I steered with one hand and held the other cupped over an eye to keep me from seeing double as I drove. I had less than a mile to go before I made it home to a warm bed, two kids, and a wife who was willing to give me one more chance. I came up to a corner and made a left turn onto the quiet residential street where my house was located several blocks away. I am quite a good driver so I was able to execute the turn with only a mild screech of the tires. Had I noticed either the stop sign or the police car, it would have been perfect.
The cop pulled me over, got out of his car, and approached mine. He pointed his flashlight directly in my face and asked me for my license, registration, and proof of insurance. I managed to gather these with a minimum of fumbling around in the glove box and under the seats. I handed them to him smiling as wide as I could to show him how cooperative I was At this point, the cop asked me if I had been drinking.
"Not really," I said.
This was somewhat true, relatively speaking. While I had in fact just left a bar and indeed alcoholic beverages were consumed, I was nowhere near as intoxicated as I had been on recent nights. In fact, I was arguably more sober than a week ago when I came to at the wheel with the engine still running, my wife standing outside the driver-side window in her bathrobe with in her arms crossed, wanting to know what possessed me to park on our front lawn. Yeah, definitely, I was more sober than that.
The cop asked me to step out of the car and told me he was going to give me a field sobriety test. I was instructed to stand in the middle of the road looking upward with my arms outstretched from my sides. I did what he wanted, told him it was a piece of cake, and asked if I could please go home now.
The cop said that the test was not over. He wanted me to touch the tip of my nose with the index finger of my right hand, bending only my elbow and continuing to stare straight up at the sky. When I tried this, my finger came in contact with the tip of my nose at the exact same moment the street came in contact with the back of my head.
Hitting the pavement like that didn't knock me cold but it did stun me. As I stood up, I asked the cop if we could make it best two out of three.
He told me I was under arrest for suspicion of driving under the influence. I pleaded with him to reconsider. I told him how if I got another DUI, my wife would leave me and take the kids with her. These kids, I added, loved their father so much they've poured my liquor down the drain and cry when I throw up in the morning.
The cop told me I should have thought of that before I decided to drink and drive.
I believed I was well and truly doomed but then a shot from a high-powered rifle rang out. The bullet made a rather small hole as it entered one side of the cop's head and a much larger one when it came out the other side.
For a second or two, the cop just stood there with glazed eyes and his lips pursing like he was going to blow me a kiss or something (I still don't know what was supposed to be up with that!) He then fell forward and lay there deader than if he had never been born.
I waved in the direction of the rooftop where I had seen the muzzle flash.
"Thank you Crosshairs Avenger!" I shouted, but it was too late. He had already disappeared into the night. When a man takes it upon himself to protect a city and its citizens from the excesses of overzealous law enforcement, there leaves little time to stick around and listen to people express their gratitude. But grateful I am and every time another one of his daring exploits is reported in the news, I take heart that there is hope for justice on the streets of this city I call home.
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