Short story, short sighted

Similar to the author, Michael H. went to Spring Creek High School and played in the marching band as part of the Spartan music program. A percussionist by trade, the rattle-tat-tat of the snare and quad drum set was a precursor to his current occupation with the Elko County police force. Michael graduated somewhere between my sister and I; must have been 1997, as I believe he was only one year my elder during those sweet years of Spartan pride.

I have learned that, upon completing high school, Michael relocated to San ***** , California (Diego? Francisco? One of those), to pursue the eminent career in law enforcement. Soon thereafter he shot his first human in what had to be a moment of exorbitant emotion. Gang member? Doper? Nope: personal partner on the police force. Michael's partner of the time went berserk and started popping off fellow coppers; two policemen died before Michael put a bullet in the gunman.

Fast forward in time and Michael is back in Elko. Perhaps Michael returned to his hometown to flee the twisted go-fast world of South/Central California. He must have known of the severe, accelerating, indefatigable methamphetamine problem in Nevada? Perhaps love brought him back; I know for a fact that he has a wife and children he loves, supports, needs. At any rate Elko, Nevada is far from Green Gables, and the atmosphere grows more fetid and rank with each gram snorted, each slot-arm pulled, and each hooker rented. It's spiraling.

On the evening of February 10 of this very year, Michael responded to a call of public disturbance in South-Central Elko, a few blocks away from the elementary school I attended in 1987 - "Southside Elementary". Some whacked-out meth-head was screaming and trying to break down a door to a home, threatening (incoherently) the residents indoors. I do not know the specific details of the event, but I do know a few things: Michael found himself a few feet from the criminal. Criminal's eyes wild in tweaked-out dementia with saliva flowing from his rotting screaming mouth and limbs jerking in spastic, erratic motions. The man reached behind his back, desperately grasping at something tucked within his rear waistline.

In retrospect, Michael should have shot him. He had a family at home, after all. But he did not, he hesitated. Fortunately, the man was reaching for a hunting knife, and despite his spun-out oblivion the assailant eventually dropped his guard and was arrested by the surrounding officers. A quick search revealed just under 28 grams of methamphetamine; ready to distribute, ready to rock.

It is a small world. Michael was called to testify on February 28 in the Elko County Court House against the criminal - James Douglas Allan. My sister was at the trial, and my good friend from years past was the presiding judge. Aside Michael, four other people testified against JDA, all reiterating the details of his actions and possessions that night.

James Douglas Allan is currently awaiting trial in the Elko County Jail. Carrying 28 grams of meth with intent to sell could warrant anywhere from ten years to a life sentence in prison. At 53 years old, you'd think he's ready to slow down. Not so. The estate from his recently deceased father will pay him about $50k over the next few years, and James plans to sink that money into a legal battle to prove his innocence.

In Michael's words, he should have shot the man. Michael is, after all, a husband and a father.