The SWAT officer lowered his voice. “Jill, is your daughter alright? Is she at the game?” Tracy told him Megan was okay; that she had ran her friend to the hospital with a broken arm. “Good to hear. Hang in there, Jill. We got to clear the school.” The group spun from the squad and trotted into the north entrance. After reading McShuster his rights and double checking her device, she exhaled. She didn’t want to hear it; when it got personal things got harder. Megan had been at the basketball game. She was okay but was crying after spotting her mom getting out of her squad, Megan had run up assuring Tracy she was okay but her friend was hurt. Not shot. Just hurt. She had fallen off a bleacher and a bone was sticking out of her arm. Megan was going to drive her but promised to drive carefully since ambulances were waiting to only transport gunshot victims. Courtney was not going to die. She needed a doctor though because it looked like it hurt. Bad. “Where do I start here? This is Officer Tracy. I’m with James McShuster,” she continued with what sounded like legal gibberish to McShuster: times and dates and locations.
This site requires patience. Seems like this site has a life of its own. Check out curt-rude.com for a 'more' stable experience. Anyways here we go. Point here is sometimes police officers experience situations that are personal. I remember a time where a high schooler lost his life when a Mustang he was driving swerved off the road and rolled numerous times in a frozen, plowed field. The EMT did not know it was her son until she was half way across the field. Yikes right? Can't get any more traumatic than that.
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