Saturday, October 25, 2003

Real Life Vs. Fantasy

I'm not going to be blogging all the time about crime reports from local papers. But I was struck today by a particular contrast. Today's San Francisco Chronicle carried an article about a police shooting in San Jose, which is the source of some bitter contention within the community.

I don't know enough to even have an opinion about the dispute. But what stood out to me was the description of the police officer's reaction to shooting another human being. Keep in mind that police are trained on a continuing basis when they have to shoot and when not, and that they have a very elaborate support network to put such incidents into perspective. 

Seconds after shooting a 25-year-old woman to death, San Jose police Officer Chad Marshall stood wide-eyed with fear and sadness, still gripping his smoking pistol as the woman's wailing sons clutched at his legs, a fellow officer testified Friday.

Cau Bich Tran lay on her back in the cramped kitchen of her apartment, slowly shifting her head and limbs and gasping for breath, police Officer Christopher Hardin told a Santa Clara County grand jury.

Hardin was walking up to Tran's duplex when the single shot rang out the night of July 13. He ran inside and saw Marshall, his eyes "very large. He looked sad and scared at the same time.''

Tran's children were "screaming and clutching onto the officer's legs,'' Hardin said.

Marshall, a four-year veteran, stood there for several minutes, gun dangling from his hand, Hardin testified. Finally, he said, "I asked him to go ahead and put that (gun) away, because he still seemed traumatized by what happened."

Compare that to the comment of the blowhard neighbor who spouted off to the Jackson newspaper after the fatal shooting of a burglar in his neighborhood:

"If they come up on me, I will shoot every bullet in there. I would have done the same thing if I would have gotten to my gun. Something's got to be done about this crime. It ain't just Jackson. It's national.''

The real thing doesn't look, feel, sound or smell like the comic-book bluster from macho loudmouths blowing hot air.

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