Sharp Shootin', BJ Bourg's column on his SWAT team experiences in Web Mystery Magazine, Summer 2005

Sharp-Shootin'

What I plan to do here is simply recount some selected stories from my law enforcement career that I hope will provide entertainment and, who knows, maybe even an idea or two for a story.

Now, this first story is one that I told Rosalie about a month ago to dissuade her dog Comet from joining the police force. The moral being that Police K-9 work is not as glamorous as it might seem. And so:

A few years back, a guy went to his estranged girlfriend's place of work and shot her. Dozens of officers responded in various capacities. I responded as a member of the SWAT team (Sniper capacity) and met with several other officers at the scene.

The victim had been shot in the leg and was transported to the hospital. Witnesses provided us with the suspect's direction of travel, and a K-9 officer began tracking the suspect with his Rottweiler. I tagged along with my rifle to provide them with security.

The Rottweiler tracked the suspect through a marshy area and found him hiding in some bushes. The suspect attacked the Rottweiler with a broken bottle and the Rottweiler bit him twice, ripping large gashes in his legs. I told the K-9 officer to pull back his dog and I moved in to apprehend the suspect.

As I walked past the Rottweiler, he turned and bit my leg. I was advancing in a crouched position and my BDUs were tight against my leg, so he wasn't able to tear my leg. I later checked it and it caused my leg to bruise a good bit, but didn't break the skin.

As I approached the suspect with my rifle, he began ripping at his own neck with the broken bottle. He succeeded in slashing his neck from a point behind his ear to the front of his throat. It was pretty different watching this guy slashing his throat as fast as he could. I ordered him several times to drop the bottle and he finally did.

I grabbed one of his legs which protruded from the bushes, and another sniper, Ashley, grabbed his other leg. We dragged him out of the bushes. As we dragged him, Ashley was looking forward and I kept my eye on the suspect. He bounced as we dragged him along the ground. There was a small tree sticking up directly in our path. I realized I was on one side of the tree and Ashley was on the opposite side. I stopped, but before I could yell at Ashley to stop, he dragged the suspect groin-first into the tree. Ashley hadn't looked back and began jerking on the suspect's leg, thinking we had snagged onto something. I had to yell at him several times before he realized what was going on. The suspect just lay there groaning.

We unwrapped him from the tree and dragged him to the shoulder of the highway, where we cuffed him and waited for ambulance personnel to arrive. Two medics finally arrived and they quickly began working on his legs. He had his neck bent where the medics couldn't see the gash in his neck and they hadn't noticed it.

Before we could tell the medics about the Zorro slash, the suspect turned his head and the gash opened like the Red Sea. One of the medics saw the wound and – taken fully by surprise – she jumped to her feet and screamed, "Oh, SHIT!" (We all got a good laugh out of that!)

After everything was over, we all went about our lives. A few weeks later, the otherwise healthy Rottweiler dropped dead in his kennel. Since the shooting suspect was the last person the Rottweiler bit, his handler called the jail and spoke with the medic there. The medic told him that the suspect had been isolated since his arrival, because he had hepatitis.

When I later found out, my knees got real weak. I guess I can safely say I "dodged a bullet." As for my message to Rosalie's dog Comet: working for the police ain't as glamorous as it might seem. As a police dog, he'd have to put his mouth on some disgusting individuals and risk dying of some dreadful disease. As a civilian pup, he gets to eat, drink, cruise chicks and live a long, carefree and healthy life.