The dispatchers constantly tried calling the number back; each time they did, someone answered, but the only thing the operators heard was loud music playing in the background. The resident would then call 9-1-1 back and hang up again. This went on for a while before I was finally dispatched to investigate. The police don’t take these calls lightly, nor do we brush them off as pranks. History has shown that some victims are only able to dial 9-1-1 for help, unable to speak to the operator lest their attackers hear them.
I was assigned as a trainer this particular night; my partner was a female officer who was on her last phase of training. We arrived at the call location, and as we approached the door we heard loud music coming from inside. I knocked on the door, and a young male soon opened it. He stood there and said, “If you don’t have my 4400, then you need to leave.” He turned around and slammed the door shut. We knocked once again, but before we had a chance to say anything, he did the same thing as before. We knocked a third time, and once again he came to the door, but this time he had some papers in his hand, which he threw outside. As he had done twice before, he turned around. However, this time before the door closed we saw him jump over something that was lying on the floor.
“Did you see what I saw?” I asked my partner.
“Yeah, he’s naked from the waist down!”
At this point, we surmised we were probably dealing with a mental health patient and wisely decided we needed assistance. We got on the radio and called for cover. It took a while before anyone responded so we sat in our squad car to keep an eye on the house, still uncertain about what may have transpired inside. Once our backup arrived, a team of three male officers and a sergeant, we advised them of the situation; we all approached the residence together.

At this point, it was a case of déjà vu. Just as had happened before, we knocked, the young man came to the door, screamed he wanted his 4400, and then slammed the door shut. This happened two more times, and the last time we rushed inside, tackling him after he opened the door. Once inside the apartment, we were hardly prepared for the scene we encountered.

Blood covered the walls and floor. Moving into the kitchen, we saw the floor was also covered in blood. The walls in the kitchen, the front room, and up the stairs were all stained crimson.

“What happened here?” The thought that the man may have killed someone inside this house crossed my mind. “Let’s go upstairs,” I said to the recruit. As we proceeded up the stairs, we discovered even more blood in the bedroom and bathroom.

“Look!” I heard my partner say. The recruit had spotted something in the bathtub, which she thought might be a body, and she ran out. We later found that it was only a blanket that was also covered in blood, but nobody was found in the residence.

We went back downstairs to join the other officers who were trying to talk to the man to ascertain what had happened, and who or what was the source of all the blood we had seen. All he kept saying was that he wanted his 4400, and that we messed up the orgy he had been having with a couple of women. He then proceeded to make inappropriate remarks to the sergeant. As we were talking to the young male, we noticed he had the numbers, 4400, written all over the walls and on the television.

“I’m calling paramedics,” I said. “We need to have this guy examined.” A short time later, they arrived and began to assess the man’s condition. They discovered he had severe blood clots, one of which had probably broken the day before. As the medics were attempting to wrap his leg, the man got up and began running through the house causing more blood to fly all over the place. Somehow, the paramedics determined he might be bipolar, so we took him into custody to transport him to the hospital and have him examined at the psych ward.

“Hey look at this,” I said to the others as we were leaving the apartment. It was a piece of paper hanging on the door which read “Please help me!” We transported him to the hospital and completed our paperwork for the night. After dealing with that call, my trainee and I both had a better understanding of how mental health patients may sometimes act and how their pleas for help can be mysteriously disguised as something else. We also realized that regardless of how the assignment is dispatched, expect that it can be anything other than what the original call was.

The very next day I responded to a call of a burglary in progress at that same location. I figured someone had broken into the apartment since the homeowner was in the hospital. Before I or any of the other assist units arrived, a shooting call was broadcast. I thought someone must have shot the burglar. However, once we stepped inside the location, to my surprise the same guy I transported to the hospital yesterday had already been released, and he was at it again. Note: Law enforcement cannot forcibly commit anyone against his or her will. The evaluators at the psych ward apparently felt he was not a danger.

The other officers spoke with him, and he told them he had not called the police and that he was okay. The officers left the apartment, and the man slammed the door. We all cleared from the scene and about five minutes later another shooting call came over the air. I did not respond back to the call location, but I was later told the young man had been arrested for 9-1-1 abuse.

Her mom opens the door to her room to be overwhelmed with a stench. Various objects keep the door from opening entirely. The desks are cluttered with papers, empty pop cans, dirty dishes, and several bottles of alcohol. Her mom can’t see the carpet for the clutter on the floor. The bed has many pieces of clothes, various shoes and other objects preventing one from sleeping comfortably. On the floor beside the bed lies her daughter, face down. Blankets both surround her and cover her. Beside her face is a pool of puke.

Only the night before this still person was a living, breathing college student. She had spent her evening among her closest friends. Cory was a special friend who she took special interest in. He was very emotional and was having problems with his current relationship. While she was visiting with her friends Cory came in the room looking very upset.

“J.D.! She’s doin’ it again!”
Her eyes look up to meet Cory’s eyes. “Doin’ what?”

“Ignoring me. She keeps treating me like crap!”
“Have you tried talking to her?”
“Yea, she won’t tell me anything.”
“Maybe she just needs some space.”
“I’ve tried giving it to her but it never seems enough.”
“Well… Hey, why don’t we do something tomorrow night. Like go to the movies or something. You know, t’ get your mind off of her for a while.”
“Yea, that sounds kewl. Thanks, J.D.”
“No problem. Hey! Beavis and Butthead is on!”

She, Cory and some of her friends are sitting down in the Palmerton Lobby at about one in the morning on Friday watching TV, talking and doing homework. The group called themselves the Lounge Lizards because they spend many, many hours down in the lobby talking and watching their TV programs. Tom, another of her good friends, sits absent mindedly facing the TV. Chris and Karla cuddle and talk among themselves. Heath is working on EE problems and loudly expressing his confusion.

Heath Stops briefly and asks, “Hey, J.D. how’d you do on your chem test?”
“I dunno yet. I probably flunked it like I usually do.”
Tom looks up and listens to the conversation.
“Tom, howju think ya did?”
“I dunno….ok.”

Tom imitates the Chem teacher by blinking his eyes often and scrunching up his face. J.D. does her Psycho impression: “reet, reeeet, reeeeeet!” while pretending to stab Tom. Cory looks up and starts to laugh. The feeling seems mutual among the small group of Lounge Lizards.

“Hey I’m hungry! Anyone want to buy a pizza with me?”

The group says no so she proceeds to the phone and calls Pizza Patrol to order a pizza for herself.

Shortly after the pizza arrives Cory goes to bed. Karla and Chris decide to retire, too, so only Tom, Heath and she are left in the lobby.

Beavis and Butthead is over so Heath changes the channel to the Cartoon Network. She looks up to see the Smurfs drag across the screen. The lights are dim, the lobby is quiet save the noises spouting from the TV.

Her mind begins to wander as she reflects on the nights events. Cory’s problem keeps getting worse. He is currently seeing a psychiatrist who has him on anti-depressants. At times he seems better but then there are times like tonight where he seems better but then there are times like tonight where he starts to slip into his depression. She thinks about her chem test. She’s sure she flunked it. Oh well. Heath looks up and see she’s troubled.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nutton’, just thinking.”
“’bout what?”
“School.”
“What ‘bout?”
“My chem test. I probably failed it. I always do.”
“So, you can fix it.”
“My mom’s comin’ up tomorrow, I mean today. She’ll check on my grades and I’ll be in deep trouble.”
“No ya won’t.”
“Yes I will. She’ll pull me out of school.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m flunkin my classes.”
“No you’re not.”
“Wanna bet? I’m never going to succeed. I keep skipping classes, not doing homework, missin’ assignments. My mom’s gonna kill me!”
“So it’s only midterms, you can fix it.”
“Yea but not before she gets here.”
“So, just tell her you’ll fix your grades. And you’re NOT going to fail.”
“Yes I am. I’m going to end up like my sister with two kids, no education, and with a husband I don’t love!”
“No you won’t! Calm down…I’m going to bed. I gotta get up early tomorrow.”
“Ok. I think I’m gonna stay up all night and deal with mom tomorrow.”
“Oh no you don’t. You’re gonna come up stairs with me and go to sleep.”
“I don’t want to. I’m not even tired.”
“Please? For me?”
“I’m not tired.”
He looks at me with pleading eyes, so to make him happy I decide to go with him.
“Ok, but I’m not gonna promise I’m goin’ to sleep.”
He smiles softly. Heath gathers up his homework and they go up to his room. Quietly they open the door and get in bed. She lies beside him looking at the speckled ceiling. Her body is tired but her mind is awake and alive with thoughts.
“What am I going to do?” she thinks.
“What can I do? I’m caught in a snowball and I’ll never get out.” She looks over at Heath and softly pushes his hair out of his face.
“What are my options? I could get pregnant but then I’d be pushing myself closer towards failure. And it wouldn’t be fair to the father. I can’t ruin his life just cause mine’s screwed up. Maybe I could join the army? Then I could be on my own and be able to pay for my education. No, that won’t work. I wouldn’t last two days in basic training. What can I do?” She turns on her side and cuddles up to Heath. He moves slightly and puts an arm around her. “I’m never going to succeed. I don’t want to live if I’m going to fail at everything. I already tried killing myself but all I succeeded in doing is sleepin’ for eighteen hours. Obviously eight Excedrin P.M. wasn’t enough. Maybe more? Maybe a whole bottle! But I don’t have any money. Maybe I’ll go to Dan’s in the morning. I can go after class at 9 a.m. I can get money and the drugs there, too.

She lies there, her mind wandering. About two hours later, she falls asleep. Seven thirty comes around and Heath wakes her up. Like a machine, she gets ready for class. As usual she gets dressed and calls Tom to wake him up. She goes down stairs and waits for Tom but after five minutes she goes to check on him. She goes into his room only to find him still sleeping.
“Tom! Get up! Class was five minutes ago!”
He raises his head slightly to see who’s talking. “Huh? Oh um, wouldja turn my homework in for me?”
“Yes, and I’ll get next weeks homework too.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Sleep tight.”
She closes the door and heads for class. She walks in the classroom doors and turns in their homework. She doesn’t feel like staying so she gets the next week’s homework and leaves. When she gets back to the dorm she sits by Cory in the lobby. He’s curled up on one of the couches shivering ever so slightly. She wonders if this is Bobbi’s doing again and pets him softly. Soon nine o’clock creeps upon her. Just like she planned, she goes to Dan’s Supermarket. She walks inside and makes her way towards the pharmacy department. She passes the cold medications, the contact supplies, the tampons…here she is: Excedrin P.M., Tylenol P.M. and several others stare back at her. Finally she chooses the Tylenol P.M. 24 Capsules. No something to take them with. Not water. That’ll make her sick. Chocolate milk will do just fine. She grabs a small container and heads for the cash machine. Mechanically she takes out $10 out of her parent’s checking account and goes to pay for her death. Once in her car she opens the pills and milk and starts taking them 2 at a time. Twelve doses later she starts the car. Once on the road she remembers and errand she must run, but she needs to hurry so she doesn’t fall asleep at the wheel. She was supposed to pick up a prom dress for a friend and take it home his weekend. She quickly drives to the Bridal Boutique. Once there she sees it doesn’t open until 10 a.m. She frets on what to do as she drives back to the school. Maybe she could leave a note to remind someone to pick it up for her. “Yea, that’s what I’ll do,” she says aloud.

She finds a parking space close to her dorm and enters the dorm for the last time. She studies every crack and crevices, every face and expression. Cory is still lying on the couch shivering. “God. Bobbi must have really screwed him up this time.” She sits down beside him and pets him for a while but begins to feel drowsy. She lays down on one of the couches and closes her eyes. Next thing she remembers the House Mother is yelling at her.
“Cory! J.D.! go up to your rooms if you are going to sleep! Go on! Get up! Go to your own room!”
She sits up quickly but lies back down. Everything is spinning. She can’ hold herself up. Tom sees she is having trouble so he goes over to help her. He wakes her up to the second floor and unlocks the second floor door for her. Quickly as possible she wobbles to her room, opens the door, drops her stuff and drops to the floor where her bed is laying. She thinks to herself, “I just want to go to sleep. Never wake up. Then everything will be ok. If I’d just go to sleep…”