Thanks for the reviews so far guys! I'm glad you like it so far! This chapter will be from Traci's perspective. I'm going to do her interview with Best. I think that if she was interviewed by Jerry it would be a conflict of interest. But what do you guys think, would you have preferred it if I wrote her interview with Jerry? Let me know! Please read and let me know what you guys think! Thanks!
"This will only take a few minutes, Traci. I know it's difficult, but I really need you to tell me what happened." Frank asks me, he's staring at me, but I can tell he's trying to make me feel comfortable. It's not his fault. I don't think anything would make me comfortable right now. Not any time soon.
I nod and try to say "I know, let's just get this over with", but all I can manage is a shaky, "okay." My hands are still shaking. I try to press them in between my legs. I'mashamed enough that they're still shaking. I don't need Frank to see them too. I look down quickly, and I sniff. I can't stop crying. The tears are sitting in my eyes ready to fall, and I'm trying my hardest not to let them.
"Just start from the beginning, Traci. What happened? Who went in first?" Frank asks me kindly. He looks quickly at my hands. He must be able to tell they're shaking. It probably isn't hard, they're making my whole body shake.
"I went with Swarek. He told me to follow him around back. Oliver and Chris went around front. I heard Oliver yell for someone to put their gun down. We still weren't in yet though. We were walking behind the building. The plan was for us to come in the back, surprise the suspects. Oliver and Chris were going to go in from the front, and we were going to take the suspects down from behind." I try to remember as clearly as I can. I always thought that if I was a witness I'd be able to remember all the important details. But, it is so much harder than I thought. It's like my brain isn't allowing me to focus on what I want to focus on. It's choosing the topics, and I don't like them.
"Okay, so you and Swarek went around back. When did you enter?" Frank asks me, he's writing this all down in a notebook and the feeling that I've done something wrong increases.
"Umm, we ugh," I try to think back. I pause for a few seconds. It probably makes me look like I don't know what I'm talking about. But, I don't really care. "We entered after Oliver told the suspect to put his gun down for the third time. He told him once when he first walked in, another time after he identified himself as a police officer, and then again right before we walked in. Sam went in first."
"Okay, then what. Did Sam say anything to you? Did he give you any instructions?" Franks asks me. I don't know what he means by that. Is he trying to get me to either justify or incriminate Sam? No, he wouldn't do that. I'm overanalyzing this. This isn't the time for overanalyzing. This is a simple question.
"Um, no, ugh" I think back, I remember Sam gesturing toward the right. "Yea, um, yea, he did. He gestured for me to go toward the right on three."
"Okay" Franks eyes me carefully and I know what that means, he's wondering if I'm credible. I've seen that look before from pretty much all the officers during interviews of witnesses. I've probably even given it myself.
"He did, he gestured" I say again, trying to make my point.
Frank nods once. "What next?"
"Well, ugh, we, went in, Oliver was pointing his gun at the suspect behind the counter. The suspect was pointing his gun at the cashier. He wasn't facing us, the suspect, it looked like the plan was actually going to work."
"Okay, so you guys went in. What happened next?" Frank asks me.
I can't focus. My head is spinning. My thoughts are going crazy in my head. I can't handle this. I don't know what to say. I can feel my breathing getting heavier, I try to take a deep breath and I gasp. Frank offers me a small smile.
"Are you okay? We can take a minute if you want?" Franks says, his voice kind. I can tell he doesn't want to be doing this either.
I try to speak, but I can't. I gasp again loudly, before I take a deep breath. "No, I'm okay. Let's do this" I nod slowly.
"We ugh, we approached the suspect from behind. Sam was in front" I say, I close my eyes and try to remember more details, but I can't. I can barely focus. My mind doesn't seem to want me to be able to remember how long it took for us to approach the suspect, or how long it took for Sam to cuff him, or when Chris shouted 'Sir', or whether or not Sam started to say the Miranda rights.
No, what my mind is allowing me to focus on is Chris. The deep red, almost brown color of his blood as it spread across the linoleum tiles. The emotion in his voice as he saw how he was bleeding. The look in Chris's eyes. The way Sam's voice was wavering. The way Oliver was urging Chris to stay awake. The way my hands felt on his neck, trying to steady him. Chris gasping for air. How long it took for the paramedics to show up, and how long it took to get to the hospital. The sound of the bullets. But I couldn't remember what Frank was asking me for. That stuff was not what was important right now. This was what was important, Chris.
I shake my head as my breathing starts to get heavier. "I can't do this. I can't focus, I'm sorry. All I can see is Chris's face, scarred and worried, his blood all over the ground, Sam yelling terrified, Oliver and Sam trying to stop the bleeding. The sound of the guns firing. That's what I'm remembering, I'm sorry I can't do this."
My hands are shaking even more now, I wedge them even further in between my legs, trying to prevent them from shaking, but it doesn't work. Frank sees this, and he reaches across and grabs my wrist. He pulls my hand up and holds it with both of his. He put his notebook and pencil down. Apparently, he agreed with me. That stuff wasn't important right now.
"I know, I know, but you can do this, Traci. We'll work from that, okay? Just tell me what you remember. You said you remember the sound of the gunshots? How many were there?" Franks asks me.
I close my eyes and think back. It's all I've been able to hear pretty much for a while. I count them as they play over in my head. One. One. One. Four. One. One. One.
"The gunman shot Chris first" I say, "then Oliver got off a shot and so did I, then Sam shot four, Oliver fired again, I fired again, and so did the suspect. The suspect's second bullet hit Chris in the leg."
"So ten total?" Frank asks me.
I count them in my head. "Yea, ten"
Frank squeezes my hand. "You're doing great, Traci. You're really helping."
I shake my head. I just want to go back upstairs.
"What else do you remember, Traci. Anything will be helpful."
I think back, try to think of anything else besides Chris's face and his scared voice. And the blood. And the bullets. And the yelling. Then I think of something else.
"I froze" I say quietly. I don't really want to admit it, but I have to. I did. I froze. I have to say it.
"What do you mean?" Frank looks at me curiously.
I sigh. "I froze. I mean, Sam yelled for me to go get the first aid kit, and I froze. I was so concentrated on Chris's face, I just, I couldn't move. I knew he was ordering me to go, but I just, I couldn't. He yelled for me to do it again, and I went. But I was so distracted. I always thought that if something happened, I'd be able to think clearly, do what needed to be done. I guess not."
"Traci, this doesn't mean that," Franks starts but I cut him off. I need to finish . I need to get it out.
"That's not it though. When I came back with the first aid kit, Sam told me he needed me to help. I looked at Chris and started crying. I cried, in front of Chris. I stood there and cried because I was scared and I didn't know what to do. They needed me, and I couldn't help. I just stood there. It's my fault. Maybe if I had acted quicker, he'd be okay or I don't know. I was eventually able to apply pressure to Chris's leg, but that's after Sam yelled at me. I just stood there."
"It's okay, Traci, it's alright. This isn't your fault. You were scared. You didn't know what to do. It's okay."
"No, it's not okay" I say. "Sam and Oliver were scared too. They didn't cry. I let them down. I let Chris down."
"The only way you're letting them down is by if you beat yourself up over it. That's not going to do anything. All you can do is be prepared. Sometimes it helps sometimes it doesn't. And Sam and Oliver have been on the job a lot longer than you have. They've been in these kinds of intense situations before. You haven't."
"Still, I should have acted. I should have done something." I say, the disappointment clear in my voice. I start to cry again.
"You did, Traci. You did." Franks says. "You did what you could. You applied pressure to Chris's wounds, you directed the paramedics, you pulled it together, and were able to function. You did what you needed to. I know you froze for a few seconds, but you were able to do what needed to be done after that.
"I guess so" I say. I don't really feel like wallowing in what I could have done. This isn't about me. It's about Chris.
"What do you say we go back upstairs and wait for any news about Chris?" Franks asks me as he stands up, still holding my hand.
I stand up too, and give him a hug. Press my face into his shoulder for a few seconds and cry. When I lean back I wipe the tears out of my eyes. Then I press my face against his shoulder again.
"Thank you" I say quietly.
Franks hugs me tighter. "For what?"
"For listening" I say, and the two of us walk upstairs together back to the waiting room.
Thanks for reading!