"Riding the Lightning"

For years whenever I encountered someone who had just learned that I was a police officer, invariably the question most often asked of me had been, "Have you ever shot anybody?" Although I have come close a few times, I can say without disappointment or anticipation that I have not. But, nowadays, a new question, borne from new technology, springs forth at these encounters—"Have you ever 'tasered' anybody?" Oh, sure. Loads of times. This answer does not come with any malice, or with any regret. The ice has been broken, and many a funny story can now commence.

The Taser is a relatively new technology for Law Enforcement but has had its roots in the public consciousness for some time, most notably from the TV Series Star Trek with "phasers set to stun." From our science fiction dreams comes our reality. The Taser, which is actually a brand name, is a form of "stun gun." While not quite matching the abilities of its pop culture space age counterpart, it does live up to its name. There are, however, propagated by uninformed or exaggerated accounts in movies and TV, a lot of myths surrounding the capabilities and effects of the common "stun gun," like those commonly used by police officers.

The first truth that most everyone gets right is that it hurts. A lot! How do I know? I've been shot with it myself—once in a controlled setting and numerous times inadvertently out in the field. When our department acquired the Taser a few years back, each officer had to undergo training with the weapon. We learned the principals behind its technology, along with its proper deployment and care. We also learned what it felt like to be "tased," a sensation so unique, the act of which has assumed its own slang name within the rank and file, as well as out there on the street.

To understand its effects and even to possibly garner sympathy for those we were sure to use it on, our department, short of making it policy, strongly suggested each officer receive the shock from the Taser. Initially, this was accomplished by simply shooting each officer with the weapon. Through trial and error, the process was eventually tailored for the utmost in safety. I'd like to say that gym mats had always been in place underneath each "subject" prior to getting shocked. I myself was in one of the earlier training classes, and we had them. But, I wouldn't want to assume. Falling to the ground after getting shocked can actually hurt more than the electricity itself. We were also one of the first classes to wear mouth guards after an individual chipped a few of his teeth clenching his jaw so tightly as the volts coursed through his body.

What does getting shot with the Taser involve? It helps to understand the dynamics of the weapon. At the end of the barrel, for lack of a better term, is seated a square cartridge. It locks into place between two small flush-mounted tabs from which comes the electric charge. The gun is not a fast-deployment weapon. After it is turned on via a thumb switch at the top of the grip and its simple internal computer boots up, normally no more than a second, a laser dot is painted on the potential target, along with a strong blue-white illumination from the LED mini-flashlight mounted forward of the trigger. Inside the cartridge, hidden by thin plastic "blast doors" facing outward are two coils of thin wire, each ending in a cylindrical, weighted probe about ¾ inches in length with a thin needle about a half inch long protruding from there. Each of these presents itself with a barbed hook on its end. As the trigger is pressed, the electricity is sent to the tabs which connect to tabs within the cartridge. The energy propels the probes, which are recessed within small "launching tubes" inside the cartridge, through the blast doors. The probes continue outward, gradually spreading out from each other until they reach their target.

Normally, the type of person I would use a Taser on would not find himself reading these entries regaling my law enforcement career on a regular basis, so I do not feel bad in sharing this little secret with my faithful readers. Unlike the "phasers" of Star Trek fame, which conceivably, like a beam of light, would have had unlimited range, there is a limit to today's Tasers. Maybe someday we will be able to shoot beams of light at fleeing suspects a hundred feet away or more, but for now, the crippling current is carried through the extremely thin wires with a finite length—currently twenty-five feet. If I am chasing you and keep you within seven yards or so, you are mine!

Once the probes, which resemble miniature whaling harpoons mounted on small torpedoes, reach their target, the momentum of the weighted cylinders carries the sharp probes through any fabric or clothing, and the barbs stick into the skin. Their shape is just like the end of a fish hook. Those probes are not coming out without a little work. All the while, the current is traveling through the wires and into the probes for a factory-set time of five seconds.

Out at the Academy, as we go through the deployment portion of this training, each street officer elects to get in line to receive the shock. Out of the fifteen people in my class, all but one, a sergeant, mans up to get the "ride of his life." Even though getting shocked was voluntary for the class I attended, I for one was not going to stand there and just watch while the rest of my co-workers took it. I felt educated enough about the process to trust that my eyeballs would not explode or that I would not suffer memory loss, pee myself and forget who I was after getting "tased."

The specific distance an officer stands from a suspect when he fires a Taser at him is important because, while the Taser has a range of twenty-five feet, that is not its optimum effective range. The principal behind the process involves immobilization of muscle mass to stop an action or movement. As the probes are deployed outward, the distance between them increases the farther the probes travel. If the probes connect with their target within only a few feet of deployment, they will only be a few inches apart upon contact with the target. If the probes reach their target at the end of the wires' twenty-five feet length, they may be too far apart to effectively immobilize the area of the body they have contacted. With a current running out from each wire lead, an electrical circuit is completed upon contact with a conductive target, namely human tissue. The current runs through the body only within the muscle mass that is present between the two probes. Proper placement of the probes on the target is critical for the area between the two probes to effectively carry the electrical current. Since body movement is a result of muscles attached to bones, with these muscles moving as a result of electrical impulses generated within the muscles themselves, any outside addition of electrical current to those muscles would result in muscle movement disruption or incapacitation. Therefore, a small "contact" area will not effectively immobilize an area of the body well enough to stop it from working completely. And, too large of a "contact" area may result in dissipation of the current with more than one muscle mass receiving the current, giving the body the sensation of a lesser current. This process puts to rest the fictitious accounts in many movies and television shows that would have us believe that a typical "off the shelf" Taser —the kind available to the public and, with a few enhancements, the Law Enforcement community—could incapacitate someone, knocking him out for hours by only a contact "stun" to the back, or, for some oddly portrayed reason, the side of the neck.

To demonstrate the full effectiveness of the Taser, the subject officer is lined up about ten feet away from the instructor, his back to the weapon. This will result in optimal placement of the probes into the muscles of the back about two feet apart, ideally one hitting shoulder height, the other lodging in the small of the back. With the body's muscle placement in this area, the effect will be instantly crippling.

It's now my turn! Two spotters stand next to me—another safeguard learned from trial and error when a previous deployment in an earlier class resulted in an unsupported officer taking a head dive into a wall after getting shocked. I can't see anything but the wall in front of me a safe distance away. I can only anticipate when the instructor decides to "tase" me. I know I will hear a small "pop" as the probes force open the "blast doors" of the cartridge and come my way, carrying their current of 50,000 volts for a total of five seconds. If the instructor were sadistic, or if the situation calls for it out on the street, the trigger of the Taser may be pressed and held continuously to provide an unending current well beyond the default time of five seconds. So far, in the classroom setting, that has not been the case.

Where will the probes hit? When will t-- POP!

"#$*%!" my brain says. What comes out of my mouth is actually more like a primal, guttural scream. Intense, silent, vibrating pain radiates up my back. At first I think it is my imagination, but the current actually fluctuates, increasing in intensity midway through. I remember some of the officers who had gone before me, leaning forward as soon as they were shocked, then being gently escorted by the spotters to the gym mat at their feet, allowed to writhe in private agony for the remainder of the shock. For some reason (maybe I don't give off the right signal), my spotters do not guide me to the ground, but support me as I stand there. I don't know how I manage to stay on my feet. It feels like my whole body is shaking violently. I am acutely aware of the mouth guard clenched between my teeth. Will it be the same shape when this is all over? In the back of my mind, I know the process does not cause this to occur, but I wonder if I may have wet myself. I also wonder if I have the loudest yell of all the officers so far.

Count to five. Do it right. You know—"One thousand one… one thousand two… one thousand three…" It's actually a longer time than you might think, isn't it? Many of us have been shocked mildly in one way or another at some time in our lives— touching an outlet, an exposed wire, maybe even an electric fence (growing up on a farm, I've had some interesting experiences with those), but the contact during those instances was brief. Five seconds "riding the lightning" might as well be five minutes. The passage of time is all relative. If you are receiving an effective shock from a Taser, time doesn't matter.

Whew! It's over. Hey, it doesn't hurt anymore. Not at all. No residual pain. Not even a physical muscle memory of the sensation. I am now allowed to lie on the mat to give my body a rest. And, that's exactly what it feels like I need. It actually feels like I got in an excellent one hour cardiovascular workout crammed into those five seconds. My back tingles in a good way. I actually feel refreshed. Not that, if I were a suspect fleeing or fighting an officer, I'd want to pick up right where I left off. But, things are different now. I survived. Then I remember I have two barbs, fishhooks really, stuck in my back somewhere. As of this date, our department's protocol does not require we seek any medical attention for anyone shocked by the Taser, and the probes may be removed by an officer at the scene, with proper health concerns addressed obviously. There is a marking on the weighted part of each probe that indicates which way the barb faces. By applying pressure on that marking while pinching up the skin around the area of the penetration, pressure is lessened on the barb's connection with the skin, and it can be pulled out more easily. As a matter of fact, the probes in my back are pulled out before I know it. I hardly felt a thing. I'm sure it has to do with some recent adrenaline in my system and the tingly feeling I mentioned earlier. Two Band-Aids and I'm good to go.

Within the training, and out on the street, there is another manner of deploying the Taser. It's called the "drive stun." A situation may not be appropriate to let loose with two probes flying outward, trailing twenty-five feet of electrified wires. In close quarters, or perhaps with a resisting or struggling subject, this second method is very effective. The officer simply removes the cartridge from the end of the weapon, turns the Taser on, and "drives" it into the body part he wishes to affect. Intense pain at the spot, perhaps a flailing leg or a tensed up arm, can psychologically draw attention to that area and bring the subject into focusing on what the officer wants the subject to do with the offending body part—namely stop kicking or put his hand behind his back. The trigger can be depressed upon contact with the target area, or shortly beforehand. Sometimes hearing the crackling sizzle of ozone and seeing the pale blue veins of electricity arc across the one-inch gap at the end of the Taser is enough to gain instant compliance without one even having to feel its effects.

Officer Dan, about whom I've written before from our department's trip to Washington, D.C., not to mention from his "running and falling" fame, elects to have the "drive stun" during the training. The instructor, Officer Joe, outweighs him by at least a hundred pounds. Officer Dan takes it in the upper right thigh as Officer Joe thrusts the gun down on his leg with one arm and secures Officer Dan about the chest with the other arm so escape for the agonizing five seconds is impossible. Having two hooks shot into your body is one thing, but comparing the aftermath of the two methods, I think Officer Dan gets the worse end of the deal. He has two holes in his pants and scorching where the contacts rested against the fabric, and a similar pattern and light burns to his skin directly beneath. He later mentions the extremely localized pain was almost unbearable. Man, I am so ready to use this in the field!

I would like to say my first Taser usage was a huge success. Unfortunately, that is not the case. Officer Dan and I are together one evening shift and respond to an event at the local Fairgrounds. It seems a dealer at one of the booths did not like that a huge crackdown led by our own department on trademark counterfeiters at that very moment might put a damper on his business, not to mention his social life if he were to get caught and spend some time in jail. He decides to flee—on foot. We happen to arrive in the area just as Muhammad, or some such, is running out the main gates and into the surrounding business area. With fresh legs, Officer Dan stops the cruiser, and we run after him. Cutting through a parking lot, the man slips on the pavement and crashes to the ground. We close in on him, and I take my Taser out of its holster, ready for the moment he tries to get up and flee again. However, as I approach the man, I slip as well, falling onto my side. The only thing to stop my fall is my outstretched hand that is currently holding the Taser.

Stopping the action here for a second, I know one of the morals of this story should be to never run on unfamiliar ground with your weapon in your hand. I know this moral. In my defense I would say I believed the situation was coming to a close, and the territory was familiar to me, and the ground— a parking lot— seemed relatively nonhazardous. That is, until I slipped on whatever made ol' boy slip.

Back to the present. As my knuckles make contact with the ground, then the rest of my arm, shoulder, and then legs, my fingers tighten their grip around my Taser. It discharges. The probes skitter out, dancing about on the concrete like electric snakes of the gods freed from captivity. Their cries mock me as I can hear the crackling of the current from the unharnessed probes and their wires. At this same moment, Officer Dan has reached the suspect and pounced on him to prevent him from getting up. In the heat of things, one does what one has to do. Leaving the Taser to finish its five second cycle, I lightly toss it aside so the weapon itself is no longer part of the equation. We still have to contend with the probe wires that any one of us could come into contact with at any moment, depending on how dynamic this ground-based arrest might get. But, that's not a major concern at this point.

I did have another option open to me, but in the interest of time, decided not to go that direction. After it discharged, the Taser could have been turned off with the thumb switch and/or the cartridge ejected from the front of the weapon, then finally put back into its holster in a reverse cross draw motion. We were trained to carry the Taser on the side of our gunbelt opposite our firearm. It faces backward to allow for our gun hand to reach across and pull it out, ready to fire. However, the Taser was not designed for rapid deployment. There are more motions involved in drawing and firing this weapon compared to out handgun. Our training did not call for allowing muscle memory to develop in drawing the weapon— something we do almost subconsciously with our firearms when the situation gets ugly fast.

Officer Dan and I avoid contacting the live wires lying nearby as we make quick work of the middle-eastern terrorist and take him into custody. Although many of my entries I've chronicled may seem like a Murphy's Law account of Law Enforcement, it is true that crazy things happen and things don't always go according to plan or like they did in training. I've had my share of screw-ups, and I like to think of myself as a police officer with sound tactics and common sense. But, as any officer who's been is similar circumstances will share—what can go wrong, will!

In regards to Taser incidents, that mantra certainly continues to hold true for many officers who find themselves on the wrong end of the Taser. Similar circumstances would arise when an officer used pepper spray on a subject, inadvertently spraying his partner in the face as he had just moved in to help the situation or maybe opened his mouth to give out a command. Or, perhaps within an army of swarming officers, a hand reached out to grab a combative subject and was dealt an unsuspecting blow from a fist or baton. We recognize this as the inherent danger of "The Pig Pile." Well, now, with this new tool at our disposal, a whole new world has opened up for "collateral damage" when it comes to officers getting in the way of a deployed Taser. But, as mentioned before, our training has allotted for that eventuality by providing us a preview of just what it feels like to "ride the lightning."

I am happy to say that the first time I "got in the way" did not involve wayward probes sticking in unfortunate areas of my body at an inopportune time during an incident. However, if you recall the pain described during a "drive stun," I'm not sure I was all the luckier. Officer Paul, a veteran from my own academy class, was my back up one early morning as we responded to a disorderly individual on a city bus. He had been yelling and cussing and threatening to fight the other passengers. The driver was fed up and called it in. The bus was waiting at a stop when we pulled up, and for some unknown reason, the individual was still inside, seated at the rear of the bus. If he knew the cops were coming, why he didn't take that opportunity to leave and disappear between the time the bus stopped and the police arrived was beyond me. He was instantly defensive when we walked on and approached him. When telling him he needed to exit the bus didn't work, a more firm hand was needed. He didn't take kindly to being touched in an effort to manually escort him out to the sidewalk. He became disorderly again then refused to move. At this point, we had enough to arrest him for disorderly conduct, and if he continued like this, we were not going to be messing around. In consideration of the other passengers, we needed to deal with him as quickly, decisively and safely as possible. He was told he was under arrest and instructed to put his hands behind his back. Yadda, yadda, yadda. We've said it all before. He's heard it all before.

Now the Taser comes out. Officer Paul pulls his and trains it at the man, keeping it tucked safely close to his own body, after making sure the subject sees him purposefully remove the cartridge from the end of the weapon. The ideal situation involves warning a suspect he is about to be tased, in the hopes of gaining compliance at that moment. It also serves as a warning to other officers that a potentially "live" Taser has entered the arena. The breakdown in communication between the officers and the element of surprise for the suspect occurs when all other parties realize they are not mind readers and the individuals act simultaneously and counter-productively. At the same moment the angry bus rider decides to rush forward, I reach for the nearest part of his body, the area of most control, and the quickest spot to reach—the baggy sweatshirt and sagging waistline of his over-sized jeans. I'm determined to bring him to the ground as quickly and efficiently as possible. Officer Paul determines at the same instant that a drive-stun might be more appropriate.

My right hand connects with a bundle of clothing, only to be met with searing pain as the bare contacts of Officer Paul's Taser get ground into the tendons on the back of my hand and the zapping begins. It is quite the unwelcome surprise. I'm not sure what I yell, but let's just say I'm glad it wasn't a Sunday morning right after the pick up at the local retirement center. Whatever Officer Paul hears, he realizes he has not made the contact he intended. He backs off and tries again. A drive stun directly to the gut is decidedly effective. Besides the small of the back, as long as the individual isn't protected by a beer belly of fatty tissue, the muscles surrounding the abdomen are very susceptible to electric shock, producing the desired effect when immobilized. The man doubles over as if he has just received the finishing blow from a boxing Heavyweight Champion. It's enough for me to recover my senses, flex my tingling fingers, and help Officer Paul take the guy to the bus floor. He then puts his hands behind his back at our command and is promptly handcuffed. No more problems, and he's no worse off than when he first boarded the bus.

I can't say the same for my hand. Straddling the tendon that stretches from the knuckle of my middle finger down to my wrist are two small bloody rips in my skin resembling a snake bite. I jokingly blame Officer Paul for tasing the wrong guy, and he kids me for getting my hand in the way in the first place. It's the nature of the game. No hard feelings. It is several years later, and I still have the scars to remind me of the fun we all had that day.

Another officer on my shift, while suffering no permanent damage, wasn't so lucky one evening when he got in the way of his partner during an incident that played out very much like the one just described. The dynamics were slightly different in that his partner shot probes at the suspect, instead of going for a drive stun. The incident has since passed, and I try not to find fault or dissect it too much. I wasn't there until after the fact, but I do revel in listening to each of them giving the other a hard time about the whole thing when it comes up every now and again.

It seems Officer Ron inadvertently shot his partner, Officer Greg with the Taser at very close range. One probe lodged in his right forearm and the other pierced his left index finger. The humorous thing about this incident (and all officers I know who are familiar with the circumstances besides Officer Greg do find humor in this) is what happened next. Officer Ron was aware he shot the Taser at the resisting suspect but was wondering why it had no immediate effect. He was fairly close to the guy and knew the probes had to have made contact with some part of the suspect. Officer Greg was wondering something else entirely. Why did my partner just shoot me with a Taser? Not one to back off and say "Woe is me. I've been shot with a Taser," Officer Greg remained in the fight. At the same moment Officer Ron was pondering how his Taser might have malfunctioned and wasn't doing its job, Officer Greg was "riding the lightning" and taking steps to remove the offending probe from his forearm in order to "get off this crazy ride." Simultaneously, as things so often happen during these types of situations, Officer Greg reached over to grab the wire attached to the probe sticking in his arm while Officer Ron pressed the trigger again to deliver another shock to the suspect in hopes that this one did the trick. Officer Greg goes for Round Two with the Taser, with the electrified wire now clutched tightly in his grip.

I don't recall what specifically happened to the person they were arresting, but, suffice it to say, when an officer's original plan does not go accordingly, he does not sit idly back, wondering what to do next. Truth be told, as time may be running short by then, or the suspect's thought processes begin to catch up to those of the officer's, the situation, right or wrong, usually escalates. The suspect was effectively dealt with in one way or another, leaving the officers with the dilemma of Officer Greg having a menacing piece of metal stuck fast in his body.

The normal rules of extraction didn't apply here. There is very little fat or tissue to grab on a human finger in order to assist in yanking out the probe, and the tight muscle, tendons and ligaments make for an interesting surface in which to anchor (think lip, eyeball, or scrotum —as all of these areas of the body have been hit at one time or another by some agency's officers somewhere across our nation). If you are unlucky enough to get a fishhook through your thumb while fly casting some relaxing summer afternoon, I am sure the day is no longer an enjoyable experience. A through-and-through penetration results in snipping off the end and pulling the rest of the offending metal back through the skin. Not pleasant, but bearable, with a solution in sight. But, a fishhook generally does not enter one's body with any real significant force.

This was an untested deployment for our department. Could the probe be stuck through a ligament or the tough density of the tendon? Could the voltage have done any serious damage to a nerve that close to the surface in an area as rich with nerves as the hand? I didn't know the immediate answers to these questions as I stood there dumbfounded, looking at the probe wedged deep into my friend's finger, its V-shaped end poking out the other side. I've always prided myself on not falling for any myths or rumors surrounding the Taser. I took the training seriously and believe, level-headedly, if it's been shown not to cause heart attacks or short out a pacemaker if a Taser is shot at someone's chest, then I trust the scientific community to have their facts straight about a weapon of this magnitude that is now on the market for widespread use. It seems like it's the uninformed or the grossly over-informed, in the guise of the media, who succumb to the fear-mongering. They cater to the misconceptions surrounding the Taser, or any new technology when first used by Law Enforcement. The media is dusting off the same tired arguments they used when pepper spray first came on the scene about fifteen years ago.

"Man Dies after Shot with Taser," the headlines read. They pride themselves on their sound logic—A follows B, and a statement like that sure sells newspapers, but did A cause B? The answer, as it's been shown in incident after incident involving pepper spray, is a resounding "No." As with any new item within a police arsenal, there will be a larger number of usages at its onset when compared over a length of time. There will also be a more heightened community oversight regarding its use. The facts surrounding an item's particular technology or make-up may not have had time to become mainstream knowledge in the eyes of the public. Here's where the media, at least for the time being, get to be seen as the experts. However, all they seem to be doing is setting up Law Enforcement with potential lawsuits that end up going nowhere and costing taxpayers a lot of money.

A Taser, as deployed in the field, does not stop a human heart. As previously described, the electric shock affects the muscle mass within the area of the two probes in contact with that muscle. One doesn't have to be an Anatomy major to see that reaching the heart, even in the most pristine, ideal, and laboratory-like conditions of a Taser deployment, would not happen with the way the Taser and its probes are designed. What kills a man, unfortunately, is the circumstances surrounding his initial encounter with the police and his subsequent conduct with them when its determined he is under arrest and he decides he doesn't like that answer. Drugs already in the bloodstream or a pre-existing medical condition along with a subject's activity level all factor in to what may have made his heart stop.

Positional Asphyxia is a hot topic right now as well. The way a restrained individual, especially one of a greater body mass, is lying or placed in a cruiser after his arrest can affect a person's breathing and result in a slow, silent suffocation. The fact that it occurred after a man fought the police for fifteen minutes after a cocaine binge doesn't make it into those front headlines.

Although one area of concern, and at this point it is of small concern for me, is where it appears A almost certainly causes B. What about when an officer shoots a Taser at a fleeing subject? It's better than using a real gun when deadly force is not authorized for something minor, like running from a traffic stop, or "bolting" out the back door of a house upon the arrival of the police at one's door. Plus, we are aiming for the small of the back, just like in training—where a stunned muscle mass in that location is the most effective in stopping a person's action. The probes make contact with the person, he is instantly immobilized, and his legs and hips can no longer function. He cannot run any more—or stand, for that matter. Down he goes! Right onto his face. It's not pretty, but, like I've said before, it's the nature of the beast. Don't like it? Don't run. Usually, as has been the case in our department, a broken nose or a few missing teeth are the results. Again, it's not the ideal ending, but it sure beats dying.

But what about the guy who goes down, smacks his head, and never gets back up? Significant blows to the head can cause death. So, as it recently happened just this way not too far from here, the media picked up on this and reported A caused B. It's not true of course when looking at the logic. The impact with the ground caused B. A was just closer to the proximate cause of B. Never one to over think the tools given to us officers, or "look a gift horse in the mouth" as they say, I certainly don't want anyone dying on me in the course of doing my job, properly or otherwise. This situation just bears watching, is all I'm saying.

Back to Officer Greg's finger. No, it did not lose all feeling in it, turn black, and have to be amputated a week later. All the on-scene officers' attempts at taking out the probe were unsuccessful, so it's a trip to the Emergency Room. The doctor was able to remove it without any damage to the underlying workings of the finger. Officer Greg did report a lingering numbness for about a week or two. In the sentiment of his partner, Officer Ron: "See? No harm done. Get over it."

Enough with the horror stories and eerie images. I'd like to leave you with a success story, of sorts, involving the Taser. I won't even bother with you with more accounts of its effect on the human body, or anger your sensibilities with explanations of why a person feels the need to fight the police in the first place. For this tale involves the most vile of creatures I've come across in this line of work—the pitbull. Ordinarily an ardent animal lover, I have no love lost between myself and these canines which were originally bred to be purposefully aggressive. Granted, I don't like to see one in the process of being abused—shot, and left to slowly die by its previous owner in an alley after losing an organized, and highly illegal, backyard dogfight. Or, discovering one hung up by its choker chain over a low-lying tree branch as it is left abandoned beside a vacant property. OK. Sorry. No more eerie images. Starting now.

But, I just don't trust pitbulls. Never will. I know people say their temperament is caused by its environment. It's all about the owner. But, I don't believe that. Not completely, anyway. Animals are instinctual creatures. They know what they know without knowing why they know it. And, with all the traits that are bred into this breed, it's only a matter of time before their true colors come out. No more so than one particular day when I was working overtime on the 4 p.m. to midnight shift and, while driving about, I happened to notice a little girl about nine years old walking her dog. She was heading westbound down the sidewalk along a side street off the main drag in my District. The dog? A pitbull, of course. The trophy dog of The Hood. I wondered what possessed anyone to allow a little girl like that to walk a dog like that in an area like this. Then, in a scene that temporarily had me doubting my sanity, until I remembered that I did work the city's West Side, I saw the identical thing play out on the same sidewalk coming eastbound. Another little girl about the same age was walking another pitbull about thirty feet away from the first girl and her dog.

How was this going to play out? I recalled the ancient Greek Theorem about what happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object. I was about to find out. The sad thing was, these young girls were going to let it happen before I could maneuver my cruiser onto the side street in time to stop it. They apparently thought nothing of it—letting two aggressive furry fighting machines pull their way toward each other to an uncertain fate. These were not the kinds of dogs who pass by on a leisurely stroll, sniff each other's hind ends, smile at one another, pass on by, and look forward to the next time they meet each other on another evening walk with their masters.

At first, it seemed the dogs were going to pass without incident, but then, like a shark slowly circling a piece of bait, watching and waiting for any movement, the first dog struck—just as quickly and just as decisively. It reached forward with its jaws just as they started to pass each other and snapped them shut over the muzzle of the other dog. Each dog instantly pulled back. Each girl, in a fruitless effort, attempted to pull back her respective animal. While the hip thing to have for people parading their pitbulls around is a heavy duty quarter-inch chain wrapped around their dogs' necks (where does the license attach? License? Ha! Yeah, right), the first dog was being led around with a length of swing set chain that was entirely too long for the situation at hand. The other dog struggled against a fraying coil of yellow nylon rope.

I pulled my cruiser to the curb and jumped out. Any aggression by a dog against me would normally be instantly met with gunfire to quickly end the threat. I knew that wasn't going to be the case here. I was on a sidewalk next to brick buildings and several passing cars, not to mention two little girls in my proximity. My first thought was to help the first girl pull on her leash in an attempt to get her dog to let go and move on to other things. It was then that I thought the "other things" might be me, and I really didn't want to have my leg right near his mouth when he decided to avert his attention elsewhere. But then I remembered, pitbulls are nothing, if not determined. When they fight or bite, nothing else exists for them. The bite is all there is. Nothing can divert their attention or make them let go, short of an act of God. Or a Taser!

What an ideal weapon for this scenario! Close quarters. No collateral damage. Non-lethal (if you don't believe the headlines). Perfect. During training, I saw footage of a specially adapted Taser taking down a thousand pound steer, so I thought to myself, "I can do this!" I let go of the leash and took a step back before drawing my Taser.

"Don't shoot my dog!" the first girl cried. She must have known how this could possibly play out.

"I'm not gonna shoot it," I told her when, in fact, I was, just not lethally with my firearm as I believe that's what she was thinking. I was just going to give him the chance to "ride the lightning." I had never shot a dog before in the course of my job. Never shot my weapon outside of training and recreational pursuits, for that matter. But, shooting a dog is a very common occurrence in this line of work. Not that I look for any excuse to kill a dog while I'm on duty. Baby steps.

Obviously, a drive stun technique was out of the question in this situation. I pointed the stun gun down toward the aggressive dog and heard the pop of the blast doors as I pressed the trigger. From the distance I shot, there's a six inch spread of the probes over his right haunch. Perfect placement. No, the dog did not bite down even more fiercely, like the officer I mentioned during training, but instead released his hold, and fell over on his side, all four legs sticking straight out. It looked like a waddling, automated child's toy that suddenly ran out of batteries, its owner knocking it over in boredom or frustration. For the whole five seconds, it lay there immobilized as the other girl collected her dog and went off to parts unknown.

After the first five second ride, I had the option of pulling the trigger again to deliver another shock. I needed to wait and see what the dog decided to do. I hoped it wouldn't be angry and come charging. Prudently, the dog felt the best course of action was to turn tail and run. He broke free of his handler's hold on the leash, and broke free of the wire leads of the Taser, as they easily snapped off near the base of the cartridge. While I stood there, I last saw it sprint around the corner of a building, taking the probes with it, the shiny gold wires fluttering about and the trailing chain of the leash scraping along, all the while looking like some hyperactive, juvenile version of Jacob Marley's ghost.

The dog was later located at the little girl's home a block away, curled up in a corner of their front porch and looking completely humbled. The small cylinder weights of the probes were still stuck in its side. The little girl (where was Mom, anyway?) met me on the porch.

"Can you get those things out of my dog?" she asked.

"He's not gonna like it if I do it," I told her. I wouldn't like it either. I didn't plan on going anywhere near those probes. Granted, we are supposed to gather all parts of a deployed cartridge: the probes, the wires, the blast doors, even the tiny circles of colored confetti labeled with the cartridge serial number that are thrust out upon discharge. But, in this case I make an exception. I feel this dog has learned his lesson, and I let him keep the probes as a souvenir.

Exposed to quite a bit of material in this entry, albeit with a few rants and tangents thrown in, one should now be well versed in the world of the Taser, and be expecting in the mail any day now the degree from this makeshift home correspondence course. The public, by and large, have no real idea what police officers go through on a daily basis, or they have an unreal concept of our duties or abilities thanks to crime drama shows on television that would have one believe all crimes can be solved in sixty minutes thanks to the resourceful detectives who can get fingerprints off anything—including water! Through the entries in this Officer's Journal, I have enjoyed educating the public on the various facets of law enforcement, including procedures we endure and the new tools we implement, such as the Taser. If I am humbled along the way through recounting potentially embarrassing moments, which is frequently the case when telling my adventures, then it just makes for more interesting reading. I think I've done that enough in this entry, so you'll forgive me if I keep to myself, and the select few who were there, the story of my accidental Taser discharge during Roll Call resulting in a sergeant's near miss "riding the lightning."