Thursday, July 21, 2016

Eight-ball on the Corner Mailbox

It was a late winter night in early 98 when we heard the gunshots "POP! POP! POP!" followed by at least a half dozen more. We were traveling west on Westchester Ave, just past the intersection of Southern Blvd and the gunshots were from behind us.

We turned on the Christmas Tree lights and did a sharp u-turn at which point the job came over the radio: "Confines of the 41 Precinct, shots fired Bryant and Westchester. Unit to respond?"

"One Tracer Five Three Oh Five. Show us responding. Two blocks out. Will advise when 84."

And just like that we were on the scene. There was only one person there, a black male, early 20s, about 5' 9" and almost as large around. He was leaning face front on a mailbox, almost draped on it.

"Yo, my man, you ok? You see anything?" His jacket was black with an eight-ball on the back.

"Officer!" he exclaimed, turing his head without moving his body. Upon getting close to him I could smell the iron in the air. His jacket was wet from blood seeping out of an unknown number of bullet wounds.

Shit! "One Tracer. Get me a bus to my location forthwith! Male shot, multiple wounds."

"Guy, you're going to be okay. I've got an ambulance coming, just stay with me."

"Tell me the truth officer. How bad is it? I got's to know."

What do you say to a man with multiple bullets in his back? The only reason he was still alive was that the fat on his back kept the damage from being lethal.

"You were shot multiple times. Just be cool. EMS is almost here." You could hear the sirens from the ambulance, they were close.

"No man! My eight-ball jacket! How bad is it? Will it wash out?"

I stood there, stunned for a second. Here's a man with multiple bullets in his back and he's concerned about whether or not the blood will wash out from his jacket.

"Don't let them cut my jacket officer! Please, promise me you won't let them."

I asked the EMTs to let him take his jacket off before they loaded him up for the hospital. As he held up his jacket, I could plainly see five bullet holes. Blood was going to be the least of his jacket issues.

No comments:

Post a Comment