Work Text:
Anger: A Retrospective on an Angry Man
Buck knew that Bobby and the others were also being questioned about what they witnessed at the station earlier that day. And knew he was the first to demand his union representative be with him when he was escorted into interrogation by the officer as he still had a bad reaction to the last time he was in a room like that.
And he felt they were sweating him out by making him wait and questioning the others about what happened. But he did. Not. Care.
Like before, he had YET to be read his rights. And was therefore NOT under arrest. And either they did something about that soon, or he was walking out and seeing what they did about that. As he was the VICTIM of the assault, and not the other way around.
The room was small and confined and not at all like in the shows as the table was bolted to the wall so the person being questioned sat facing the mirror/window, and the questioner sat with their backs to it. And just enough room for someone to stand on the other side of the protruding table.
Buck was giving the mirror/window the thousand yard stare. Not truly focused on anything as he was thinking. He was aware the camera above the mirror was on as the light was red and ignored it entirely.
He sat there, upright, his hands folded together loosely, and he was relaxed. But he made sure not to show attention to his growing and blackening facial bruise that he hadn’t been allowed to have treated yet as they wanted pictures they hadn’t done yet.
Usually, he was bouncing part of his body anxiously, and it should have warned them that right now he was still as stone. Just sitting there with his thousand-yard stare, staring at the mirror/window.
Never moving. Even to blink. Just breathing. Deep. In –Two, Three, Four. Out -Two, Three, Four.
He waited patiently. Knowing the hours were going by.
By his reckoning, it was midnight, he had been sitting there for over eight hours with no one coming. In-Two, Three, Four. Out-Two, Three, Four. On the newest intake of breath, he spoke just loud enough to be heard by the camera. One word; “Lawsuit.” Out Four, In-Two, Three, Four. And suddenly the door opened to admit a detective with a recorder and a thick file with his name on it. Sitting in front of Buck. But no representative to be seen.
“Am I under arrest for being a victim of a violent attack?”
“Now…” The detective’s words died on his lips as Chief Warrant Officer and ex POW, Buckley, turned his FULL attention on him.
Softly POW Buckley asked again, “Am I under arrest?”
The detective stuttered out that they just had a few questions to ask him…. The last died out as the dangerous stare turned up a notch towards his captor.
“Where is my mandated representative from the union?” In – Two, Three, Four. Out – Two, Three, Four.
…….
“I see.” He got up, straightened his uniform and took a step around the table bolted to the wall. The detective got up to stop him. “Now see here where do you think you are going?” The detective put his hand on the Chief’s chest and quickly dropped it when it just got stared at as though it was offensive. “You can’t leave till you answer my questions. Buckley.”
Quietly, and staring straight into the idiot’s eyes enough to look straight to his soul, Chief Buckley asked again if he “was under arrest? If not, he had grounds for a huge lawsuit against the man in front of him and the department for kidnapping and stopping any and all medical aid to a victim of a violent attack.”
“If he WAS under arrest, he had already stated he WOULD NOT be questioned without his REPRESENTATIVE.” And to do so, invited, yet again, a lawsuit for doing so.
“What was it to be Detective?”
The detective told him they really needed to question him, and he would see to it his representative was on the way now. Meaning no one was called for him as he had asked. And their idea of questioning him was that he was unofficially under arrest without reading him his rights.
This was proven, when forty-five minutes later the head of their area union, Captain Mehta, showed up with a chair and the first words out of his mouth to POW Buckley was that he had already read those responsible the riot act for what had happened. Then asked if he had been given anything for the pain, he obviously had to be in. POW Buckley shook his no, and stated that until he was free to leave on his own, he wanted none. When asked if he had been given anything to eat or drink? Again, no. And the statement he wouldn’t trust it or them with it anyway.
Bathroom?
No. But he was dehydrated anyway and would like to get the whole matter taken care of so he could get the medical care he had been pulled away from in the beginning. And in the end, he wanted a full copy of the room’s recording.
Getting a nod from Mehta who signaled to a different detective that they were ready.
The file brought with him was only a few pages in width as opposed to the previous one. And there was no file with his name on it. The detective introduced himself as Detective Kelley, whereas the previous detective never said who he was. And put down a pad and pen where he was sitting, and his own recorder for the session. Giving out the case number, his name, the new date as midnight had gone by, and the time as three in the morning. Showing it had been just over twenty hours since the POW had been placed in the room.
He asked the prisoner to state his name for the records, “Chief Warrant Officer Evan Christopher Buckley, Reservist out of Coronado.”
“Fuck.”
%%%%%
An hour later a JAG representative was finishing up bawling the entire detective unit out as only a man who had served as a Naval Commander aboard a carrier could and told them that if they truly wanted to question his client they would have to through JAG to do so. And it would have to be AFTER MEDICAL ATTENTION WAS GIVEN TO THE VICTIM. No matter what the hierarchy in the Fire Department said.
And that Paramedic Han was now under arrest and under psych review by order of JAG. Same with his wife, and their daughter was now to be turned over to her uncle. THE VICTIM OF THE ATTACK. Until such time as the mother was deemed to be able to care for the infant.
%%%%%
In starting up his own report of the incident after he finally got medical treatment for Han laying into him because he was not given the charger without doing the paperwork during the blackout.
Buck started with quotes from the philosopher Seneca; Some of the wisest of men have in consequence of this called anger a short madness: for it is equally devoid of self control, regardless of decorum, forgetful of kinship, obstinately engrossed in whatever it begins to do, deaf to reason and advice, excited by trifling causes, awkward at perceiving what is true and just, and very like a falling rock which breaks itself to pieces upon the very thing which it crushes.
Of this passion, which is above all others hideous and wild: for the others have some alloy of peace and quiet, but this consists wholly in action and the impulse of grief, raging with an utterly inhuman lust for arms, blood and tortures, careless of itself provided it hurts another, rushing upon the very point of the sword, and greedy for revenge even when it drags the avenger to ruin with itself.
That you may know that they whom anger possesses are not sane, look at their appearance; for as there are distinct symptoms which mark madmen, such as a bold and menacing air, a gloomy brow, a stern face, a hurried walk, restless hands, changed color, quick and strongly-drawn breathing; the signs of angry men, too, are the same: their eyes blaze and sparkle, their whole face is a deep red with the blood which boils up from the bottom of their heart, their lips quiver, their teeth are set, their hair bristles and stands on end, their breath is labored and hissing, their joints crack as they twist them about, they groan, bellow, and burst into scarcely intelligible talk, they often clap their hands together and stamp on the ground with their feet, and their whole body is highly-strung and plays those tricks which mark a distraught mind, so as to furnish an ugly and shocking picture of self-perversion and excitement.
So too was the continence of Paramedic Howard Steven Han when things did not go his way. Re: his rebar incident where he angrily left his duty station and drove recklessly and in such a way as not to be able to avoid getting into the accident that caused him to get the piece of rebar embedded in his head.
Or, re: his stint as Captain where he went by his own rules and angrily threw tantrums when someone did not obey them. Leading to the engines not being checked on shift as they were scheduled for every shift. And the bomb not being found that took out the engine and its crew. And permanently crippled two of those on it. Laid up another for months and led to the lawsuit from another.
Again, from Seneca: May it not be that, although anger be not natural, it may be right to adopt it, because it often proves useful? It rouses the spirit and excites it; and courage does nothing grand in war without it, unless its flame be supplied from this source; this is the goad which stirs up bold men and sends them to encounter perils.
It had been a useful tool in the toolbox for Paramedic Han that took over as those things do. Anger made him feel strong and righteous in his feelings and deeds. So, it came out more and more with no one saying anything against it. So, it came out in caustic statements showing his inner hate and anger more. All in a vicious cycle and loop. That led to the explosion of feelings that day in the station.
Reason herself, who holds the reins, is only strong while she remains apart from the passions; if she mixes and befouls herself with them she becomes no longer able to restrain those whom she might once have cleared out of her path; for the mind, when once excited and shaken up, goes whither the passions drive it. There are certain things whose beginnings lie in our own power, but which, when developed, drag us along by their own force and leave us no retreat. Those who have flung themselves over a precipice have no control over their movements, nor can they stop or slacken their pace when once started, for their own headlong and irremediable rashness has left no room for either reflection or remorse, and they cannot help going to lengths which they might have avoided. So, also, the mind, when it has abandoned itself to anger, love, or any other passion, is unable to check itself: its own weight and the downward tendency of vices must needs carry the man off and hurl him into the lowest depth.
And, now, he pays the price for his actions. And the actions of his superiors in not stopping it when it began.
Taking innocent people in his wake.
Firefighter Evan Christopher Buckley
Fini
5/16/2025