Sworn Closing Statement, Summary Proceeding, Small: Fill & Download for Free

I am uncertain as to the purpose for your question. It could be a genuine effort to solicit stories of officers using their emergency equipment (I am going to take the liberty of assuming that by “sirens” [most law enforcement vehicles only have one], you intend to include not only a siren but emergency lights as well; or perhaps “either/or”), in situations in which the responding officer was using emergency response equipment to respond to a legitimate personal, albeit unofficial, emergency which he or she believed justified the use of such emergency equipment. Another possibility however is that your motivation may only be an effort to provoke the disclosure of instances in which officers turned on his/her lights and/or siren to get through traffic leaving a football game, or perhaps because of the desire to avoid waiting for a traffic signal to change, or for a litany of other “personal reasons” that suggest a misuse of authority. Nevertheless, I’ll take the risk and share. First however, I am going to take the liberty of defining “personal reasons” as reasons unrelated to the performance of an officer’s official responsibilities while acting on behalf on his or her Department or Agency, whether such “personal reasons” occur while the officer is on duty or off duty. With that understanding:Yes, I have, on a number of occasions, used the siren and/or emergency lights, both in my Department issued unit, as well as in my POV (Personally Owned Vehicle) for “personal reasons.” The first time I vividly recall doing so occurred probably 20 years ago. One morning around 10 am, while I was attending a meeting on behalf of the Police Department in a nearby City approximately 15 miles away, my phone rang. Looking at the device, I saw it was my wife and very nearly let the call go to voicemail. But I remembered that she knew I was going to be in the meeting and I knew she wouldn’t call unless there was a problem. I excused myself, walked into the hallway and answered the call. “Hi Sweetheart! What’s up?” I answered. Her response was something between crying and screaming, but I was able to make out, “Taylor is unconscious! Help me! Hurry!” and the line went dead. Taylor, one of my sons, was two at the time and my wife was not given to hysteria.Without stopping to go back into the meeting, retrieve my belongings and explain, I bolted down the stairs of the meeting place, jumped in my unit, activated my lights and siren and took off toward my home. On the way, I radioed our Dispatch, explained that there was a medical emergency at my residence involving my two-year-old, and instructed Dispatch to send a police vehicle and medical personnel ASAP. I also advised Dispatch that I was responding, 10–18 (10–18 is our Department Code for “with all due haste,” or “Code 3” or “Forthwith” as they say on the television show, “Blue Bloods”). I then moved to the left lane and “ran Code” (cop lingo for traveling at a speed in excess of the speed limit with lights and siren activated), to my residence. In the process, I went through two “STOP” signs without coming to a complete stop (with caution), and I went through three traffic lights which were red (again, with caution), in the process. It took me about 12 minutes to travel the 20 mile distance. Fortunately, the route was primarily interstate and the mid-morning traffic was light.When I arrived at my home, there were two ambulances, a fire engine, two fire/rescue trucks and the Fire Chief’s vehicle, as well as the unit from the Sheriff’s Department and several police vehicles from my Department, including that of the Chief of Police. From the nature and extent of the response, I could not imagine what I was going to find. I had tried to call my wife back several times during my “flight” home and each effort went straight to voicemail. Upon reaching my driveway, and somehow managing to remember to put my vehicle in park before jumping out, I ran to the front door and entered.Inside, I immediately found my path blocked by the men and women who had arrived to render assistance. Through the living room entry, I could see ambulance paramedics and first responders standing around a gurney in the center of the room. On the gurney, my precious two-year son was laying unresponsive and pale. An oxygen mask was over his little head and an IV had been started. “What’s wrong?” I demanded of the closest paramedic. “We’re not sure,” she responded. “He’s breathing on his own, but his vitals aren’t what they should be and he’s unresponsive. He also has a slightly elevated temperature.” I saw my wife and daughter and my wife’s mother standing back out of the way, letting the medical personnel do their jobs. As I moved through the crowd toward my wife, I heard someone in the background mention AirMed. When I reached my wife and little girl, they were crying and comforting each other. I hugged them, asking what had happened. Through sobs, my wife told me that Taylor had been sitting in his chair, eating a snack, when all at once, he just slumped over on my daughter who was sitting next to him. My daughter, who was five at the time, initially thought Taylor was playing, but when she couldn’t get him to sit up, she called for my wife who had stepped into the next room. My wife explained that she also initially thought Taylor was just acting silly until checked him and realized he wasn’t just trying to annoy his big sister. Something was wrong. Unable to get him to come to, an quickly becoming panicked, she had called me. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked me. “Is he going to be ok?” Without any certainty, I promised her that everything was going to be ok and I told her I would talk to the paramedics and find out what I could.I returned to the gurney where the medical personnel were preparing to take Taylor outside where the ambulance was waiting. I asked one of the paramedics, I guy I had worked with many times at auto accidents, shootings and other medical emergencies, and asked him for an update. I was told that they had spoken with the Emergency Room Pediatric Physician and explained the situation. The doctor was concerned over Taylor’s vital signs, the length of time that he had been unresponsive and the fact that he was still showing no signs of improvement. The doctor had instructed the paramedics to get AirMed en route, but because AirMed had an ETA of 30 minutes, the decision had been made to transport by ground unit to the nearest hospital, 15 minutes away. I relayed the information to my wife, leaving out the AirMed reference, and I explained where we were going. My mother-in-law said she would watch my little girl and I told my wife that the paramedics wanted her to ride in the ambulance with Taylor. As Taylor was rolled out to the ambulance, I told the ambulance driver that I would escort them to the hospital and to stay on my bumper.Once loaded up, we left my home, heading for the hospital with a fully marked unit ahead of my own. As we approached the first traffic signal, I saw that one of our officers had blocked the intersection to prevent any traffic from slowing us down. The same was true with the next two traffic signals, making our journey back to the interstate much easier (in retrospect, I’m sure that anyone witnessing the motorcade would have concluded that something tragic had occurred). Once we reached the Interstate, the unit in front of me pulled to the shoulder, leaving me to escort the remainder of the procession toward the hospital, again running Code (for “personal reasons”), this time at a more reasonable speed. About 4 minutes out from the hospital, my cell phone rang. My Caller ID announced it was my wife, but when I answered, I found myself speaking with one of the paramedics. “He’s still not responding, Captain,” the paramedic told me. “And his vital signs aren’t looking any better. They (I don’t know who “they” were) have instructed us to divert to Children’s Hospital.”That wasn’t good. Children’s was probably 10 minutes further away, but well known for its state-of-the-art facilities and quality pediatric emergency care. With every horrible thought my subconscious could summons running through my mind, I passed the exit to our original destination and continued toward Children’s. Upon finally reaching the interstate exit for Children’s, my cell phone rang again. I expected that the paramedic wanted to tell me which Hospital entrance to use. Instead, I heard my wife’s voice, and she wasn’t crying. “John, he’s coming around! He’s talking and knows who I am!” The paramedic then took the phone and told me that my son was beginning to respond. “But,” she explained unnecessarily, “something is wrong, and we need to find out what’s going on.” She then told me to proceed to the ER Ambulance entrance.Our arrival was met with a flurry of activity as the hospital people took over from the paramedics. I saw my wife was being attacked by hospital administrative personnel who needed information, and I knew that she would not let anything or anyone prevent her from staying with Taylor, so I “rescued” her from the well-meaning employees who needed admission and insurance information, telling her that as soon as I took care of the paperwork, I would find her. I had to move and park my unit, which was still parked in front of the Ambulance, lights flashing, door opened and engine running (thank God I had thought to turn off the siren). I then answered all of the questions, filled out all of the forms and performed all of the other acts that are required in situations like that. It seemed to take hours, but after about 15 minutes, I was finally able to try to find my wife and child.A nice and very patient lady noticed me desperately looking in every direction for some sort of clue that would lead me where I needed to go. She quickly directed me to the area of the hospital where she assured me that I would find my wife and son. After negotiating the maze of hallways and automatic opening double doors, I stepped out of a hallway and into a large circular area with a nurses’ station in the center and treatment rooms all along the perimeter. It wasn’t hard to determine which treatment room held my son. Standing around the entrance one of the treatment rooms were multiple police officer from my Department, as well as the Police Chief, three or four firefighter/first responders, the Fire Chief, the paramedics who drove my son to the hospital, along with two other paramedics who I assumed had been with the second ambulance that had been at my residence (I never did find out why two ambulances had responded to the call). I also saw that my brother-in-law had left his job and rushed to the hospital. He was talking to one of our City Councilmen, and the Mayor was there, speaking with our Minister (living in a small City has its advantages).I fought my way through the small crowd and into the treatment room where my son was sitting up on the examination bed, talking to everyone and obviously enjoying the attention, much to the annoyance of the doctor and nurses who were trying to get him to sit still while they examined him. My wife was smiling, and I was glad to see that (my wife is scary and dangerous when she perceives any of our children to be at risk), but when she saw the look of concern on my face, she came over to me and asked if everything was alright. I explained that I was relieved to see Taylor was beginning to act himself and appeared to be out of the woods, but that something had triggered the episode that had rendered him unresponsive for a lengthy period. I told her that I would be fine once I knew and understood what had caused the incident (typical cop - gotta have all the facts and have answers to all the questions).For the next seven hours, the doctors, nurses and techs ran every test known to man on Taylor, trying to determine the cause of his medical emergency. The poor little boy had blood drawn several times. He was poked and prodded and hooked up to every type of monitor and diagnostic device available. He was checked for spider bites, snake bites and bites from his sister. We were asked about allergies, his diet, and any medications in the house that he might have gotten into. They asked if he could have consumed any cleaning products, any personal hygiene products and what he had been watching on television (Teletubbies, as I recall). He was scanned, x-rayed, imaged and photographed (well, maybe not photographed) from head to toe. Short of a colonoscopy and an eye exam, he went through it all. And they found,..nothing. I spoke to the doctors more often than they would have preferred, hoping for some indication of a suspicion or even a speculation as to what could have happened. While there were a few, “It could be,…”, a couple of “It’s possible that,…”, and one “Although it’s rare,…”, there were no rational explanations. It was clear they were, at the same time, both relieved that he was now acting like any other health, happy two-year-old, and apprehensive over their inability to solve the mystery. About 7 pm, the physicians started discussing the possibility of admitting Taylor for overnight observation. While neither my wife nor I wanted to spend the night in the hospital, our anxiety over the lack of a plausible explanation for what had happened and our concern that we could take him home, only to have the episode recur was strong motivation for spending the night.At some point in the early evening of that day, after it appeared that Taylor would be ok, I took a minute to sit down and take a break. While I was sitting there, our Minister saw me, walked over and sat down across a narrow coffee table from where I was perched on the edge of my chair. He had been my family Minister for many years, and I knew him well. Approaching 70 years old at that time (he has since passed away), he was very kind, with pale blue eyes that reflected a warmth that offset his icy white shock of hair, still thick despite his age. He had truly found his calling, for he was one of those rare people who could speak to anyone, relate to that person and make that person feel comfortable, regardless of their occupation, their level of education or their age. He especially loved children and they loved him. He sat without speaking, looking at me quizzically, as though he planned to ask if I was ok, but first trying to determine what my answer should be, if I responded truthfully. Apparently satisfied with the results of his inspection, he commented on the intensity of the day’s events. He said he had been told of some of the details of the ordeal, including how Taylor regained consciousness just before we arrived at the hospital. He offered that the it all must have been frightening and his understanding that we must be emotionally drained.Our relationship allowed me to recognize that he wanted to hear the story, or perhaps he sensed that I needed to tell it, in detail, as though doing so would somehow lessen the burden. Either way, at his invitation, I began to recount all of the details of what had transpired, as best I could recall them. I told him of my wife’s telephone call, of my 12-minute flight between meeting place and home, and of the numerous vehicles of the varying agencies I encountered upon reaching my residence. Closing my eyes and seeing it all again, I told him of stepping through the front door of my home and encountering the crowd of first responders, of the heart wrenching sight of my young son fastened to the stretcher, his tiny body appearing absurdly out of scale with that of the gurney, and of the tubes, wires and lines extending from the various medical devices that were everywhere, all seemingly plugged into him. I spoke of the desire of the medical personnel to transport Taylor to the hospital by a helicopter that wasn’t available. I related the details of our trek from my home to the hospital, of driving through the roadblocked intersections and then along the interstate; a journey extended by the determination that because Taylor’s condition had not improved, a facility where specialized treatment was available was warranted; and finally, of our arrival at the hospital and the commencement of evaluation and treatment. The man listened intently, speaking the emotions he felt as he heard the story through the narrowing and widening of his expressive eyes. I confessed to him how frightened I had been. I described the helplessness I felt, being unable to help my child. And I admitted that I had prayed for my son every minute of the ordeal.I then voiced my frustration and concern over the inability to obtain a determination of what had caused Taylor’s sudden affliction. “The doctors have checked everything,” I told him. “They’ve run every test, they’ve checked everything they can check, and they even called a specialist to get his opinion. They cannot determine what caused him to just fall over, without warning.” I explained that without knowing the reason for the sudden health failure, I was worried it might happen again, maybe at night while everyone was asleep. If we could only identify the condition that had triggered the reaction, appropriate safety measures could be taken to alert us if the incident should be repeated. Perhaps medication was available to prevent any future occurrences. I suggested that identifying the mysterious condition could change the condition from life threatening to a treatable inconvenience. “Falling over and remaining unresponsive for an hour without explanation is alarming,” I told him. “The doctors don’t know what caused his vital signs to drop either. And not only can they not determine the cause for Taylor’s sudden loss of consciousness; they also can’t explain the reason for his sudden recovery, just as we reached the hospital. It’s just crazy!”The Minister had the same puzzled look on his face that I had noticed on the faces of the medical personnel who had been treating Taylor all day. “It is really very puzzling,” he admitted finally. “But you should take comfort in knowing that the people at this hospital are dedicated to protecting the health of children. I’m up here way more often than I’d like to be, and let me tell you, these folks are the best. They might not be able to answer all of your questions before you leave here, but you can bet that they won’t stop trying to figure it out.”I nodded my head, knowing he was right. I just hoped that at some point, there would be an answer; a resolution. As I considered that possibility, the Minister continued, “As strange as all this seems right now, and as frustrated as you are with the lack of answers, one of your questions has an answer.” I looked up at him, perplexed and desperate for something that would help me make sense of it all. “I can tell you why Taylor suddenly regained consciousness and why his vital signs quickly returned to normal. I’ve seen that happen before.” “You have?” I asked, surprised by his statement. “You’ve seen something like that before? What happened?” The man leaned forward in his chair, placing his hand on top of mine and smiled slightly. Then lowering his voice to a near whisper, as if to share a secret with me, “Your prayers John,” he reminded me. “You prayed and God got involved.”He stood to leave and when I rose, he gave me a hug, said he needed to stop in to see a couple more people whose children were also in the hospital, and that he would call and check on Taylor the next morning. As I watched him start down the hall, he suddenly stopped and look back at me, “Be sure to tell ‘ole Taylor that I’ll be talking to the Big Man later tonight,” he told me, pointing up. “I’ll ask Him to keep Taylor safe; his Momma and Daddy too.” With that, he was gone.Around 8 pm, the results from the last of the tests arrived and like all of the previous results, these too were inconclusive. It had been 10 hours since the incident had occurred and approximately 7.5 hrs. since Taylor regained responsiveness. He had exhibited no further signs or symptoms of any type of problem. After further discussion and despite our angst, we all agreed that we would take him home, check on him during the night, and take him to see his pediatrician the following day. The pediatrician had been consulted throughout the day and was aware of our plans. With a great degree of trepidation, we left the hospital and headed home (without the use of lights and siren). To say that we checked on Taylor during the night implies that we left his side or slept even briefly. We did not. Thankfully, the night passed without incident and the next day, he saw his pediatrician, had a follow up a week later and we continued with monthly checkups for probably six months.Throughout the checkups, the cause of what happened that morning remained undetermined. The night before the last checkup, as my wife and I were discussing the time of the appointment, Taylor asked if he was going to have to get a shot. When I was a kid and you went to the doctor for a checkup, you better believe you were getting a shot, whether you needed one or not. At least it seemed that way, so I could sympathize with his concern. As I assured him that he would not get a shot, I suddenly remembered something that we hadn’t discussed the day of Taylor’s health adventure. “When did Taylor have his DPT booster shot?” I asked my wife. “I’m not sure when that was,” She replied. “Why?” I explained that Taylor’s question about getting a shot caused me to think about it and that I was “just wondering.”Let me explain that I’m one of those people who must know; sometimes to the point of stubbornness (or so I’ve been told). And to clarify, I’m not talking about being nosy. I only mean that I try to solve problems. I enjoy puzzles. Perhaps it’s the challenge. And I tend to believe that given enough time and resources, most questions can be answered, and most problems can be solved. (I’ve also been told that I think I know everything, that I think I’m always right; that I always think my way is best, and other similar disparaging remarks. I adamantly deny such allegations). That is why, instead of letting the matter drop, my wife got up and retrieved Taylor’s inoculation records from her little file box and handed them to me, reminding me to return them to her when I was finished (I’ve also been accused of never putting anything back).I recalled reading something about the possible side effects of one of the childhood inoculations given children at a young age, though it had not been recently enough that I could recall which vaccine I had read about or what the side effects could be. Looking through the inoculation records, I saw that Taylor had received a DPT booster shot about two weeks before he had experienced the medical emergency that terrible morning. “Ok,” I thought. “What’s a DPT vaccine?” I sat down at our home computer and search for the term. DPT (Diphtheria, Tetanus & Pertussis – also known as DTP, DTaP, Tdap and other iterations), was a vaccine generally given children several times at various intervals during childhood to protect against contracting these diseases. At the time Taylor was born, it was recommended that children be given the vaccine at two months of age, a “booster” shot at 18-24 months, and continuing on a defined schedule until the vaccine was given five times. I read through several articles, looking for side effects identified with the vaccine but all I found were effects such as redness or tenderness at the injection site, headache and fussiness. As I continued to research the issue, I came across a detailed medical study devoted to the side effects and patient reactions to the DPT vaccine. Unlike the other materials of a more general nature that I had found, this study examined the side effects of each element of the inoculation, singularly and in various combinations. One combination, which unfortunately I can no longer recall, was found to have produced lost or lowered consciousness, reduced blood pressure, slower heartbeat and fever within 10 days to 2 weeks of the injection. However, the study adamantly emphasized that the described side effects occurred so rarely that it was not possible to attribute any of them to the vaccine with any degree of certainty.The next morning, I called our Pediatrician, told him about the information I had reviewed the previous night and asked him about the possibility that the DPT vaccine had caused Taylor’s medical emergency. He told me that he had considered that possibility the day of the incident after being called by the hospital, but that after examining the inoculation summary in Taylor’s file and discussing it with the physicians at the hospital treating Taylor, they concluded that he had received the vaccine too far in advance of the incident for the inoculation to have been the cause. He then explained that while there were some studies suggesting that the inoculation could be responsible for lost or reduced consciousness in rare cases, such incidents only occurred within 2-3 weeks of receiving the vaccine. Since Taylor had received the vaccine about six months before the episode occurred, the inoculation as a possible cause was ruled out.Had he said six months? “What was the date that Taylor was inoculated?” I asked the doctor. “March 9th,” he responded. March 9th? The inoculation record my wife had given me reflected that the inoculation was administered on September 3rd. The medical emergency had occurred on September 14th. Something wasn’t right. “Doctor, I think that inoculation was given on September 3rd,” I told him. “That would have been only 11 days before incident occurred.” There was a brief silence before he asked me to hold on briefly. While I was on hold, I looked down at the notepad on which I had been doodling. I had written “3/9” when the doctor told me the inoculation was given to Taylor on March 9th. Just below that, I had written “9/3” when I told the doctor that our records indicated Taylor received the vaccine on September 3rd. The dates had been transcribed. When the employee at the doctor’s office read the physician notes of the office visit during which Taylor was inoculated, and then wrote by hand the inoculation date on the schedule stapled inside the opening flap of the file folder containing Taylor’s medical records, he/she must have written 3/9 (March 9th), instead of 9/3 (September 3rd). And that’s exactly what the doctor told me when he returned to the call, sounding somewhat embarrassed.We talked a bit longer about the issue, with both of us recognizing that even with the error as to the date of the inoculation, existing medical evidence suggested that there was very little chance the symptoms Taylor experienced were caused by the inoculation. We also acknowledged that no one could declare with any degree of certainty that the vaccination had caused the incident. The error as to the date of the inoculation was inconsequential, since even if the correct date had been considered when evaluating the vaccine as the possible cause of Taylor’s experience, it would not have changed anything that was done to treat him or to evaluate the cause of his condition. I thanked the doctor for his time and the call ended.Although the information I reviewed and discussed with the doctor did nothing to determine conclusively what had caused Taylor’s medical emergency. However, whereas I previously had nothing to which the incident could be attributed, I now had a plausible explanation. I understood it would have been rare and could not be proven, but as the doctor conceded, it could not be ruled out. It was possible, and “possible” was all that I needed. Now, 20 years later, Taylor has never had another such episode.Since that day, over the last 20 years, I have used my lights and siren for “personal reasons” on at least seven other occasions that immediately come to mind. I am sure that I am forgetting others. Each of those occasions involved the health or safety of my wife or children. In the interest of full disclosure, I have not included among the “personal reasons” for which I have used my lights and siren the many times that I have activated the rear blue and white emergency lights in my unmarked SUV after an aggressive motorist continued to “tailgate” me despite a friendly warning to back off a bit, facilitated by a very quick tap on my brake pedal. Such a “tap” should not be confused with “brake checking” which is an inherently dangerous action that can easily result in a crash. The “tap” to which I am referring is the barely perceptible, briefly applied touch of the brake pedal sufficient to illuminate the brake lights without slowing the vehicle. For an inattentive motorist who has inadvertently gotten too close to be able to stop or take evasive action to avoid a crash should I have to stop suddenly, the brake tap is generally all that is needed to safely remind that motorist of the need to increase the distance between vehicles. On the occasions that such a “tap” is not a sufficient deterrent, I have found that activating my rear emergency lights will do the trick. And while I have used that technique both on duty and off duty, “personal reasons” is a fair characterization of the basis for such use of my emergency equipment. One could also say that “personal reasons” has been the basis for the times when I have turned on my front (or “forward”) emergency lights in order to signal to an approaching vehicle that it is traveling well in excess of the speed limit. And as I think about it, there have been several times when I have glanced to the side, while traveling along the interstate or other multi-laned roadway and observed a motorist so busily engaged in text messaging (or other distracting activities) that they failed to recognize the risk of such activity. A quick burst of the siren usually brings such activity to a halt, at least until I’m no longer around.Our Department policy on the use of lights and siren (a policy which I wrote), is directed at actions taken while operating a Department owned vehicle or a POV authorized by the Chief of Police to be equipped with emergency lights and/or siren. For obvious reasons, very few Officers are authorized to equip their Personally Owned Vehicle with emergency lights and/or siren. The policy in question permits the use of emergency lights and/or siren by an officer, whether on duty or off duty, who is responding to an emergency call or who is otherwise acting in his/her official capacity as a sworn law enforcement officer under circumstances which, in the discretion of the Officer, requires the use of emergency lights and/or siren. The policy further provides that an Officer found to have acted in a manner contrary to the provisions of the Policy may be disciplined in the discretion of the Chief of Police, which discipline may include suspension with or without pay.In case there is any question in your mind about this issue, my use of lights and siren in responding to the medical emergency involving my son that I described above (and in the other instances involving the health or safety of my family when I have used my lights and siren for such “personal reasons”), was a violation of Department Policy. Had any member of my Department who witnessed my actions felt the need to report me to the Chief of Police, or had any member of the public who observed my actions felt the need to file a complaint against me, I may well have been found to have acted in a manner which is contrary to policy. In addition, in my recount of the incident involving my two-year-old son (and in some of the other incidents involving the health or safety of my family to which I have made reference), I traveled through one or more law enforcement jurisdictions other than my own. In any of those jurisdictions, it is conceivable that I could have been stopped by a law enforcement officer of such jurisdiction and been cited (or perhaps even arrested) for various violations associated with my actions.Having conceded that my actions described above were for “personal reasons” and contrary to Department policy, I readily admit that if the situation arose, I would do the same thing again. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to reach one of my family members who needed me. What’s more, it’s the same thing I do for the citizens I am sworn to protect and serve every time I am dispatched to an emergency. The only difference between turning on my lights and siren to respond to an emergency call and using those lights and siren for the “personal reasons” I described above is that in one case, I am dispatched to the emergency call, while on the other, I respond in the manner I described because I have decided that an emergency exists. I am not required to obtain consent from anyone before I “run code” to emergency calls, nor do I have to notify Dispatch that I am doing so. However, I do notify Dispatch if I will be “running code” through other jurisdictions on the rare occasions that such may happen, assuming that I’m able to do so. Otherwise, I rely on my judgment and experience. Accordingly, what I have done for “person reasons” is no different than what I would do for any of you.I know that my occupation is a constant source of concern for my wife and children. I understand that for the last 25 years, every time I walked out the door, they had to worry that something might happen to me, that I might be hurt, or worse. For all of their sacrifices, they deserve to know that if something happens to one of them, I will move heaven and earth to be there for them as quickly as humanly possible. If they need help, they should not have to wonder if I will get them the help they need without delay. They’ve earned that, and whether I’m driving a police vehicle equipped with lights and a siren, a City bus, a tractor or a bicycle, I’m going to use that equipment to honor my obligation to them because they are my first priority. If that’s wrong, I stand ready to accept the consequences. But I will not apologize for using my lights and siren for the “personal reasons” that I have described.That was a very long way of answering your question affirmatively, and if I misunderstood your intent or provided you with information you were not seeking, I apologize for my error.Thank you,Captain John Sharp