July 17th, 2012
I am ready to go on the chase. I was just waiting for the canine officer to arrive with the dog so we can begin our chase...
When the dog handler arrives, he removes his barking dog from the car. His animal is excited. His adrenaline is pumping just like ours. The officer takes his dog for a brief walk so the German Shepard can get some of the anxiety out of him and use the bathroom.
“Right there was where he was last seen.” I point in the direction of the long stretch of sidewalk that runs along the store fronts.
As soon as the handler brings his dog to the area he catches the scent and takes off running. It’s a good sign when the dog runs, that means he is hot on his trail.
We run down the sidewalk, the dog on his lead, stretched out front about fifteen feet from us. We are trying to keep up. Not very easy when your carrying twenty-five pounds of extra weight from the vest, gun belt and a long gun in your hands.
As we pass the places of business we yell out to the people to “stand aside, get out of our way!”
The dog is running fast like a greyhound. His handler keeping his pace by pulling back on his leash ever so slightly so we can keep up. As we step off the curb and to the roadway the sound of the traffic is drowned out by the motor of the helicopter that is arriving on our scene to lend a hand from it’s birds eye view.
“STOP!” We yell at the cars as they creep towards us, the drivers inside not quite sure what they're seeing, as we move across the lanes. There isn’t enough cops to block traffic so we must make do. We cross the eastbound lanes over the medium into the west bound lanes headed to the neighborhood just across the street. The dog hot on the bad guys trail.
The canine moves from the road and into the neighborhood of the neatly manicured yards right across the way. He lost the scent somewhere in the houses between 100 and 112 East Way. He stops and paces back and forth trying to regain his scent. We stop in our tracks, our guns raised to a low ready position. The butt of the gun into my shoulder, my left hand gripping the stock, my left index finger laying parallel to the trigger. my right arm is extend out, grasping the long gun in front of me as the barrel is partially pointed to the ground, ready to be hoisted forward if we are ambushed by the gun welding robber.
“That is it for me” the canine handler said. "He may be in between the houses' backyards, but there are other dogs there. You guys will have to manually go in those yards and search yourself, without us.”
So, here I am into the third house of our search, with the helicopter hovering over us, the wind slamming down on top us, the wind ripping through our ear drums making it impossible to hear, as we move about the heavy brush. There is only two of us, along with the man in the sky, searching for a man with a gun. My heart is racing. My adrenaline pumping and my anxiety was through the roof, it was a good day to be looking for a guy on the loose. Which brings us back to this:
“Hey! Hey! Over here, look over here!” My partner shouting over the blaring engines of the helicopter as he waves his right hand.
I take my eyes of the helicopter, as we move about towards some heavy brush. The pilots think he is in there but it is hard to see. We were calling for the Canine handler to come in so his dog could check it out. The handler couldn’t hear us over the loud noise of the whirley bird over head. So we had to go in instead.
We filed in to the brush, taking cover by squatting low. Are guns raised up as we waddled through. It was hard to look for anything that moved when the wind of the helicopter was shaking the ground. We moved slow as we pushed through the branches of the trees. We moved our bodies side by side until we saw a clearing just a head of us, I got on my knees to get a better look and found a hidden walk through that took him to the back of the other business from our location. So we crawled through.
The Canine officer met us on the other side, where his dog picked up the scent of the bad guy and put us back on the trail again.. We went on our sprint behind the business about two miles from where all this robbery mess began.
We work our way through the rear of the business moving a long quickly. The dog is doing great, pulling us along until he stopped in his tracks. His four paws standing in a puddle of water in an empty parking spot.
We all looked at each other bewildered with no place to go. Not a word spoken until the Canine officer spoke to us with a defeated tone.
“You see the puddle of water, where the dog is standing in?", as he points, "That’s the condensation of an air conditioner. The get away car was parked right here. That bad guy we chased? He got way, he’s probably now, somewhere on the interstate.”
The End
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Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.
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