We had something somewhat upsetting happen yesterday. Paul was on a walk and discovered an older man lying by the side of the road. A car pulled over, and Paul and the driver helped the man up. The man seemed disoriented at first (was resistant to the idea that there was any need to get up; tried to refuse help), but, once up, seemed much more alert, claimed he had just fallen and was fine now, and said his truck was parked right over there with his two little dogs inside, and he would just drive home; he said he lived right up the street. Paul and the driver were like nooooooooope we are doing any plan except that one, and helped him into a nearby business (it was below freezing out). Paul texted me, and I came over with the car, in case I and/or the car could be of any help. Paul wanted us to drive the guy home, but (1) then the guy wouldn’t have his truck, and might not remember where the truck was and/or might have trouble retrieving it; (2) there were two small dogs in the truck; (3) Paul and I are not in any way qualified to assess the difference between “drunk” and “drunk plus another medical crisis” and “something that looks like drunk but is in fact a medical crisis.”
Someone at the business had called 911, and instead of an ambulance arriving, police arrived. [Edited to add: Because it is coming up repeatedly in the comments section: The officers did not seem to be familiar with the man.] They did not check the man to see if he’d hit his head when he’d fallen, or do any other medical checking or questioning; one officer instead immediately started trying to get the guy to say he’d been driving under the influence. (There are several restaurants/bars serving alcohol within a block of where we were. It is legal to drive into town and then drink in those establishments; it is legal to then walk outside. It is legal to have a drink and then have an unexpected medication reaction or unexpected medical event which causes you to fall to the ground.) Perhaps I should not have gotten involved, but I was already involved, and the ingenuous tone of the questioning (“Wait…sir, I don’t understand: how did you and your truck get here?”) gave me an immediate surge of adrenaline. I interrupted the attempt to get the man to incriminate himself, and asked if there was any merit to the idea of us driving the man, his truck, and his dogs home. After all, if the police were confident this was in no way a medical event, it seemed much simpler for us to just deliver everyone back safely to where they were supposed to be. This led to a long exchange I knew I would not win, but I was hoping that I was mistaken at how things were going down, and that at any minute an ambulance would arrive and that it would turn out the police were merely first on the scene. An ambulance did not arrive. The police took the man away, saying he would be in protective custody for four hours, and telling us the small dogs “would be fine” in the truck, in below-freezing temperatures, in the coming darkness, for those four hours. They took my information, as if they had any possible reason for doing so; I gave them my information, even though I know better, because I am apparently incapable of disobeying authority figures. (Though I appear to be developing a new ability to question them, so there is hope for further progress in the future!)
Paul walked over there an hour and a half later, to check on the dogs, and the truck/dogs were gone, so our hope is that the man was able to call someone to come get them. The whole thing leaves me, today, going over it again and again in my mind, wishing I’d said/done something different at absolutely every stage.