<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><em>Austin Callum Crawford</em></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Escorting the crazies<br/>Tagging Crazy Man</span></span></div><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://[url=http://i786.photobucket.com/albums/yy145/alxnjsh/characters/478a460debcbc.jpg?t=1324234288]http://i786.photobucket.com/albums/yy145/alxnjsh/characters/478a460debcbc.jpg?t=1324234288[/url])</div>After handing off the interesting piece of paper to the detective, Austin was reminded of the paperwork. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but without a junior partner he had very little choice. He’d often imagined a rookie assigned to him who could use some practice with writing and filing reports. Thankfully, this report would be a simple one. Crowd control. Found piece of paper.<br/><br/>“Uh, yeah, not sure what kind of sicko could do this kind of thing…” Austin’s voice quieted.<br/><br/>Then his attention shifted.<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Before Officer Crawford could speak, the sounds of banging and yelling could be found coming from the street.  The homeless man who had been handcuffed and sitting in the squad car had suddenly turned violent, and he was banging his head against any surface he could get in contact with.  The words, "He came from thin air! being repeated over and over again.<br/></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>Raving lunatics were uncommon in San Francisco. Homeless that were nuts…er…severely and persistently mentally ill…at least that’s what the diversity trainer said they needed to be called…were relatively common. This guy was neither.<br/><br/>“Oh shit.” Austin said, moving quickly to help subdue the passenger. Without intervention the guy would likely hurt himself. In a few strides Austin was at the squad car’s side. “He’s gonna knock himself out if we don’t subdue him.” He opened the door and leapt into the back. “Sir, calm down.” Austin’s authoritarian voice boomed in the back of the car as one hand wrapped around the witness’ neck and the other the back of his head. The stranger’s face was pushed against the seat cushion, tilted sideways so he could still breath easily. In mere seconds the cop had the guy pinned to the back of the seat.<br/><br/>“Now if you calm down, we can talk. I’ll take your statement. Get you something to eat, maybe?” Austin’s voice was still authoritative, but not so loud. If the guy was crazy it would be difficult to get through to him. If he was drunk or high, time would help calm him.<br/>