Chapter 3 - Shiver Me Timbers to a Watery Grave

Chapter 3

Shiver Me Timbers to a Watery Grave

     I had never seen it so cold before. Even winter survival in the Army wasn't this cold. It was about 18 degrees and the wind whipped briskly across the four miles of the water of the James and slammed ashore, literally taking away your breath. At least I had the option of a warm police car most of the time. I had my long johns, scarf, and jacket on but that was barely enough just to keep the shakes at bay. My gloves weren't the best. They worked for the short term, but if I needed to get to my weapon for any reason I had to cast them off. Forget about working the police radio, or anything with small buttons for that matter. I don't even know what was available back in those days, but I'm sure I didn't have the money for it anyway, and the department wasn't going to buy it for us; just as well.

    
     It was after midnight and I was patroling in the dimly lit industrial area of the city. It's a place known for prostitutes and drug dealers, robbers and degenerates of every sort. I was young, new to policing, full of energy, and I loved working it. I felt fresh from a good day's sleep and was ready to get the night started. As a young officer I was so full of enthusiasm I would have worked all the time if the department, or my body, would have permitted it. I loved what I did, felt overpaid because of it, and worked twice as hard not to feel guilty about it. I had heard all of the horror stories from the veterans, and believed them, at least as much as one can without experiencing it personally. I had seen several natural deaths and a couple of stabbings, maybe a shooting, but so far everything had turned out pretty normally for what I thought police work was about. But all was about to change. "Unit 301" the dispatcher called. "Unit 301" I answered. "Respond to a possible jumper on the James River Bridge south bound lanes; white male stopped in the roadway and is threatening to jump." Okay, game-on I thought as I responded with a somber "10-4."

     I lit the candles and turned my nose northbound, dropping my foot to the floor of that box Chevy. The 350 4bbl came to life and pressed me nicely back into my seat. My accessible gear comprised a street map and a metal clipboard with an internal compartment where I kept paperwork. These were buckled into the seat beside me. There's nothing worse than having your gear getting thrown around the inside of your car if you have to do some rough driving. The rest of my gear was tucked neatly in the trunk. I could find a paperclip in the dark in my trunk. Everything had it's place and stayed there unless I moved it. I learned my first year on the street that knowing where your rain gear or your extra flashlight batteries are is extremely important when there's no light and it's raining so heavily that you can't see what you're reaching for. There was no traffic and the city seemed desolate and dark. An eerie feeling came over me and it was like I was riding with a dark presence I couldn't explain. Something about this call worried me. God gave us instincts to help us survive. The little hairs that stand up on the back of your neck, the adrenaline rush of fight or flight, fear, are but a few. I've learned what they all mean for me and use them to my advantage now. This is a skill set learned over time. Practiced calm in the face of the unknown makes good soldiers and cops. I've been both now.

     When I hit the span of the draw I was already a mile onto the bridge and my speedometer was straining to keep up. Way up in the distance, maybe another mile and a half, I could see stopped cars. My back-up was nowhere to be seen. Usually this time of night we're all getting somewhere about the same time, and with a hot call like this most of the guys are chomping at the bit to get there. Unfortunately, as the units turned out of line-up in the previous hour they were given assigments that had been pending from evening shift. The four horsemen that I worked with normally weren't to be found. I was alone...at least for now.

     I gave myself plenty of distance as I rolled up behind the line of about eight to ten cars stopped at the second smaller span. I had no idea what I was walking into and I was by myself. With my body armor, jacket, utility belt and boots, I weighed about 200 lbs. That's quite a good sized boat anchor that I would quickly become in that frigid water should I happen to take that fall. As I made my way through the small passage between stopped cars I saw a small gathering of people at the front of the first car. About 10 feet from them was the object of their consideration; a man, slightly built, wearing a blue windbreaker, bluejeans, and workboots. He was facing the gawkers and engaged in conversation with one of them. As I made my way to the front I could hear the conversation was more of a pleading to the man on the rail to come down. I walked up to the self-appointed citizen negotiator and made my presence known by putting my hand on his shoulder. As he looked at me I nodded, then I shut up and listened. The man on the railing was detailing his failures in life; his wife left him; he has a child that he doesn't get to see; he has no money and his job is hard; he has bills he can't pay... wow, I  nearly got on the railing with him at that point.

     I had only been out of my car a few minutes and the wind was already cutting through my jacket and gloves. My cheeks were burning from the wind so badly they felt like someone had sandpapered my skin, and I'd only been out there five minutes. The guy on the rail wasn't even shaking. It must have been the adrenaline I'm guessing. I didn't see any signs of anything else, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything either. My back-up arrived and I saw John's shadow creep up behind me just as I had done the crowd, and I felt his hand grasp my shoulder. I didn't even look. He'd done that 100 times on other calls and I knew I was good now. "What's your name?" I asked. "Peter" he answered through freezing tears. "I'm Woody, this is my partner John, I've been listening to you talk with this gentleman here, but I'm still not sure what's going on with you. Help me understand."  With that Peter's eyes became fixed on me, and we began a dialogue that would haunt me to this day.

     "I have nothing left" he said. "My wife left me and took my son. I'm on the verge of losing my job. My wife has a restraining order against me for nothing and is garnishing my paycheck for child support... and I don't have any place to stay except my car", motioning to the white Oldsmobile parked canted in the roadway blocking the right lane; the same car I was standing in front of. I quickly glanced inside it and saw it piled to the roof in the back seat with clothing and miscellaneous junk. There were empty fast food wrappers on the dash and the floor; basically, it was a mobile disaster area. The car itself, I had noticed previously, was missing it's hubcaps, had faded paint, and was dinged up pretty good. It was pretty typical though of the type of car one might drive to work at a Shipyard. Listening to him I thought to myself this is just too much for a man to take. Everybody has a breaking point. I've always said that anybody is capable of murder under the right circumstances. If your conscience won't let you kill another, then what's left is murdering yourself. Suicide is the legal term for it, but the Bible calls it murder. It's a moral imperative given by the Ten Commandments of God to Moses, "Thou Shall Not Commit Murder." Some say suicide isn't talked about in the Bible, but it's just as clear as day if you get out from underneath the technical secular definition and look at it with God's eyes. It's just murdering oneself. Most, when contemplating taking their own life, wouldn't even think about that. This moral imperative given by God not to commit murder includes oneself. In the depths of despair they also forget their blessings. Life is a blessing, love is a blessing, and despite the short term hardships, both life and love can be wonderful experiences again with the right choices. My job now is to use these two angles, moral imperative and overcoming short term hardships, to help this man understand his faulty logic here; and I have to do it before he and I both freeze to death.

     Because of the position of everything, he had his back to the north wind while I faced it. It came across the water traveling the length of the river as far as we could see until it slammed me in the mouth every time I opened it to speak. My eyes were watery and freezing. My nose was doing the same and my skin felt on fire. I could only imagine what it was doing to him in that light jacket, but he didn't seem to care. If he went into that water there would be no rescue, there would be no second chance. "John, get a Fire Rescue boat on the way, and check with the Shipyard and the Coast Guard to see where their boats are." John moved back out of earshot and made the requests to dispatch. As he came back over my shoulder he whispered, "Checking."  I kept listening to Pete. John started clearing on-lookers and closed the bridges southbound lanes. That left just us now. Pete was still talking and that was a good thing. As long as Pete was talking he wasn't jumping. I needed to turn his logic on him somehow. "I've heard you talk about all these bad things you have in your life. What about the good things you have." I asked  He looked at me puzzled and kind of cocked his head like a puppy. At that moment John whispered in my ear, "nothing, on your own." "Great", I whispered to John.. and to God.

     As I reconnected with Pete, John continued to work behind the scenes. I heard the door shut on his police car and glanced back to see him inside. I had turned the portable radio on my belt down so Pete couldn't hear any of John's traffic about the rescue boats and decide to take his plunge before we could set up a rescue op, but that was moot at this point, there were no boats. Not even a rogue fishing vessel was out on the river in this weather and at this time of night. I envied John at this point. The heat pumping inside his police car as mine gradually left my body. The shakes had started now and I sounded like I was stuttering and felt like I was dancing. But still no sign of the cold affecting Pete. Strange, I thought, just an extremely sad focus on his perspective of life. He didn't sound drunk. He didn't look high. He was teary but otherwise calm and in many ways sounding very rational to me. He had really thought this out, but just couldn't get past the traffic circle in his head that kept bringing him back to one solution, suicide. I asked him about his family, friends, children. I asked him to detail each problem he thought was insurmountable, and then worked to chop away at it until we came up with something that might work. We had been talking for almost 45 minutes now and I felt that I was getting somewhere; not very fast, mind you, but we had negotiated past one or two of his "insurmountables" in just 45 minutes. It was a slow process and I needed help. I motioned to John with a wave and heard his door opening behind me. I asked Pete if he was cold and he nodded but didn't speak. I asked John to look in my trunk and get a small tarp I had in there that covered my equipment from bad weather if I needed it. It was neatly folded on the right side against the quarter panel. John returned with it shortly and I asked Pete if I could bring it to him. I promised him I wouldn't do anything to risk his life or mine and he agreed. John handed me the tarp and I approached Pete slowly. I could see him shift away from me on the railing and I stopped. I leaned over so all he could reach was the corner of the folded tarp and he took it. As I moved away his eyes never left me. When he thought I was far enough away I could see his stress level decrease and he began unfolding the tarp. It was 6 X 4 and just perfect to keep the wind off Pete. Perhaps this would give us more time. At least he was willing to take it and to talk. I tried repeatedly to get him to come sit with me in my car, but he knew just as I did that once he was in my grasp, there was no way he was leaving it.

     As Pete fumbled with the tarp I told John I needed a break. I told him where we were in the conversation and what his biggest issues were. I asked John to start hammering on that. If we keep at it and convince him that over time all his problems are solvable, he won't have a reason to jump. The second blow will be his eternal soul. I want him to know how God works and why. I want him to understand fully what he's doing in God's eyes, and how that will affect his children in the future; that this is a permanent solution to a temporary problem and will affect his children for the rest of their lives, and their children's lives. It just will. His children will resent him and hold onto the hurt like a dog with a bone in it's mouth and his head stuck through a fence. He won't let the bone go for fear of losing it, even when it's necessary to free himself. In the same way people hold onto hurt, not letting the pain go because they don't know how, or the fear of what's next is greater than the pain the hurt is causing.



God has a different path. A path that involves leaning on him for understanding, not on ourselves. It's a path that requires complete submission to him once we believe in him. You see, God sent his son to die for us that our sins might be forgiven, otherwise, we would be condemned just like those that reject God. But the blood of Christ, who died sinless on the cross, makes us clean before God, as a final sacrifice just as though we had never sinned. It's as simple as that; and the greatest part is that it's free for the asking.

     I know, easier said than done. Believe me, I live with emotional pain every day. Part of my own personal therapy is repeating to myself what I just wrote. I wake up every day with.. ok, why not today?.. and every day I come up with a new reason.  That being said, we all experience pain and have issues. We can't control those around us, only ourselves. So when people see the imperfect person you are, still able to handle your own issues, you become an inspiration. Perfect people don't exist, that's why a perfect Christ did. He's the gatekeeper. No man comes to the father except through him. That being said, not every story has a happy ending either. Sometimes we just  have to move through and move on. It's never wasted on us if we take something from it.

     I was only gone a few minutes. I sat in the car and finished the tepid coffee in my travel cup. The heat was up full blast, but was having a hard time keeping up with the outside temperature. The shaking was just starting to leave my body when I heard the few onlookers left screaming. I bolted from the car and ran to John only to see two shadows appear to go over the short railing. My heart sank deep into my chest as my options raced through my mind. I heard the splash and ran to the rail. John had caught the the concrete and was holding on. Pete was gone. The tarp sailed through the air, caught in a vortex below the bridge and seemed to circle like a raven. I could never have lifted John. I anchored his hand to the concrete with my hand and knee and told him to find some footing, which he was able to do. As he climbed to the rail I heard him mutter "get the hell off my hand" and I knew he was okay. Together we ran to the far side, traversing the jersey wall between the bridge directions to get a view of the south side. I momentarily thought I caught a glimpse of a jacket, then it was gone. The Fire Department ambulance waiting in the back slowly drove off. There was no rescue, there was no search, there was no hope. There was only this overwhelming sadness and pain in my chest and stomach, like getting kicked by a horse.

     I asked John what happened. He said he really didn't know. One moment he was talking to Pete, thinking he was making progress. The next moment Pete got quiet and very sullen. It was like in that one moment John saw him make up his mind and it was done. It was done, forever. Never to be undone. There are no redoes in death, only in life. The beauty of life is that you can always change your stars. There is always hope as long as there is life. God gives us that chance, every day, to be better than the day before; to decide.. I'm not this person, I'm not living like this anymore. The beauty of that is... once you stop the drama, it's gone. It only lingers in minds, and over time it fades like an echo and then is gone. God's choice is hope. He sent many ahead for us to teach us, and when we wouldn't listen, he sent his son to die for us, so that our choices wouldn't condemn us until death. But choosing Christ before death gives us life eternal with Him, since he was the sacrifice to end all other sacrifices. Our belief in Him changes everything. When we believe in our hearts and confess with our mouth that Christ is Lord, all is forgiven; now and forever more.

     I still think of Pete often. Not everyday, but at the weirdest of times. Like laying in bed before falling asleep, or driving down the road when I have time to think. I pray for him, his family, and all those that I'll never know, but who were influenced by his life, and by his death. Pete affected me in many ways. His death contributed in some ways to my salvation later. It wasn't one event, but it was a compilation of straws on this camel's back that made me believe in a creator, and his son, and a perfect story of love, hope, faith, and devotion. Pete is but one face in my mind. There are more.


J.W. Boswell
Copyright 2015