It was April 20, 1997 and it was hot and sticky as only someone from East Texas can understand. The day was uneventful until we got dispatched to the Wal-Mart Supercenter because two shoplifters had knocked down the security guard and were still causing problems. When we arrived, one of the offenders was being held down on the parking lot by eight men. An upset employee hollered that the other one was in the store fighting. Kirby took off into the store and I went to cuff the one on the ground that I'll call "Goober." One would think that with eight men on top of Goober, that I'd have no problems cuffing him. Well, Goober was about 19, athletic, sweaty and shirtless, and had shaved his head. There was nothing to get ahold of - all my joint locks kept slipping. I guess I forgot to mention that Goober had drank a fifth, smoked some dope, and huffed a bag of paint prior to his Wal- Mart excursion. At this point, he was snarling, twisting, and trying to bite or kick anything.

We finally got him in the patrol unit. The employee came back out and told me that everything was secure inside. I proceeded to retain her information in my field notes, that's when I heard the glass break. As I mentioned before, my radio was about useless, so it didn't transmit into the building where Kirby was. Goober was halfway out of the unit through the broken window. I told the employee to run and get Kirby, and then I ran over to the unit and grabbed Goober's feet. I was able to shove him back in, up to his knees. Then he raised his legs up and came full force down on my arms, cutting my elbows on the remaining glass. I was not O.C. certified yet, and my only weapons were a flashlight and a .357 Smith. How am I going to get Goober back in the unit and hold him there without whacking him in front of this large afternoon crowd? My flashlight does the trick and I pin him to the seat by the throat with it. All this time, he is describing all the sexually assaultive things he will do to me. Then from behind me came the most beautiful words Kirby has ever said to me ..."SPRAY!" Goober gets a face full and is immediately barfing up that fifth he had.

We call for a transport unit for the pair. A Sergeant arrives to transport one of them. This is the same Sergeant who doesn't believe in women in police work, and wouldn't shake my hand when I introduced myself to him the prior week. Now he is staring at my disheveled self, smiles and says "You're alright for a dumb girl." I thought my luck had changed,... but it was rush hour and our transport units were rerouted to 10-50s. Guess who gets to hold down the puking Goober in the back seat who tries to get out the window all the way to the jail....It sure smelled awful back there. At least I was able to prove myself to that shift early in the game. I am now going through the final polygraph and interview to become a full-time officer next week. I can't wait to get rid of this dumb brick of a radio!