Page 291 - NIXBOOK

Young lady, 22 years old. Living alone in her new apartment. She was having her first ever major scary psychotic break. She had
come back from a tent revival and the energy there had set her off and now a couple hours later I was at her open front door;
she was just inside the doorstep, brandishing a large butcher knife, in full-on schizophrenic mode. She held the pointy knife in
front of her and looked at me with wild eyes. “Take it,” she told me. I can see she’s sweaty and trembling. Yipes! I thought. This
seems like a scene I’ve seen in movie or two. But I was sensing she was more distressed than aggressive, so I was able to reach
out and gently take the knife out of her hand, and toss it into the bushes behind me. As she was getting strapped down onto a
gurney and loaded into an aid car, her mother showed up and said that daughter had lately been exhibiting mild signs of
schizophrenia, and now apparently it was suddenly official.

I drove into the curb too hard, and broke a wheel. Because I had been responding at full speed to a guy running out of Walmart
with stolen loot. The guy jumped in his car and sped out of the parking lot. He passed me and I turned on him, but I misjudged
time and space; my patrol car’s right front wheel slammed into the curb hard and broke, although I didn’t realize how badly at
that moment. I straightened out and pulled the guy over a block away. Took him in to custody, got a full confession and another
officer took him to jail. I got back in my car and turned the steering wheel and the right front wheel at that moment decided to
become just about completely detached from my patrol car. Good thing the suspect had pulled over straight down the road and
didn’t turn at the intersection; I would have lost it the second I made a turn, especially at speed. So yeah, I broke my car. A tow
truck took it away and we got it fixed. The good news though is that the guy went off to prison after jail, because he got convicted.

Autistic 13 year old kid was having a freak out episode at his house, bad enough for his mother to call 911. I arrived on the scene
and saw the kid punching his mother in the driveway; she was taking the blows calmly. Clearly she was used to this sort of thing.
I intervened and the kid turned his attention to me, not appreciating the fact that trying to attack a police officer is a generally
frowned-upon action. Fortunately he had no technique at all and I was able to control him enough for an aid car to take him
away for a mental health evaluation. Mother and I both agreed that since he was a large kid – close to 200 pounds and taller
than both of us – it was pretty important to get his meds dialed in right. And make sure he doesn’t learn anything about fighting.