just a t-shirt" comment in the previous post I thought I’d offer up this little anecdote from La Ronge.

I had been sitting in the office on a beautiful summer’s Sunday afternoon, when the call arrived. The caller was reporting that they had just seen a possible impaired driver, heading down to Nut Point. Now Nut Point is a beautiful provincial campground right on the edge of town, complete with a wonderful hiking trail out the length of the point.

Being a point, there was only one road that led in and out, and it led directly past the road to our office on Police Point. I hopped in one of the trucks and drove down looking for the impaired. Just inside the park, I came across a pickup truck, perpendicular to the road, with it’s tires just off the pavement. It was stuck on a little grassy patch that the average driver would have been able to back out of, but due to his intoxication this fellow was stuck.  I parked my truck to block the truck’s path and walked up to the driver’s door.

I recognized the driver, Frank, as a fellow I’ve dealt with on several occasions, I also recognized immediately that he was hammered. I reached in and grabbed the keys out of the ignition and asked him to step out of the truck. Now being the trained skilled observer that I was, I immediately took note that he was dressed in a black leather jacket. A black leather jacket and absolutely nothing else. 

When I asked him to get in the back of my truck he balked, and began turning aggressive.  Now part of the secret of dealing with aggressive people is to project confidence, and to be patient. You need to subtlety (and some times not so subtlety) let people know that if it comes to a confrontation you will prevail, and if you have the time you need to talk to them. I’ve always believed that the strongest muscle in the human body is the tongue and most time, with time, you can talk them into the truck. You also have to be prepared for those occasions when talk isn’t going to work, and that is whole other skill set.

Frank was big and no stranger to violence, but he also knew me well and as there was nothing else on the go we stood on the side of the road talking, as I convinced him in his drunken stupor that it would be in his best interests just to get in the truck and come for his breathtest and a rest in our cells. As I mentioned previously it was a gorgeous summer Sunday, and as we stood at the side of the road, Frank in all of his glory, several families drove by for their Sunday drive. I often wondered what they thought with the policeman standing there casually talking to a man wearing nothing more than a jacket and a smile.

Frank eventually realized that his best option was to get into the truck and came back to the office. I called ahead for a breathalyzer technician and when we walked into the Breathalyzer room there was Brenda, one of our members, looking a little shocked but carrying on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I went and retrieved a pair of sweats for the cell block and brought them up, but when I returned later for the results Frank was still sitting there, sweats on the floor beside him, having a great conversation with Brenda, who was shooting me a combination of looks that said "I’m going to kill you" and "you owe me bigtime". 

That Frank blew over was not a question, and as he was extremely drunk he slept it off in our cells. When the next shift released him Frank demanded to know why we wouldn’t return his clothes to him, and it took them awhile to convince him that he hadn’t had any to start with.  At least he didn’t have a wife to try and explain it all to.