Here I Am; Send Me

Courage is looking fear right in the eye and saying, “Get the hell out of my way, I’ve got things to do.” Author Unknown

I'm sure that smoke from the conflagration on I-70 was visible to the first responders from nearly the moment they were dispatched. I'm sure the terror in the voices of the witnesses and victims was clearly evident in every call received in Jeffcom. I'm sure that the first units on scene reported they had arrived at a nightmare marring a perfect spring afternoon. Unknown number of cars, unknown number of victims.

What unfolded next is a textbook example of everything that is good about the emergency response system that has evolved in our state. Dispatch professionals sorted through the information pouring in, triaged it to make it manageable, and communicated it to the responding officers. The initial units made split-second decisions about victims, injuries, rescues as the flames shot hundreds of feet into the air. Officers from surrounding jurisdictions, many likely self-dispatching because they share a common comm center, arrived with the ages-old service professional question - "How can I help?"

With hundreds of resources arriving from multiple police and fire agencies, as well as CDOT, someone (or a couple of someones) takes charge because that's what they've been trained to do. They hear the commotion on the radio. They can feel the heat of the flames on their faces. They are breathing air tainted by burning plastic, metal, asphalt and, yes, people. They hear the sounds of combustion, the muffled explosions. They know what is at stake.

There are things to do.

By all accounts, everyone involved displayed courage, competence and professionalism - Police, Fire, CDOT, Comm Center. From the initial calls, the first on-scene's lifesaving efforts, the crash investigation figuring out a massive puzzle and methodically building a case (UPDATE: Including the criminalist who responded to collect evidence and take photos, who donned firefighter boots to make their way through the wreckage - home well into Friday), the PIO who patiently explained a dynamic, evolving situation well into the wee hours to a press corps (representing the public) needing updated information, to CDOT's command structure... The fire fighters wading into the flames, risking (and in this case sustaining) injury in a thousand different ways to ensure that the victims had every opportunity at life. Hundreds of methodically-trained, expensively equipped, experienced pros, doing the job like it's meant to be done.

The loss of life is tragic. Ours is a profession that deals with the very human emotion of grief, both of the family members left behind, as well as our own. We want to save every victim.

On May 1st it will be 40 years since I was first sworn in as a police officer. I can say this, without blinking. We are - the First Responder System in Colorado - exceptionally well prepared to serve the citizens of this state. The men and women who have stepped up, who have accepted the challenges of a career in emergency services, who have answered the question "Whom shall I send?" with:

"Here I am, send me."

I admire every one who responded. 

Flying into History

"I could never be so lucky again." Jimmy Doolittle.

Among the darkest times in living memory was the early part of 1942 -- when Hitler's armies were nearly to Moscow; when German submarines were sinking our oil tankers off the coasts of Florida and New Jersey, within sight of the beaches, and there was not a thing we could do about it; when half our navy had been destroyed at Pearl Harbor. We had scarcely any air force. Army recruits were drilling with wooden rifles. And there was no guarantee whatever that the Nazi war machine could be stopped. Historian David McCullough, Jefferson Lecture (2003).

Mourning the passing of the last Doolittle Raider.

It isn't that Richard Cole isn't important. As the last of the Doolittle Raiders, his passing at one hundred three years old is a monument to him and his life. There was a time, seventy-seven years ago, when he did something incredibly brave, incredibly meaningful.

They went together, the Raiders. Eighty fliers, sixteen specially modified B-25 Mitchells. Most got through the raid and returned to the US. Some didn't.

It is impossible for anyone not living then to understand what America was like. We can read the history books, the personal accounts. But, it is impossible for us, today, in a United States that has been the world's preeminent power for nearly eighty years to understand what early 1942 was like.

The attack on Pearl Harbor was seen by even sober observers as an existential threat to our country. Americans felt powerless in the face of armies that never seemed to retreat. Serious people with important jobs actively prepared for not only the invasion of the Hawaiian Islands. They were planning the defense of the West Coast, hoping to stop the onslaught somewhere in the Rocky Mountains.

The Raiders embarked on the aircraft carrier Hornet, one of the few big American ships left in the Pacific. The planes together carried about as many tons of bombs as one Vietnam-era F-105 fighter/bomber. The ships were discovered several hundred miles short of the aircraft's intended departure point. There wouldn't be enough gas to attack Tokyo and then find the bases in China, to make safe landings.

They took off, anyway.

The damage done to Japan was incidental. American planes would not arrive in large numbers over Tokyo for nearly three more years. Yet... The psychological impact on The US was substantial. We were fighting back. We would be okay.

Now, all of these men of courage have passed into history. They were giants, titans. They got into their airplanes, took off from a pitching carrier deck and delivered a message to the militarists in Japan - America will fight.

God bless you all.

A Voyeur's Perch

"Ere he shall lose an eye for such a truffle. For doing deeds of nature. I'm ashamed. The law is an ass." English dramatist George Chapman, Revenge for Honour, (1654).

"If the law supposes that," said Mr. Bumble, squeezing his hat emphatically in both hands, "the law is an ass - an idiot." Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist, (1838).

There are very good reasons people sometimes distrust lawyers.

I recently commented on an article, posted on a web site called Powerline, about something that I found offensive. The situation was right out of Dickens, a bizarre bit of legal tartuffery. A blog writer proffered arguments that are clothed in the niceties of legal jargon, but devoid of any sense of human decency. A week or so ago, one of their feature writers warned against the use of profanity (ass apparently falling into that category, Dickens or not. My comment was removed), warning dismissal from the site and inviting people who don't like it to write their own blogs.

Your proposal is acceptable.

What could have caused such upset that I would risk eternal Powerline damnation? A trial began last week in Minneapolis involving the allegation of murder by a police officer of an unarmed person. The facts are horribly tragic. A woman from Australia called police to report the possibility that a sexual assault was taking place in an alley. A two-officer team responded, arriving minutes later. It was dark. At some point the RP approached the police car. For reasons that have never been explained one of the officers - an inexperienced young man - shot her.

The judge in the murder case ruled recently that a brief bit of evidence collected at the scene would be made available to the jury, but not to the public. This provoked outrage among the legal beagles at Powerline, both blog authors and commenters. The judge was suppressing evidence, many wrote in high dudgeon, citing Periwinkle v. Pumpernickel, or some such, in support. One writer helpfully added the citation (the volume and page number of the decision) in the event that someone a whole lot like me would want to look it up on their own. The judge, they opined, had made a ruling that was searching for legal justification.

What, you ask, could have provoked  such ire? There is apparently police body cam evidence detailing the woman's dying moments, complete with video of her lying naked from the waist up. The officers are performing CPR, to no avail. The judge refuses to make that portion available to the public.

I say - good for her. All of us in the business have met judges like her. They make a ruling in their courtroom out of a sense of justice, proportion and common sense. When one of the attorneys questions the decision, the judge says, "This is my courtroom. I'll not allow that. If the appeals court disagrees, fine."

But saying the law is an ass on Powerline when they want video of a naked, dying woman played in open court is offensive to the lawyers who write there. This is why the average person often thinks lawyers are assholes.

Most people, hearing this tale, will have an immediate emotional reaction to it. It is the Dr. Jonathan Haidt "Elephant v. Rider" idea - that people start with their feelings (the elephant) and then justify that with rational argument (the rider). I'm no different. I can offer a thousand legal reasons why evidence that proves 1) The victim died, 2) the cops tried to save her and 3)  she was naked - isn't necessary and can be kept from public display. One and two can be proven by other evidence. Three is not relevant to the case.

But, I have an emotional response to this...evidence...that is instant and visceral.

A man called our dispatch some years ago, reporting that he was having trouble breathing and requesting an ambulance. Whatever had taken him ill struck him fatally while he was on the phone with us. We found him, phone in hand, sprawled on the floor of his kitchen. A coroner's investigator, standing next to me over the body, remarked, "Really, there is no dignity in death."

Well, no shit. Make all the legal arguments you want. The law can sometimes be an ass. It doesn't mean we lawyers have to also be assholes.

Good for you, judge. Stick to your decision. It's the right thing to do.