America: What is your role?

6:45 p.m.—First call comes into the dispatch center.

Dispatcher: “911 dispatch. What’s the nature of your emergency?”

Caller: “There’s a huge ruckus next door. Lots of yelling. I heard a couple of screams, and some kids crying. I don’t know what’s going on, but it sounds real bad.”

Dispatcher: “Okay, sir, thank you for calling. We’ll send someone out.”

7:00 p.m.—Second call comes into the dispatch center.

Dispatcher: “911 dispatch. What’s the nature of your emergency?”

Caller: “I think there’s been a shooting across the street. I heard yelling, screaming and crying earlier, but to be honest, it happens a lot, so I didn’t think much of it. But I swear, I just heard gunshots, and things are real quiet over there now.”

Dispatcher: “Okay, ma’am. Thank you for calling. We’ll get someone out there right away.”

7:10 p.m.—Third call comes into the dispatch center.

Dispatcher: “911 dispatch. What’s the nature of your emergency?”

Caller: “I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but there’s been a big disturbance just down the street. I think I heard at least one gunshot, and there’s a man pacin’ up and down the road. He looks real mad. I’d swear I saw blood on his hands and face, but I pulled the curtains as soon as he looked my direction. He looks like some kind of thug or something.”

Dispatcher: “Oh. So he’s black?” Caller: “No. No. He ain’t black.”

Dispatcher: “Can you describe him?”

Caller: “He’s wearin’ jeans, a flannel shirt, and a ‘Make America Great Again’ ball cap.”

Dispatcher: “Oh. So he’s a redneck?”

Caller: “I don’t know. I didn’t about that. A lot of people voted for him.”

Dispatcher: “We’ve gotten several calls already. We have a squad car on the way.”

Caller: “You’re gonna have to get an ambulance out here, too. I got a bad feeling.”


7:38 p.m.—Police arrive on scene.

Officer #1: (calls to man pacing along road) “Sir, I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”

Man: “Leave me the hell alone. Stay out of my business.”

Officer #1: “We’ve had several calls about a disturbance in the neighborhood. Do you know anything about that?”

Man: “I’ll tell you what’s disturbing. It’s disturbing that people can’t mind their own damn business. That’s what’s disturbing. There ain’t nobody in this neighborhood worth a damn. Just a bunch of lazy-assed spics, towel-heads, and gang-bangin’ thugs. That’s the problem with everything these days.”

Officer #1: “Well, sir, we’ve had reports of fighting, yelling, screams, and even gunshots. Can you tell me anything about that?”

Man: “Yeah, I got a gun, but it’s my right. And it’s my home. What goes on in my home, with my family ain’t nobody’s damn business, but mine and God’s.”


Officer #2 Goes to address given by dispatch. The screen door is wide open, and banging against the front of the house. All is quiet. He draws his firearm, and cautiously steps through the front door, which is ajar.

Officer #2: “This is the police. Is there anyone home?”

He takes the flashlight from his belt, and winds his way through each room, carefully checking his surroundings.

“We had reports of some kind of disturbance here, and that there were gunshots fired. Is anyone hurt?”

As he steps into one of the smaller bedrooms, he can just barely make out the sound of a child whimpering, then a “shush” from another voice. Very slowly, the officer opens the closet door, and finds two children huddled together.

“Are you two okay?” They both nod, and mumble ‘mmm hmm.’ Both are clearly terrified.

“Is there anyone else in the house?”

Child #1: “Just our mom. I think she’s been shot. She’s in the room across the hall.”

Child #2 begins to rock and silently sob.


Officer #2: “Stay put.”

He steps slowly through the door of the room across the hall. On the floor, at the end of the bed, lies a woman in shock. He can see she has several gunshot wounds, and immediately radios dispatch to ensure paramedics are on the way. Blood is pooling around the woman, and she is shivering. It looks bad.

Officer #2: “Stay still. Don’t try to move. An ambulance is on the way.”

7:45 p.m. —Ambulance and paramedics arrive on the scene. A second police squad car has also arrived. 

Officer #2 is escorting the two blanket-wrapped children out of the house, and one of the officers from the newly arrived car leads them to safety in the back of the vehicle. She promises bottles of water and a snack.

Paramedic #1: “Dispatch said there may be a gunshot victim?”

Officer #2: “Yeah, follow me. She’s in shock. At least a couple of gunshot wounds. From what I could tell, there was one to the abdomen, and possibly one in the leg. She’s already losing a lot of blood.”

Upon reaching the woman, the paramedic team begins assessing vitals and damage. There are multiple wounds. Her pulse is thready. She has lost consciousness. They perform as much immediate damage control as they can, to limit additional blood loss, and they prep her for transport as quickly as possible. Her condition is grave.


Meanwhile, several clusters of people have gathered along the street. They watch as paramedics take the woman to the ambulance.

Officer #1 and the fourth remaining officer from the second car have cuffed the man in flannel, and are escorting him to the first squad car. Even from a fair distance, you can see the veins near his forehead pulsing by the flashing lights of the squad car.

Officer #2 begins circulating among the clusters of neighbors in hopes of finding any credible witnesses. He passes a couple of women—both with their three middle fingers over their lips. The scene has been distressing for them.

One turns the other.

“I knew something like this was gonna happen. It was just a matter of time. I don’t understand why any woman would put up with that.”

“I heard she was trying to get a job so she could sock away some money and move out. But she couldn’t afford to finish her nursing degree, and she was havin’ trouble finding anything that would pay enough for her to cover daycare, let alone give her anything to save. And I heard she had another one on the way.”

“You’d think she’d be on birth control or something. I know I wouldn’t be with any man who ever laid a hand on me. No way.”

A third woman, who has just come back from her evening jog overhears the conversation and stops.

“I heard them fighting about it months ago. He didn’t want her on birth control. He said if she was on something like that, it would only tempt her to cheat on him. She told him that she had been having some female problems, and her doctor thought they would help, and that she thought two kids was a good number. He said it wasn’t up to her or any fancy doctor to decide what was going on with his wife.”

One of the women responded.

“Well, did you ever see her when she left the house? It seemed like all she ever wore were short skirts, and tight-fitting blouses that left almost nothing to the imagination. No wonder he thought she would cheat. She dressed like a whore.”

A little farther down the street, a young couple watched the scene unfold in disbelief.

“I just don’t understand why nobody would help her” said the woman. “He’s a fucking animal. How can anyone treat a woman like that? And of course, he voted for that asshole.”

“Honey, now’s not the time to talk about the election. I know how disappointed you are that your candidate got screwed by his party. But I tried to tell you that she—or pretty much anyone was better than the guy we ended up with.”


The two frightened children are drinking water, and eating the cheese crackers offered to them by the police officer. It’s a warm, humid evening, and the windows of the squad car are down. The officer is making notes after asking them a few questions. She’s radioed for dispatch to send out the on-call social worker to place the kids in temporary care.

A young mom is walking by with her child. She stays home, and has heard the many fights. She even tried to reach out to the woman, but feels terrible that she couldn’t do more. As she walks by, she notices the children in the squad car.

“I am so, so sorry about your mom. I wish I could have done more to help.”

“Thank you,” the older child responds. “My mom really likes you. You’re kind. She says you’re the only one in the neighborhood that she trusts. She says that you keep her from giving up hope.”

The woman brushes away a tear on her cheek, and swallows hard.

“I hope she’s going to be okay.”


8:10 p.m.—Paramedics arrive at trauma center. 

The team has been prepped. Upon arrival, the woman is unresponsive, and her pulse is weak. The trauma team works to stop blood loss and to stabilize her. She is given multiple units of blood, and doses of medications to reverse her shock. She is unresponsive, but breathing. Unresponsive, but holding on. The team works, watches and waits.


Hours pass, and the press wants a statement.

11:59 p.m.—The lead trauma doctor agrees to give a brief statement. 

“We have been working to get the victim stabilized, and are proceeding with caution. Her condition is critical. She has multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, abdomen and one of her legs. There was blood coming from all of these wounds—from everywhere.”

Reporter: “Can you give us a name?”

Lead trauma doctor: “Liberty.

Reporter: “Is that her full name?”

Lead trauma doctor: “It’s Liberty Justice Fairness. We’re asking everyone to keep her in their thoughts and prayers.”

The reporter takes a knee.

Pin It