It was like an out-of-body experience. I saw it happening, I knew I was the one driving, I saw the police lights, and an officer on the driver’s side speaking with the occupant. I tried to stop, swerve, so I wouldn’t hit the police car, but it happened. I didn’t notice the officer standing on the passenger side of the car, next to the guard rail of the bridge until it was too late. I saw him leap out of the way, over the rail as my car made impact with the parked police car. Shit! I was going to jail. What a way to end an already crappy day. I killed a cop. They were going to give me the max. “Cop Killer” was just added to my ever-growing rap sheet.
My head was spinning. Through my alcohol and collision induced fog, I looked up as the other officer was running towards me, gun drawn and screaming for me to put my hands where he could see them. I was rummaging through my purse to find some gum or a breath mint to mask the alcohol on my breath. I’d tell the officer I was tired, worked a long shift. I could not be brought in for DUI again.
My car door opened and the officer dragged me out of my car. I screamed and flailed my arms in surprise. My hand connected with flesh. He threw me to the ground and screamed for me to stay down. Great. DUI, murder and assault of an officer. I wasn’t just going to jail, they were going to put me under the jail. I threw up. It stung my nose and made my eyes water. Everything after that was blur. There was shouting, flashing lights, officers and paramedics speaking into radios.
They asked me for my information and discovered the vehicle wasn’t mine, it wasn’t insured, and my license was suspended. My sister didn’t know I borrowed her car. She was going to kill me. Maybe jail was the safest place for me. I was definitely on my way back to rehab. I could not even begin to imagine what my sponsor was going to say to me. I was shoved into the back of a police car with my hands cuffed behind me. Paramedics and other officers gathered by the guard rail and focussed their lights on the area below the overpass. I didn’t need to see what they were seeing. Their body language at the guard rail sobered me up. I was worried about jail time, but someone was going to have to deliver bad news to that officer’s family. I started to cry. What did I do? What did I do?