Warning GRAPHIC
Former firefighter here. We responded to a typical house fire just after midnight. On our way to said house, a propane bottle stored in the garage exploded and cause massive damage to the house. By the time we reached the house, flames had consumed the house.
Maybe I'm callused from seeing death on a regular basis (also moonlight as an EMT), but I just accepted that whoever was in that house was probably dead. However, as we were getting set up to contain the fire, I heard the most blood chilling screams in my life.
"SOMEBODY HELP ME! PLEASE, SAVE MY BABY"
We were ordered not to go in to that house. There was no chance they would make it out alive, even if we got to them. So I stood there was two minutes listening to a desperate mother cry out for help, powerless to do anything. All I could try and block out her screams as we worked to make sure the fire didn't spread to a neighboring house. It wasn't until later that we found out the baby's room was located directly above the garage and that it died in an instant.
After two minute; silence. Absolute silence. It took everything I had to just put all of my emotions aside and keep working. After my shift was over, I went to a bar, got black-out drunk, and woke up at my house. The bartender paid for my tab and called a cab to pick me up.
That morning, I knew I needed to see a therapist. After a few months of therapy (and quite a few more drunken nights) I was finally getting over everything. However, no matter how hard I reasoned with myself, I couldn't bring myself to keep being a firefighter. I had a bit of money saved up, so I started taking community college classes again and then transferred to a state college where I'm majoring to be a teacher.
-BigMike0402
I was on a Junior Firefighter program when i was 15 in my small town. I'm talking really small town, like 400 people. One night a guy was heading home drunk in his pickup truck, flipped the truck, wasn't wearing his seat belt. While the truck was in the air he managed to hang half way out his side window. The truck landed on its side and slid for about a 100 feet. So there was body and car part everywhere. Being a small town in the middle of BFE there is no clean up crew. Who do they call to clean up? The fire department. I'm walking around at night with a flash light, rubber gloves, and a bag, picking up pieces of this drunk guy.
-Akriel
I've been a cop for awhile now, and this is one of the calls that still haunts me. I get a call for a domestic assault that had just occurred, and I learn that the victim is at the neighbor's house.
I get there and find the female victim's throat has been cut from ear to ear. The neighbor is holding a towel up to her slit throat, and the victim is struggling to breathe. The paramedics are on their way, and I take over holding the towel for the neighbor. I'm trying to apply enough pressure to reduce the bleeding, but not so much pressure that I'm strangling her. It was a delicate balance.
Quick law lesson: You know that there are laws against hearsay, right? Basically, I can't testify in court about the events that someone else told me about and I didn't witness. The person who witnessed it would have to testify to it. One of the exceptions is what's known as the 'dying declaration.' If someone is on their deathbed, and believes they are about to die, their statements are exempt from the hearsay rules.
I have some serious doubts that this woman is going to live. I want to ask her who slit her throat. In order for it to qualify as a dying declaration, I need to be able to testify that she believed she was about to die. So, I asked her two questions. The first was, "Who cut your throat?", which she answered. The second was, "You realize that you may be about to die?", which she answered, "yes." Our eyes were locked and I still remember the emptiness in her eyes.
Within a few minutes the medics showed up, and my partner and I went next door to look for the suspect. The door was ajar, and we could hear a baby screaming upstairs. We went in with guns drawn, and metallic smell of blood was overpowering. We made our way upstairs, past smeared bloody handprints on the walls, and found the child upstairs. He was unharmed, and the suspect was long gone.
Thanks to the excellent performance of the medical staff, the victim survived. I met with her a couple of weeks later, and I was very apprehensive to speak with her again. I had basically looked at her and told her she was going to die. When she opened the door, I could tell that she didn't recognize me. She had very little memory of what happened after she was assaulted. I told her who I was and she hugged me, crying, and thanked me for saving her life.
The suspect ended up pleading guilty, so I never had to testify as to what I had told the victim that night. It still haunts me to this day.
-LXIV
Maybe I'm callused from seeing death on a regular basis (also moonlight as an EMT), but I just accepted that whoever was in that house was probably dead. However, as we were getting set up to contain the fire, I heard the most blood chilling screams in my life.
"SOMEBODY HELP ME! PLEASE, SAVE MY BABY"
We were ordered not to go in to that house. There was no chance they would make it out alive, even if we got to them. So I stood there was two minutes listening to a desperate mother cry out for help, powerless to do anything. All I could try and block out her screams as we worked to make sure the fire didn't spread to a neighboring house. It wasn't until later that we found out the baby's room was located directly above the garage and that it died in an instant.
After two minute; silence. Absolute silence. It took everything I had to just put all of my emotions aside and keep working. After my shift was over, I went to a bar, got black-out drunk, and woke up at my house. The bartender paid for my tab and called a cab to pick me up.
That morning, I knew I needed to see a therapist. After a few months of therapy (and quite a few more drunken nights) I was finally getting over everything. However, no matter how hard I reasoned with myself, I couldn't bring myself to keep being a firefighter. I had a bit of money saved up, so I started taking community college classes again and then transferred to a state college where I'm majoring to be a teacher.
-BigMike0402
I was on a Junior Firefighter program when i was 15 in my small town. I'm talking really small town, like 400 people. One night a guy was heading home drunk in his pickup truck, flipped the truck, wasn't wearing his seat belt. While the truck was in the air he managed to hang half way out his side window. The truck landed on its side and slid for about a 100 feet. So there was body and car part everywhere. Being a small town in the middle of BFE there is no clean up crew. Who do they call to clean up? The fire department. I'm walking around at night with a flash light, rubber gloves, and a bag, picking up pieces of this drunk guy.
-Akriel
I've been a cop for awhile now, and this is one of the calls that still haunts me. I get a call for a domestic assault that had just occurred, and I learn that the victim is at the neighbor's house.
I get there and find the female victim's throat has been cut from ear to ear. The neighbor is holding a towel up to her slit throat, and the victim is struggling to breathe. The paramedics are on their way, and I take over holding the towel for the neighbor. I'm trying to apply enough pressure to reduce the bleeding, but not so much pressure that I'm strangling her. It was a delicate balance.
Quick law lesson: You know that there are laws against hearsay, right? Basically, I can't testify in court about the events that someone else told me about and I didn't witness. The person who witnessed it would have to testify to it. One of the exceptions is what's known as the 'dying declaration.' If someone is on their deathbed, and believes they are about to die, their statements are exempt from the hearsay rules.
I have some serious doubts that this woman is going to live. I want to ask her who slit her throat. In order for it to qualify as a dying declaration, I need to be able to testify that she believed she was about to die. So, I asked her two questions. The first was, "Who cut your throat?", which she answered. The second was, "You realize that you may be about to die?", which she answered, "yes." Our eyes were locked and I still remember the emptiness in her eyes.
Within a few minutes the medics showed up, and my partner and I went next door to look for the suspect. The door was ajar, and we could hear a baby screaming upstairs. We went in with guns drawn, and metallic smell of blood was overpowering. We made our way upstairs, past smeared bloody handprints on the walls, and found the child upstairs. He was unharmed, and the suspect was long gone.
Thanks to the excellent performance of the medical staff, the victim survived. I met with her a couple of weeks later, and I was very apprehensive to speak with her again. I had basically looked at her and told her she was going to die. When she opened the door, I could tell that she didn't recognize me. She had very little memory of what happened after she was assaulted. I told her who I was and she hugged me, crying, and thanked me for saving her life.
The suspect ended up pleading guilty, so I never had to testify as to what I had told the victim that night. It still haunts me to this day.
-LXIV