And I did and I needed it last night............................ So there I was, hanging out at the PC last night when the phone rang. I got called out to assist in whatever way I could. We had another round of storms come tearassing through the county again last night. We've had a couple of tornadoes, winds that can outrun your high performance Yugo and wish I could say lots of rain, but since the storms are running in 5th gear, we get a good soaking and not the drenching that we need. To set a picture of what ensued, here was how I was dressed: polo shirt embroidered by the wife (she has her own business) with the appropriate agency stuff, brown jeans (which are agency approved and I wear every so often) and my SRT boots (they are retired cheapies and figured if I was gonna be messing around in a storm, I didn't want good boots messed up). Along with that, the only other thing that is along with the ride is my sidearm in a Fobus holster. No cuffs, no spray, no nothing. Everything else that I carry on duty like Taser, baton, gloves, is on my duty belt at home. So I go out and immediately get soaked by the rain while talking to someone on the side of the road who felt the need to chat. Then I decide what the hell, might as well head to the office and trade out vehicles since my Crown Vic had some work done on it and I had the interior detailed (remember that for future reference). On my way in, I ended up sitting in the middle of the highway for a few hours with one of my partners. Had a big rig lose it and go off the side of the road and we had to shut down the highway for recovery. After I cleared that, I got to the office and traded vehicles out, got gas and started home a couple hours after I expected to be home. I'm cruising along the highway in my freshly detailed, 83 thousand mile, 2 year old patrol unit when dispatch calls the sergeant on duty, who is also on his way home. Dispatch informed him that we just got a 911 call, possible suspects inside the garage and gives the location. Guess where I am at that point in time? If you guess going right by the house, you would be wrong; but I was all of about two miles at the most. The sergeant informs dispatch that he is almost home (he lives across the county) so I chime in that I'm right down the road, I'll deal with it. Luckily for me, one of our local state troopers was still out and heard the call and was right down the road, so he offered to come back me up. After unscrewing the directions dispatch gave me (some of our dispatchers are somewhat unskilled in their task and some of them, after giving directions, I go looking for maps of West Africa and Upper Slovenia), I figured out where the house was. I pull up, the trooper is coming down the road and I make contact with the residents. They inform me that there is someone in their garage and he is acting "weird." The male resident, good to see, is armed with a double barrelled scatter gun and it's still has rounds, so I'm not expecting any bodies at this point in time. The trooper walks up and I tell him what's going on and I have him go cover the garage from the outside while I make entry from the inside. I figure this is the best way to go since I've got the resident already armed and not only can the scatter gun open some awesome new breathing holes in the human body, but this particular model can double as a melee weapon doing approximately 539,399,205 damage to suspects if needed. Before I open the garage door, I unholster. Now for those familiar with Fobus holsters, there's not much to unholstering since the idea for handgun retention lays in the molded plastic that slides of the trigger guard, forming a retention that although seems pretty good, I've never been high on volunteering to test that theory in real world circumstances. I make entry into the garage. Now to give you an idea on the garage, what I had is a simple, one car garage, with a Chevy Suburban parked inside. Needless to say, there's enough room to walk around and get into the Sub, but that's about it. As I make entry, sure enough there's the old boy that doesn't belong on the far side of the Sub. He looks at me, I look at him and bring the old H&K up for cover and utilizing the most important words in the Spanish language that I know outside cervasa, I announce who I am and then I notice that he's armed himself with a piece of lumber. Of course I'm thinking to myself at this point in the game the old boy really doesn't want to play Bubba Ball. Details I got from the residents clued me into the fact that this old boy might have had some sort of chemical stimulanting his thought process, which really wasn't making me happy. Afterwards, the lumber turned out to be some flimsy, baseboard type wood measuring in at about 6 feet. I get the old boy to drop the lumber and he gets his hands up in the air and goes through so much as to place them on the Sub. He's not speaking English, but through my commands, I'm trying to put the old boy at ease so life will be easy. I start making my approach and I see the trooper looking in through the garage door. I holster up, and reach for the guys arms to secure them and at this point, old boy deviated from my little program. Now if you were to survey the law enforcement community, 9 out of 10 cops will tell you that the last place they really want to play Battle Royale with suspects will be the garage. The other one usually uses the term "carnage ensued" in their reports, but they replace the word "carnage" with the word "I" and life for them is good while. There are nasty little things in the garage, which for most of us, being on this website and hobbying what we hobby, I do not need to describe for you here today. The trooper made his way into the garage so we could make the affair a "No DQ, Texas Tornado" match. The one thing that I missed during my introduction to the old boy was just how tall he actually was. When I made entry, it could have been the steps leading in, he didn't seem all that tall. When the match began, he didn't seem that tall. Now that we had moved to the other side of the garage and I took into account that I may go for 5'11" on a good day, and I had a couple of inches on the trooper and old boy measuring up at about 6', along with the chemical stimulation, the lack of room to really expand our horizons in the list of things we could do, old boy was giving us a pretty good run for the money. After a few minutes, we were finally able to subdue the old boy. The fact that he only physically resisted instead of actively fighting back really helped us subduing him quicker. I'm pretty sure the whole time we were engaged, the trooper was having the same bad thoughts I was about his hands and the ready availibility of weapons in our little ring. We drug the guy outside and the trooper kept him on the ground, which at this point was dirt (remember the rain?) as I cleared my back seat of my freshly detailed patrol car. We got him secured inside my car and I called into dispatch to get additional units rolling (I also did not have my handheld with me) because there might had been additional suspects on the property and we were in no position to clear the property ourselves since I had one old boy in the back seat and that would leave the trooper by himself to clear things. My sergeant, another deputy who lives all of about 50 miles away and a local K-9 came out and cleared the area after I left to head to the jail. No other suspects were found on the property and I ended up getting home as the sun was coming up. Now I get to pull out the Shop Vac and vacuum up my freshly detailed patrol car.