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The Rex Barton Story Chapter 11

The Rex Barton Story Chapter 11

The Rex Barton Story Chapter 11


The Tunnel Night Club

Another perfect day in Santa Barbara. Not too hot and not too cold. Just right. The sun was setting and the night was blossoming into a show of stars and beautiful lights. In the west toward the Santa Barbara coastline and beyond to the shipping lanes and coastal islands was a perfect blend of the sun fading away and giving way to a beautiful sunset. It just doesn't get much better than Santa Barbara sunsets. It was a Friday night, and with the warm weather, it seemed that the entire county was out to party.

"Dispatch: Unit 7, what's your 10-20"?

"Unit 7, Airport".

"Dispatch, 10-4 we have a call at the Tunnels Night Club Bar, across the street from the Guppy hanger. Disturbance of some kind".

"Unit 7, 10-4, be there in 2. Send back up please, it looks pretty crowded over there".

"Dispatch, 10-4 unit 3 in route".

"Unit 7, 10-4, click, click with the mic".

"Ok John, keep your hand on your nightstick, and your kill light on, on the other hand. I want to see as many faces as possible. If you see an imminent fight, move in slowly peeling the bodies away from one at a time. Got it?" (I was giving orders to a rookie partner as to what I wanted him to do. Follow my lead and stay close behind me).

"Pull up right in front of John, and before we go inside, lock the unit up. It is too crowded here tonight, and I don't like the mood already".

"Ok, how about right here"?

"Back up just a tad, so when we throw them out the door, they won't bounce off the nice clean car. Haha".

Deputy John shoved the automatic shifter into park, locked the shotgun and jumped out of the police unit at the same time I did.

"Ok partner, take a deep breath and follow me."

The music was so loud; talking was useless. So was the stench of booze. With my Kill light turned on and flooding the perimeters, I began my search for a management dressed person and saw a young guy half running up to us just in front of me. As he approached, he was pushing young people out of his way, right and left.

"John, to your left. All I could do was point left toward the guy moving quickly toward us. I motioned to the guy to stop yelling which we couldn't hear anyway and motioned with my hand to cut the music."

He called the DJ on his radio and told him to cut the music. Once the music stopped, he explained that a young guy about twenty was on the dance floor, challenging everyone to a fight. He had broken bottles and was hitting guys and girls who tried to approach him or were dancing anywhere on the dance floor.

Many of the patrons were yelling at him, but nobody tried to tackle or disarm the kid. Probably just as well, but I had to wonder about the table of football players in the corner. What were they thinking? All I could see on the floor next to one of the jocks was a young girl who appeared to be cut and bleeding pretty bad on her arm.

I think it was the night before that the Righteous Brothers had been playing at the club. The crowds were enormous on weekends when the big bands came to town.

As I passed, I asked what had happened and if they were alright?

"Yeah man, this guy is crazy though. He just came at us out there on the dance floor".

"Ok, step outside and wait for me. Be out in a minute. Put a towel or whatever you can find over those cuts and hold it tight".

"Yes, sir, the athlete yelled back."

We yelled for everyone to get off the dance floor. It cleared pretty fast except for a young, looking kid, maybe twenty years old or so. He had a bottle in one hand and his fist ready to strike a blow with the other hand. My mistake for thinking that he saw me towering over him about a foot or more, but when I tapped him on the left shoulder he swung around and hit me with his fist, smack on the chin.

Everything went quiet in the bar. People, including my partner John, could not believe what had just happened. Later, John told me that pure horror was glued on everyone's face when they first saw then heard the kid hit me. Either he was too drunk and high on something or just not standing very firm on the floor because the blow didn't even phase me. I just looked down on the kid and shook my head to show my disappointment.

"Punk, you just made a big mistake."

Grabbing the kid by the left shoulder, I spun him around and told him he was under arrest for drunk and disorderly. Later I would tag on a few other charges like assault and battery on a Police Officer etc.

Not to my surprise, the kid cocked his arm again and let his fist try a second time to find my chin, which was his last mistake. Thinking sometimes in police work just isn't called necessary. Action is. I was in the process of putting my kills flash-light back in its holder when I caught his fist in mid-air and continued his body motion around to his left until his back was facing my front.

I let go of my hold of his hand and with my left hand grabbed him by his neck. Then I grabbed my nightstick with my right hand and shoved it between his legs and up into his groin. I now had complete control of this drunken kid and walked him partially off of the floor and out the door.

All of his power disappeared, along with his balance. All we could hear, emitting from his harsh mouth was growling and cursing the likes of which I don't remember Pa Kettle ever saying even after being squirted by a skunk. This kid was foul and some words not even I can retell.

John jumped ahead of me and opened the door. I said thanks as we passed but told John the next time I will get the door with this kid's head. Once outside, I slammed the punk into the side of the building front. Using the nightstick still, I pulled the kid's legs apart and forced them apart to make it easier to control any possible futureless movement. Ok, kid, what's your name?

Anything in your pockets that I might find that may look like drugs smell like drugs or injure me in looking? The kid was getting higher by the moment and would not standstill. I had the feeling that this little drunk sponge was not going to cooperate much longer. I quickly reached up and grabbed his left hand and pulled it around behind his back.

At that point, all the energy of an atom bomb went off in this guy. If he could have swelled up and turned green like the Hulk, he would have. His little 5'8" frame supporting 140 lbs had just turned into a fighting machine. At that moment, I knew I needed help. All of my brute strength and martial arts were not a match for this kid.

He was whooping my ass in the strength department. His speed was still a little slow, and I managed to duck under a lot of his swings and block a few punches. But the ones he did land hurt like hell. It was evident that alcohol was not the only thing in this kid's system. He had scored some LSD, or PCP, something more potent than superman.

I wished where I could score some kryptonite. Every time he took a swing at me with his left hand the other end of the handcuff just about took my head off. John finally found an opening and grabbed the kid's right arm and tried to swing the kid around. Not so surprisingly, the kid tossed Deputy John around and down on his back like a rag doll.

I know that because I was already down on my back looking up after having fallen off of the curb. It took me a second but to save time I kicked upward and caught the kid in the groin which momentarily stunned him. It allowed me enough time though to get back up on my feet and turn the kid around, finish handcuffing his other hand to the loose cuff, and shove him to the ground. But we were not done yet.

The car was only six feet away, but that seemed an impossible distance from my point of view. Now the kid was using his head, feet, and shoulders to dissuade us from our goal. I would have been happy with face down on the ground or in the patrol car, behind the screened back seat and close the door.

That kid was not having any part of it. He owned that piece of real estate in front of the bar. King of the hill was he on top of the curbed and walk-way. I took a look at John, and I saw him relieve his night club from its ring and told him -No. Don't do what I think you are thinking of doing.

But Hawk, we are getting our asses kicked here. Just wait. Let the kid make a mistake, not us. People were running out of the bar, only to watch our impossible situation. I think a lot of the kids just wanted to see how far we would go in placing this kid in a hurtful bind.

No question, we could have crushed his head and broken every bone in his little body, but I knew that would not have stopped the enclave of madness inside him. The kid was on a chemical high, and nothing was going to stop him but another chemical that would only be administered by a doctor at our local hospital. Getting him there was the trouble.

Our back up unit arrived, and I asked for EMT's to come and look at the other patrons that had been hurt or cut by this kid. Then I asked for my back up to sub-due the kid while we took a little break.

"Oh, sure Hawk, any-time. How about tomorrow at this same time?"

"Just help me get the kid inside the police car, or I am going to throw him at you."

With the four of us, each with an appendage and a little help from the football team opening the back door of the patrol unit, we got the kid in — no small feat. Now the problem was getting him to the hospital in one piece and quiet enough for the doctors to inject him with a strong sedative. A downer, the opposite of the upper this kid was flying on in space.

As you can imagine, the hospital rejected all of our pleas to help this kid settle down because of his highly adamantine condition. That and they did not have the necessary help to deal with this type of problem. All the doctors were busy in the ER with every kind of problem you could have imagined at the same time as we needed help. We were out of choices.

"Dispatch, unit 7 is requesting assistance when we arrive at the department. We have a 5150 (temporarily insane person) in custody and emergency hospital cannot help. We will need a padded cell."

"Dispatch: 10-4 unit 7, advising the desk right now. Click, click."

"John, did you get any ID off of this kid?"

"No, didn't have the time to do a thorough search."

"Why not, I asked? Weren't you there for more than an hour? What were you doing during all that time?"

"Yeah right, Hawk. Stay behind you, you said. No big deal, you said. Carp, what just happened back there?"

"Ok. When we get to the station, don't open the back door until we have sufficient personnel to carry this kid upstairs alright?"

"Ok. Got that Hawk."

Arriving at the office was no easy venture. The kid was up and down and kicking at the windows and the screen between us. For a few minutes, I thought he might kick the screen down, or the least kick a side door window out. His strength came from a demon possession called PCP.

Waiting for us was in front of the Court House were four detectives from the bureau across the street and five uniformed officers. I gave them all a quick briefing and told them to expect anything but don't lose your cool it if he gets a kick or two in. What you see is all drug-induced.

"Ok, kid time to get out and get some fresh air. Ready guys"?

When I opened the door for some reason, I didn't expect the strong urine smell, even though almost every drunk we brought in had peed in their pants. But the fresh air had the opposite effect on the kid and woke up the monster inside him. The kid came out of the back seat like a raging bull from Spain.

Two detectives went down in the street, and then three more uniforms came over and were kicked to the ground. No one could control the kid. As five members of our group attempted to sit on the kid's stomach and legs, another uniform got around to his head and put a chokehold on him in hopes he might pass out temporarily.

It was enough to have six swearings, torn and ripped up officers, some bleeding to carry the kid up three flights of stairs and into the padded cell. We kept the young man in restraints until he came back down to earth. At that point, it was back into cuffs and another trip to the hospital to have him checked out.

The kid returned from the hospital in a more docile condition than when we left. He was coming down from the high and asking to make phone calls. To everyone's surprise, he called a very powerful attorney who called his parents in Massachusetts. (This kid's name will remain confidential). But he came from one of this country's most prestigious families back east. One which a family member could be president one day!

All's well that ends well. Hear - Here

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