Disclaimer: I don't claim to owner any characters from Emergency or Adam-12. I only borrow these created characters for pure enjoyment of a new story.
Mistaken Identity
It's a quiet afternoon and the men of station 51 are lounging around the television set killing time before Marco serves up dinner. The aroma in the kitchen and living room is filled with Mexican spices. The guys are paying close attention to the scores of the afternoon Dodgers game against the St. Louis Cardinals. Suddenly, an anchorman breaks in during regular programming. We interrupt this broadcast to give this breaking news. The Los Angeles County pedophile has struck again. This time a ten year-old boy in the Brentwood neighborhood is the victim. He is the fifth child in the county assaulted this month. The authorities believe it is the same man. The suspected pedophile is increasing his attacks. Please be on the alert for a six foot one, dark haired, and blue-eyed Caucasian man in his thirties. Anyone matching this description approaching or harassing a child should be questioned. The authorities need the public's assistance…
Marco's voice breaks in. "Come and eat!" Johnny walks up to the television and turns it off before joining the rest of the men already settling around the table.
"Dinner smells great. What are we having, Marco?" Johnny asks.
"Enchilada's and rice just like my mama makes." Marco grins as he sits down the pan on the hot pad.
Just then, the klaxons go off. Engine 51, garbage fire at the corner of Center and Jackson Street. Time out 5:41.
The joyful anticipation of a tasty hot dinner vanishes quickly like their unsatisfied expressions. Wooden chairs screech across the floor as they slide back from the table as the men hustle to the engine. Captain Stanley darts to the radio jotting down the location before picking up the mike. "Station 51, KMG 365." Cap races around big red and climbs aboard. Mike Stoker drives out with the others snapping up their turnout coats.
The dumpster fire is handled easily by the men. They get it put out and clean up the area in less than an hour. With their return to the station they finish the end of their shift with no other excitement.
*
A couple days later, Hank Stanley rolls out of bed. He heads straight to the bathroom to revive himself with a shave and a hot shower. After toweling off he dresses in a rust and gold plaid shirt and tan pants, and then wanders into the kitchen. He moseys up behind his wife, Emily, who is already dressed and ready for her day. He surprises her with a gentle hug when he slips his arms around her waist and squeezes. He places a soft kiss on her neck. "Morning, Beautiful."
"Hank, you seem to be in a good mood this morning." She perks up an eyebrow and glances around at him.
"Well, why shouldn't I be? I have a gorgeous wife. It's a bright sunny day out, and I smell some fresh bacon cooking on the stove." Snap and crackle noises fill the room as she flips over bacon in the frying pan.
"Are you ready for a cup of coffee, Hun?"
"That sounds great." The sun is beaming into the room through the sheer white curtains over the kitchen sink and beside the table. As he sits down at the table, he picks up the rolled newspaper and opens it to read the headlines. Pedophile strikes again. The community needs to be on alert. Emily pours her husband a cup of coffee and puts it in front of him. "Thanks, Babe." He picks up the steaming cup and takes a sip.
"How long until you leave for the station, Hank?"
"In the next hour, I guess." He peers out the opening between the curtains and across the green lawn noticing a wiffle ball and bat left behind. "Where are the kids?"
"They went to play at Jacob and Annie's house this morning."
He looks up at his wife with a coy eye. "So, we are all alone?"
"Yes, dear, but don't you have to leave for work soon and aren't you hungry for some breakfast?"
With a twinkle in his eyes, he says, "I'm always hungry for something more satisfying than food."
She pauses from her cooking and plants a hot kiss on her husband's lips. Then she softly says, "Maybe, when you have a little more time, we can see how hungry you really are, but I have a meeting with the other wives planning the firemen's picnic this morning."
"Ok, Em, can you set up another play date tomorrow when I get off shift?"
"Oh, I think that can be arranged, Captain Stanley." Emily sits down a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast for him then grabs her coffee cup and joins him for a couple minutes.
"Aren't you going to eat something?"
"I did earlier with the kids."
"They got up kind of early."
"They were very excited about going over to their friends."
"With such a nice day, maybe I'll walk into work today."
"If you do, can I pick you up tomorrow?"
"That's ok, Em. I can get a ride home from Mike or Roy. Have you got any other big plans for the day?"
"Jack Clayton, our neighbor at the end of the block, is putting together a neighborhood watch program. He has the first meeting tonight. I was thinking about attending with all the recent news about the child molester on the loose. It's just so scary to think about it."
"That sounds like a good idea."
"Well, I hate to run, but I don't want to be late for the meeting. Wouldn't look good to have the captain's wife late." She stands up to go and gives him another tender kiss before sitting her cup in the sink. "Hank, just leave your dishes in the sink. I'll take care of them when I get home."
"Have a good day, Em. I love you."
"Love you too."
Cap flips over the paper to continue reading as he eats the rest of his breakfast. After finishing up, he follows Emily's request and deposits his dishes in the sink then goes to the brush his teeth before heading off to the station. He grabs his brown lightweight jacket by the door and puts is on before heading out. It's not too often that he walks to work, but he feels fortunate that he lives close enough to enjoy a nice day this way. Hank hates extremely quiet shifts when he feels bottled up with just time at his desk. It has been abnormally slow recently.
Hank's neighborhood is fairly quiet and lined with middle-class families. The properties are well kept with mowed lawns and landscape rock. Many yards have nice oak and sycamore trees giving shade on the hot California days. About three blocks from home with another five to go, Hank sees a man just ahead of him approach a young boy playing alone in his front yard. The side streets are pretty quiet at this hour with only the occasional car driving by. As he gets nearer, he sees the man talking to the child then grabbing him roughly by the arm. The young boy maybe only five or six years old, is starting to cry. It looks to Hank like the man is trying to drag the boy away to a parked blue sedan sitting along the curb. Something in Hank's gut tells him that there is something terribly wrong here.
"Hey, you! Let go of him!" Hank yells as he jogs up closer to the two.
Hank's stern voice startles the molester causing him to glance his way realizing his discovery. He then releases the boy and runs for his car. The boy falls to the ground when he is suddenly free.
Hank is a few steps from the boy as he watches the car speed off with tires screeching and leaving behind a trail of rubber on the street. He quickly goes to the small child in the yard. Hank gets down on his knees and helps him up. The boy is crying and taking in heaving breaths. The look of fear is spread across his moist tear-stained face.
With a kind tone Hank asks, "What's your name, son?" He rubs up and down along the boy's arms trying to calm the little one. Hank's mind flashes to his kids who are not much older than this little one.
Nearby a couple men dressed in jeans, old t-shirts, and worn out ball caps are cutting through the neighborhood to get to a construction job site. One is rummaging through his metal lunchbox seeing what his girlfriend packed for his lunch today. The driver is messing with the radio finding a station. Both men are unshaven and have a rough edge to them. Both are tan and well muscled from the physically demanding job. Finally picking a station, the radio blares the repeated broadcast of the pedophile on the loose. "Bobby, have you been following the story of this creep?"
"Yeah, I'd like to get my hands on the guy and teach him a lesson."
At that very moment, their truck comes up on Hank and the little boy. They both notice the boy sobbing and looking distressed. The contact Hank is making sends the wrong message to the men. "Shit, Larry. Do you see that?"
"Yeah, it's him. Grab the creep." The driver slams on the brakes of the maroon pickup and both men bail out when it comes to a stop.
The men come running up to Hank and the boy. It scares the child again, and he runs toward the house crying. Hank starts to stand up when one of the two men violently grabs both his arms. Stunned by his actions, Hank stammers, "Wait, guys. You don't under…" then the other man slams a hard punch into his midsection. His breath is knocked out of him in mid sentence.
"Hey, Bobby, let's see how tough this guy is with somebody his own size."
Larry lets fly a fist across Hank's jaw. The collision sends a shooting pain throughout his face and neck. Larry looks down to see some fresh blood on his knuckles only to realize it's not his own. Hank sags back against the man holding him, as he's dazed from the punch. Blood drips from Hank's lower lip. He tries to pull away from the strong arms restraining him, but no such luck. The captain again tries to explain. "Please, I was only trying …" when another blow to his gut takes the words away.
"Bobby, I don't think our friend here is as brave with us as the little boys he normally plays with." The two men seem to be feeding off of each other's aggression. "Do you want to have a go?" His friend nods and lets out a laugh.
Bobby releases Hank's arms and his legs start to give way. But Larry quickly snatches his upper arms again, and this time Bobby lets into him. He throws a quick couple punches to his face then again at his midsection. Now, there is blood dripping down the side of Hank's face from a cut on his cheek and his vision is starting to blur.
While this is all happening outside, in the house the mother hears her son in his bedroom crying. She goes into his room and finds him huddled in the corner. She kneels down in front of him and tries to comfort him. "What's wrong, Billy?"
He mumbles out to her between sobs, "Strange man … grabbed me."
"Oh, my God!" She picks him up in her arms and goes to the front window to look outside. She sees a couple men fighting with a third from what she can tell. Without thinking she hurries to the phone to call the police. Her emotions are suddenly a wreck.
As the call is answered the dispatcher says, "This is the Los Angeles Police Department. What is your emergency?"
"Please come quickly." She says in a shaky voice. "A man tried to grab my son, and I think he's still outside. Now it looks like some men are fighting in my yard."
The dispatcher gets the woman's address and tells her to stay inside and lock her doors until the police arrive. A short time later, she hears sirens approaching her home.
Outside again, the two so-called rescuers beat the crap out of Hank. He never got another word out between the hits. Larry and Bobby drew satisfaction from the moans escaping from his bloodied lips. The next blow knocks him unconscious, and Larry drops him to the ground. With the sirens growing louder, Bobby looks at the man crumpled on his side in the yard and says, "It's the end for you, Buddy."
Just then, a squad car pulls up. Officers Sanchez and Walters put on their hats and grab their nightsticks. They approach the two men with caution only knowing of a fight at the scene and possible child abduction attempt. As they near the men, Walters asks, "What is going on here?"
Larry quickly answers, "We caught this guy trying to steal a kid." He points down to the injured man. Walters keeps an eye on the two men while Sanchez stoops down to feel for a pulse on Hank. It's obvious to the officer that the man is unconscious, but he appears to be breathing and has a pulse.
"I'm going to call an ambulance, Jerry." Sanchez goes back to the squad to radio in for an ambulance.
"How did he get like this?" Walters asks, but already sensing what happened noticing the bloodied knuckles of the men.
Bobby speaks up, "He's the creep messing with kids. It's all over the news. We saw him touching this boy." His voice is all jacked up with the adrenaline rush.
Walters asks, "Did he put up a fight?"
Bobby and Larry look at each other a second before either speaks up. Larry finally says, "Yeah, of course, the slime ball didn't want to go to jail."
"I'm going to need both of you to come down to the station to make a statement about what happened here."
Walters doesn't recognize Hank with the bloody and bruised face. He has to treat the injured man as if he is a suspect in a crime until he knows differently. He kneels down and cuffs his hands together in the front. Sanchez is walking back to Walters when a second squad arrives on the scene. Jerry sees its Woods and Brinkman.
Walters says to Sanchez regarding the other officers, "Can you have them take these two gentlemen into the station for questioning, and will you talk to the woman in the house who called in? I'll keep an eye on this man."
Sanchez fills in Woods and Brinkman on the few details they have gotten. Then, he heads to the front door and knocks. A woman in her late twenties answers the door with a little boy still in her arms. "Excuse me ma'am. I'm Officer Sanchez with the Los Angeles Police Department. What's your name and can you tell me what happened?"
"My name is Lois Barkley. I found my son, Billy, crying in his room a few minutes ago. He told me a man grabbed him in the yard. When I looked outside I saw three men fighting. I don't really know what else happened."
"Billy is it? How old are you?"
He doesn't speak, but holds up one hand with his fingers all spread apart.
"I guess that means you're five."
The little guy nods his head and mom smiles with his response.
"I would like to ask Billy one question. Let's go outside for just a moment."
"No mommy." Billy shakes his head feeling scared still.
"It's ok, Buddy. I won't let anyone hurt you." The little guy nods his head again up and down giving the ok signal.
The three walk outside near enough to see Cap on the lawn and both men standing near the squad. "Can you tell me if one of those men touched you?"
The boy looks for a minute at the men standing then down at Hank. "Mister," and he points down at Hank. That is enough of a response for Sanchez to assume that the boy recognized him and that he did something. Just then, an ambulance and rescue squad pull up with lights flashing.
"Why don't we go back inside so I can ask you a few more question?" The officer starts to lead the way as the little boy leans over his mother's shoulder to look closer at Cap.
"Mommy, mister hurt?"
Lois shifts Billy's weight around in her arms to keep the wiggly boy from falling. "Yes, honey. The other men are going to take care of him."
Sanchez continues to question the mother inside, but doesn't really learn anymore since the mother didn't see anything.
Paramedics, Brice and Thomas, lay down their medical equipment in the grass near the injured man. Brice asks, "What do we have, Officer Walters?"
"We have an unconscious victim of a fight. He is also a suspect in a possible child abduction."
"Officer Walters, do we really need these handcuffs?" Brice asks as he and his partner help to position the victim flat on his back. Brice immediately recognizes the captain. "Oh, my God! This is Captain Stanley."
"Who?" Walters asks.
"He is the fire captain of Station 51. I have served under him before." He quickly starts to assess his injuries while his partner sets up the Biophone. He picks up his wrist and holds it to get a pulse with some difficulty because of the handcuffs there. Next, he rests his hand on his abdomen getting a respiration rate. Then, he puts a BP cuff on his arm to get a pressure reading. Thomas has Rampart on the line. He explains, "We have one male victim about thirty-five years old, unconscious and bleeding from the face. The injuries are the result of a fight." He then recites the vitals Brice gives him. In addition, Brice notes the facial laceration on his cheek, contusions to his abdomen, and possible cracked ribs.
"Squad 36, tell me how his pupils respond."
Brice flicks his penlight in Captain Stanley's eyes. He looks at Thomas and says, "They're equal, but sluggish."
"Rampart, the pupils are equal, but sluggish."
"Squad 36, start an IV with Lactated Ringers. Run six liters of O2 and transport."
"10-4, Rampart. IV with Ringers and six liters of O2."
Brice quickly looks up to Walters. "I need to place an IV catheter. Can you please take off these cuffs?"
Walters is hesitant, but finally removes the cuffs. "Brice, I will have to recuff him when you get the IV established. Sorry."
Brice places a catheter in his right arm. Thomas washes off the blood on his face, and then finds the two-inch laceration on his left cheek and a split lower lip. Thomas bandages the laceration then fits him with an oxygen mask. "Get that gurney over here!"
"One, two, three lift." The two paramedics and ambulance attendant lift up Hank onto the gurney. A groan comes from the patient with the major movement. "Hold up." Brice says as he leans in to talk with Hank. "Captain Stanley, can you hear me?"
Hank rolls his head and groans again, but his eyes don't open. "Go ahead and get him ready." The attendant straps the man in for transport.
Walters steps up close then snaps on a handcuff to Cap's left wrist and to the side gurney bar. "I will be riding along with you, Brice."
"If you must."