Which story is better?
Now he’s talking very loud, very big. Behind me are 500 kids. He’s going to show that he’s new in school and no one’s going to stand in his way. He started pushing me around.
I’m saying, “Just keep your hands to yourself. You’re not getting in.”
He went nose to nose with me then told me I was very sweet and kissed me on my cheek.
In my mind I’m trying to defuse the situation. Should I hit him now with 500 kids behindme and start a riot? Without knowing the kid, it was my feeling that he had been in prison. He was trying to get me to initiate something. I pushed him off me. Two security officers stepped in.
Our next step was to get him out. He punched a female security officer in the chest and knocked her over a table. I started restraining him.
Other kids jumped in saying, “Don’t hit DeGennaro.” At that point he ran out of the cafeteria. The situation’s over.
Ten minutes later the same kid comes running back, full speed screaming, I’m going to get you.” Cursing big time.
I’m short and stocky. He tried to knock me down, ran into me and fell back. I didn’t move. If I fell down in front of all these kids…it’s crazy you have to play these mind games, but you have to.
He got up and started punching me in the side of my face. We started wrestling again. That’s when I tore my rotator cuff. I held him up against the wall. The security officers handcuffed him.
When we took him out he started crying, “I want my mommy.” This was the second high school he was in, and he went on to a third school. He had been arrested twice before.
I get a call. There was a problem at his house. He was inside, wouldn’t come out, had been drinking, and obviously has multiple firearms. I know this guy has a high potential for violence. I call in the response team, but I want him to trust me. They agree that the bulk of the tactical team will be in a parking lot a couple blocks away.
So I have the flak vest on and am walking up to his door, thinking to myself, He’s going to shoot me. I was thinking about the time I was married, about my family, my parents, my friends. I was thinking, I can’t believe that I just can’t turn around and go back. I’m going to get shot.
I get up to the door, swallow, turn around and wave to these guys. I knock on the door.
He opens. My heart is pounding. He opens the door and looks totally normal.
“Scott, I’m glad to see you. You’ve got to help me. Come on in.”
Ha. Meanwhile I’ve got my vest on.
He immediately see that and goes, “God, you know, I’m really sorry that you thought I was going to hurt you.”
“Well, you know George, with your temper.” I’m laughing, probably manic, silly at this point.
He’s huge with two sons bigger than he is, college football linemen, who would get in brawls in the front yard.
Driving home afterwards. I was thinking, I don’t think tactical knows who was involved. We didn’t get into trouble with the district. I didn’t get shot. Nobody got hurt.