The SWAT Factor
More timed exercises. The first sentence was set.
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He kept telling himself that he couldn't possibly have known about it, much less prevented it, but it didn't help. How could he have known that the terrorist would have a bomb hidden in the building? They didn't mention it in any of their threats or requests. There was no bomb visible - it didn't even show up on any radar or scans that they took of the building! Then, the SWAT team showed up, and the shit hit the fan.
The entire first floor of the building had been obliterated. No one survived. All the money in the bank had been incinerated. The structure was a writeoff. Now, he sat before a debreifing committee. What the hell was he supposed to do?
"So, Mr. Jones... why did you send the swat team in knowing full well that there were still hostages?"
"Damnit, man! I alraedy told you, someone went over my head! And you don't just stand in front of a swat tem as they try to go into a building! It wasn't my responsibility!"
"Now, Mr Jones, just calm down"
He jumped up. "DON'T TELL ME TO BE CALM!" He knocked his coffee cup across the room; it shattered on the wall into a thousand pieces. "Every waking moment since that explosion happened, I see their faces. The woman on the floor, crying. A grandmother holding a baby in their arms, with the worst look of fear I've ever seen. I can't stop thinking about them." A tear came to his eye. "I keep telling myself that it wasn't my fault, but was it? I should have stopped whoever sent the SWAT team in before we finished negotiating. Should we have given them what they wanted?"
So many emotions overwhelmed his head. His son was the bank manager, and he'd never see him again. Fortunately, his wife was late in making their bank deposit; she was still at home, in tears over the death of their son. So many others... so many others... that was all he could think about.
"Mr. Jones, what you need is a vacation... a place away from all of this. You need time off."
"I need more than that. I've already thought about it." He pushed a folder over to the head of the committee. "Everything in there contains my resignation papers. I've already cleared it with my captain. Goodbye."
He left the room quickly before they could respond. Even the day after, to everyone else it looked like he was a zombie. A totally blank stare came over him as he walked down the hallway with his personal belongings in a box.
Eventually, he made it to his car. A couple of close calls occurred on the way home. He ran a red light, and narrowly missed a pedestrian crossing the road. A loud honk pulled him out of his trance-like state as he nearly sideswiped a car changing lanes. Somehow, he made it in one physical piece home... but it'd take him a long time to glue his emotions together.
---
He kept telling himself that he couldn't possibly have known about it, much less prevented it, but it didn't help. How could he have known that the terrorist would have a bomb hidden in the building? They didn't mention it in any of their threats or requests. There was no bomb visible - it didn't even show up on any radar or scans that they took of the building! Then, the SWAT team showed up, and the shit hit the fan.
The entire first floor of the building had been obliterated. No one survived. All the money in the bank had been incinerated. The structure was a writeoff. Now, he sat before a debreifing committee. What the hell was he supposed to do?
"So, Mr. Jones... why did you send the swat team in knowing full well that there were still hostages?"
"Damnit, man! I alraedy told you, someone went over my head! And you don't just stand in front of a swat tem as they try to go into a building! It wasn't my responsibility!"
"Now, Mr Jones, just calm down"
He jumped up. "DON'T TELL ME TO BE CALM!" He knocked his coffee cup across the room; it shattered on the wall into a thousand pieces. "Every waking moment since that explosion happened, I see their faces. The woman on the floor, crying. A grandmother holding a baby in their arms, with the worst look of fear I've ever seen. I can't stop thinking about them." A tear came to his eye. "I keep telling myself that it wasn't my fault, but was it? I should have stopped whoever sent the SWAT team in before we finished negotiating. Should we have given them what they wanted?"
So many emotions overwhelmed his head. His son was the bank manager, and he'd never see him again. Fortunately, his wife was late in making their bank deposit; she was still at home, in tears over the death of their son. So many others... so many others... that was all he could think about.
"Mr. Jones, what you need is a vacation... a place away from all of this. You need time off."
"I need more than that. I've already thought about it." He pushed a folder over to the head of the committee. "Everything in there contains my resignation papers. I've already cleared it with my captain. Goodbye."
He left the room quickly before they could respond. Even the day after, to everyone else it looked like he was a zombie. A totally blank stare came over him as he walked down the hallway with his personal belongings in a box.
Eventually, he made it to his car. A couple of close calls occurred on the way home. He ran a red light, and narrowly missed a pedestrian crossing the road. A loud honk pulled him out of his trance-like state as he nearly sideswiped a car changing lanes. Somehow, he made it in one physical piece home... but it'd take him a long time to glue his emotions together.
posted by JR at 10/30/2004 09:32:00 PM
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