Funny CERT class story:
So, it’s 11:15AM on a Saturday morning and we’re all sitting around a class room in the American Red Cross, Milwaukee Chapter (on 26th & Wisconsin – a real shite neighborhood – right down the street from Marquette University) when one of the guys working the front desk opens the classroom door. He’s cradling about 3 boxes of rubber gloves and about half-dozen-bandages; some are unrolling themselves off of him and spilling on to the floor. He says, “Uh, excuse me everyone. There’s been someone shot across the street.”
A friend of mine sitting in the table in front of me, who’d just returned from working a stressful tour at an ARC shelter in Biloxi, turns to me and says, “Pfft , It’s a drill.” But the cop and the RN giving the lectures, as well as the retired firefighter and the M.D. also taking the class spring into action and start heading for the front of the building
My attitude, tactical as always, was “Someone’s shooting outside? Stay in front of me where’s it’s safe!” so I was one of the last people exiting the classroom. But it wasn’t a drill, sure enough, across the corner, there’s a woman lying on the sidewalk right next to the steps of a bank. It was the first of the month, and it was an exceptionally busy time at the bank and the check cashing joints nearby. Traffic at the intersection had quickly become massively tied up and there are all sorts of people running around pointing and yelling at various stuff.
As we’re heading out the front doors, the woman in front of me (64 years old, and she actually works in the building everyday) mistook the glass partition of the foyer right next to the door AS the door and face plants into the glass in a manner reminiscent of Daffy Duck meeting a frying pan.
She smacked into it at full speed and went directly backwards and down. She must of have done this before because she expertly tucked her chin down as she was falling backwards, and due to her rotund body, rolled on to her back and thankfully didn’t smack her posterior fossa whatsoever on the tile in the foyer (which is what I was expecting to happen).
I looked down at her and said something like, “HOLY SHIT! Are you OK?”. She propped herself up on her elbows, looked at me and said, “Oh I’m fine honey, I’m fine. Just go on out there.” (Which really, looking back at it now, is actually the ultimate in über tactical moves one could pull when they’re about to exit a secured building and enter busy city street where a known active shooter has just been located – yes, send out the big white guy! See, now I’m her bullet stopper. Kudos, Madame. Kudos.). We went back later and looked at where her head made contact on the glass – it looked like the shroud of Turin with respect that you could make out every facial detail perfectly on the grease stain she left.
So I finally make it across the street. The GSW is on her side encircled by 8 volunteers with probably close to two centuries of emergency response experience between them. They’re all gloved, applying direct pressure, covering her in a blanket, just working the situation really well.
She’s alert and angry, but not responsive in a helpful sense: “What’s your name?” “Where are you hurt?” No answer - she wants her cell phone, but it’s gone. Someone gives her a cell phone a she starts punching in a phone number as her jeans are being cut off. She felt the most important thing to do at that time was call her manager, “Tom? I’m gonna be late coming in today because I was shot.” The phone call ends and she begins shaking and turns an ashen gray – boom - just like that, it was time for shock to set in.
So I take it upon myself to start crowd control, because despite the fact there’s a woman lying on the sidewalk who’s just been shot – there are still people trying to get into the bank and conduct their business even though the bank security guard has of course locked the doors.
I’m doing my best impression of Officer Barbrady, trying to keep the crowd out of the way when I start to hear what actually happened. This woman had just walked out of the bank when two thugs with their shirt collars pulled up over their noses (in classic bad guy style) walk up to her and while one starts yanking on her purse the other pushes her down to the ground. But she still has a firm grip on her purse, so one of the turds whips out his gat and shoots the woman causing her to finally release the purse. They run off towards some apartment buildings never to be seen again. The bullet (maybe a .380, nobody knows) entered near her hip and no exit was found.
Taking in comments like, “Those two boys just shot someone’s Momma – they ain’t going to be alive come tomorrow.” and, “Shit, I saw the whole thing. If I would’ve been strapped I could have capped those two assholes easy.” the MFD fire truck comes roaring in. One guy jumps out, saunters over, looks over the situation, rests his rubber gloved hands on his hips and leans over towards the lady on the sidewalk, “Hey, that’s not too bad of a place to get shot. You’re gonna be home tonight!” INSTANTLY she starts looking better and is able to communicate with the cop about what happened. The ambulance came and took her to the hospital where they took the bullet out, and as far as I know, she got released the next morning. No word on whether the six external bank cameras got anything useful (or whether they even worked) so, rest assured, unless street justice has taken its course, the two bad guys are still out roaming free and living large.
So then we all ambled back to class, did a lot of the nervous chatting thing (a wee bit of the logorrhea kicking in – which I thought was normal), and had some laughs because thankfully everything turned out well. Then we went right back in to the exciting lesson plan which I believe at the time was covering the different classes of fires and their appropriate extinguishers – which we all know is pretty scintillating stuff. And that’s the end of the story.