Everyone Refused to Give CPR to a Homeless Man with No Arms – I Stepped In, and the Next Day, a Red Mercedes Was Waiting on My Porch
Haunted by the memory of those who previously did, Elena refuses to leave when she discovers a guy lying in an alley. What starts out as a kind deed quickly turns into something much more profound, making her face grace, pain, and the silent atonement that love can provide.
As my husband passed away, people passed by him. They simply gave him a quick glance before carrying on with their day.
And I still can’t get over that bit.
He was eating lunch in full uniform while seated outside a sandwich store. He just texted me to let me know that he had remembered to get the Dijon mustard I had been requesting.
As my husband passed away, people passed by him.
Leo suffered a major and unexpected heart attack.
He slumped forward, visible to pedestrians. He was circumvented by commuters. He was also captured on camera by someone who zoomed in while his fingers scraped the pavement for assistance.
For fifteen years, my husband had been kicking in doors, performing CPR, talking down individuals with guns, rescuing strangers, and helping women who had nothing left.
He slumped forward, visible to pedestrians.
This city had never seen a better police officer than him.
What about that day? No one at all saved him.
It was too late by the time I learned. The mustard was still in the package, and half of Leo’s sandwich was still in its wrapper.
I recall staring at the paramedic while he awaited my signature on a document.
What about that day? No one at all saved him.
“Did anyone help him?”
He responded, “No, ma’am,” and shook his head. “No one did. A woman called us while she was driving. But… someone filmed the incident, though.”
I made a commitment to myself that I would never be the one to go. Never. But when I considered what I was going to tell my kids, even that commitment seemed insignificant.
How could I tell them that their father had been unjustly treated by the world?
“But… someone filmed the incident, though.”
It was over a year before I could utter Leo’s name aloud without losing my cool. Two more years passed until I, a 36-year-old widow with three children and a still-broken heart, entered the academy.
I spent most evenings studying on the couch while sipping cold coffee and holding Leo’s badge.
I wear one of my own now.
The quiet room around me is sometimes asked, “Are you proud of me, honey?”
I have my own badge now.
I act as though he says “yes” in the quiet.
I noticed the throng that Thursday before I noticed the man. Not again, something inside me whispered.
The smell of burnt coffee and stale sugar always hung in the alley behind the bakery, where I was finishing up patrol at the end of my shift.
I became aware of a crowd at that point. There was an odd silence that had descended upon everyone; there was no shouting or mayhem. People stood in a loose semicircle with their heads bowed, as though they were observing something unimportant but unavoidable.
Not again, something inside me whispered.
The gravel crunched under my boots as I pulled the patrol car over and got out.
My chest grew constricted. That kind of calm, the overly cautious, silent demeanor of those obsessed with something they couldn’t take their eyes off, was something I had seen before.
Before the horrible news comes, there’s a certain quiet that surrounds you.
I questioned whether it was the same unsettling sensation that overcame Leo during his heart attack.
My chest grew constricted.
The gathering split just enough for me to glimpse him as I approached.
With his legs uncomfortably spread out and his chin resting on his chest, the man was hunched against the brick wall. His face had a long, crimson scrape running down the side. He breathed shallowly. His shirt clung to his ribs, drenched.
However, people weren’t deterred by the bleeding from his injuries. It was the lack of arms on this defenseless individual.
A man on the circle’s perimeter mumbled, “My gosh, he reeks. Someone call someone!”
It was the lack of arms on this defenseless individual.
Another woman remarked, “He’s probably on something. Or a cocktail of somethings,”
A teenager pulled his hood over his head and asked, “Why does he even have to be here?”
The woman who said, “Get away from him, Chad,” was most likely the teen’s mother. A grimace of disdain distorted her features. “He’s gross. It’s really sickening to think that our city has people like… this.”
“Why does he even have to be here?”
I didn’t think twice. I squatted next to him, pushing passed them.
“Sir,” I murmured, my voice lowered. “I’m a police officer. My name is Elena, and you’re going to be okay.”
His lips parted slightly, allowing a glimmer of breath to escape, but he did not respond.
I said, “Someone call 911,” to the attendees.
“I’m a police officer. My name is Elena…”
I detected a pulse when I went for his neck. It was there, though it was dim. His eyes briefly opened when I gently tilted his head. Just long enough to catch a glimpse of me. Just long enough for the light to reach my badge.
When I said, “Stay with me,” I held his jaw. “Don’t give up on me now. Help is coming.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
I started applying chest compressions. It felt odd, yet I counted under my breath like if I had done it a hundred times before.
It was there, though it was dim.
My jeans’ delicate fabric was pierced by the dirt. Slow, nervous streams of sweat trickled down my back.
I continued. I kept my thoughts to myself.
I could hear a siren’s faint cry in the distance, getting louder with every beat.
With my arms hurting, I took a step back when the EMTs eventually showed up. With quiet efficiency, they took over, taking his vitals and, with practiced composure, putting him on a stretcher.
I continued.
I kept my thoughts to myself.
“You did good, Officer,” exclaimed the paramedic.
Nobody asked any questions, but the other paramedic gave me a quick glance and acknowledged me with a nod.
What about the man?
Despite his stability, he remained silent.
I remained there long after the crowd had left and until the ambulance had gone away. And long after my heart had settled to a faint pounding in my chest.
“We’ll take it from here.”
I recall feeling the sting from everything, not just the scrape, as I brushed pebbles from my palms.
I didn’t get much sleep that night.
Despite my best efforts, I was unable to force my mind to shut down. I sung sweetly while brushing young Aria’s hair, made school lunches, assisted my son Alex with his English paper, and consoled my other son Adam after a nightmare.
I completed each task as if it were a muscle memory. It wasn’t until my own bones ached that I realized how tired I was.
Despite my best efforts, I was unable to force my mind to shut down.
A honk broke the silence while I was pouring porridge the following morning. I was excited for my day off after dropping the kids off at school. Other than doing laundry and preparing my meals for the coming week, I had nothing scheduled.
I looked at the time: 10:38 a.m.
I moved toward the window and suddenly stopped.
In the driveway was a brilliant red Mercedes. It wasn’t your typical car; it was shiny in the early morning light, polished, and pricey. The door of the driver opened.
I looked at the time: 10:38 a.m.
And they stepped out. him.
He was dressed in a dark suit that seemed to have been made especially for him. His shoes were shining, and his hair was combed beautifully. He moved with assurance and poise, even though his arms ended just below the elbows.
Slowly, I opened the door.
“Good morning, Officer,” he said in a confident yet quiet manner. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
He had on a dark suit.
“I… I remember you!” I cried out. “You’re the man I helped yesterday, aren’t you?”
“My name is Colin,” he responded with a slight nod. “And yes… you helped me. You saved me. I… I came to thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Colin. I was just doing my job.”
“No,” he muttered. “It was much more than that.”
“I… I remember you!” I cried out.
He seemed to gather his thoughts as he hesitated.
“I was walking through the city the day it happened,” claimed the man. “That was two nights ago. I do that a lot… Some days, it’s the only way I feel… like a human. Not something to pity or avoid. In that moment, I’m just a man walking down the street.”
After a brief glance at the floor, he turned back to face me.
“Some days, it’s the only way I feel… like a human.”
“I was stepping off the curb when a car sped too close. The side mirror clipped my hip, and I lost my balance and fell hard against a brick wall. It knocked the wind right out of me. I couldn’t get up on my own.”
With my heart thumping, I said, “No one helped you? Seriously?”
“Not one person,” he replied. “A few slowed down. One man took out his phone and filmed me. A woman crossed the street to avoid me entirely.”
His remarks were simple facts; they were neither resentful nor furious.
“It knocked the wind right out of me.”
“I sat there for nearly an hour,” he added. “My face was bleeding. I was dizzy, winded, and embarrassed. I don’t know where the night went, to be honest. But the dizziness and hip pain just got worse. And when you found me yesterday… you didn’t hesitate.”
I was at a loss for words. I was only able to listen.
“When I came to, while you were checking my pulse, I caught a glimpse of your badge. And I remembered hearing your name, Elena. When I woke up in the hospital, I asked the nurse if I could speak to someone at the precinct. She said it wasn’t standard protocol.”
“I remembered hearing your name, Elena.”
Colin informed me that he was released into the care of his live-in assistant following two IV drips: one for rehydration and one for an antibiotic.
My eyebrows flew up as I said, “You went to the station looking for me?”
“I did,” he nodded. “I asked for you by name. I told them I wanted to thank the officer who didn’t walk past me.”
partly laughing, partly shocked, I said, “And they just… gave you my address?”
“I wanted to thank the officer who didn’t walk past me.”
“It was your captain,” Colin remarked, grinning a little. “Captain Rivera said that you were the wife of one of his best officers, Leo. He said that you deserved someone to see your work and appreciate it.”
Between us, I sensed the weight of Leo’s name.
Colin added, “There’s something else,” with a small shift. “I want to repay you, Elena.”
I took a small step back and automatically raised my palms.
Between us, I sensed the weight of Leo’s name.
“You don’t owe me anything, Colin. I took an oath to protect, and that’s all I did.”
“I know,” he remarked as he leaned against the vehicle. “But please, let me explain.”
He inhaled deeply.
“Years ago, I lost my wife. She had a seizure in a crosswalk downtown. People laughed. People filmed her while she was on the ground, making her a viral sensation overnight. But not a single person stepped in to help. And by the time the paramedics got to her, it was too late.”
“She had a seizure in a crosswalk downtown.”
He made my chest hurt. I momentarily caught a glimpse of the pain behind his eyes. I was all too familiar with his suffering. The fact that we were two completely different people who had experienced the same kind of agony astounded me.
“I unraveled after that. I started working at a textile factory. I had long shifts, but I didn’t mind them. I wanted anything to avoid the silence. One night, a machine malfunctioned, and it crushed both my arms. They saved what they could, but this is what I have now.”
Colin looked down at his sleeve ends. I remained silent.
“I unraveled after that.”
“I told myself I would stay invisible. That I would never count on the kindness of strangers again. But then I started walking the city. Not to test people, not really. Just to… see. To feel something. To believe that compassion might still exist.”
Colin looked directly into my eyes.
“And it does, Elena. Because of you.”
I allowed the quiet to linger between us.
He declared, “I don’t have a family anymore,” “I don’t have much left. But what I do have, I want to share.”
“And it does, Elena. Because of you.”
I glanced at the automobile over him. “You… you drive that yourself?”
Colin laughed, and the mood instantly brightened.
“It’s modified for me. And there are voice controls. It’s pretty fancy, but I got a payout after the incident,” added the man.
Despite my hesitation, I forced a smile on my face.
“You… you drive that yourself?”
I stayed in touch with Colin for some time. During slow patrols, I would give him a call to talk. And after a few weeks, he started making evening visits.
The children were wary at first.
Aria continued to mumble queries about Colin’s arms as Adam remained by my side. I did not respond to every one of them. I wanted her to meet him as she saw fit.
Adam had already requested Colin to help him brainstorm ideas for his science project by the second month. During cartoons, Aria asked that he sit next to her.
The children were wary at first.
He chuckled when it was appropriate.
Alex took a much longer.
He stood back and looked warily. Colin, however, assisted with setting the table one evening by balancing the dishes with his stumps. Alex approached him without reluctance and assisted him with the silverware.
Something changed at that point.
We were sitting on the porch one evening when I softly inquired:
“Do you mind when people stare?”
Something changed at that point.
“I used to,” shrugging, Colin said. “Now? Not really. Although cotton candy is nearly impossible to eat. And don’t get me started on ice cream cones.”
For the first time in months, I actually laughed at that moment.
Colin didn’t push. He never made an effort to be anything but present. He didn’t need to and didn’t attempt to replace Leo.
Under a starry sky in the middle of the night, Colin leaned forward and lightly touched the side of my hand with the end of his arm. It was a gentle, careful touch at first.
“Although cotton candy is nearly impossible to eat.”
He tucked his arm into my palm when I raised it, and I held him as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
“I never thought I’d have something to live for again. But you… you gave me that.”
“You gave it back to us too, Colin. All four of us.”
“Would you let me try to make you happy, Elena?” asked the man.
I said, “Yes,” and I meant it.
