It was the middle of the night. The bars had just closed. I arrived at the scene of a single-car accident. A car had a hit a telephone pole with such impact that the telephone pole was completely obliterated and was lying horizontal on the ground. The car was resting on its roof. The lights from my patrol car intermittently shined on the vehicle, and I could hear emergency vehicle sirens on their way.
The female driver was thrown from the vehicle. It was apparent that she had been drinking. I could smell intoxicants on her breath as she lay motionless—actually sleeping—on the ground nearby. I attempted to talk with her, but she was so drunk she didn’t even know she had been in an accident.
As the ambulance neared, I looked at the mangled vehicle, thinking how lucky the woman was to be alive. I don’t know what it was, but something drew my eyes to the vehicle’s interior, just as the patrol car lights lit up the scene like a strobe. I saw a little boy—standing erect, his feet firmly planted on the interior of the upside-down roof! Amazed, I blinked my eyes to focus. He was only about three feet tall, probably about four years old. Each time the light shined on the car, I saw him.
I ran to the car and searched for a large enough opening so I could reach him with my arms. He didn’t seem to know I was there. He was in shock. He just stood straight up, like a soldier at attention. He was sniffling and quietly moaning, as if he had been taught not to cry. His left arm looked broken and limp as he held it.
I reached through a crumpled window and carefully lifted the boy. Wonderingly, I took him out of the vehicle and cradled him in my arms, as though he were my own son. I gave him a teddy bear that I carry in the patrol car and said, “There now, everything will be all right.” He clutched the stuffed animal with his right arm, as though he would never let it go.
After inspecting the scene, I couldn’t figure out where the boy had come from. How did he survive the accident? The car was hardly recognizable. How could I have missed him inside that mangled mess? There was no blood on him. Was he thrown from the vehicle and then walked back in? Or did he end up in a seat and then extricate himself?
There is nothing terribly more significant about this incident, except that I will never forget the vision of him standing inside that car, alone, hurt, and confused.