Maintenance Man Trauma
When I lived in apartments, I always preferred the third floor and front doors that were in a breezeway rather than doors inside of a hallway. It feels more private - not everyone can hear when you come and go like they would in hallway echoes. And whatever is going on in the other units, at least the residents are not running to and fro over your head. I don't like the "pitter patter" of "little" feet.
So, we get dispatched to a welfare check one afternoon. The apartment is as described above. 3rd floor with a balcony. No windows to the breezeway.
A mom had called and asked us to check on her young adult son. She hadn't heard from him for a while and wanted to make sure he was okay.
I don't remember much about the call aside from that.
We went and knocked on the door. No answer and no way to tell if anyone was inside. Also, the door had the deadbolt you lock from inside with no external keyhole.
I know we didn't have much to go on with this call because we were really struggling with justification to make entry to the unit.
Finally, we speak to the leasing office and ask if they have a key and can send maintenance in to check the apartment.
This is much further than we would usually go for a welfare check. If we have no information to indicate there is anybody inside, we have to just leave. We have no legal standing to force entry.
So, we must have had a little more to go on. Maybe some suicidal texts or emails or something like that. That or the family was on their way over and we had some serious concerns about what they would do when they got there or what they might find. I don't remember, specifically. These are just some possibilities.
So, the maintenance man brought a key up. He went to hand it to one of us and we shook our heads. We have no legal cause to make entry to this home. Maybe the guy just wants to be left alone.
Okay, so, maintenance man unlocks the bottom lock and ... of course the interior deadbolt is locked so he is not getting in.
However, now we know somebody is inside. The door can only be locked that way from the inside.
So, the maintenance man goes and gets a ladder that will reach a three story balcony. And, again, we can't do anything. (Yes, he is absolutely the hero of this story, if there is any).
We can hear him hollering around, announcing his presence in the apartment. After maybe a minute or so, he unlocks the front door and walks out.
He told us, "He's in there."
We still can't just go in unless there is a reason for us to go in. I express this to the maintenance man and he looks at me with his soul. "He's in the closet."
Oh boy.
We walk into the apartment. There is a mattress on the floor by the balcony door. No sheets or anything. A laptop is open, unlocked and running, on the mattress. The kitchen to the right has little or nothing visible on the counters. There is no furniture. No décor.
We walk into a walk-in closet that is basically empty except ...
What this poor guy who signed up to fix disposals and replace light bulbs had to find was ... a young man, fully dressed, hanging by a noose from a closet rod. I think the noose was a tie. I remember the kid's face was completely black (he was Caucasian) and his black tongue was protruding from his mouth.
I don't have nightmares. I really don't. I can see this image, to a degree, in my mind's eye, but only when I pull it out of my brain files, so to speak.
The maintenance man, though, that guy was seriously damaged by what he saw. I remember I was back at the complex, talking to the leasing office shortly thereafter and was told he had quit.
I sure hope he didn't go drink himself to oblivion.
I would have much rather made entry myself and found it myself because I have whatever the necessary defect is that I can look at a dead body and (almost always) not lose my composure, stay separate from it mentally.
But the poor maintenance man ... and the family of the young man. But they didn't have to see what he looked like.
Really, people, don't ask to see your loved ones when they die. In my opinion, it is nothing good for you.
After that call, we went on to the next call. Like good soldiers.
So, we get dispatched to a welfare check one afternoon. The apartment is as described above. 3rd floor with a balcony. No windows to the breezeway.
A mom had called and asked us to check on her young adult son. She hadn't heard from him for a while and wanted to make sure he was okay.
I don't remember much about the call aside from that.
We went and knocked on the door. No answer and no way to tell if anyone was inside. Also, the door had the deadbolt you lock from inside with no external keyhole.
I know we didn't have much to go on with this call because we were really struggling with justification to make entry to the unit.
Finally, we speak to the leasing office and ask if they have a key and can send maintenance in to check the apartment.
This is much further than we would usually go for a welfare check. If we have no information to indicate there is anybody inside, we have to just leave. We have no legal standing to force entry.
So, we must have had a little more to go on. Maybe some suicidal texts or emails or something like that. That or the family was on their way over and we had some serious concerns about what they would do when they got there or what they might find. I don't remember, specifically. These are just some possibilities.
So, the maintenance man brought a key up. He went to hand it to one of us and we shook our heads. We have no legal cause to make entry to this home. Maybe the guy just wants to be left alone.
Okay, so, maintenance man unlocks the bottom lock and ... of course the interior deadbolt is locked so he is not getting in.
However, now we know somebody is inside. The door can only be locked that way from the inside.
So, the maintenance man goes and gets a ladder that will reach a three story balcony. And, again, we can't do anything. (Yes, he is absolutely the hero of this story, if there is any).
We can hear him hollering around, announcing his presence in the apartment. After maybe a minute or so, he unlocks the front door and walks out.
He told us, "He's in there."
We still can't just go in unless there is a reason for us to go in. I express this to the maintenance man and he looks at me with his soul. "He's in the closet."
Oh boy.
We walk into the apartment. There is a mattress on the floor by the balcony door. No sheets or anything. A laptop is open, unlocked and running, on the mattress. The kitchen to the right has little or nothing visible on the counters. There is no furniture. No décor.
We walk into a walk-in closet that is basically empty except ...
What this poor guy who signed up to fix disposals and replace light bulbs had to find was ... a young man, fully dressed, hanging by a noose from a closet rod. I think the noose was a tie. I remember the kid's face was completely black (he was Caucasian) and his black tongue was protruding from his mouth.
I don't have nightmares. I really don't. I can see this image, to a degree, in my mind's eye, but only when I pull it out of my brain files, so to speak.
The maintenance man, though, that guy was seriously damaged by what he saw. I remember I was back at the complex, talking to the leasing office shortly thereafter and was told he had quit.
I sure hope he didn't go drink himself to oblivion.
I would have much rather made entry myself and found it myself because I have whatever the necessary defect is that I can look at a dead body and (almost always) not lose my composure, stay separate from it mentally.
But the poor maintenance man ... and the family of the young man. But they didn't have to see what he looked like.
Really, people, don't ask to see your loved ones when they die. In my opinion, it is nothing good for you.
After that call, we went on to the next call. Like good soldiers.
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