No gloves, no love!

A while back I assisted in taking a violent criminal into custody that ended up throwing a wrench onto my personal life.  I won’t get into any specifics about the case because has not been adjudicated and will likely end up being a death penalty case.  Regardless, when I went hands on with the suspect I experienced a signifigant blood exposure.  The suspect was very bloody from the way he was taken into custody (he lost a fight with the land shark that sniffed him out).  Now the call up to that point was pretty tense and because we had been preparing for an ambush, when I exited my car I didn’t  glove up and grabbed my rifle. 

Let’s face it,  if I can choose which tool to take to an ambush,  my 10.5" barreled AR-15 with Aimpoint Micro optics and light and more importantly multiple 30 round mags (loaded to 28 rounds of course to stay within department policy) is going to be pretty high on the list, much higher than gloves.  I was already wearing my vest but as far as other PPE (personal protective equipment) I could have done better.  Sure my ballistic helmet would have been a good idea but even the basics would have been a good idea.  I had two pair of black nitril gloves in my vest and another pair in the my pants pockets, but waited too long to get them on.

Once the tempo of the call slowed down I should have gloved up before touching anyone.  But this time I didn’t and really wish I had.  I am a pretty serious germ-a-phobe and really prefer to glove up before touching people regardless.  But like I said I didn’t this time.  And when I looked down I had his blood covering my hand and running down the back my hand over some scabs from working on my car and down my arm.   As soon as I could I cleaned it off and went through three bottles of hand sanitizer to clean up. 

Later when the suspect was receiving medical treatment it was determined that he had MRSA, this combined with the fact the he was a little guy and had been in prison for several years, I assumed he got passed around like a playboy so who knows what else he had.  So I completed the appropriate blood exposure paperwork and went through the processes prescribed.  I went to the doctor several times and they drew my blood several times for testing and gave me some guidelines.  Because they had not analyzed the suspects blood yet they put me on the worst case scenario precautions.  Among them was no unprotected sex with my wife for six months.  There were some other even more intrusive personal limitations given to me that I will spare you the details of.  To confirm, I asked, “Okay so no unprotected sex with my wife but unprotected sex with hookers is still good right?”  He had a stunned look on his face so I let him off the hook and told him, “I’m joking you know, right?”

 Suffice it to say, this momentary of lapse of not putting PPE gloves on had complicated my life comprehensively.  Because of no gloves, I was forced into the scenario of no glove no love.  I learned now that no matter what when it comes time to touch people, take the time to glove up.  Not just for the six months of probation, but just to avoid the stuff you can bring home to the rest of the family.         

November 12th 1913

November 12^th 1913 Started like any other day for Marshal Hyrum Peterson.  He was the first law enforcement officer in the dusty western town of Mesa Arizona.  At the time Mesa was a small suburb of Phoenix with just a few hundred people.  The state of Arizona was merely a year old at this time, and Arizona was still very much the “wild west” with towns such as Bisbee and Tombstone and Arizona Lawmen such as Virgil and Wyatt Earp to bolster its legend.   At 53 years of age Peterson had spent most of his years working as a farmer on ranches.  But for the last five years he was the person tasked with enforcing law and order.   He went on about his daily duty of patrolling the town on his bicycle.  But this day, November 12, 1913 would end very different for Marshal Peterson. 

On this day he witnessed two subjects attempting to steal a bicycle.  He pursued them on his own bicycle and when they got to what was then the edge of town near Broadway and Country Club, the subjects fired upon him striking Marshal Peterson five times.  Twice in the arm, twice in the leg and a fatal chest wound that struck him in the heart.  He died moments later.  Marshal Hyrum Smith Peterson was the first Mesa Law Enforcement officer to die in the line of duty.   While not the official Mesa Police Department of today, Marshal Peterson was still a Mesa Arizona law enforcement officer, and all of the Mesa officers since regard him as a brother. 

It would be another 81 years almost to the day when Mesa would lose the next officer killed in the line of duty.  I will get into the tragedy of Officer Steven Pollard at a later time.  Today I choose to focus on Marshal Peterson.  His murderers were caught and tired in a court of law.  They were sentenced to death by hanging, but justice never came for Marshal Peterson.  Seven years later both killers were pardoned by then Governor Thomas Edward Campbell.  Apparently he felt that the murder of a police officer was not a crime worthy of death and seven years of incarceration was enough and they were set free.  Some speculate the Governors decision was based in religious bias, others a political stunt, but nobody really knows for sure.  One thing is true, thousands of worthy souls have stepped up to the cause and carried the torch that metaphorically dropped to the ground when Marshal Peterson fell dead.  Tens of thousands of times since then men and women all around this country have stepped up and taken on the risk of dying an inglorious death to carry that torch.  One hundred and forty times this year so far men and women have stepped up to carry on where their fallen brothers fell.  I challenge you to attend the funeral of the next officer in your area that gets killed in the line of duty.  You will be welcomed, room will be made for you.  Watch their brothers and sisters grieve as the last radio call is put out and the fallen officer never responds back.  Watch the family members shutter as the tears roll down their face during the twenty one gun salute.  That my friends is the price that some pay to keep you safe.