The Fury of Roslyn
The season for hurricanes in the Eastern Pacific is slightly longer than that of the Atlantic. Unlike the Atlantic, most of the hurricanes don't hit the mainland of the United States, they tear through the Baja or slam the West Coast of Mexico on their way to the deserts of the Southwest. However, there have been a few notable exceptions to that general rule. This is the story of one such exception.
Mid-to-late season hurricanes are often the worst of the storms. The water has had all summer to heat up, providing more than ample "fuel" for a ferocious storm. When hurricanes pop up in moderate el Nino years, the western shores of North American should be as prepared as the Caribbean islands for nasty weather.
Hurricane Roslyn popped up suddenly off the Mexican coast one day in late September. She began as a typical tropical storm, lots of wind and rain. However, at that moment, only the fish were getting wet. She was not endangering shipping lane or even the tourists on the Baja enjoying the last few days of a lovely summer and early fall. It took her only one day to become a cat 1 hurricane as she churned her way northwestward in the Eastern Pacific basin. Still her winds then only provided surfers with excitement.
As Roslyn tracked further north, she intensified. The early prognostications saw her, like all the ones before her, curving west and heading out to sea. She would rake the western beaches of Mexico, thrill surfers all the way up to Long Beach and beyond for a week or so, then get lost heading toward the Hawaiian Islands. Nevertheless, Roslyn had other ideas in mind. She took the same path another devastating tropical storm took in 1939 in about the same time of year. That was the only tropical storm in recorded history to make landfall in California. Roslyn was about to make that claim of "only" null and void. Moreover, she had picked up her forward progress as well as intensity. Hurricanes can and sometimes do go from "nothing" to "something" in a matter of hours. Such was Roslyn. She was "booking" along at 25 miles per hour as a cat 2, heading for cat 3.
Sharon lay sleeping soundly, nestled in Andy's arms. The household had been asleep for many hours. Well, Rusty was still awake. The young man had gotten involved with a project that simply refused to let him sleep. He was wide awake when the weather alert flashed at the bottom of his computer screen. It fairly screamed for his attention. Rusty was prepared for earthquakes, but he'd never seen a hurricane before. The weather forecasters on TV fascinated him when they would stand out in a storm along the East Coast clinging to lampposts and such. Sharon usually winced and told him that behavior was incredibly unwise and harmful to those watching. She had no use for that kind of risky behavior, no matter the cause. Her job was a whole other matter, risk and all, it was worth it.
Heart pounding through his chest with excitement, Rusty made a decision to awaken the rest of the house as this event moved every closer to where they lived. He got up and moved toward their door. Just as he knocked, the first phone call came in on Sharon's phone, followed quickly by Andy's phone ringing wildly in the middle of the night. Sharon and Andy were thrust into hyper-vigilant mode in an instant.
Provenza and Amy had placed the calls to alert the Captain and Lt Flynn that Major Crimes was being called up because of the pending disaster. It was moving so much faster than anyone had expected. None of the team had ever been through a hurricane, neither was it one of those training scenarios like other "normal" California natural disasters like fire, mudslide, and earthquake drills they were all prepared for. No, this was something completely new to the team and to the city.
Finger pointed in his direction, Sharon cautioned Rusty before leaving, "Rusty, have Gus come over here. The city has curfew plans to enact shortly. Stay away from the windows. And...no, playing out in the storm, mister! No hurricane party!"
"Seriously," concurred Andy, "I've had family go through hurricanes back East. It's not as much fun as the idiots on TV make it seem. When the power goes out, leave the fridge door shut. What's in there will keep for about 24 hours, but not if you open and shut the door."
Sharon looked at Rusty with deep care, "Stay safe up here. This building was built under earthquake codes, so it should hold up under winds, too. I love you," she concluded with a hug and kiss.
"I'm going to call Gus, now," Rusty assured them as they shut the door and headed to the office.
The outer bands had not yet reached as far north as the Los Angeles area. The storm was still a few hours away from fury and destruction on the mainland. When Sharon and Andy arrived, Amy and Provenza were already working up their usual "murder board" with maps of the greater Los Angeles area rather than faces and crime scene photos. Chief Howard had started to mark areas that his Special Operations Branch and Major Crimes Division would work together. This was an ALL Hands LAPD moment. Chief Howard alone had any hurricane experience.
"Good to see you, Captain," Howard offered his hand with a nod. "The mayor has called on the governor for National Guard troops to move in after the storm makes landfall and moves away."
Sharon and her team nodded, "More manpower. Good. That should make street patrol easier."
"What we don't want is a Katrina repeat in LA. The storm was upgraded half an hour ago to cat 3 with it intensifying as long as the bulk of it remains over open ocean. The good news is that Roslyn is a compact storm. The bad news is that Roslyn is a compact storm."
Julio gave a puzzled look, "Good news, bad news, sir?"
"It means that if its forward trajectory holds, it was pass over us quickly. It also means that the outer bands won't be as large, making the inner winds particularly devastating," Howard responded. "It will not dissipate quickly as outer bands hit land. It will stay intense until nearly the whole storm comes ashore."
Provenza got off the phone, "That was the Coast Guard. They are bringing in their last ship that was out. They just started up the coast to Treasure Island until the storm passes. They had reports of two small craft near the strong side of the storm, but they were not able to make a rescue. The seas are just too high to see anything and the winds too treacherous for their helicopters. Only NOAA is flying reconnaissance in this."
"The storm could drive survivors far north, if they survive it, into this region," Howard pointed on the map. "That's three counties away from us. Captain, someone needs to make a liaison with San Luis Obispo County Sheriff's Office."
"The whole coast from San Diego to Monterey counties are all on alert and moving," Amy added.
"I've got all of them linked in with us," Mike supplied. "Hurricanes like earthquakes can take out large swaths of buildings. However, unlike earthquakes, they come with tornadoes and floods. Since there was no time to board up windows, Captain, you might want to stay clear of your office."
Sharon nodded, "Buzz, can you and Julio drag my filing cabinets into the Murder Room to protect the files should a window blow out?"
"Right away," was the unison answer.
"Chief, you have lived through hurricanes on the East Coast. What else can we expect?" Sharon inquired.
"Power failure until the emergency generators here at the PAB kick in. When they do, they power one in three lights and the red colored outlets. So, you might want to make sure all electronics are charged up and ready to go. Mike, if you can run on batteries until the generators kick in, you might want to do so," Howard directed. "That will protect against power fluctuations until the generators smooth it all out."
"What about cell phones?" Andy wanted to know.
Howard turned to him, "That all depends on how many towers stay up and how many have electrical backups to keep them running. A bad hurricane can take the power grid down for days. One hit in one bad spot...does the same as an earthquake on older infrastructure."
"Hmmm," Julio began. "I bet the Los Angeles River will flood."
Andy nodded, "You bet it will. You know how fast it rises when we get a big rain, and this is only going to be worse. You remember the surrogate mother case we worked after only a little rain washed her into the storm drains and nearly out to sea."
Sharon mused, "I'd expect all these canals and tributaries to flood out," she motioned to the map.
"Well the good news is that any residual forest fires from this summer will be done," a chipper Amy noted.
"Yeah, just in time for mudslide season," intoned Julio.
"Buzz," Sharon asked, "are the camera batteries all charged and ready to record when we head out after the storm?"
"Yes, Ma'am. I made sure of that last night when we all went home," Buzz responded.
Mike scanned his computer's weather radar, "It looks as if the outer bands are not even half an hour away. It's showtime!"
Within twenty minutes rain began to splat against the glass of the windows. It was only a few heavy drops at first, then a pause, then more until it became a torrent of rain. Hail mixed in every now and then. The street lights were on below illuminating the dark pavement. Sunrise had made no effort to come to Los Angeles that morning. Hail jumped up and down on the pavement like little Ping-Pong balls. It was dark like a moonless night outside. Enticed, Sharon moved into her office to watch from the windows. Slowly the rest of the team assembled at the windows watching with wonder. Not a soul was on the street as sheets of rain came down hard. The palmetto trees strained in the wind. Traffic lights were moved back and forth almost to the point of twisting them off their suspension cables. It was only a matter of time.
The lights began to flicker as the storm ground ashore. The team moved into the Murder Room and away from the windows. Then darkness. Sharon and her team looked at the ceiling waiting for the generators to kick in. Except for the howling wind outside, it was silent in the Murder Room. The bang of the stairwell door captured everyone's attention. All eyes peered into the darkened hallway.
"Fritz?" Provenza asked into the dark.
"No," boomed back a voice just out of sight.
Everyone knew the sound of that voice. Sharon moved forward, navigating the desks carefully.
"Jack?" she started. "What are you doing here?"