I have mentioned Elder and Hermana Whitaker before. They have served previous missions in Ecuador as director of employment services and in the Las Vegas Nevada mission presidency. This time, they have returned to Ecuador to serve with the Perpetual Education Fund. Elder Whitaker is a former LA policeman. He served in the tough days when South Central was a tinderbox, and the Black Panthers and SLA were in full swing. He has written a book, available on Amazon, titled, "Conflict in Blue: Behind the Badge." He has warned me it's not the kind of book you should read while on a mission. The rest of you will probably love it.
Hermana Whitaker is a delightful woman. She has been an LA cop's wife her entire adult life. Together they have seven children. She has received repeated blessings throughout her life that she is not to worry about her husband--a remarkable blessing considering Elder W's exploits. But her exceeding faith has led her to trust in those blessings, and she doesn't worry about him. As you may imagine, Elder Whitaker is a pretty tough guy. She is quite petite, and yet, of course, she's probably the only person who can stand up to him and make it stick. For more, you can check out their blog at whitakersmission.blogspot.com.
I owe Elder Whitaker a lot. Last weekend, my back was completely wrecked from typing for 8 hours a day while seated in a ridiculous chair. Elder Whitaker and Elder Ward administered to me (gave me a blessing for restoration of health) on Sunday, and Monday I knew I had to find a new chair. I went to Elder Whitaker's office to see if I could get some help. I am handicapped by my poor Spanish and I don't know the political ropes. But Elder W does. He took me down to the building manager's office and explained (in Spanish) the situation to the head guy. At the end, I understood him to say something like, "She needs a new chair. Can she have a new chair, today?" Nobody gets anything today in Ecuador. But by 2:00 that afternoon, I had not only a new chair, it's more like a throne with all kinds of adjustment features. Happily, I report that my back is back! Here are before and after pictures. You'll also notice I've cut my hair.
Anyway, I digress.
Elder W was involved in an "incident" this past week. Because I think it's entertaining, I'm including both Hermana W's account, and Elder W's account. Guys just may want to skip to his account. He says she left out all the good stuff.
Sister Whitaker's version
Today as we walked down "Amazonas", one of the busiest streets in Quito, we neared the corner of another of the busiest streets called "Patria." There is a very large park on the other side of where we were walking. I looked to our left, and two or three men were running right across our path. I said "Elder, he has a gun." You guessed it, Elder W. took off in a flash. I yelled Elder, get back here. To no avail!
Away in a flash across four lanes of traffic into the park they all ran. As I stood with other on lookers, we heard a gun shot. I later found out that the suspect with the gun turned and fired at Elder W. and the other policeman. I stood for a few seconds thinking, well I know that wasn't my husband shooting, HE HAS NO gun.
As it turned out, the man I saw with a gun was a policeman in plain clothes. He was chasing a "bad guy," actually it turns out to be three bad guys. When they got into the park, Elder W. yelled "Policia, Pare" (police, stop) and the two men did. The crowd then descended on them. In from the left came two more police officers in uniform. Elder W. was still running after the last guy. Of course, Elder W. was chasing the suspect who had a loaded 9mm gun. I really can't explain the procedure the police use when they capture a suspect, which thankfully they did. It is very brutal.
I posted this picture because, although he was not wearing the hat during this incident, he was wearing his long back coat, which was flowing behind him like a cape. His dark sunglasses looked like a mask, Ecuador's answer to "Batman."
As most of you know, I have complete trust in the safety of my husband, he calls upon Angels all the time. I had no fear that he would be hurt. I was actually on my way to a bank when this all evolved, so I went on my way. We met up on the corner with the adrenaline running full bore. Quite an afternoon! Two missions in Quito, two gun battles. What is in store next?
Elder Whitaker's version:
Tuesday, April 15, began much the same as every work day….hectic with heavy cloud cove and rain threatening. It rained hard over the weekend and in between the rolling thunder that rocked our apartment, I counted at least fifteen lighting strikes on the surrounding mountains. It was quite as show, but far less impressive than the one I would experience Tuesday afternoon....
We worked hard that morning and as lunch approached, Cheryle and I decided that we would walk down Amazonas Blvd. where she could go to the Banco International and turn in a bill for a man who had formerly lived in our apartment. Because of the weather, I put on my black three-quarter length leather jacket, pulled on my black leather gloves, slipped on my traditional Aviator sunglasses and out the door we went. Since I don’t have a missionary tag that clips on, I never wear a tag on the outside of my leather jacket, however, I do have one attached to my suit coat. When we reached the corner of Amazonas and Patria, we both stopped to view the changes in the front of the Hilton Colon, the many changes in the street, Patria, and as I stood on the corner, I shot a quick glance across Patria to the park, Ejido.
Suddenly above the noise of the traffic and the street in general I heard Cheryle shout, “He has a gun!”
I snapped my head to the left and saw two males running past me with a third man in foot pursuit. The third man I identified as a plain clothes cop. In his right hand was a 9 mm handgun. Without hesitation, I broke into a sprint. In three strides I was dodging traffic coming from my left on Patria. I bounded across the middle divider and then in my best matador representation, I dodged an oncoming bus and two additional cars. I felt as though I was on Dancing with the Stars!
The cop and two suspects were now directly to my right. In full stride, I shouted, “Policia! Pare!” (Stop, police) To my amazement, the two bandits threw their hands in the air and stopped! However, the cop kept running, so, without slowing down, I sprinted past the two who now had their hands high in the air and I fell back into the foot pursuit directly behind the plain clothes cop. We were now sprinting through the park, dodging people and winding around trees. I glanced to my left and saw a third suspect running down a concrete path with two uniform police in hot pursuit. One carried a hand gun while the second had an automatic rifle. As we closed in on the fleeing bandit, he shot a look in our direction, extended his right arm and fired! Pop! The bullet sailed past and the distance closed. Suddenly, as we closed in….he stopped. The plain clothes cop was now only about ten feet ahead of me. In the blink of an eye, the two uniform cops grabbed the suspect and threw him to the ground. One then reached down and recovered the suspect's weapon, also a 9 mm handgun. Stepping to the side, the cop dropped the clip and then snapped back the slide. A live round flew from the chamber.
Once on the ground and spread eagle, the search began. I turned, and with the plain clothes cop, walked back to where two additional uniform police and an angry crowd had surrounded my first two suspects and forced them to the ground. A word was never spoken between myself and the police, and all they knew was that in the middle of the foot pursuit and gunfight was a silver haired gringo with dark sunglasses, a black leather jacket and black gloves who, although they never saw me with a weapon, knew that I was there to protect them should it be necessary.
Walking through the crowd, I stepped closer and watched as the third suspect was roughly thrown into the middle of the group, forced stomach down onto the concrete and commanded to spread his arms and legs. He was now not only surrounded by the crowd, but also by five police. When one of the first two suspects on the ground turned his head, I noted that his eyes had begun to shut from blows he had received. In the mid to late 1960´s while I worked as a street cop in South Central Los Angeles, we called this “an attitude adjustment.”
Now I wanted to see how they searched. I didn't have long to wait. One uniformed cop approached the first suspect from the rear, stepped between his legs that were wide spread, and gave him a brutal kick into the groin area. When the suspect began to writhe in pain, the cop slammed his knee into the middle of the man’s back forcing the suspect into the concrete and preventing him from curling into a ball. As the suspect moaned and writhed in severe pain, he was suddenly yanked into a sitting position and his jacket torn from his body. After this was accomplished, he was again roughly thrown stomach first onto the concrete. While this was happening, the other two suspects, which included the one who had taken a shot at us, remained obediently quiet and never moved from their spread eagle position. When the suspect being search failed to immediately comply with each direction given by the searching officer, he was viciously punched. This provided immediate compliance.
As I stood in the center of the scene, no one asked who I was for I stood silent and stoic, with a presence that has and continues to command respect from those I encounter on the street. When all was under control, I slipped from the group and proceeded to walk back across Patria and look for Cheryle. A few minutes passed and she exited the bank, having accomplished her business.
“You should have seen yourself,” she said laughing. “When you took off running, your leather coat was flapping behind you just like a cape. With the sunglasses and coat flapping, you looked like the Ecuadorian answer to Zorro!”
“Did you hear the shot?” I asked.
“Yes, but I knew you weren't doing the shooting since you didn't have a gun, and since I have never worried about you, I went into the bank!”
So that’s it.
Twice I have served in Quito , Ecuador , and twice I have been shot at. How grateful I am that God loves his soldiers and angels attend!
I observed to Elder Whitaker that most of us manage to complete our missions without being shot at even once.
No comments:
Post a Comment