Jumpers

When I say "reminds", I mean that if I close my eyes for a moment I can pull up a vivid recollection of specific sounds and smells, and "see" those old incidents clearly.

My first jumper took his dive when I had about 4 months on the job.  It was an almost painfully sunny weekend morning in July.  The man was about 90 years old, and sick.  He sent his caregiver down to pick up the mail.  While she was out, he shoved a small stepladder out onto his balcony, pushing it ahead of his walker until it rested up against the railing.  Then, using his walker for balance, he climbed the three steps.  I"m sure he meant to jump, but once he got to the top he just kind of tipped forward, the railing acting as a fulcrum against his lower legs.  This caused him to cartwheel over, striking the balcony below, and then at least one below that.  He knocked loose some flower boxes as he careened down the side of the building.  The end result was that, where he fell, it looked like someone had thoughtfully arranged cut flowers all around him.

People get the impression, from movies and television, that when people hit the ground after jumping they land like a big sack of potatoes.  In reality, depending on the height and surfaces involved, a jumper can practically explode.  Instead of a sack of potatoes, think of ripe melons.

My second jumper dropped from the fifth floor of a nursing home.  I was getting ready to leave work early on the 3-11 shift to go to a Christmas party.  I was a patrol sergeant at the time, and happened to be just a few hundred feet away when the call came out.  A light snow was just beginning to fall when I arrived, and I followed a nurse's footprints and the tracks from the crash cart she was pushing along the north side of the building.  Judging from the amount of gray matter surrounding the jumper's shattered head he wouldn't be needing the crash cart, so I told the nurses to get back and I secured the scene. 

It looked like the jumper was a double amputee, and I relayed this information to the officer who went upstairs to try and determine who jumped.  My partner located the jumper's room, and asked the nurse where his wheelchair was.  The nurse responded that the resident didn't use a wheelchair, and my partner asked how he got around.  The nurse replied that he walked.  It was chaotic.  The nurses were yelling at each other in Tagalog, and the residents were yelling at everyone from the windows.  When the dispatcher called on the radio to ask my location I was so rattled that I forgot what side of the building I was on, and all I could answer was "I'm in the landing zone." 

Turned out the jumper wasn't an amputee at all--his legs had folded underneath him on impact, and his two bedroom slippers had been on the pavement no more than 10 feet from where I stood.  I never noticed them until I saw the scene photos later on.