Helen Parker and her husband Dave were in the process of getting a divorce. When the couple first separated, the woman did get a restraining order, but as the divorce progressed and things went well, she dropped it. Unfortunately, her estranged husband had begun to drink more and more and, as the divorce proceedings continued, he began behaving more and more irrationally.
Finally, Helen, frightened by her estranged husband's behavior, had the restraining order reinstated. Then, one day while she was doing laundry, she saw his car come squealing into the driveway. It stopped just short of hitting the garage doors.
The frightened woman called the police, who told her they would send an officer over immediately. She was still on the phone when her husband crashed through the back door.
"Helen! Where the fuck are you, you bitch!" Dave screamed. "I'm sick 'a the way you're fuckin' me over! I'm gonna fix your ass once and for all."
"Please! Hurry!" Helen whispered into the phone.
"I can hear him, ma'am," the police dispatcher told her. "Just stay calm and try to keep away from him. Get out of the house if you can. I'll tell our officers to hurry." She turned and pressed a button on the radio panel. "Dispatch to units responding to Williams Street," she said. "The subject is in the house. He sounds pretty out of control. You better step on it." There was a sound of sirens over the radio when two police cars responding acknowledged the dispatcher's message.
Detective Sergeant Joe Denton was on his way back to the station from doing interviews for a burglary investigation and heard the patrol cars being assigned to the domestic call. Detectives normally didn't respond to domestic call, but he was a veteran officer and knew those were the most dangerous calls officers handled. He was debating whether to back up the uniformed cops when he heard the dispatcher announce that the call had turned urgent. He was just around the corner from the address, so he picked up his radio microphone and said, "David-fifteen to dispatch."
"Dispatch, go ahead, David-fifteen," the dispatcher responded.
"I'm less than a minute from that domestic and responding," Joe said. "Tell the uniforms to hurry."
"Copy, David-fifteen, will do," the dispatcher said.
About thirty seconds later, Joe slid his unmarked car to a stop in front of a nice brick two-story home. He signed off with the dispatcher, took his portable radio, got out of the car, and started up the sidewalk, checking his pistol as he did. He was near the front door when he heard a scream from the rear of the house. He started for the back of the house, breaking into a run. "David-fifteen to dispatch," he yelled as he ran. "Advise the uniforms I'm in the rear of the house."
"Copy, David-fifteen," the dispatcher responded. "Your backup is less than a minute out."
Helen was running across the back yard, and her enraged husband was lurching along behind her, yelling at her. She was desperately trying to escape from him because she was sure he'd kill her if she didn't. Where were the police?
Joe reached the back of the house and saw the two people going across the back yard. An attractive woman appeared to be running from a huge, apparently drunken, man. "Stop! Police!" the officer yelled. He could hear the sounds of sirens coming closer.
Dave's pursuit of his wife was forgotten when he heard the policeman's voice. He stopped chasing his wife, turned, and looked stupidly at the man standing near the corner of the house. "Who the fuck are you?" he yelled.
"Jamestown Police," Joe replied. "Get on the ground! Do it now!"
"Fuck you!" Dave responded.
The sirens stopped. There was the sound of squealing tires and slamming doors, then two uniformed officers appeared behind the house. "You OK, sarge?" one of them asked Joe.
"I'm fine," he replied. "That's the perp over there. He looks drunk and he's not listening."
"Get on your face and do it now!" the uniformed officer yelled at Dave, who was a little confused by the fact that there were at least two cops and a guy in a suit here.
Helen stood behind a tree, watching as the cops confronted the man who would soon be her ex-husband. Slowly, Dave turned to face the cops. Then he shook his head and sank to his knees. When he did the two officers in uniform quickly walked over to him, pushed him onto his belly, yanked his hands behind him, and handcuffed him. The other officer, in plainclothes, walked toward the tree she was hiding behind.
"It's all right, ma'am," Joe told the clearly frightened woman. "He's in custody. You're safe now."
"Th...thank you! Oh, thank you!" Helen exclaimed. She threw herself into the officer's arms and began to sob.
After Dave had been hauled away by the uniformed officers, Helen and the detective were sitting in her kitchen, drinking coffee. She found Joe--he'd introduced himself--to be very personable. And she did feel she owed him a lot.
Helen gazed across the kitchen table at the policeman. "He's handsome...in a rugged sort of way," she thought. "I wonder if he's married." "I don't know how to thank you, Sergeant Denton," she said. "If...if you hadn't showed up when you did, I think Dave might well have tried to kill me." She was pleased to see him blush.
