Read Online Nothing to Report by Patrick Abbruzzi - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patrick Abbruzzi
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one particular Easter Sunday. I was still a footman in the squad and had not been assigned a seat in any sector yet so I was basically a fill-in to any empty seat. I had not even met my future partner Frank yet.
“Until then, Frank had been in another squad and worked with another cop. As a fill-in, I walked foot posts, flew on details, and often was assigned the dreaded switchboard. On this particular day I was assigned to Sector K, which was a solo, also known as a one-man car. The 120 th had one-man cars back in those days, even though we were a considered a busy house, although those same one-man cars were not the one-man report cars that exist today, and we responded on all kinds of calls, including gun runs as well as family disputes.
“On this particular day I had to respond on what I thought was a routine fender bender but it turned out to be one of the most horrifying calls I have ever handled, ” said the lieutenant as he stared at the road ahead of them. After hesitating a moment, the lieutenant reached for yet another cigarette and glanced at the man beside him. This was when Charlie suddenly realized the lieutenant had been chain smoking ever since he said he was going to tell his story.
They passed the old Weiss Glass Stadium on Richmond Terrace and the boss told him to pull in and drive underneath the deserted bleacher stands.
The stadium itself had been dismantled years before but the old dilapidated bleacher stands were still there. The area junkies used the place as a local shooting gallery and prostitutes brought their Johns there for their quickie lays and blow jobs.
The lieutenant was killing two birds with one stone on this location. He had chosen to make a visit here because the area had been classified as a cooping prone location. The other reason, Charlie soon found out, was the lieutenant had to take a leak. The boss urinated while staring at the center of the arena, which had held wrestling cards long before the World Wrestling Federation was even dreamed about.
With a reminiscent gaze, the lieutenant told Charlie how, as a kid, he remembered seeing the world champ, Antonino Rocca, fight for his title against Gorgeous George in the same arena.
It was a different world back then.
The lieutenant got back into the car and Charlie put the car in drive, taking them back on patrol.
“Where was I, Charlie?” the lieutenant asked.
“You were going to handle an accident,” Charlie replied.
“Oh, right.”
It was about 11:45 A.M. and I had just finished my third cup of coffee down by Sailor Snug Harbor. I wasn’t in the coop but it’s quiet down there and always a good place to do reports or crosswords.
Easter Sunday in the 120 th usually meant a fairly quiet morning, but I have never been lucky with Easter Sunday in this precinct. The radio dispatcher called me first not only because the job was in my sector but because it was a perfect job for a one-man car.
“120 th King,” called Central. I answered the call by stating I was standing by.
“King, respond forthwith to Castleton Avenue and Clove Road on a report of a vehicle accident. Injuries may be involved,” the dispatcher from Central directed. Without hesitating, I turned on my lights and sirens and headed west onto the Terrace, turning left on Clove Road when I reached it.
The lieutenant hesitated before adding, “I don’t think there’s a cop alive who enjoys going to vehicle accidents. At least I know I don’t.”
When I was heading south up Clove Road I received yet another disturbing call from Central stating that numerous calls were coming in and for me to put a rush on it.
As I approached the busy intersection, I saw flashing red and white ambulance lights reflecting off of store windows. There were also crowds of people everywhere, both lining the streets as well as on street corners. Most were civilian bystanders who were totally useless and not assisting in any way. I maneuvered the
“Until then, Frank had been in another squad and worked with another cop. As a fill-in, I walked foot posts, flew on details, and often was assigned the dreaded switchboard. On this particular day I was assigned to Sector K, which was a solo, also known as a one-man car. The 120 th had one-man cars back in those days, even though we were a considered a busy house, although those same one-man cars were not the one-man report cars that exist today, and we responded on all kinds of calls, including gun runs as well as family disputes.
“On this particular day I had to respond on what I thought was a routine fender bender but it turned out to be one of the most horrifying calls I have ever handled, ” said the lieutenant as he stared at the road ahead of them. After hesitating a moment, the lieutenant reached for yet another cigarette and glanced at the man beside him. This was when Charlie suddenly realized the lieutenant had been chain smoking ever since he said he was going to tell his story.
They passed the old Weiss Glass Stadium on Richmond Terrace and the boss told him to pull in and drive underneath the deserted bleacher stands.
The stadium itself had been dismantled years before but the old dilapidated bleacher stands were still there. The area junkies used the place as a local shooting gallery and prostitutes brought their Johns there for their quickie lays and blow jobs.
The lieutenant was killing two birds with one stone on this location. He had chosen to make a visit here because the area had been classified as a cooping prone location. The other reason, Charlie soon found out, was the lieutenant had to take a leak. The boss urinated while staring at the center of the arena, which had held wrestling cards long before the World Wrestling Federation was even dreamed about.
With a reminiscent gaze, the lieutenant told Charlie how, as a kid, he remembered seeing the world champ, Antonino Rocca, fight for his title against Gorgeous George in the same arena.
It was a different world back then.
The lieutenant got back into the car and Charlie put the car in drive, taking them back on patrol.
“Where was I, Charlie?” the lieutenant asked.
“You were going to handle an accident,” Charlie replied.
“Oh, right.”
It was about 11:45 A.M. and I had just finished my third cup of coffee down by Sailor Snug Harbor. I wasn’t in the coop but it’s quiet down there and always a good place to do reports or crosswords.
Easter Sunday in the 120 th usually meant a fairly quiet morning, but I have never been lucky with Easter Sunday in this precinct. The radio dispatcher called me first not only because the job was in my sector but because it was a perfect job for a one-man car.
“120 th King,” called Central. I answered the call by stating I was standing by.
“King, respond forthwith to Castleton Avenue and Clove Road on a report of a vehicle accident. Injuries may be involved,” the dispatcher from Central directed. Without hesitating, I turned on my lights and sirens and headed west onto the Terrace, turning left on Clove Road when I reached it.
The lieutenant hesitated before adding, “I don’t think there’s a cop alive who enjoys going to vehicle accidents. At least I know I don’t.”
When I was heading south up Clove Road I received yet another disturbing call from Central stating that numerous calls were coming in and for me to put a rush on it.
As I approached the busy intersection, I saw flashing red and white ambulance lights reflecting off of store windows. There were also crowds of people everywhere, both lining the streets as well as on street corners. Most were civilian bystanders who were totally useless and not assisting in any way. I maneuvered the
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