BUBBA 2 DUMB wrote:OK THIS IS WHAT I REALLY POSTED ON FACEBOOK GROUP.
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From The Beginning
Why was I at Revolver that night when I was arrested?
It's all Niall Clinton's fault! Actually Nial told me that there was a security position available at Revolver and introduced me to the owner. Revolver is a funky, Indy club that plays live music in Taipei on Roosevelt Road, a young, foreign crowd but the vibe was very relaxed and had a "Neo-Hippie" feel. I figured the job would be easier than working at "Carnagie's" at the Computex crowd filled with drunk Russian software engineers. THAT was a rough crowd.
I've been doing fill-in security work for Niall at Carnagie's. I haven't been telling a lot of people because frankly I felt a little embarrassed doing muscle-head work. I really appreciate the extra work from Niall and would often stand at the door six hours after teaching an 8 hour day. I needed to pay back some debts and start thinking about paying for Graduate school.
I met the owner at around 11PM. He explained that there were a group of foreigners saying that they were the "New South African Mafia". They were being rowdy and making the scene uncomfortable.
Whatever-Springbok Saffies 10 minutes just off the plane flexing muscles and tattoos. Nothing to worry about. What were they going to do shoot me?
He also had references from Dave Oh Yeah since I worked as a volunteer security for the Urban Nomad Film Festival. Dave also fired me from this position for being "Overly enthusiastic in your duties". Especially the part where I was given free beer while working.
When you are genetically built from Irish and Native American genes-FREE BEER are a beautiful and yet dangerous combination of words.
Knowing this Beer and Work thing didn't work out from my Urban Nomad experience, I told the Revolver owner that I didn't drink before or during a job. That's why I rode my scooter that night.
I showed up with my SECURITY T-shirt, my work shoes and a mellow attitude.
We got along together very quickly and soon it was obvious that it was going to be a job baby-sitting hipsters. One night's salary and I could pay for my monthly parking fee or the rent on my beach house.
The part we didn't agree on was that it was on the weekend. I knew a guy I met in Krav Maga class who would be perfect for the job and I recommended him and agreed to contact him for the job. I didn't want to give up my precious weekends surfing for the job but I would work during the week, fill-in or special events. Besides I was going to start working a pretty full week of teaching English. I figured that I'd have all my debts paid off in 6 months and start my move to Hawaii.
I'm not the biggest guy in the world but I can be persuasive when I want to be and I wanted to start working on a more professional manner when doing security and this would give the chance to practice this.
Well I decided that he didn't need to pay me for that evening since we started so late and the crowd was a very friendly one. I told him not to waste his money-and he bought me and Jean-François Lixon and his friends a few rounds of drinks. Then I saw a few old friends and there were more drinks. It seemed as though there was more talking than drinking going on. I stood on my feet the whole time. An old bartender's trick that helped you monitor the affect of alcohol.
About 3 A.M. I left after talking with Dave. Then I walked over to my scooter put on my helmet and drove away. I remember thinking that I'd like to drive my dogs up to the hills and have a picnic the next day. Maybe take a nice woman I know in Taipei along for the picnic. I was smiling under the helmet thinking about Sunday afternoon.
Then I heard about 10 seconds later two scooters come up close behind me. The faint brush of circular blue lights whisping in front of me and the cry in heavily accented English, "Hey You Sto-Pu!"
I didn't stop and kept going although I wasn't sure where I was going. I just panicked.
I can't remember the chase too much i just remember that I wanted to go home. I haven't seen any of the video and i don't care to watch myself acting stupid. When I made the U-turn at the top of the hill I just felt like it was enough. What was I doing?
After the officer shot me I felt like my calf had been hit by a baseball bat. My leg was numb but there was a dull, deep pain that ran through my leg and wouldn't stop. I wasn't really scared just surprised that he shot me. I can remember the shell casing exiting the pistol right after he shot me.
I pulled up my pant leg and I could see the exit hole. There was a smell of cordite that smelled like when a cap gun goes off. I pulled off my helmet, propped my leg up on it, pulled off my shirt and did direct compression on the hole.
The officer walked up and down beside me nervously talking on his radio. I managed to say in Chinese-"I'm bleeding, can you press here, I'm going to be unconscious soon." I could feel myself getting faint. My blood was coming out like thick syrup and pretty soon there was a pool around me. The officer ignored me and waited for the ambulance.
About 20 minutes later the ambulance arrived, they strapped me to a gurney and slammed me inside. The guy inside leaned over me and held me down-like I was going to sit up and run away.
Another 15 minute ride down the hillside to Wan Fang Hospital and I was in the emergency ward. They cut off my clothes and put a very tight rubber-like band above the shot The pain seemed to increase. They handcuffed me to the gurney and I asked if if was necessary and they replied that it was.
I went into shock about that time-my body got really cold from the inside, I felt like I was in freezing water and my body started to curl up and my teeth were chattering. Thankfully they wrapped me in electric heat blankets. They hooked me to an IV then I leaned over the side of gurney and wretched my guts out. They sent in a funny looking old guy with a mop-who said "Ah smells like whiskey."
"No", I was thinking just Taiwan beer.
They continued to work on me cleaning the wound and putting a tight dressing on it. I seemed to be just focused on breathing, and grunting with pain. I never thought the pain would stop. They put really tight straps over the blankets on the bed and wheeled me off for an MRI scan and x-rays.
About 15 minutes later the surgeon was leaning over me I tried my best to pay attention. "We're going to do minor surgery on the wound, there isn't any damage to the bone, you're lucky."
I was wheeled into the surgery room and I was watching the doctor turn the lever on the morphine while listening to my own moans. It was like I was listening to someone else moaning and then every time he turned the lever I could hear my groans get fainter and slower. Finally they stopped. And I fell asleep.
--------------------------------
I'm out- for now. Had a burger with Niall Clinton, Vanessa van Dyck Anthony van Dyck and Dave Oh Yeah, washed the stink of the holding cells off me and had a quiet chocolate milk with Jean-François Lixon at my house.
I'm in good spirits. My leg hurts but I'm walking with a single cane. I have a badly bruised arm, a flesh wound from a bullet on my hip and variuos aches and pains.
Since the doctor told me on Tuesday morning to exercise my legs I started working out 3 times a day, walking, push ups with one leg, and arm strengthening. I worked out until I broke a sweat, or just couldn't take it anymore. The policemen guarding me often suggested that I stop. But I never did. I want my leg back in use very badly. He (the Doc) said there won't be any permanent damage and my bones weren't hit. It was a clean shot through my left calf with a glancing wound on my hip. No infections and healing fast.
I went from barely able to go to the head on a walker to walking with a cane in just a few days. The exercise really sped up the healing, in my heart and my body. I'm hoping to try to bicycle and teach on Monday. (We'll see)
My house is empty without my little girls Chica and Chula and they will be an important part of my healing both with walking and the healing in my heart. Hopefully they will be home tomorrow. Thank you so much Seán McCormack for taking them in-it was a great solace to me to know they were being taken care. I know you are so busy with running the shelter and all the dogs you have-I was touched by your actions and how fast you responded.
I'll start at the end and work my way back-
Sunday
It was a long day today-I slept only 3 hours last night trying to prepare mentally for the hearing-the possibility of spending the next few weeks in a detention center while waiting for my trial was sitting on my chest.
I also found out that I had been fired from my job and was feeling really low about this.
Most people develop great stress under conditions of traumatic physical injury, public ridicule and condemnation, imprisonment, sudden change, moving house, losing a job, and I was getting them all in a 5 day period. Not to mention the shame I felt that I had let down my friends and students.
The doctor wouldn't give me a sleeping pill she instructed me to "read your books"! Little did she know how wonderful those books were and how difficult it was to sleep while reading them! Thanks Sandy Murray, and Dave for the books. I had the chance to escape the pain, the bad air, the noise, the groans of people in pain, the sick infant crying next to me for a few hours.
I was up at 7:30- still handcuffed to the bed on my right hand. I ate one Mantou bread so the nurses would give me a painkiller and looked over at Officer Lai my armed guard for the night.
Officer Lai is an older man from Ji Long working as a policeman in Taipei. A truly kind human being. When I came to after surgery he was cradling my head and giving me water. We talked of fishing, New Zeland, Scenic spots in Taiwan and wilderness areas in America, traveling by motorcycle, Hawaii. He stood three, 12 hour shifts over the week and was often concerned with my mental well being as well as the physical. "Your mood isn't so good-but you'll be okay, just sleep." I caught him covering my feet with a blanket, or making sure my water bottle was filled, set up my food tray and even helped me limp to the head. I slept well when he was there. He didn't have to do these things it wasn't required-most of the other officers didn't do these things. He was just being a decent human being.
I took a shower (my dad would say the 3 "S"s -Shit, Shower,Shave) packed my bags and put on some clothes that Jean-Francois and Ryan choose for me from my house earlier in the week in great haste.
My carpenter Pants were hanging down around my waist. (I lost 7 kilos this week on my new Gun Shot Wound Diet.) I had a dark Dickies work shirt, a pair of crappy rubber clogs, a cammo scarf, dark thick sunglasses and a hat that had "GhettoBuilt" printed on it. The scarf, glasses and hat were in case the media needed a new story this week and I needed to duck their cameras.
Fer Christ sakes !!!!!!I looked like I was going to rob a bank or blow the court house up! I looked like an IRA man on vacation in the Sudan. I looked like 50 Cent's older, chubby, white brother. I walked out of the bathroom limping with my cane like a pimp at The Player's Ball. Thanks guys.
A Quick mention-they also included a T-shirt of mine with "Irish Pride" written boldly on the front.
It was "hurry up and wait" the new police escort included the officer who shot me and they were anxious to leave at 9:30 AM. Until Nurse Fan came around with an IV bottle and announced "He's got to have an IV bottle!" "How long?" they asked. "Oh about TWO hours-she winked at me and said-"You're not in a hurry are you? I guess you'll have to take a long nap before you leave." Thank you Nurse Fan.....!
I limped down with my wooden cane un-handcuffed with my slightly built lawyer Dennis carrying my military bag that would have crippled a Navy SEAL. We sat in the police car outside a station for twenty minutes, then onto another station where I was fingerprinted and photographed. The detectives were serious but worked at a slow, steady, careful pace as I squirmed with my aches on a hard wooden seat staring at nothing for 4 hours handcuffed.
I found out that I'm allergic to handcuffs.
After that we went to the prosecutor's office I was led through a maze of stairs and hallways that felt like a triathalon. We came to a counter where I was required to show two forms of I.D. "Ah." I thought. "I'll have a nice cozy seat outside the prosecutor's office-read a book and relax in the AC."
No chance.
I turned a corner and two serious-looking burly jailers asked me to empty out my pockets but keep my money and cane. I saw the cages behind them and knew that this wasn't going to be fun. They put everything in an envelop and showed me toward the cage. They took off my handcuffs
I had to stoop down to enter the holding cell door built for Hobbits.. It was 10 feet long, six feet wide and 15 feet high.
Across from me was a women crouched on the ground, her skirt around her and her hair covering her like a zombie with her head on a bench. She asked the jailer the time every 5 minutes. I figured I'd just be quiet.
I read the graffiti on the blue painted walls,
"I love Mom", "I miss so and so" but the best one was
"I have achieved the 3 Principles of The People!" (See Sun-Yat Sen)
I could only lay on half of the concrete seat since it was so narrow. So used my cane to hold me up like Monkey King. A started some mental exercises to pass the unseen time. What should I sell? Throw away? I went through every room in my house categorizing things.
This was jail. The absence of time, thought and stimulus.
I paced back and forth to keep my leg limber. No clock. No watch, no Time.
How would I cope in the detention center? Would I see ex-president Chen there?
The holding area would be a good bomb shelter and a terrible place for a zombie apocalypse.
I found it ironic that one of the best short stories I wrote when I was young "5150" was set in a jail cell like this.
A rough looking cellmate was introduced to my hole-the look on his face was pure terror when he saw me.
Shit -if I scared this hard ass I was going to go over great with the prosecutor. I practiced my best angelic looks while pacing the cell with my cane. Even as a kid I was sort of a squinty eyed punk-this was going to be hard.
I was called up-went to the office with a steady limp. My lawyer sat quietly behind me in the shadows, the prosecutor sat behind a computer screen with an eiry light shining up his face. Where was the translator?
No translator-
Well I need one.
It might be another four hours before we can get one.
Sorry-I'm a stack of papers to you-this is my life-I'll go back to the hole and wait.
That took all the guts I had left. I was dehydrated, starving from my last mantou bread roll in the A.M., I'd been handcuffed for 5 hours and exhausted and I had a bullet hole in my leg.
When I got back to cell, a party had erupted. Sweet bread and apple juice was being passed out generously. My jailers were grinning and joking and gave me a double ration. Even the hard-looking cellmate was smiling.
Two hours later, I got a really incredibly bad translator-but I could translate his bad English and even answered a few sentences on my own. The questions were similar to the police when they made their report days before. Except they had a bit of a twist. Avenues that were leading me into a lie if I wanted.
"Your blood alcohol was very high-what's opinion on this?" Shows me the reading from my blood test than a very high translation of it had it been a breathalizer. I didn't know how they got the numbers. I had about seven plastic cups of Taiwan draft beer between 11:30PM-3:00 AM.
A lot-too much. I was drunk. I should have never got on that scooter, I had taxi fare, I wasn't in a hurry. I shouldn't have got on that damn scooter.
"I don't know. I didn't know the reading of my blood alcohol at the time."
"What were the streets you assaulted the officer on?"
"I don't know because I didn't assault the officer"
He didn't pause. "Ok--next question"
"Why didn't you stop when they first hailed you to stop?"
"I was scared."
"You were scared for being drunk or you didn't know what you were doing and acted out of fear?"
"I was afraid of getting stopped for a DUI because I thought I was drunk. I reacted out of fear"
"what did you say to the officers when they asked you to stop?"
"I said that I was going home."
"How do you think the officer received his injuries?" He shows me a medical chart of a human body with penciled-in injuries.
"He might have got them when he rammed his scooter into mine at high speed when I made a U-turn at the top of the hill. I have a few injuries from the crash too and I wasn't going fast."
"Why did he crash into you?"
"Because he ordered me to stop and I didn't listen to him and he wanted me to stop."
"Why did you make a u-turn?"
"Because I felt the chase was over."
"What's your occupation?"
"I don't have a job, I was fired yesterday."
The questions stopped short of the shooting and the baton beating.
"The police will be required to show video evidence of this part."
What the fuck did that mean?
I signed a bunch of papers was shown to the holding cell only this time I was led to a table, given a Chinese magazine I couldn't read, all my stuff and told that I could call a friend to make bail. I prayed that Niall Clinton was nearby with the bail money. I sat, waited. Thought about how long it would take to pay it all back. I guessed that I wasn't going into detention. I waited and waited-this time I had my watch so it wasn't so bad.
They motioned me to the front door and there was Dennis my lawyer still holding
my 400 pound back pack.
"Did you get a report?" he was smiling and talking fast. "No bail. Zero."
"What?" I never ever figured on this.
" and the police must show video evidence of the shooting and your alleged obstruction of an officer's duties." (I wasn't charged with assault but this was just as bad.)
"So,,,?" I'm thinking. "God I'm an thick Irish Clod."
"They don't HAVE video evidence. The prosecution is making the police prove you fought with the officer. They can't do it."
I didn't hit that cop. He tried to grab me from behind we struggled. I walked away from him mumbling in English that I was going home. His radio fell. I might have elbowed him causing that. My hands were outstretched and I moved away towards my bike. I wasn't shouting or angry. I wanted to go home. He flicked out his telescopic club and hit me 4-5 times before bending it on my forearm causing deep bruising. When he looked at the bent baton the life drained out of his face-he was scared.
He drew his 9mm pistol, shouted again for me to stop. I didn't. He shot me.
I put this poor guy in this position. He wouldn't have had to shoot me if I acted properly. If I hadn't acted irresponsibly. I want you all to know that I'm to blame for this shooting. It's my fault.
I want to write about the experience in parts-later. Hopefully they will fill you in and maybe entertain you.
I've thought a lot this week about what I wanted to write about to you my friends. I don't how you will receive this but it's important to share with you.
It will take a few days for it to come out but I owe it to you to express how I feel.
I've always had the ability to write better than to speak (plus no one sees you cry if you are writing)
I thought you were a big tough guy?
(I was on the phone with wolf reinhold, trying to find out which lane/alley cafe Odeon was on.) I apologized for my carelessness (in Mandarin, of course) and the cops were very nice to me, and only gave me a ticket for talking on my cell phone while driving ($1000NT). I have my Taiwanese "Big Brother" on speed dial. 
