Went back to work Saturday night. It was an interesting night. Worked 13 hours in a 12 hour shift due to the time change. Responded to a bunch of complaints about loud music since everyone was having their halloween parties that night. I also got the opportunity to examine the Force Continuum from a very personal viewpoint.

Brief aside: the Force Continuum is what police use to determine the appropriate levels of force that needs to be applied in any given situation. It ranges from mere officer presence to verbal commands to more hands-on methods all the way to lethal force, depending on what the subject is doing, be it passive resistance, active resistance, or active aggression.

Y'all remember OC? Oleoresin Capsicum, for those of you who haven't been reading this journal for a year or more. In our department, OC falls into the force continuum slightly past verbal commands and below lethal force. Basically, anywhere it might be useful once it's obvious the subject isn't going to comply.

It's 3am, and I see a vehicle driving recklessly, peeling off, squealing tires, racing down the street and generally being pretty wild. So, being the law enforcement officer that I am, I chase it down, light it up and conduct a traffic stop on a very deserted service road. I call it in on the radio, and I hear the float unit dutifully say that he's on his way to back me up until I supply a code. (Code Four means "I have things under control, I don't need any more units. Everything's cool." "Supply a code" usually means going code four.)

Well, the guy is combative and angry as soon as he gets out of the vehicle, yelling at his wife who is still in the vehicle, and yelling all sorts of non-PC comments. I get him mostly calmed down, but he's still pretty belligerent, so when Central calls me and asks me for a code, instead of giving a code four, I instead ask them to 10-55 one unit, nice and calm. (That means I just need one backup unit, not the entire squad, thank you.)

But then things start getting wild again and the guy (who I'm pretty sure was on some sort of narcotic due to his violent mood swings) starts going off again, and this time starts screaming at me, gesturing threateningly at me, stomping around waving his arms and yelling, "Just shoot me! Just fucking shoot me!" So, while continuing to give him loud verbal commands (that's report-speak for "Get on the fucking ground NOW, motherfucker!") I get on the radio and ask my backup unit, nice and calm, to 10-18 (which means Hurry.)

Well, my boy continues to act aggressively, and continues to refuse to comply with my commands, so I first warn him that if he doesn't chill I'll spray him with OC, and then, when he still acts threatening, I hose him down. I mean, I got him good... full in the face and eyes.

Let me tell you, I remember what it's like to get sprayed. The shit hurts. Let me also tell you that your stomach does a curious little lurch when you spray someone, especially a guy who's 6'5" and at least 250, very little of which is fat, and all he does is shake his head.

So, the word Shit runs through my mind a few times, along with the words Fucked and I'm, not necessarily in that order. The one good thing is that the spray does at least close his eyes, so I'm able to keep my distance from him. Next step on the force continuum: the impact weapon. I pull my collapsable baton off of my belt and snap it open (yes, still giving plenty of loud verbal commands.) But then, maybe due to the spray finally taking some effect, or maybe he goes onto a down swing of his mood swings, or maybe he hears the baton snapping open, but he stops yelling and crouches down on the ground.

So I lower my voice too to a more normal pitch, and ask him real nice to get on the ground on his stomach and put his hands behind his back. I get those cuffs on as fast as I knew how (though I suddenly seem to develop 6 thumbs!) since I don't know is this is a ruse, or is he's suddenly going to get violent again. But I get him cuffed, and then take a deep breath and get on the radio, "264, Central, 10-15 one white male. Code Four."

I mentioned it was 3am, right? Well, in the next two minutes, my backup arrives, along with most of the rest of the shift. (It was a slow night!) I have him all cuffed up and mostly calmed down, sitting on the front bumper of my car while I pour some water on him to counter the OC. So, all these other deputies arrive, and this guy decides to go off again! Easily dealt with and we get him stuffed in the back of my unit soon after, but in a way I was kinda glad he did go off again, so that the rest of the guys could see how wild this dude was. And how big. (One of the guys kept saying, "Man, he was a big boy!" I think I scored some big points by being able to handle up on this guy.)

But this was a wake-up call as well, because I was only one step away from the last phase of the force continuum. If he'd come at me and actively tried to attack me or get my gun, I would have had to go there. It was close. Darn close.

I still really love my job. God, do I ever. It's an incredible feeling to get through something like that. There's no comparison.