I HAVE PUNCHED A MAN IN THE FACE.

I think there was a time in our society when a larger percentage of the population could have made the claim that they too had punched a man in the face. Perhaps in some neighborhoods the percentage is sadly higher today than ever before, but I think that, taken as a whole, it is a rare claim in today's America to have done so.

I have punched a man in the face.

I'm not exactly proud of it, but, at the same time, I am not ashamed of it either. It wasn't in anger. It was justified and I would definitely do it again if I had to.


Of course, it happened while I was a police officer. I have never struck a person as a private citizen. (**I have to apologize for all of the police stories. I have been out of that job for longer than I was ever in it, but still it was a vivid and interesting time in my life.**)


I had parked my cruiser behind the police department and was getting my paperwork and equipment together to go in and do a little office work before heading home for the day. Noticing movement out of the corner of my eye, I glanced up and saw another officer escorting a man with hands cuffed behind his back towards the rear door of the police department .


Now I'm not criticizing this other officer. What happened to him could have and, frankly, should have happened to me several times over. It was common practice on the part of some officers, myself included, to allow our prisoners a smoke before taking them inside. This demonstrated that we were reasonable and human, and in most cases, this small kindness, made the prisoner less disagreeable and more cooperative over the next few hours of paperwork, processing and such. The only problem was that he was handcuffed with his hands behind his back, which made smoking difficult. So I watched with half an eye as my fellow officer took off one of the man's handcuffs so that he could move his hands around and handcuff him again with his hands in front. It all looked pretty routine to me (although, in retrospect, he was practicing some pretty sloppy technique in controlling his prisoner) but before he could reapply the handcuffs the man suddenly jerked his arm away and took off running.

Right toward me!!!

He looked surprised when I jumped out of my cruiser directly in front of him. He didn't know I had been there watching. I think that even if he had wanted to stop or change direction inertia and the icy conditions of the parking lot would not have let him. He was barreling along, and I was in the way of freedom.

Charge!!!

He did a crazy thing then, I think he was just hopped up on adrenaline (and whatever else) and kind of lost his head, but he started swinging the loose end of his handcuffs like a weapon as he closed in on me. That's felonious my friends! Truly, I would have been justified in shooting him for it. I didn't think about that at the time though. I just instinctivey hauled off and hit him right square in the face. It wasn't like in the movies though. I'm sure that it didn't look cool, and it felt pretty ineffuectual, like it landed with all of the force of a marshmallow. I certainly didn't lay him out or anything like that. My hand glanced off his cheek and along his left ear as our chests, his surging and mine stationary, collided. We were both thrown off balance. He fell to one knee and I landed against the side of my cruiser. As he tried to scramble back up onto his feet I grabbed his jacket and the other officer caught up with him. We all went down into the slushy parking lot together and a few seconds later he was back in custody and I was left with soggy knees, shaky hands, and a heart that was threatening to beat right out of my chest. You feel all weak and wobbly after a fight like that- like you forget how to walk.

Beware the man who possesses complete composure after a fight- that only comes with too much practice.


So there you have it. I have hit a man in the face. Have you? I'd like to hear your story.