Member-only story
A Mental Health Disturbance
Dispatch: 132?, Beat 132?
Beat 132: yeah, squad — what do ya got?
Dispatch: 132, mental health disturbance on your beat. Moms calling. Son is off his meds — he’s tearing up the place and won’t leave. Are you CIT trained?
Beat 132: 10–4 squad, put it on our box.
Knowing that having more resources and not needing them is better than needing resources and not having them I answer up on the radio. 124, squad, showing us riding with 132.
Dispatch: 10–4. I’ve got you going.
The New Year has just passed and 2020 begins with a cool chill in the air — the type where you can see your breath while talking. Not quite freezing, yet — but anyone who has lived in The City by The Lake during the winter knows what’s likely to come.
It’s a Wednesday morning as we arrive on-scene to a 12-story apartment building on the South end of Wabash Avenue. Still new to the job, and before I step out of my squad car, I look down to double check if my body camera is still on — almost forgetting to turn off the bright-blue emergency lights and sirens still echoing off the buildings.
Finally — all set, I step out letting the dispatcher know we’ve arrived. 124, squad, show us on scene.
