Code 3 for the vehicle accident.
Two cars at an intersection in a decent area. Three white people are dying to tell us about witnessing this accident, except the police hasn’t arrived yet and none of us really care.
“Should we wait until the police come so we can tell them what happened?”
“If you want…”
In the other parts of town, no one ever witnesses anything. Someone could have witnessed his mother get shot and not say anything about the shooter.
So, because of these witnesses, we know that the big strong man in the American car with a suspended driver’s license ran the red light and hit the Civic carrying the man driving with no driver’s license.
The man in the American car has a scrape on his wrist, and he wants to go to the hospital. Pussy. This is after he told us he didn’t want to go to the hospital and I explained the refusal paperwork to him. Now he wants to go after wasting my time but he doesn’t want to leave until the cops figure out what to do with his car, wasting even more of my time. I suppose I get paid by the hour, but I’d rather be away from these people. We wait more than 30 minutes; thank goodness for the books I bring to work.
One officer finishes up with him, walks over to us and asks me, “He’s not going right?”
“No he wants to go.”
All the officers standing with us start laughing about his boo-boo.
The same officer turns to the man and – accurately – yells towards him, “Hey this ride will cost you a thousand bucks! You know that, right?”
“Where’s that paperwork? I’ll sign it! I’ll go on my own.”