Most people have no idea what police officers do. To most people, all we do is write tickets. I thought this actual event would show there is more to being an officer than writing tickets.

 

This event was just one in hundreds in and over my twenty-eight-year career. Some like this one are good memories, others were bad ones. They return as nightmares and stay with you your entire life.

 

At the time I was a police officer in a suburban Detroit Police Department. I had been a police officer for four years, all on the midnight shift. After four years, I felt comfortable in handling any call I received.

 

This one started on a bitterly cold night in January 1980.

 

My assignment was to work in the northeast section of the city. It was mostly residential and therefore not a busy area. Our shift was from 11:00pm to 7:00am.

 

That night, just as I reached my patrol car. Dispatch called.

“ADAM-10 with ADAM -11. Proceed to 53298 Goldberg, an Attempted Suicide in progress. The resident advises their eighteen-year-old son is in the basement threatening to kill himself with a butcher’s knife. The son is apparently despondent over a fight with his girlfriend. There are no firearms in the home.”

 

“ADAM-10, 10-4, on the way.”

 

“ADAM-11, in route.”

 

I pulled out of our parking lot ahead of Officer Gino Hliebay A-10. With our car’s lights and sirens on, we headed to the residence.

 

I told dispatch this would be my call. Gino only had one year with the department. I had four years on the job, definitely more experience with this type of call.

 

What a way to start your shift. Right out of the gun. Your adrenaline pumps. Driving lights and siren push it higher.  Then your experience and training take over you. Calmness sets in, and you begin to think clearly of what you will encounter and how you will handle the scene. Even though you know some details. You still run various scenarios of how you will handle it.

 

With ADAM-10 right behind me we neared the home.

 

Dispatch called us. “ADAM-11 and ADAM-10. Your house is the white bungalow on the northeast corner of Goldberg and Chapman.”

 

“ADAM-11 to dispatch, we will be out.”

 

“10-4, ADAM-11. The ambulance will be standing by on Chapman and Goldberg. 101 and 102 will also be in route to assist. That was our shift lieutenant and one of our sergeants.

 

“Got it, 10-4.”

 

After getting out of our cars. As I walked up to Gino. It was obvious he was nervous. I told him not to worry; I needed him. Everything will be fine. “I promise, with my ability to talk, I will have the kid willingly walking to the ambulance.”

 

I hoped it would work out that way. Right then, I needed Gino to relax so I could count on him when needed.

 

We had parked three houses away and walked carefully, always paying attention. There was a possibility of the boy being outside awaiting us.

 

Dispatch contacted us to let us know the father would meet us at the front door.

 

We carefully approached the door, always being ever vigilant.  There was no reason to rush. Our safety was paramount at that point.

 

There standing inside the storm door, was the father.

 

“I am Officer Frohm, and this is Officer Hliebay.”

 

“I am Patrick Murphy, that’s our son Brian in the basement.”

 

As we stepped into the living room, he took us to the kitchen. Sitting at the kitchen table crying and visibly shaken was the mother. The father’s eyes were red from crying. Fortunately, he was calm. That made it easier for us.

 

I asked him where his son was in the basement. He told us that Brian was sitting in a folding chair near the laundry area. He was holding a large butcher knife pressed against his stomach.

 

Then I asked him what upset his son.

 

Our son, Brian, had been dating a girl for over a year, and tonight he found her with another boy from his high school. She told him she did not want to see him ever again.  Her home is only three blocks from here. Brain walked home from her house with the anger building. When he got home, he woke us up. We could hear him in the kitchen yelling, slamming cabinet doors. We kept hearing him yelling Angela. That is his girlfriend’s name.

 

We got to the kitchen; he began screaming he wanted to die. I saw him grab a large butcher knife from the knife drawer. He was so angry we thought for a moment he was going to stab us. Brian ran down the stairs. That is when I called 911.

 

I went down to talk to him. Despite your dispatcher telling me not to. When I got down to the basement. I saw Brian with his shirt off, sitting in a folding chair with the knife held against his stomach. On the floor was a smashed picture. I believe it was his girlfriend. Brian is a very sensitive boy.”

 

“Mr. Murphy, Officer Hliebay will do our best. The fact Brian is suicidal, a threat to himself and others, allows us to transport him to the nearest medical facility for a mental health examination. If the attending physician determines your son is a threat to himself and others, they will detain Brian until his proper evaluation is complete. Afterwards, a judge will determine if your son needs further care. I know that’s a lot of information. We do have a form we will leave with you that goes into a little more detail, then what I just told you.”

 

“Just a couple more questions? Could you describe the layout of your basement, and do you know where Michael is sitting?”

 

“The basement is totally unfinished. When you come down the stairs, the laundry area is to your right. There is a card table and chairs. In fact, the last I saw of Brian, he was sitting next to the table. Outside of the furnace and water heater on the far wall, that’s, it.”

 

“One last question. Is there a chance Brian has a gun?”

 

 “He shouldn’t. I don’t own any.”

 

Now was the time to reassure the parents everything would be alright.

 

“Mr. Murphy, everything is going to be alright. We need you to catch your breath and do your best to relax. We are here to help your son and cannot do it without your help. Can you do that for us?”

 

He nodded his head. “Yes.”

 

Grabbing my portable radios mic and I contacted Lieutenant Smith, our shift supervisor. I updated him on the situation. I asked him to let me talk with the boy before requesting any further help.

 

I advised dispatch we would switch to our secondary radio channel. My reasoning was it would provide Brian and me with an open channel with our dispatch in case we needed immediate help. Plus, it would not require dispatch to keep the air clear of radio traffic until we advised them the situation was under control.

 

The last thing I told Mr. Murphy.

 

“I will go down and start talking with Brian. I will try to calm him and get Brian to drop the knife and allow us to escort him to an ambulance.  What I needed from him and his wife was to give me time.”

 

I started down to the basement. Gino was standing on the steps leading from the landing to the kitchen. It offered him some concealment and a way to cover me. I did not want the two of us fully exposed in basically a narrow hallway. If the kid had a gun, the two of us would be sitting ducks. We both wore body armor, but those only protected our chest and back. This way, I was the only one exposed. I had Gino above for protection.

Gino let dispatch know I was going into the basement to contact the son.

 

Was I nervous? Hell yes. But I had confidence in my ability that things would work out.

 

As I made my way down the steps, I could hear Brian talking to himself. When I reached the last step, I peered around the corner. Fortunately, all the basement’s overhead lights were on. I could see Brian sitting only fifteen feet away on a metal folding chair right where his father had last seen him.

 

He was a big boy, easily six foot five, no shirt, with the butcher’s knife firmly in his left hand and pressed up against his stomach. I could see a little blood on his stomach below the knifes tip.

 

 I thought this kid was serious.

 

Looking around for any weapons or anything besides the knife he could get to if he needed. The only possible weapon was several long glass shards from a broken picture frame. No doubt his girlfriend.

 

At this point my training and experience took over. I knew what my job was and how I was going to handle this situation. My primary concern was for Brian.

 

Before I stepped around the corner, I called out to him. “Brian, I’m Rick Frohm, a police officer.  Brian, your mom, and dad are worried about you. They asked me if I could talk to you.

 

Would that be all right with you?”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

I signaled Gino to come down and stay by the stairway. I told Gino my plan was to keep him talking and get him to relax and either drop the knife or allow me to get close enough to him so I could knock the knife from his hands.

 

Brian just stared at me. I had seen that look many times before. We called it the thousand-yard stare. The person would look right at you. It felt as if he was looking right through you. Brian was physically in the basement, but mentally, his mind was somewhere else.

 

“Brian, could you do me a favor and set the knife down? I would feel a lot better for both of us.”

 

He started crying and yelled, “I can’t!  I swear if you get any closer, I will use it.”

 

I moved back a step. I did not want him to feel threatened.

 

“Brian, I just want to talk to you. Your mom and dad are worried about you. That’s why they called us. They love you.”

 

“You love them, don’t you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

As soon as he said yes. I noticed his eyes. Brian was looking around. The glare I saw in his eyes when I came around the corner had gone. I was hoping he was coming back to reality.

 

For me, that was a tremendous relief. I felt I had a chance with him.

 

Over the next twenty-five minutes, Brian and I had a conversation like a big brother talking with his younger brother.

 

Much to Gino’s enjoyment was my telling Brian about some of my ex- girlfriends. I heard a slight laugh come from the area where “My buddy” Gino was standing when I mentioned one in particular.

 

As we talked, Brian slowly moved the knife a little further from his stomach and the grip seemed to loosen. The more comfortable he got talking with me, the closer I moved towards him.

 

As we headed towards thirty minutes. Brian was fidgeting more, and he was getting shorter with his answers.

 

If I was going to do anything to help Brian and prevent anyone from getting hurt. I had to do something. I knew my options. Either Brian dropped the knife, or I would be forced to knock it from his hand. Gino would take Brian down and cuff him.

 

As I looked at Brian. In my mind, I asked God for his help.

 

“Brian, what do you say? Put the knife down and come with me. It really is the best thing for you.”

 

I held my breath and waited. Gino knew if Brian said no, I would go for the knife. My heart was pounding a million beats a second. Brian just sat there, looking at me.

 

“Brian, come on. Just drop the knife.”

 

He just sat there, motionless.

 

For me, I was ready to go for the knife. I gave him a few more seconds to think. Before, I asked for the third and final time.

 

I sighed in relief as he moved the knife further from his belly and stared at the floor.

 

 Turning towards Gino, I signaled it was time.

 

I was standing only four feet from Brian. With him still looking at the floor I dove for the knife, knocking it out of his hand. I hit the floor at the same time Gino grabbed Brian and took him to the floor and cuffed him.

 

I grabbed the knife.  Gino was holding onto Brian, who broke out in tears. We escorted him up the stairs and outside to the waiting ambulance. As we were doing so, Mr. and Mrs. Murphy came out to us.

 

Before the EMTs got Brian on the gurney. I walked over to him.

 

“Brian, you will be fine. I just know it. Promise me you will do what the doctor tells you.”

 

“I will, I promise.”

 

When I turned around, Mrs. Murphy was standing there. She asked if she could ride to the hospital with her son. I asked one of the EMTs if she could ride with her son. He said yes. With that I helped her into the ambulance.

 

As the ambulance pulled out of the driveway, we headed for our cars. Mr. Murphy came up.

 

“Officers, I can’t thank you enough for what you did for our son and our family.”

 

I smiled and said. “We appreciate your thanks.”

 

Gino got on the radio. “ADAM-10 to dispatch. We will be clear Goldberg. Both units will go to the station to complete our paperwork.”

 

 

That June, Both Gino and I received a card from the Murphys. It was a card with Brian’s graduation picture inside, along with a message.

 

“Officer Frohm and Officer Hliebay,

 

Ann and I want you to know Brian graduated and will be going to Western University in the fall. Since you last saw Brian, he has been back to normal. The care he received for several months helped him get back to the son we knew. You and Officer Hliebay will always be part of our family.

 

Patrick and Ann Murphy.”

 

I got into police work to help and care for people. That January night will live with me forever.