Lessons Learned From The Onion Field

Last February, I began an evening walk with Sophie, my nine year old service dog near Havasu, Arizona. I carried a water bottle, T-shirt, and Sophie’s ID card. It was too warm for much else. The deserted campground a BLM parcel called Craggy Wash. As the sun was setting, Sophie and I were on our way up to a rocky, ridge top trail and anticipating a fine view of the town of Havasu below. Just prior to reaching the trailhead, we saw four people ahead. Two of them were the campground hosts we’d met the night before, and the other two were unknown to us. The first was a nicely dressed 20-something young lady who looked a bit out of place in a primitive desert campground. With her was a uniformed BLM agent of similar age. They all stood, talking, about ten yards away from a rugged, late model SUV marked with the BLM insignia. Before we approached the group, I had Sophie sit next to me at attention, visually demonstrating while also wordlessly introducing her as a trained service animal. Once I knew we’d been seen by the group, I approached, and verbally presented Sophie as my service dog. Unexpectedly, the young officer confronted me with the harsh demand that Sophie be on a leash. It contradicted almost everything I experienced as Sophie’s handler. Virtually all uniformed officers in every discipline, officers from local, county and state police departments, park rangers in similarly diverse jurisdictions have welcomed Sophie and I as a team. Yes, Sophie is lovable, but she is a working dog. Law enforcement officers recognize and have always respected this about us. Countless many of them have expressed as much to me, in what often amounted to them as a few minutes spent in the company of a wonderful dog. And why not? She is the spitting image of the ultra intelligent police dog Rin Tin Tin. None of that was evident in this officer. His sudden demand took me by surprise. Knowing that we were on federal public land, all I could think to say was that the Americans with Disabilities Act makes an allowance to not require amputees, like me, to leash a voice-controlled service dog. Sophie clearly is one such dog. Regardless of his motivations, the officer did not accept my explanation as a sufficient answer to his request. He turned to the campground host and said “Wait here while I take this man to his camper to write him a summons.” I replied that federal law did not allow for such action on his part, either. Essentially, he intended to cite me for what amounted to nothing more then being disabled. I couldn’t understand why a federal law enforcement officer was going to punish me and, presumably, fine me for it. My situation turned desperate when the officer suddenly lost his temper toward me. He didn’t like that I questioned his demand and his behavior escalated into violent threats and wanton physical aggression toward me. It ended violently for me and for Sophie. The young officer knocked me down and dragged me to his vehicle. Sophie, who is trained to stand by me in the event of a seizure, came to take her place beside me. As she tried to do so, the officer pepper sprayed her in both eyes. We live in a world where the reality is, right or wrong, that any law enforcement officer can defend their poor judgment, reckless decisions, or even criminal behavior with impunity. All that is required of them is to claim that their safety was somehow endangered. This Sophie and I were experiencing firsthand. I sat in the sand, my only arm handcuffed to his truck bumper, listening to the young officer’s celebratory remarks about his brave apprehension of me to deputies who later arrived. Over the next two hours, the young officer directed many disparaging, often profane remarks toward me, mocking my relationship with Sophie and questioning her role as my service dog. This officer, clearly reveling in his conquest, was also well aware of his ability to subjectively define and enforce the law. He clearly knew that, if need be, he could also evade it. In my case, and this is important, no impartial witnesses were present. The campground hosts’ safety in the isolated desert depended upon this officer’s protection. And the young girl who was dressed for a night on the town was only acknowledged to be a “federal employee” whose presence was never mentioned again. If the young girl was, indeed a love interest, I can’t help but wonder what she thought of sharing an evening with a person capable of the atrocious behavior he showed toward an innocent disabled man and his beautiful service dog. Falsified witness reports were filed by the officer, who had confiscated Sophie’s ID badge. Another similarly uniformed officer arrived and identified himself as the young officer’s supervisor. The end result was that I spent a week in a Flagstaff jail, four hours away, across the state. I had no idea of Sophie’s whereabouts or her condition. Was she still alive? I didn’t know. But for the first time in over eight years, I was separated from Sophie, and in an emotional state of shock from the rapid progression of events. As it turned out, Sophie was being housed in an animal control shelter where, I was told, she’d be euthanized if I didn’t plead guilty so I could be released and go get her. Even on-scene, it became clear to the federal officers that the young officer had, in fact, assaulted a disabled man and his service animal. There was no doubt that I wasn’t a danger to anyone: I owned no weapons, possessed no illegal drugs or any other questionable objects. License plates, car registration, driving record, etc., all perfectly clean as a whistle. Despite having been bloodied after being dragged through the sand, then tasered as I lay face down, defenseless next to the truck, I was charged with assault. Apparently, the young officer and his supervisor saw fit to cover their actions by casting doubt on my mental well-being. Their falsified reports supported this, with claims that I was “nuts,” and the like. Obviously, I didn’t just encounter a trigger happy officer, but a law enforcement culture that supported, even encouraged violence. Later, while handcuffed and in the BLM vehicle, the officer whispered as much through gritted teeth into my ear. But I’m no criminal, hell-bent on creating chaos and terrorizing people with a violent canine sidekick. Rather, I’m simply a tourist in the American southwest, returning to my home state of Colorado with only my dog for a company. After driving 25,000 miles over the course of the past year, seeing anything and everything we could along the West Coast, we were merely a pair of weary travelers looking forward to being home again. No matter our state of mind, however, there is a lesson to be learned here. Over the past seven months, I’ve had the chance to work with therapists to put the trauma of this ordeal into perspective. Today, I can write about it in terms that are conducive to resolution, and not just catharsis. Also helpful have been the number of strangers, the parade of which have continued throughout my life with Sophie, who comment on how beautiful and well-behaved she is. Most notably among them are the many law enforcement officers we’ve met in passing since then. They often smile at us as we pass, with no apparent fear of either of us and, most likely, and appreciation if not outright respect for us as a team. One of them happens to work firsthand with the county K9 unit, and is well aware of the discipline, loyalty, and positive temperament of Sophie’s breed. They are wonderfully loving dogs when off duty but can immediately snap into work mode when commanded to do so. As my seizure dog, Sophie has been trained to be calm and to sit patiently at all times except when I seize. The moment I fall and hit the ground is Sophie’s cue to come and stand by me until I regain my wits and can think for myself once more. Such times are where Sophie becomes more than just a pretty face. Her ability to attract attention draws people who only intend to help, if needed. She is enough of a visual deterrent, however, to deter any bad guys from approaching while I’m down. The agent who assaulted us interfered with Sophie’s ability to do the job for which she has been trained. That’s an egregious act for anyone to perpetrate, let alone a law-enforcement officer who was in no danger at all, save for his reputation in front of a pretty girl. While part of my disability involves multiple head traumas that impair my ability to react quickly and with the smooth social adeptness I once had, my inability to realize I was in a potentially dangerous situation is typical for me. Sophie’s presence usually means these situations almost never materialize. Until now. Traveling alone, with only Sophie for company, I was able to work through many of my PTSD symptoms. But even 25,000 miles of introspection behind the wheel, from a route incorporating my favorite states, Colorado, Oregon, Utah, Washington state and on down to Mexico. Finally, en route home to Colorado, I felt it all was only a good start to my healing. The rest would require a therapist, which I had already arranged to meet in northern Colorado before Sophie and I were waylaid. To the extent that our violent experience in Arizona might help you, I can only recommend that you have a Plan B ready at all times. No matter where you go, no matter your disability or what you think it looks like or even feels like to others, preparation is key, And knowing your fallback contingency by rote is a must. For example, had I carried some simple, small leash with me or simply been willing to turn back and include the return hike to my camper as part of the evening’s journey, I would have saved Sophie and I a great deal of pain and anguish. Please understand that I do not advocate any sort of concession to our rights as disabled individuals. Rather, just the opposite. We are disabled, and that in itself makes us special and, by necessity, exceptionally strong. And it’s a power we must both recognize and employ responsibly. In keeping with the spirit of “better late than never,” I have only recently realized that I do have the strength to turn around and retreat in the face of anger and outright belligerence and comply with what I am told. Convincing a bully of your rights is traditionally a losing proposition. However, I realize that the responsible aspect of employing my power lies in having the wisdom to pursue the absence of truth and fairness ex post facto. Only afterwards, and with a clear mind can I identify, then pursue my options. For my money, the first and best thing I’ve learned to do is enlist help. There truly is power in numbers. Anyone who violates your basic rights by acting with poor judgment and without witnesses will likely find defending himself alone his biggest fear. And so it goes for the cowardly few who look upon a disabled individual with disdain. “After all,” they reason, “there are more able-bodied people than disabled ones, more of me than them.” This is where our power must be employed responsibly. In the painful example above, waiting to state my case later, optimally with witnesses present, would have been the best option. In the confusion of the incident, I was unable to see this right away as any reasonable person might be. That’s why having a workable Plan B is so important. I say workable because the plan must be flexible enough to handle any conceivable situation that arises. I have cards, for example, that have the words “I am a Service Animal” boldly printed on the front, with “Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990” printed on back. Handy, perhaps, but I’ve long stopped carrying these cards for lack of use. I’ve often felt that presenting such a card would, for me, be condescending. Worse, reaching into a pocket to withdraw such a card could even be construed by a trigger happy cop as reaching for a weapon. In other words, your idea of resolution could be misinterpreted as an affront. It happens frequently in our country, and many unarmed and innocent people are shot and killed due to such claims. Though in my experience most disabled people are aware, it’s worth reinforcing to people that not all service animals walk in lockstep and hug the leg of their handler. Sophie, for example, walks to my right side and about half a pace behind. While my waking seizures are infrequent, I’ve had balance troubles as an amputee. Sophie is there for me to lean on and has helped break many otherwise imminent falls. So, while service animals can be trained for a diversity of goals, every handler and dog team enjoys the same rights. Working unhindered and safely is a top priority among them. Sadly, this is news to some but, happily, the onus falls on us to educate them, and who better than us, the end user who benefits most, to do it? For example, I and my disability advocates could help see to it that the young officer I encountered could learn and otherwise expand his knowledge of the law he enforces. Continually moving up the chain of command might be necessary in order accomplish the desired goal. Since cultural influences within organizations may exist that limit acknowledgement of disability rights, waking up those who don’t (or won’t) know the law is a great place to employ some of our power. Today, after months of reflection, I’ve concluded that diplomacy is the best problem resolution strategy. Had my mind been ready to respond with this in mind, that young officer in the desert would never have been drawn to cite me, or worse. Here in my state, I found wonderful advocates at the Colorado Cross Disability Coalition, (CCDC), as well as the Disability Resource Services (DRS). Many others have helped and continue to do so, nearly all of them due to my legwork. If you’re somehow unable or unready to try reaching out to potential advocates or advocacy groups, I recommend reaching out to someone who might help you do so. While it seems as if it takes an advocate to make an advocate, favorable progress will likely make you want to join in and keep the effort going in your direction. Here are some that helped me here in Colorado. Your state will have them, too. Perhaps the single best resource I’ve found to date for finding disability advocates here in Colorado is: http://www.indivisible-co.org/aboutus/listofadvocatesadvocacyorganizations.html Outside of Colorado, you can begin your search for your state’s advocacy groups with a basic Google search. Key words such as “disability advocacy organizations” and “disability resource organizations” followed by your state, county, city, etc, will likely turn up many results, and you can then expand it from there. Social media is yet another great place to connect with the disability advocacy community. One excellent site I’ve found on Facebook is: https://m.facebook.com/pg/NationalAdapt/photos/?mt_nav=1 Yet another advocacy group that’s national in scope is the Disability Rights Education and Defense Fund, http://www.dredf.org There are many more waiting to be discovered and some will undoubtedly suit your interests well enough to become favorites. By visiting a few sites and reading the “About Us” page on them you’ll get the gist of each group becomes apparent. It has taken me years to realize a Plan B is sometimes needed to defend my rights as a disabled person. It will likely remain a work in progress. This in mind, a big part of what drives me is not just learning from my own experiences, but sharing them with others who may also learn from them. Hopefully, some of the ideas I’ve presented here will help you create or further reinforce your Plan B in the event of a sudden conflict over your rights as a disabled person. It may be the one thing I spend lots of time on that I hope to never use! Still, please always keep this in mind: Having even a basic working knowledge of the advocacy organizations in your area means you’ll always have others to stand with you if and when you must find truth and fairness for yourself. After all, much of what we see in the world is, by design, too big for only one person.

Witnesses Matter, Always.

As the following news story illustrates, having witnesses on-scene during an incident of police misconduct is crucial.

It can make all the difference between a rightful response from law enforcement, e.g. an officer's paid leave, or a wrongful criminal charge against an innocent person, e.g. an assault charge.

That said, imagine the nurse in this news story alone, trying to tend to this unfortunate patient. And then, just as in this story, imagine a trigger happy cop showing up, demanding something in the belief he's going to crack the Next Big Case.

The nurse, of course, would still refuse the cop and stand up for her right to treat her patient first. But would she get beat up and pepper sprayed as Sophie and I did when I stood up for my legal right to not have my trained service dog on a leash? Based on what's apparent in the video clip, the unfortunate answer is Maybe.

There's an obvious need to be certain of what happens in every interaction between law enforcement and the public, and it's a prime reason for having police body-cams.

Police accounts are often biased toward the officer and, as so many of us know firsthand, cops are just people who can make a mistake then try to cover it up by blaming whoever is most convenient.

Consider what this officer did, in a hospital no less, with many witnesses present. Other officers were present who, interestingly, didn't lift a finger to de-escalate the situation, perhaps for fear of being unwilling to back up one of their "brothers."

Now imagine the cop charging her with assaulting him. It's exactly what happened to Sophie and I when we were assaulted by a BLM officer in the Arizona desert last February.

The nurse in this story was understandably reluctant to leave her patient. Still, like me, she did not fight back against the cop. He simply grabbed her and dragged her by force away from the scene.

It's exactly what happened to me as well, though we were alone in the jagged and rocky desert sand. Unlike the nurse in this story, I'm at a disadvantage in terms of health and age. She's a young, able-bodied, former Olympic athlete. I'm a one-armed, fifty-something amputee who's decidedly out of shape.

If a city cop, like this one, is belligerent and unreasonable, he is no longer just a law enforcement officer; he becomes a thug with a badge. Only such a person could perpetrate this act upon a nurse in broad daylight and in a public place.

With all the ample evidence to support my position plainly visible here, there's no question that another, similarly motivated thug with a badge would be both cruel and criminal enough to attack my service dog Sophie and I.

He could even then have the audacity to take it a step further by incarcerating me and impounding Sophie. Then, as his piéce de resistance, he could justify charging me with misdemeanor assault, using the premise that he "believed he was in danger" from Sophie and I.

All the police reports, his personal testimony and all other paperwork he could fill out would falsely reflect my culpability. The entire coverup, I think, gave him a thrill. It put a little sophomoric excitement into an otherwise mundane occupation; "Will I get caught or won't I?"

Just as in the story below, other cops were present. These arrived after I was handcuffed to the brush guard of a truck where I was made to sit for about two hours. They only had a big laugh at my expense. One of them even tormented me with disparaging remarks about Sophie's "real" qualifications as a service dog, and even threats of bodily harm-while I was chained to a truck, no less.

It was an obvious effort to provoke me, as they all needed something from me they'd never get. That is, an emotional response, an outburst from me to justify the wrongdoing they were all guilty of committing.

What was infinitely worse was that Sophie had been pepper sprayed in both eyes as she approached me when I was down on the ground. She's trained to do that and also to stay, but now was nowhere to be seen.

Not only was I unsure of her health-was she alive or dead?- but, until then, we hadn't been separated for years.

A week later, when all this was over and we were joyously reunited again, we also found ourselves constantly in doubt of our surroundings, particularly when law enforcement officers are present. We still do.

An assault like Sophie and I endured last February is like a sick and twisted gift that keeps on giving. Reading news stories like this one brings back all the terrifying events of our experience as if it all happened moments ago. It's called PTSD, and I'm very grateful to have a good therapist to help me through its insidious influences.

Until I can read stories like this one, or see a face who suddenly reminds me of one of the officers present at the scene, or someone else in the jail or in the courtroom, or any one of a zillion things that bring back my and my Sophie's assault, like any reasonable person would, I'll continue to relive that experience.

I'm a good and a kind and loving person. I share my life with a loyal best friend who's been trained by me to reflect the kindness, love and deference to others within me.

People consistently approach me when we're out just to tell me how beautiful and well trained she is. When I leave her in our modest 30 foot RV/home to grab some milk and eggs, disappointed store employees who've met her before will tell me they missed seeing her and ask me to rub her ears for them.

This kind of natural beauty my Sophie carries is not a result of any bias I have for my dog, but a genuine reflection of the kind and beautifully attractive spirit within her that makes her so universally loved, even among strangers.

And that's why, on the evening of February 12, 2017, Sophie and I were so suddenly shocked and violently torn apart by someone solely bent on hurting someone else. We just had the misfortune of being in that person's way.

It's nothing I take personally, for the person who hurt us has no idea of how wonderful we are. Still, Sophie and I both remain hurt by our experience, and our faith in others has been sorely tested. We will always carry scars from it, for such things are never "simply forgotten."

What follows is the news story to which I made reference above. So many aspects of this story share commonalities with our experience last February that I cannot count them all. We may still carry strong associations from our hellish experience together, but I'm hoping that, with time, those wounds will heal.

NBC News, September 2, 2017:

Two Salt Lake City police officers have been placed on paid administrative leave after shocking video of a nurse's arrest sparked nationwide outrage. 

The Salt Lake City police department announced Friday that it had put Detective Jeff Payne, the officer who arrested Alex Wubbels, plus a second employee, on leave "pending the results of an investigation." The second employee was not identified, but police spokeswoman Christina Judd confirmed to NBC News on Saturday that he was also a police officer. 

The incident happened on July 26 after an unconscious patient was brought into the University of Utah Hospital following a road accident that left him badly burned. Payne wanted blood drawn from the patient.

In 19 minutes of police bodycam footage that was made public, Payne insists Wubbels, who works in the burn unit, draw blood. When Wubbels refuses, citing hospital protocol, Payne becomes increasingly agitated.

• Facebook
• Twitter
• Embed

 Bodycam Shows Arrest of Salt Lake City Nurse for Refusing Blood Sample 1:05

But Wubbels doesn't back down in the videos, which may have been edited.

"No, we're done," Payne says abruptly. "You're under arrest, we're going!" 

He is then seen forcing her wrists into handcuffs before dragging her to the back of the patrol car. She was later released and was not charged. 

The patient was a truck driver who was hurt when his vehicle collided with that of another driver who was fleeing police, according to NBC affiliate KSL-TV. The Associated Press, citing police sources, said he is a reserve police officer in Rigby, Idaho. 

In a written report obtained by the Salt Lake City Tribune, Payne said he needed the blood sample to determine whether the patient had illicit substances in his system at the time of the crash. The patient's name has not been released. 

The dramatic video prompted widespread condemnation for the officer's actions and apologies from the Salt Lake City police chief and mayor. 

National Nurses United, the country's largest nursing union, called the encounter "outrageous." 

Wubbels told NBC News on Friday that the worst part wasn't that she was manhandled by a detective — it was that none of the other officers who were watching intervened. 

"I was being bullied and nobody was willing to speak up for me," she said.

The video was released through Wubbels' attorneys. Prosecutors have called for a criminal investigation into it. 

NBC News has reached out to Payne for comment. 

Wubbels, 41, is a former Olympic athlete who competed as an Alpine skier in 1998 and 2002. She has worked at the hospital since 2009. 

The inquiry into her case will be run by Salt Lake County's Unified Police, Judd, the Salt Lake City police spokeswoman, said. The district attorney's office will review the findings and determine whether they merit criminal charges. 

The Supreme Court ruled in 2016 that a blood sample cannot be taken without patient consent or a warrant. Judd said Salt Lake City police updated their blood-draw policy "right away" to match the hospital's, and has already re-trained all remaining officers on the updated policy. 

We're “trying to make sure that no one in the medical profession ever needs to fear a police officer.”

Police also met with hospital officials within 24 hours of the incident to figure out "what we needed to change to make sure it didn’t happen again," Judd said. 

"We have a really strong tie to the nurses that we work with. The police interact with nurses multiple times a day sometimes, and we never want to fracture that relationship," she said. 

"We took the incident very seriously from the moment we found out about it and have been working really diligently with Wubbels' attorney and ... herself, and trying to make sure that no one in the medical profession ever needs to fear a police officer here," she added. "It’s so sad that we’ve had this rift in our relationship with the medical community and we’re working hard to fix that."