⚠️ TW: school shooting

September 1988

Tom and I were undercover at McKinley High to try to investigate a drug ring that was reported at the school. It was just our third day at McKinley, and we were having lunch together at the cafeteria.

It was a little chilly today so I wore baggy brown straight leg jeans, a brown and green flannel over a white tank top with a pair of suede taupe clogs. My cream colored socks slouched at my ankle, and I stuck to a simple black belt. I just wished I brought a heavier coat.

I grabbed my chocolate milk and shook the carton in order to combine it. I said, "I swear to god, I will have a breakdown if my milk is moldy again. Do you remember that? That was disgusting."

Tom looked at me with a growing smile at the memory. It was when we were undercover at Taft High a couple weeks ago. The milk I received from the cafeteria was spoiled, curdled, and moldy. Unfortunately, I did not know that the milk had gone bad until I drank it. I had nearly puked because the milk was so revolting.

"What?" I chuckled and opened my carton of chocolate milk. There was a look on his face that I had never seen before. There was just something about his eyes and the way that he looked at me.

"I just—" he began to say but he was interrupted by a sudden sound of intense popping and kids in the cafeteria screaming that made both me and Tom snap our heads toward the entrance.

Someone came walking through the cafeteria doors with a gun in his hand. My breathing halted, and my eyes grew wide. All the blood drained from my face in a moment.

"Everybody on the ground! Now!" The kid shouted and shot a round into the ceiling, making everyone scream in fear. I recognized him as George, we had ruled him out as a suspect for being the leader of the drug ring. I think it would be reasonable to make him a suspect again.

Tom and I looked at each other helplessly, knowing that neither of us had our weapons.

"Shit," I whispered.

"I said on the ground!" George shouted loudly to everyone.

All the kids in the room slowly made their way to the floor, doing what he said. He walked around slowly, seeing how frightened everyone was. A small smile lifted his lips, making me feel repulsed and sick. My anxiety manifested through peeling the skin of my inner bottom lip with my teeth, trying to cope with this terrifying situation.

Every time he pulled the trigger, the sound of a body slumping to the floor ensued which was followed by the sounds of screaming and crying. He would tell everyone to shut up, and then he would continue on his rampage. Tom and I were facedown on the floor with our hands by our heads, but my head was tilted so I could see what was happening. My back muscles were so tight, I could barely move. George walked over to us and put the barrel of his gun into Tom's ear.

"No!" I shouted. Tom's face was scrunched in terror and every hair on my body stood up at the sound of the gun's safety clicking off.

"Give me one good reason why I should not blow his brains out right now," George asked through gritted teeth.

I stood up and shakily took out my badge and said, "I-I'm a cop. Put the gun down before someone else gets hurt."

George was furious. His hand began shaking, still pointed at Tom's head. Then, without thinking about what he was doing, he quickly pointed the gun at me and pulled the trigger.

I did not feel it at first. I didn't even jump at the sharp sound of the gunshot. Then, I felt a sudden burning sensation on my stomach and my thigh, like I was being jabbed with a hot poker. I didn't even remember hearing the gun go off twice. My ears were ringing. I looked down and noticed the blood pooling through my tank top. My knee was suddenly weak and began to buckle. I felt dizzy. Tom rushed to my side and caught me before I fell to the ground.

"I got you, I got you, Mickey," Tom said to me softly as he gently lowered me to the ground, hugging me close.

My teeth were clenched together, threatening to break under the pressure of my jaw. I was struggling to breathe through my nose, forcing me to wheeze as I gasped for air. My entire body began to tremble.

Tom gripped me tight and he said, "you took a bullet for me."

"Yeah," I gasped. Even breathing hurt, like a tremendous amount of pressure was sitting on my chest. "I'm feeling a little ambivalent about that right now."

After my sentence came out, my chest started shaking as I tried to breathe. Tom held me and he tried to help me focus on my breathing, and he wouldn't let me look down at my wounds. When I breathed, it was hearse and I was hyperventilating. I felt bolt after bolt of a sharp, hot pain creeping all the way up to my hip along with an intense sense of dread and impending doom.

Tom was all I could see, but my vision was blackening from the pain that I was trying desperately to fight and I heard a continuous ringing in my ears that soon overpowered the noises from the cafeteria, besides the occasional screaming. I had never been in this much pain before. My chest was shaking as I tried to control my breathing, and I could see Tom's lips moving but I had no idea what he was saying. It felt like my organs were being torn out of me by hand. Eventually, the intense pain overpowered me and I fell unconscious.

If I was dying, I was content that I was listening to the sound of Tom's voice. It was making me feel less afraid of dying.

Tom's POV

I was quick on my feet and I caught Mickey before setting her gently on the ground. She was shaking and her eyes were bugged as she made gurgling noises, trying not to succumb to her wounds. Her face was ashy pale, drained of all blood. She looked up at me with tears welling in her dilated eyes, and I encouraged her to only look at my face. I did not want her to see the damage that the bullets did to her. George, the shooter, was satisfied and went to the other side of the cafeteria.

"Hey, hey, look at me. Look at me, I want to see your eyes. Oh, there you go... open your eyes. It's all right. Breathe in, and out. In, and out. Just look at me. I'm right here. It's just you and me. I'm not going anywhere. It's okay. Good job. You'll be okay," I said to her in a gentle voice.

The blood around her ribs dripped down her shirt, soon covering her in her own blood. Her badge fell from her hand, and I quickly took my jacket off and placed it on her wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. I also quickly took off my belt and used it as a tourniquet above the gunshot that went through her thigh.

I knelt beside her, holding her, and telling her that everything was going to be okay and that she needed to breathe. I used my free hand to pet her hair back and rub my thumb against her forehead. She told me once that she likes her hair being pet when she's in pain, so that's what I was doing. Her eyes never left mine, but she looked terrified.

"Am I gonna die?" She croaked out, followed by whimpering. Blood was slowly spilling from her mouth, hindering her ability to breathe. The blood sunk in between her teeth, coating the porcelain in a thin red film.

"No, no you're not."

"I think I'm about to die." Her voice shook.

"Hold my hand," I told her. I scooped her hand in mine and said in a strong voice, "there we go, good job. Squeeze it. Everything will be okay. I'm not gonna let go, okay? I know you're scared, but don't give up on yourself. Don't you let go of my hand, okay? Good job. I love you, it's going to be okay."

I didn't want to believe it, but I was afraid that was the last thing she was ever going to hear. I thought we were all going to die. I wanted that to be one of the last things she heard. Not the gunfire, and not the screams. But knowing that she was dying in the arms of someone who loves her.

Eventually, she stopped shaking so much and her breathing became hollow. Her eyelids fell halfway, and I could tell that she was not awake anymore, but she was still alive.

"Hey, hey, talk to me, Gregg. I'm right here, I'm right here. Please, don't leave me. It's okay, hang on. Just a little longer."

I was terrified. As I held her, I thought of all the good times we had together. She had introduced me to one of her favorite desserts when we were on our first stake out together. Holding her in my arms while we were undercover at a homecoming dance. Going to concerts together. Playing house with Dumpster Baby. We may never make more memories again. I continued to talk to her softly, I will never let her go.

Soon after she was shot, armed cops came to arrest George and I immediately ordered for an ambulance. I informed them that she was a cop, and she was transported directly to the hospital. I wanted to go with her, but I had to tell Fuller about what happened.

I drove to the chapel to deliver the news to Fuller. I was so angry, I probably shouldn't have been driving at all. I stomped through the empty chapel and I marched into his office, full of rage.

I was pacing his office and Fuller said, "Hanson, tell me what happened."

"He put a gun inside my ear!" I said hysterically as I shoved my finger in my ear to demonstrate.

"I'm sorry, Hanson, but he didn't pull the trigger," Fuller said, unaware of what truly happened at that school. I was so confused and upset and scared, I almost forgot to inform him.

"Not on me."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Mick— Gregg was taken to the hospital."

"Gregg got shot?" Fuller's eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah, she was just taken to the hospital. She wasn't awake," I said. I turned angry. "She doesn't fucking deserve this."

"Talk to me, Hanson. What happened?" Fuller asked firmly.

"Shooter came into the cafeteria, and started lining us up and... um... making us get on the ground. He was gonna... he was gonna shoot me, but she stopped him. He shot her twice."

"Take the rest of the day off, Hanson," Fuller said as he grabbed his coat. "I'm going to go to the hospital and see if she's all right."

"I'm going with you," I said stubbornly, not planning on taking no for an answer.

"Are you sure?" He asked, "you've been through a lot today."

"I'm sure. I need to see her," I said.

Fuller nodded and waited for me to grab my things before he drove us to the hospital. He asked me some more questions about what happened, and the more I told him, the more anxious he became.

When we arrived at the hospital, the doctors informed us that the bullet was just a couple inches from hitting her heart. She was in surgery, and their major concern at that moment was blood loss. I immediately offered to check if I could donate blood for her, which they were very enthusiastic about. They took me around the back, and checked my blood. I was a match, and I was able to donate some blood for her surgery.

They gave me a cookie and some juice with a new bandage on my arm. I walked out to the waiting room and saw that the whole team was there. Everyone was sitting in the chairs, anxiously fiddling with their thumbs and staring at the floor.

"Any updates?" I asked them.

Fuller shook his head. "She's still in surgery."

I did not hesitate to set up camp in the waiting room. I was so anxious that I could not sleep, and everyone stayed until midnight. Ioki and Judy went home to prepare for their next school day, and Fuller stayed to try to talk me into going home. Doug refused to leave too.

Fuller eventually gave up and told us to call him if there were any updates on Mickey. When he left, I asked the nurse to let us know the moment that she was out of surgery. It was so difficult to not ask for updates every five minutes. I needed to know that she was okay, and how the surgery was going. Anything can happen in there, and I did not want to even think about the possibility that she will not wake up. What if she doesn't make it off the operating table? The world is a very cold place.

Doug and I managed to fall asleep, and I felt myself get woken up by Doug when a nurse came by. I was groggy, but she told us, "the doctor will meet with you both shortly," before she left.

That made us worried. I woke up some more, and a doctor wearing dark blue scrubs came by and said, "it was touch and go for a minute. Michelle lost a lot of blood, but we managed to repair what the bullet damaged. She is going to be fine, but she won't be able to do any strenuous activity for a while."

"When can we see her?" I asked. I was beyond relieved, but I would not be completely settled until I could see her for myself.

"She probably won't wake up for another hour or so," he said, "you boys should go home and get some rest and come back in the morning."

"All due respect, Doctor, but I think we are going to stay here until she wakes up," Doug said.

The doctor smiled and said, "that's fine. She's lucky to have friends like you."

He left, and Doug and I finally got some relief. It was almost three in the morning, we knew that Fuller would be asleep so we figured that we would not call him until the morning. Doug went down to get us coffee from the hospital cafeteria, and I stayed in the waiting room.

A couple hours later, another nurse came by to tell us that Mickey was awake. I wanted to bust through the door and rush to her side, but I controlled myself enough not to do that. We walked civilly to her room, where she was laying down peacefully on the bed. I felt like I could finally breathe again. A weight had been lifted off my chest, and my head felt light.

Doug and I walked up beside her and I put my hand on top of hers gently. I said to her softly, "hey, Mickey, how're you feeling?"

"Miserable," she answered in a mumble. Her eyes were closed.

"At least you're honest," Doug said with a slight chuckle. "You look great."

"Great's a little strong. This hurts bad," she groaned and probably still groggy from the anesthesia, "I never want to get shot again."

"It don't look like a blast," Doug said. The stunned look on his face told me that the pun was not intended, and he did not want to bring it up. But a small smile tilted her lips.

"It's not," she chuckled softly. Her eyebrows came together with a frown, showing that the small bit of laughter hurt her.

"I am so sorry, Mick. Are you all right?" I asked her. Seeing someone I love so much in so much pain was almost unbearable. She's Mickey, I've never seen her in pain.

I couldn't help but feel like this was my fault. I was her partner, I should have had her back. She is hurt, I should have done something. And sorry isn't good enough. This could have been so much worse, then I don't know if I could have lived with myself.

Her voice trembled as she said, "I can just remember the sounds of the kids in that cafeteria screaming... I... I can't make it stop."

I nodded and rubbed her hand. "I know."

She sniffed and scrunched her face as tears spilled out onto her temples. "When will they go away?"

I had no answer, because I didn't know. She suddenly started to shake again to try to keep herself from crying, but the pain from trying to hold back must have gotten the best of her. She let out a gasp and stared to cry.

I belt down and put one hand on her hair, and placed my lips on her forehead to comfort her. I put my other hand at her cheek, trying to soothe her in a way that didn't hurt her.

"It's okay," I reassured her in a whisper. "You're okay now."

It was so hard for me to see her like this. She sniffed and her crying stopped. She opened her eyes, red and full of tears and her face was flushed. She cleared her throat and said, "the nurse told me that if you didn't stop the bleeding from my chest and leg then I wouldn't have survived. Thank you."

I tucked some of her hair behind her ear and smiled at her. "I'm just glad you're awake."

"What time is it?" She asked, blinking away the tears and trying to get back to her normal self.

Doug checked his watch. "About four."

"In the morning?" She asked and we nodded. She frowned. "Guys, go home."

"We wanted to be here when you woke up," I stated.

"That was really sweet, but please, we have work in the morning. Go home," she said.

I laughed, "we? No. There's no we. You are keeping your ass in this bed until the doctor says you can go home. Then you are taking it easy for a long time."

"A very long time," Doug added.

She rolled her eyes and laughed. Her laugh was cut short by a groan from the pain but she said, "fine. Go get some sleep, visit me tomorrow. We all know that I'll be going stir crazy anyways."

"Deal," I said. Doug bent down to Mickey and kissed her cheek with a light hug and my goodbye was another kiss on the cheek.

We left, and I used the phone from the waiting room to call Fuller and told him that Mickey was doing fine and was awake. He gave me and Doug the day off, and I was scheduled to have a therapy session with our shrink the following day. Everyone has to get a session after a shooting to make sure that we are psychologically ready to return to work.

Seeing Mickey in the hospital bed reminded me how fragile our lives are. We are not promised tomorrow, which was a terrifying thought. If there's something you want to tell someone... tell them before it's too late. My love for Mickey had surpassed the traditional love between friends. She was one of my very best friends, but I have been forced to push down my romantic feelings for her for so long.

I almost told her at lunch yesterday, after she reminded me of the milk story. I just needed her to know. We have been through so much together in the short time we have known each other. She radiates with warmth and kindness, and I have a fondness for her that I cannot shake. She is a beacon of light, and I'm a moth.

However, we work together, so there is not anything that I can do. But, I will be there for her and her recovery, and we will continue our beautiful friendship. Maybe someday I'll be able to tell her how I feel.